kingdom of nations

Chapter 337 An Unfair Duel

This is indeed a difficult situation. Whether it is the Franks, the Apennines, or Germany, people on the continent of Europe practice primogeniture, a system that can be seen as a poisonous legacy left over from the barbarian tribes and the ancient Roman Empire. It has indeed effectively ensured that the land allocated to nobles will not be diminished due to its distribution—those nobles who intend to treat all their children equally have already shown their and their descendants' fate.

Charlemagne, once incredibly wise and valiant, built an unprecedentedly vast empire. People thought he would be a new Caesar, and his descendants would benefit from it for hundreds or even thousands of years. However, this admired king made a rather foolish decision on his deathbed: to divide his kingdom into three parts.

This decision not only failed to satisfy his three sons, but instead sparked a further power struggle among them. The frequent wars between the kings also weakened their own power, leading to the rise of powerful ministers and a weakening of royal authority. In his most humble state, a king even refused to share a bed with his wife for life because the powerful minister was his father-in-law, in exchange for some dignity as king.

The lessons learned from the Three Kingdoms period are still fresh in our minds, and the primogeniture system was thus effectively implemented. As its foundation, the patriarchal system was also strengthened.

Since ancient Roman times, the head of a household, literally the male head of the family, could sell his wife and children at will, which was permitted by law.

Their children were no different from slaves.

These rights were inherited by the eldest son after the father's death, making him the master of all slaves. He had the right to make arrangements for his younger siblings—if the elder brother was the emperor, he could allow his younger brothers to become co-emperors or vassals, or he could exile or imprison them.

As the eldest son of a minor noble family, he wielded even greater power. In cases like those that Longinus had encountered, no one could legally accuse his brother, only morally.

But for the sake of family peace and a smooth transfer of power, the irresponsible father might have even asked his eldest son to bestow titles upon his younger brother, perhaps simply to save money—after all, sending the youngest son to another castle for education or asking another knight to bestow titles upon his youngest son would require additional expenses.

Longinus didn't expect his father to find him a count or even a duke to be his master, but doing so would undoubtedly add another heavy shackle to the blood ties between brothers.

Having learned of the situation, Cesare, who was already familiar with this era, was not particularly angry. He even mildly suggested to Longinus's brother that, if possible, he should dissolve the contract between Longinus and Cesare.

Although this was a rather troublesome matter—the Church had long since introduced the knighthood ceremony into the church, claiming that only a covenant reached under the watchful eye of God was complete, so it required not only the approval of Longinus's brother, but also the approval of the head of their church.

But King Philip II of France was there, and the Archbishop of Paris was also present. To break the contract was simply a matter of issuing a pardon.

But perhaps sensing Cesare's high regard for Longinus, and seeing this as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Longinus's brother was unwilling to compromise. He was delighted with the conditions Cesare proposed, but felt they were insufficient; gold, silk, and rock sugar were merely things that, no matter how much he was given, would eventually be exhausted—he told his friends, "What I want is land that can forever produce wealth."

Yes, he was making outrageous demands, asking Cesare for a city or a port. Of course, in return, he would serve Cesare, and then he could legitimately lease or, more directly, sell Longinus to Cesare, "as you see fit, for as long as you like."

This shameless demand filled Longinus with rage.

Longinus had once held some hope for this family; otherwise, he could have sought a place in the court of the King of France or even the King of England, instead of traveling thousands of miles to the Holy Land with his only possessions.

It's fair to say that if he hadn't had the chance encounter with César, his fate would have been to die a drunken, impoverished death in some alleyway. On the winter streets of Arrasa, you could see people like that every day; they too had once been spirited and proud. But apart from a lucky few, the opportunity to return to their hometown in old age was a distant dream for them.

But does that mean he never encountered anyone from his hometown? Of course he did. Franks had always been a major source of new blood for the Crusaders, and the merchants he met in his father's castle frequently traveled between Arrassa and Franks. They had seen him before, but they all pretended not to know him.

Longinus wouldn't have believed this without his brother's instruction. Some people had told him that his brother had expressed concern that Longinus, desperate on Arrassa Road, would borrow money from merchants in his name. Therefore, he had sternly warned these people not to lend Longinus even a single copper coin, and that he would not assume any debt for his youngest brother who had already divided the inheritance.

When his master Cesar was excommunicated, Longinus also considered going to find these merchants. He did not expect his brother to do anything for him, but he only needed some connections. After all, his father had already handed over these connections and resources to his eldest son. As for what would happen later—whether it was money or other bribes—he would do his best to raise them with his mistress.

