kingdom of nations

Chapter 321 White Bird (Two chapters combined)

The Cypriot envoy arrived at Arrassa Road. Ignoring the strange looks and displeased expressions, he went straight to the king and handed him Cesar's letter.

Then, with Baldwin's permission, he went to see Queen Mother Maria and Princess Isabella, and conveyed Cesare's greetings to them. For the first time, Queen Mother Maria, a woman who had grown up in the grand palace of Constantinople, showed a hint of remorse.

You could say whether she guessed Grand Duke Bohemond of Antioch's scheme—even if she didn't know at first, she could have guessed it after the plague broke out in Bethlehem.

But whether from the Queen Mother's perspective or from the perspective of the Byzantine princess, she could not allow Baldwin to go to Bethlehem—if anything happened to Baldwin in Bethlehem, the current rulers would immediately become her enemies—Princess Hiberna and her husband Abigail. She might be able to bribe the Grand Duke of Antioch and his son, but she had little hope for Hiberna, this cold and selfish stepdaughter.

She had also considered befriending another man—Count Raymond of Tripoli—and becoming his ally. Unfortunately, although Raymond also had some ambition, he was always manipulated by Grand Duke Bohemond of Antioch, and his son David was too honest. She simply could not entrust her and her daughter's lives and future entirely to these two men.

If only the County of Edessa hadn't been destroyed.

She thought to herself, but she still prepared a gift that was quite generous even to herself, and asked the messenger to pass it on to Cesar. Among the gifts was an exquisite little golden sword, which was originally intended for Cesar's first child—if the child was a boy, she would present a flower crown if it was a girl.

But then she heard that the girl was named Lorenz, and that her father had raised her up and proclaimed her the title of Victorious King—so after much deliberation, she still put the little sword inside.

At the same time, she couldn't help but feel regret. If it really was a boy, she could have intentionally sought his marriage to Isabella. Now she had also realized that, contrary to what people thought, Alassaru and Baldwin... were perhaps Cesar's burden.

The messenger left Arrassa with the gifts, and then turned to the "Iron Ring" convent on Arrassa, where Cesare's first wife, Princess Anna of the Empire, her foster mother and cousin Theodora were staying.

The Iron Ring Monastery is an orthodox monastery named after the iron rings worn by the nuns during their penance. Sometimes there are as many as fourteen of these rings. From the abbess to the servants, everyone there is very humble, gentle, and devout. Therefore, although they are considered heretical, few people disturb them.

The messenger wanted to deliver the letter written by Cesare to Theodora, but the abbot replied that Theodora said she was going to undergo a long period of asceticism, during which she would not see anyone and would only drink a cup of water and eat a piece of bread each day, all of which would be brought in through a small window in the door—a common practice in monasteries. But the messenger insisted on seeing Theodora, at Cesare's request—he was not a devout man to begin with, and this reason could not stop him.

The abbot, unable to bear the messenger's persistent harassment, had no choice but to apologize to God and send for Theodora. Theodora walked with difficulty, her head covered by a heavy veil, and she needed the support of two nuns to move. The messenger just stared intently at her, and after a moment, he suddenly jumped high into the air!

"You're not Mrs. Theodora, you idiot! You're not Mrs. Theodora!"

Upon hearing this, the dean and the nuns' expressions changed.

They had seen this messenger before and knew he wasn't the kind of person who would joke around or blaspheme against nuns. At the abbess's signal, a young nun quickly stepped forward and lifted the messenger's veil. Underneath the veil was indeed a woman, but it was definitely not Theodora.

The other party remained calm and nodded when they realized that they had been discovered.

"Yes, I am not Theodora, but please do not worry, gentlemen, I am here in this monastery on her orders."

"Where has she gone now?" the dean asked anxiously. "By the way, she was supposed to go on a pilgrimage shortly after returning here. Has she been gone for so long?"

"Please don't ask me where she went. Even if I knew, I couldn't tell you, and besides, I don't know." She looked at the messenger. "I also have a letter here from the lady to your master. Rest assured, if the plan goes smoothly, she should be safe, but none of us can guarantee that. After all, fate is always unpredictable." She took a letter from her robe and handed it to the messenger. "Do with me as you see fit—imprison me, let me go, or kill me, it doesn't matter."

“We will not kill you,” the messenger said, “but please imprison her, just as before. This person must not be released until the matter is confirmed.”

