kingdom of nations

Chapter 315 Victory? (Part 1)
As soon as Alexios returned to the Byzantine camp, he walked with a cold expression through the crowd that wanted to flatter him or inquire about information, leaving behind all the noisy shouts, urgent urgings, clamorous drumbeats, and the roar of catapults.

He returned to his tent without a care, even casually pushing aside the wine brought by the servants, and collapsed onto the low couch. A moment later, he covered his face with his cloak, immersing himself in darkness and silence, wanting to care about nothing and hear nothing.

This was quite different from his usual performance on the battlefield. Although he served Manuel I most of the time as an official rather than a general, he was still a dukas.

"What are you doing in the tent?" a voice asked in his ear, and then a hand pulled down the cloak covering his face.

Alexei glared at him with displeasure, but had nothing to say.

Because the visitor was also a Ducas, and even more legitimate than Alexei. He was a descendant of the Ducas family, unlike Alexei, who changed his surname after becoming a son-in-law of the Ducas family.

"Did you hear the cheers coming from the city?"

“I heard that,” the man said. “Is it the birth of the firstborn son of the Lord of Cyprus?”

"Yes, he was named Lorenz."

Who named it?

"That Sudanese woman."

"Oh, she's really bold." Although she is the lord's sister, isn't she afraid that naming a newborn child Lorenz at this time, implying the victory of Nicosia, will make the child—if he is still alive—a living laughingstock in the future?

"Yes, this will definitely cause us some trouble."

No one knows better than them how important a newborn can be at this time.

“I’m reminded of the eldest prince, Alexius. When he was born, the emperor was on a distant expedition—on that occasion we received two gifts from God—the emperor’s heir and a great victory,” Alexei said bitterly, and those around him fell silent.

Indeed, as confidants of Manuel I, they had the privilege of witnessing the eldest prince, Alexius, being carried out of that room draped with purple curtains, wrapped in purple silk like the infant of today, his umbilical cord still attached and his body covered in vernix caseosa.

Back then, they were just like the Nicosians today, with tears in their eyes, full of confidence, and pure loyalty.

They knew that everything they had achieved would not be a fleeting moment, that the emperor would be succeeded, and that the empire would prosper for a long time.

“Alexius…” The other person only uttered the name before failing to continue.

Alexius, of course, was someone they had watched grow up, from the time he could take his first steps. Alexius received the education of an emperor, and that's what those around him told him, including Manuel I. But change came so quickly.

When Manuel I realized that his wife and son posed a threat to him, he did not hesitate to break off the previous engagement and remarry the sister of the Grand Duke of Antioch. He and his two grown children immediately became illegitimate, which was a devastating blow to Anna, let alone the eldest prince Alexius, not to mention that his stepmother soon gave birth to a younger brother for him.

Everything he had before was taken away by this baby who was less than an arm's length long.

Although Alexei and others had repeatedly tried to persuade the Crown Prince, he wouldn't listen to anything they said. After all, they weren't the Crown Prince and hadn't experienced such torment.

After repeated disappointments, they finally left the eldest prince and faced the expected outcome. They would not blame anyone for the eldest prince's death. Just like in every bloody coup, the victor wears a crown and the loser has a spear hanging from his head. This is nothing out of the ordinary.

But when Alexei saw this familiar scene again today, he couldn't help but feel resentment towards Manuel I.

"Do you know what I was thinking when I stood there watching that baby being carried through the crowd by the man in the purple robes?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"If Manuel I knew that I was there watching, with the baby just inches away from me, he would surely accuse me of not taking the opportunity to kill the child?"

The other person chuckled, "Really?"

"Should I give it a try? I'll write to him and see if he scolds me severely or even punishes me in his reply."

“Let’s not,” another Ducas said, turning his head to change the subject. “Why don’t you go out and take a look? At least give our young general some useful advice.”

The commander of this war was still one of Manuel I's illegitimate sons, who was not as favored by Manuel I as his brother. But when Manuel I had no one else to rely on, he had no choice but to promote him.

Because he had long been neglected by Manuel I, he was much more humble than his brother, at least willing to listen to the opinions of the generals. But Alexei just waved his hand dismissively, "What are you looking at, Manuel I's honor guard?"

This remark caused another Ducas to burst into laughter, though his laughter also contained a great deal of bitterness.

Indeed, Manuel I's actions puzzled many in Constantinople; this shouldn't have been a war. Princess Anna and Cesare did have a Catholic wedding, and their marriage contract was based on that.

Now that Cesar has been excommunicated and the marriage has been declared invalid, they certainly know that Manuel I was also involved in this conspiracy. He was prepared and launched the attack almost at the same time as the decree of the excommunication was issued. Although it was somewhat despicable, it was not unacceptable.

But why would he send such a large army?

If Alexei were to handle this matter, he should first negotiate with Cesar—not in a way that resembles a declaration of war, but rather to discuss the ownership of Cyprus, and even offer some financial compensation, since Cesar was Manuel I's benefactor, and Cyprus was not just a reward he received occasionally, but the emperor's ransom.

If Cesar refused out of greed or other reasons, they could have joined forces with the Templar Order and other Cypriot nobles who had sided with them to launch a rebellion and besiege Nicosia, instead of inexplicably sending so many troops that would not play a decisive role in the siege.