But when he found the merchant, the merchant told him never to return home. His brother, upon hearing this, immediately went to the church, donated a Mass, knelt before the bishop to confess, and refused to acknowledge Longinus—his brother—who was serving the devil. He swore that if the devil's servant dared to return, he would immediately seize him and burn him at the stake.

However, his so-called solemn vows only drew ridicule from the priests—when Longinus heard him say this, he knew that his brother was not as ignorant of his situation on Arazari as he thought. On the contrary, he might have been watching him all along, simply waiting for his chance.

Now he has found this opportunity.

The only solution Longinus could think of was to renounce his knighthood and vow to become a monk.

When a knight becomes a monk, all his ties with the secular world are severed. This includes the oath he once swore to his brother and master, but it means that he can no longer continue as a knight, galloping across the battlefield to expand his master's territory, nor can he stand in the court to become Cesar's powerful ally and confidant in turning the tide of battle.

“Please let me go,” Longinus said resolutely. He had even changed out of his knight’s chainmail and iron boots and put on a monk’s rough linen robe, going barefoot. “You already have so many trustworthy people around you, you no longer need me.”

He had followed César since he was a child, when César's identity was unknown and many people mocked him as a slave of a slave—but now how many people envy him—he has been repaid a hundredfold for what he gave.

Of course, he didn't know at the time that many people would envy him in the future.

Perhaps fate is just that capricious. Before giving someone hope, it must inevitably plunge them into seemingly inescapable suffering.

Cesare certainly couldn't allow the other party to blackmail him, but the contract between Longinus and his brother was indeed a big problem.

Although Longinus repeatedly said that the land and forest his father left him in exchange for his ticket to Arazars, armor, servants, and horses, and that he had not received any additional help from his brother, his brother did not acknowledge this. On the contrary, he spread rumors that Longinus was an ungrateful scoundrel, a rebellious son who had betrayed his family, and that he had also blasphemed the oath he had made before God.

He even suggested that the Church should excommunicate him—but he wisely treated it merely as a threat, just as he didn't announce the revocation of Longinus's knighthood, cut his sash, or take away his golden spurs. He knew that if he did, Longinus would be utterly disgraced, but only for a few days.

Given Cesar's relationship with Baldwin, the King of Arathal, it's possible that he had just broken his vow when a count came to bestow titles upon Longinus.

Longinus's desire to become a monk was not a spur-of-the-moment decision—he had considered it deeply for a long time. "My lord," he said, "it is not that becoming a monk will prevent me from serving you. Your army still needs people who pray for your knights and soldiers."

“But you have already perceived Santa Barbara,” Cesar calmly reminded him. Longinus was stunned. Indeed, he only had the opportunity to perceive it after he came of age, or rather, after he had entered the second half of his life.

When he was young, his father and brother did not provide him with this money. After arriving on Rue Arrassa, although he served the priests of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre for a long time, he never felt a shred of glory from God. He thought then that perhaps it was because he had done too many filthy things that he was rejected by God and the saints.

Let alone going to heaven to receive blessings, he was willing to donate frequently just to suffer less in hell—even though he was often empty-handed and starving at that time.

Are you asking if any knights who received "blessing" from saints became monks? Yes, there were quite a few, such as the Knights Templar, the Knights of Goodness, and the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre—armed monastic forces loyal to the Church.

But if he joined these knightly orders, it would mean he could no longer follow Cesar. He would also have to sever ties with Cesar. Not to mention that Longinus was worried that these three knightly orders, even the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre—which, after losing Baldwin's leadership, would be detrimental to his master.

At that point, would he still betray César?

“I will try my best to negotiate with your brother,” Cesar reassured him. He didn’t have as many concerns as Longinus. Those people were pressing him because they valued Longinus’s current position by his side.

Longinus not only ruled Bethlehem on his behalf, but also assumed the role of chief secretary (an official who managed taxation and other government affairs on behalf of the monarch) in Cyprus. He held power second only to Cesare's sister Natia and wife Portia. At banquets and court, he was always by Cesare's side, and even the Count of Belion treated him with smiles and respect.

However, Longinus had not come for these benefits and glory; Cesar also had other matters to attend to. Whether it was returning to Cyprus or heading to the secret lands of the Isaacs—he had already seen the map Haredi had given him.

The County of Edessa is shaped like an inverted fruit, with its stem and branches extending downwards to border the Principality of Antioch, while its swollen portion lies between the Sultanate of Rum and the Syrian region once ruled by Sultan Nur ad-Din.

Therefore, the County of Edessa was under the greatest pressure at that time. The secret land of the Isaacs was located below the County of Edessa, between Armenia, Antioch, and Hama. It should have been a towering plateau, but because the land was barren and difficult to access, few people paid attention to it.

But according to Haredi, there lies a treasure that no one could imagine, more valuable than all the gold and jewels combined.