The woman was not alarmed by what she heard. She bowed to the messengers and nuns again, raised her head, and returned to her room.

------

Where is Theodora?

She had previously warned Natia and Portia, who were still in Cyprus, and then, after a brief stay of a day or two in Nicosia, she set off back to Arrasa.

But she did that only to let those who were watching her and those who were listening to her know that she had returned. Then she summoned her loyal servants, left a double behind, and returned to Constantinople.

The emperor was fast asleep.

In that utter defeat, he fell into a filthy swamp. Sewage, insects, and silt pried open his mouth and probed his throat like the claws of hell. No matter how many times, he clearly remembered the scene—it was as if he were wrapped in countless shrouds, some from his father, some from his brothers, and some from his wife and children. Those pale faces flashed before his eyes again and again.

He wanted to curse them, beat them, and kill them again, but he couldn't even move a little finger.

It can be said that from the moment he saw the sunlight again, the emperor was indeed filled with boundless gratitude. But this gratitude was quickly worn away by reality. He had to pay a price commensurate with his life—but the Byzantine Empire's treasury was no longer as full as before, and he was single-mindedly determined to avenge his previous defeat. War meant enormous expenditures, not to mention the siege equipment that required a great deal of time, manpower, and money—which had been burned to ashes due to the incompetence of Grand Duke Bohemond of Antioch.

These all require money.

In desperation, the emperor devised a clever way to deal with both his eldest son, Alexius, and this troublesome favor at the same time. He did not consider it a despicable act, but rather thought himself clever and ruthless enough.

Theodora's counterattack was completely beyond his expectations. Perhaps in Manuel I's mind, everyone except him was a tool and a toy, unworthy of having feelings and thoughts.

It's unclear whether the swamp or Theodora caused him more damage, but the aftereffects are undeniable.

His physicians and priests were worried day and night about the emperor's illness. The emperor would complain of pain in his shoulder one moment and his leg the next. Sometimes he would feel as if a large stone was pressing on his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe.

At his worst, whether standing, sitting, or lying down, Manuel I would be unable to breathe. At such times, he would order a priest to stand beside her and loudly curse Theodora, believing her to be a devil from hell who had not only tempted him to commit heinous crimes but also ruined the health of an emperor.

But this method was ineffective, much like the treatment plans of those doctors and priests—just like Patriarch Heraclius, who had once contracted malaria. The priests could only barely alleviate the emperor's current symptoms but could not cure the disease in his body.

The doctor decided to treat the emperor with laxatives and bloodletting.

They believed that laxatives could help the emperor expel bad things, and bloodletting could do the same, but the result was the same.

For days, weeks, and even months, the emperor was unable to sleep, which made him increasingly irritable. He could no longer bear to see any healthy person walking around in front of him—not only his ministers had to be on edge, but even his queen and young princes. He even ordered his queen, Mary of Antioch, to take the children to pray for him.

This was no ordinary prayer; it required visiting every church in Constantinople and presenting gifts to the priests and monks there, including those who lived in the wilderness and caves. Mary of Antioch could manage, but her children, who were not yet adults, soon fell ill with fever, swollen gums, and diarrhea. She was furious but helpless.

The emperor is not dead yet, his tyranny still exists, and it's also possible that his illegitimate children, ministers, and generals are still hesitant—after all, the first person to dare to challenge him is destined to become the target of everyone's wrath.

When Manuel I awoke, he felt his body was still so heavy that he could hardly move. He was immediately agitated—this had been the case for the past few days. He needed eunuchs and maids to massage him for a while before he could move his fingers slightly, and then slowly sit up, wash, dress, and walk.

These things, which he used to take for granted like everything else in the world, are now as precious to him as rain in the desert.

"Moto!" he cried. Moto was the eunuch he had trusted most recently, because he had killed the previous ones.

Moto should immediately lead the eunuchs and maids forward to wipe his forehead and mouth with warm silk. A plump young girl should support his back so that he can sit up against her, and then a dozen small, fleshy hands should knead his muscles.

He smelled the scent on his body, which was different from before. When he was young, he was always filled with the fragrance of myrrh and frankincense. Now, even though he bathed every day, the smell emanating from deep within his body when he woke up still made him nauseous, as if it were a warning, reminding him that he was no longer a young man.

But today he has clearly waited too long.