For example, those "most elite forces"—the heavy cavalry and the Varangian Guard. Heaven knows how annoyed he felt every time he saw those Varangian Guards carrying giant axes or greatswords coming and going in front of his tent, those Turks in leather hats peeking around, and those scheming Hungarian and Serbian nobles who kept coming to visit...

“It’s understandable, after all, Manuel I’s prestige suffered a great blow after that… battle,” the visitor said reluctantly.

This time, the emperor didn't even lead the army in person. Although Manuel I nominally said that this was not a grand battle, but rather a campaign to quell a rebellion, and that only one general was needed, everyone knew that his physical condition and mental state no longer allowed him to do so. To compensate for this, he completely disregarded the current situation and mobilized most of his forces, even sending his closest and most trusted advisor, Varangi.

These Varangian guards could indeed be of some use during sieges. But like using elephants to pull a millstone, their significance here was definitely not as great as it was in Constantinople.

But Manuel I was determined to go his own way, and no one could dissuade him. Moreover, the confidante who often served him, Lady Theodora, a concubine in a purple robe, also mysteriously disappeared.

In the harem, it was common for women to disappear, but Theodora was different; she was also a Komnenos.

Not to mention that after Manuel I's first marriage ended, she seized most of the power in the harem while the second queen was still consolidating her position. Compared to the queen, she only lacked the crown, but for the queen, what she lacked was much more than Theodora.

Alexei also vaguely heard that Theodora was angry with Manuel I because of the death of her adopted daughter Anna, and in a fit of rage, she attempted to assassinate him, but failed and was thrown into the sea.

For an assassin, her fate could even be considered lucky.

But Manuel I's attitude toward his daughters and concubines was chilling. After all, his ministers had no blood relation to him and believed that they could not possibly receive more favor from Theodora. When Alexei thought of this, he even laughed.

“Alright,” he said to the other Ducas, “I’m going to enjoy this time now. Tell my servant to bring me some wine, some cheese, or some jerky. Don’t wake me before the city falls.” With that, he pulled up his cloak and went to sleep.

The guest could only sigh helplessly and leave.

At this point, not only Alexios, the commander of this army, but also the people in Nicosia, or even the entire Cyprus, Constantinople, Arrassa, and the Venetians, could not have imagined that the outcome of this war would be so absurd and utterly ridiculous.

------

For the people in Nicosia, the best-case scenario at that time was simply to hold out until the Venetian fleet arrived, forcing the Byzantines, who feared their retreat would be cut off, to withdraw and thus relieve the siege.

In fact, even when people in later generations look at this record, if they do not know the outcome of the war, they will think the same thing when they see this part.

"You're absolutely insane!"

Albon shouted.

The baby had already been roughly rinsed (Cesar had cautioned against washing away all the vernix caseosa), and unlike what people do now, Portia did not allow the women to wrap the baby up like a "stick," even though they tried to dissuade her, saying that doing so would cause the child's legs to be bowlegged...

The child, lying in the silver cradle—a gift specially sent by the King of Arrassal—wrinkled his nose and eyes in anger, rather than fear, when disturbed by the noise.

Don't ask them how they knew—Albon realized his lapse in composure, lowered his voice, and the baby's crying stopped abruptly. Moreover, upon closer inspection, there weren't many tear stains in the baby's eyes, but the face was flushed red and the lips were turned down—such a vivid expression so soon after birth, what a temperamental little guy.

Albon muttered something to himself, then glanced cautiously at the cradle, hoping not to disturb his little master again.

Natia, however, was very calm. She came forward, took Albon's hand, helped him sit down, and poured him a drink as an apology.

"But at this time, people would definitely prefer to see a boy."

Yes, that's right. Portia gave birth to a girl, not a boy. The women in the room all looked disappointed and sighed several times.

Natia's first reaction was to stop the women who wanted to go out and deliver the message, and to control them. Then she cut the baby's umbilical cord herself, instructing the women to watch Portia complete the final delivery. Then she wrapped the baby completely in purple silk, leaving only the umbilical cord exposed, and covered its eyes. She carried the baby out of the chapel like this—without hesitation or change in expression, telling a colossal lie in the eager gaze of the people.

No, it shouldn't even be called a lie. Because she simply gave the girl a boy's name.

In this era, many women were given what is now considered "male names." This was because there were relatively few names for female saints at the time. When the church baptized newborns and recorded their names, it followed the rules of Latin grammar and wrote down the masculine names of female infants with feminine suffixes.

But it is entirely possible for a girl to be named "Lorenz" at birth and be mistaken for a boy, which would be a complete misunderstanding.

“If this gets out,” Albon said with difficulty.

"From now on, this child will be cared for by me and the ladies."

Only a handful of the ladies here were wives and sisters of Cypriot nobles; most were knights' wives like Albon, who had come from Syria to Cyprus to pledge their loyalty to Cesar. Their loyalty was impeccable, and it wouldn't take long to conceal the truth.

After a moment of silence, Albon finally accepted the reality. Indeed, the birth of this child brought great joy and courage to the Nicosia. After all, people at that time still valued omens. If Portia had died in childbirth, or if the child had been born with a disability or weakness, or if a girl had been born as is now, people would have questioned whether the father or mother was not favored by God.

At that time, malice will inevitably be poured out on them, and everyone knows the consequences of unrest.

“Well, it’s only a week anyway. A week is enough for the Venetian fleet to reach Cyprus,” the old knight said.

“I’m sorry,” Portia said suddenly, weakly but with a guilty conscience, “I’m sorry, sir, I lied too.”

(End of this chapter)