Then the emperor heard the sound of silk robes rustling on the ground. Which audacious concubine was trying to use this opportunity to curry favor with him?
The emperor thought, but whatever she wanted to do, he would immediately order the eunuchs to drag her out and hang her; now he loathed anything that was not under his control.

"Why won't you open your eyes? My uncle, my husband, my emperor?"

Manuel I trembled violently, but he kept his eyes tightly shut, even though it hurt his eyeballs, he dared not open them.

Because he had already recognized that Lyra—the owner of this voice—had always been, in his memory, gentle, mild, fragile, and fearful.

Even the scream she let out before leaping into the sea was filled with the kind of despair he loved.

But now that voice is one of pride and satisfaction.

"Be a man. Your Majesty, you look pathetic enough as you are now. At least as those people say, someone wearing purple robes should have the bearing and demeanor of a monarch. Besides, if you don't take a look at this world now, you may never have another chance."

These words made Manuel I's eyes widen in shock. He looked at the woman in front of him in horror—it was Theodora.

"Guards! Guards!" the emperor shouted, but found that he could only produce an extremely hoarse and low voice, not even as loud as the chirping of the birds on the golden frame hanging in his bedroom.

Theodora stared at him, making sure he was looking at her, before slowly taking a pin from her chest. The pin was large, so the needle at the back was also long and sharp—its gleaming cold light made the emperor's lips tremble.

Theodora straightened the pin behind the brooch, but instead of piercing the emperor's eye, she leisurely flicked the nearly burnt-out candle, making the flame burn brighter again.

“What do you want, Theodora? Consider that we are both Komnenians, and that… in any case, I have allowed you to enjoy nearly thirty years of wealth and luxury. I have never mistreated you—even after I had a queen, you were still the first in my harem. You wore silk, ate pigeon meat, and drank the finest wine. Your palace was even larger than the queen's, and your maids were like flowers blooming in the courtyard.”

What else do you want? For your adopted daughter Anna? She wasn't your biological daughter; you had no blood relation to her. Besides, it was my son, her brother, who killed her. I didn't want her to die—she was still my daughter after all… Ah!

With a scream, Theodora even laughed out loud.

She slowly and deliberately pulled the pin out of the emperor's eye—stirring it slightly before pulling it out, but not too deep. She didn't want him to die so easily; how lucky he would be if that were the case.

"Although I know a shameless person can't say anything nice, I still hold onto a sliver of hope, Your Majesty, your wife—I mean Queen Bertha, and her two children, especially Anna."

I even naively thought that you might seize this opportunity to repent properly. I don't think you can go to heaven, but at least in hell, your repentance might lessen your punishment a little bit.
But I was truly foolish, Your Majesty, to expect a jackal to repent for the flesh and blood it had devoured.

When did she enter the Grand Palace?
She was so young then that even Queen Bertha could hardly feel any jealousy towards her. Before that, the emperor had already taken his brother's wife, their mutual sister, and then, with insatiable greed, turned his evil eyes to their niece.

In his harem, there were countless maids and slaves whose fates were far more tragic than those of the female Komnins. Even some officials' wives could not escape this fate. The emperor seemed to have a uniquely perverse sense of humor: he would bring these officials' wives into the palace and then expel them, ordering them to return to their husbands. Unable to vent their anger on the emperor, their husbands could only take it out on their wives.

But is this their fault? No.

Theodora listened to the emperor's mumbled pleas for mercy and, without hesitation, pierced his other eye with a pin.

The emperor finally began to wail madly.

In Byzantine history, there had never been a case of an emperor who had been deposed after being subjected to extreme punishments returning to the throne. Moreover, he knew that Theodora's presence here meant that everyone had betrayed him, and that he had completely lost control of the Grand Palace, the entire Constantinople, and even the Byzantine Empire.

“Send me to the monastery! I’ll take off my purple robes and put on black, and crimson sandals—let me go barefoot, or wear shepherd’s shoes!” Manuel I cried incoherently. “Send me to the monastery! I will pray for you there!”

“A monastery?” Theodora asked in surprise. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You owe so much debt,” she leaned close to the emperor’s ear and whispered, “how can you not pay it back? After all, God said that if you want to follow Him, you must first give up everything worldly, including hatred—Your Majesty, listen.”

Listen to the repeated footsteps on the silk carpet, listen to the suppressed cries and the sound of teeth grinding, listen to the sound of sharp blades being pulled out and then sheathed...

That's truly astonishing. And this is only some people in the Grand Palace. If I were to grant this power to all of Constantinople and even Byzantium, how many people would come to collect their debts? But you've probably forgotten most of them.

"It's alright, creditors always have better memories than debtors. Enjoy it slowly. Your Majesty, this is what you deserve."

She stood up, somewhat regretful. After all, if it were up to her, she would have preferred to carry out all the punishments herself. But those people were willing to become her inside men and her accomplices in order to take revenge on the emperor.

Theodora stepped out of the emperor's bedroom. The wide corridor, covered with thick, exquisite silk carpets, gilded bronze lamps, and walls and pillars draped in gold and silver leaf, was no longer filled with ministers and generals guarding the emperor. Instead, it was filled with rows of men and women—some with their faces concealed, others with their faces openly displayed—women in front, men behind. This was because women were weaker, and if men were allowed to go in first, they might impulsively kill the emperor.

Theodora made no attempt to conceal it; her face was splattered with the emperor's blood. The gazes directed at her were a mixture of fear and admiration, and some were even more excited and delighted. Theodora nodded slightly in return to the few who bowed to her, and then walked straight out of the palace into the courtyard she knew well.

In the courtyard, the eunuchs were still sweeping fallen leaves and picking flowers. When they saw Theodora, they greeted her respectfully as usual, as if she were still the mistress of this great palace—if you didn't look at what they were cleaning—besides the flowers and leaves, there were also bloody corpses.

Some people remained loyal to Manuel I.

There were officials, attendants, eunuchs, and Varangi guards.

The Varangian Guards shouldn't have remained in the Grand Palace, but the Emperor insisted, and the people had no choice but to go along with it. However, his insistence seemed to have been of little use, or perhaps it was because of his previous foolish move—sending most of the Varangian Guards to attack Nicosia and then hastily recalling them.

The Varangian guards did indeed board the ship, but unfortunately the ship sank halfway there, and the flames that rose from the ship could be seen even from hundreds of miles away.

The wild white leopard sheathed its scimitar and walked up to Theodora with a smile. "When Cesar sent me to you, he didn't say I'd be doing this job."

"This is the odd job you've found for yourself."

Theodora casually handed the brooch to Lyra. Although it was stained with blood, the gemstones and gold combined were worth at least a hundred gold coins. Lyra sat down casually and relaxed on a low couch nestled among rose bushes, furnished with fluffy cushions, a soft blanket, and a round rug at her feet. On a small table beside her were wines and peaches and grapes, a rare treat for the season, perhaps picked from the Grand Palace's greenhouse, still glistening with dew. "Won't you have one?" she said.

Leila glanced at them; both the peaches and grapes were so fresh and firm, and the crisp crunch indicated how delicious they would be. But she simply shook her head. "What if they've been poisoned, madam? At least I can take your body back with me."

Theodora laughed loudly: "No, child. To the people here, I am already useless; killing me is pointless."

"Doesn't someone need to come forward and explain the emperor's death?"

“The prince’s death might require someone to give an explanation, but the emperor certainly doesn’t.” Theodora took another bite of the peach. “Besides, how many people here do you think are still loyal to the emperor?”

Everyone could see the emperor had gone mad, and a madman is far more terrifying than a tyrant; you could never imagine what he would do next. From the palace maids, eunuchs, and concubines, to the empress and her son; from the imperial physicians, ministers, and generals in the court, who didn't hope for a swift end to this bloody farce? As for who would take the final bow, it didn't matter.

Just as Laila was about to say something, she turned around warily, placing her hand on the hilt of her knife. The newcomer then quickly spread his arms.

He had heard that the one guarding Theodora was an Assassin assassin, and although he had heard that she had defected from the Eagle's Nest, no one wanted to easily try this blade that had been honed for over a hundred years.

"Alexei?"

"Is the emperor dead?"

"Not yet, but at least he has lost his qualifications to be emperor."

"Oh, the Byzantine tradition, would you send him to a monastery?"

"A monastery? Are you kidding me? You'd be more worried that you'll only have a piece of clothing in your coffin when you're buried."

“I did see a lot of people gathered together—I thought they were going to say goodbye to the emperor.”

"If you want to say goodbye, that's fine. But where has the Empress gone?"

"Currently in Galata."

"Oh wow, you guys really sent her far away."

Although the emperor's heir should arrive at the designated room at this time to wait, and he and his mother should also mourn the emperor's passing in time... "When I told her that it might be dangerous in the Grand Palace at this time, she was quite compliant."

“You must be careful. After all, she is Marie of Antioch, and you know what kind of person her brother, Grand Duke Bohemond of Antioch, is.”

"So you say that our queen will leave this terrible world along with her husband because of excessive grief?"

“The Queen loved her husband so deeply, regarding him as the only guiding light in her life, that the pain God has sent might truly be unbearable for her,” Theodora lamented. “Perhaps we will soon face a second funeral.”

Alexei laughed. "Indeed, the Byzantine court should be returned to the Byzantines."

"So, do you want to stay? You're a Komnen too, and if you wish—my wife is dead, we can get married, and afterwards, whether you want to continue living in the Grand Palace or somewhere else, it's up to me."

"Since you know I am also a Komnen, then you should know that this place is only pain and shame for me, nothing else. No, I have nothing left to need."

Since the deaths of Queen Bertha and her son Alexius and daughter Anna, I am nothing but an old woman with nothing left but the hatred that gnaws at me like a venomous snake. I no longer expect love or marriage, nor can I bear you an heir.

Moreover, for Ducas, Komnen might actually make them wary, giving them some hope—marry another of Ducas's women. After all, Ducas once replaced Komnen, and they will support you, hoping that Ducas can regain its glory under your leadership, and another miracle is not impossible.

"Grand Duke Bohemond of Antioch will probably not let this go easily."

"How could the Franks interfere in the affairs of the Byzantine court, especially since he had already been rebuked by King Arrassal and returned to Antioch—where he had no supporters?"

If our emperor were still alive, he might still take some action. But now…”

"The emperor still failed to regain Cyprus. Although the Grand Duke of Antioch's scheme succeeded, his son Abigail seems to have become a useless man. It's strange, he seems to have gained nothing except for expelling that dark-haired, blue-eyed young man from King Arrassal's Holy Cross Castle."

Alexei asked tentatively.

"I'm not entirely sure about that either. After all, the emperor's son-in-law already has a new wife, and their child has just been born. I'm just the foster mother of his previous wife, and I don't live with them. What do you think I could possibly know?"

She could sense Alexei's intentions. Soon, the young prince would take over the reins of power from Manuel I and rule this vast empire. But everyone could see that this child, who had been spoiled by his mother to the point of near ignorance, did not have the ability to do so.

The scepter of the empire will inevitably fall into someone's hands—and among the various forces in the court and on the battlefield, the Ducas family is undoubtedly the most powerful, and Alexei is the most capable and ambitious among them. Grand Duke Antioch will certainly not easily give up his contributions to the Byzantine Empire and be willing to do the work for someone else.

This cunning old fox will certainly try to compete with Ducas, so that whatever reason Grand Duke Bohemond of Antioch might harbor ill will towards Cesar, he probably won't have time to carry out his next conspiracy for the next few years.

If possible, Theodora would not want to go through so much trouble, but frustratingly, the Christian states of the Holy Land were more like a loose alliance. The king of Arazarus was neither an emperor nor a caliph, and could not simply summon a nobleman to order a eunuch to hang him.

Moreover, the very nature of a conspiracy is that it is difficult to find fault with it. From the perspective of the Crusaders, they may have gone too far, but it was not enough to warrant severe punishment. In fact, it was not easy to charge them with treason, as they were both ministers of the king and local lords.

However, looking at it from another perspective, Grand Duke Antioch's meticulous planning and aggressive approach must have had its reasons—since he knew what he was looking for, the rest wouldn't be too difficult.

Alexei gave Theodora a deep look, still somewhat hesitant—it would be best if Komnen remained in Constantinople—but after glancing at Lyra beside Theodora, he wisely took his leave.

At this moment, the darkness before dawn had departed, and the crystal-clear morning light shone down, filling the trees, flowers, and flowing water with light and color.

"Is this my future?" Theodora murmured.

As she stepped out of the Grand Palace, she could faintly hear Queen Bertha's gentle words and her adopted daughter Princess Anna's joyful shouts.

She looked up and saw a pair of white birds flapping their wings and flying into the vast sky.

(End of this chapter)