Was it a book? Or a sacred artifact? Cesar couldn't be sure.

But before, during, or after he reclaims Edessa, he must thoroughly investigate the place. He absolutely cannot leave such a huge hidden danger in his territory. Moreover, he is well aware that his relationship with the Isaacs is not amicable—they are extremely dissatisfied with him. Although Cesar has no prejudice against the Isaacs, does not persecute them, and does not ask them to convert, he has blocked the Isaacs' path to power and money, which is an unforgivable crime. They hate him even more than the emperors, kings, and lords who slaughtered them.

“My lord?” Seeing Longinus’s worried eyes, Cesar simply waved his hand slightly. He could entrust Longinus with this task out of trust, but he absolutely could not “exile” him because of pressure from outsiders.

Things just came to a standstill.

What changed things was Frederick I.

Frederick I arrived with a victory over the Sultanate of Rum—he defeated Arslan II, forced him to pay ransom for himself and the country, and sacked Konya, the capital of the Sultanate of Rum.

For this reason, he even asked the people of Arrassa to hold a triumphal procession for him—although this request was regrettably withdrawn due to the strong opposition of Patriarch Heracles, a banquet that was no less grand than the previous one was indeed held in the Castle of the Holy Cross to receive him.

For this reason, Frederick I even invited King Richard I of England, King Baldwin of Arrassa, and King Philip II of France to go hunting. The emperor said that if there were no delicacies brought back by the knights at the banquet, then the banquet would definitely be for the women to enjoy.

This hunt was comparable to a real battle.

Banners fluttered like a forest, hooves thundered like thunder, eagles soared in the air, dogs barked as they followed, and people went forth in a grand procession, and returned in a grand procession—those carried on horseback, besides the various birds and beasts they had hunted, were also the unfortunate King Philip II of France.

Philip II was not injured, but he could barely withstand the high intensity of the march. After they arrived at the hunting grounds, they didn't even have time to rest in their tents before the emperor pulled them away.

After a few days, the poor king had become as withered as a cabbage, and Frederick I was very disdainful of him. Compared to this useless fellow, King Richard I of England and King Baldwin of Arathi Basin were certainly more favored by the emperor. Although Germany had a neighbor like Philip II, which was certainly more to the emperor's liking than a neighbor like Richard I, on the battlefield, he certainly did not want his ally to be a weakling like a woman.

Finally, at the tournament, the Earl of Champagne and his two brothers did their best to save face for their son-in-law, the King.

Although Count Etienne had a bad reputation, his willpower and martial skills were impeccable. Moreover, compared to other knights, he had a more casual and unrestrained demeanor. His dashing and debonair manner made him virtually invincible. Even though he was no longer young, he still drew cheers from the noble ladies, who threw flowers, jewels, and clothes into the arena.

“I haven’t seen you fight yet. Why don’t you step onto the stage and compete with these knights? I’ve heard that you are the Shield of the Holy City, serving your king faithfully, winning countless victories for him and keeping him safe. And you are so young.”

Cesar leaned slightly forward. "Youth doesn't necessarily mean being impetuous. To many, I'm just a dull and boring fellow. I lack the fiery temper and straightforwardness of other knights. I prefer reading to fighting."

They even said I should have become a mild-mannered monk, but that was God's will; He made me a knight, perhaps so that I might be by my king's side.

“Your king, what a fine word,” Philip II murmured. He had been ridiculed by many after being carried off the hunting grounds, and he himself was worried about whether his reckless entry into this holy war would earn him the reputation he had hoped for.

He wanted to suppress the increasingly restless courtiers—but what if he backfired? After his downfall, countless people came to visit him, but he could tell which few were truly sincere. The person he cared about most was the renowned Count of Edessa, whom he had recently been excommunicated. When Count Étienne mentioned this man to him, he paid him no heed. Whether it was piety or beauty, his court had too many young men like him. To them, these "virtues" were no different from jewels; having one more or one less made no difference.

Even if the church rejects a king, it's just a matter of a word from him.

But the French king’s nonchalance vanished the moment he saw him.

Philip II had met so many people—lords, grand dukes, kings, and emperors—but this one man almost made him mistake him for another monarch. If he hadn't known that the King of Arathi was a leper, that Richard I was his longtime friend, and that Frederick I was far away in Constantinople, and that their ages didn't match, he would surely have thought the man was one of them.

He didn't seem like a slave at all, nor a sinner excommunicated by the church. He didn't even seem like a minister. He had seen too many ministers, and no matter how powerful they were, they couldn't hide their weakness and unease. But the other man's attitude made him feel that he always held his head high, as if he had never bowed his head since birth.

Where did he cultivate this temperament? Could it be that during his turbulent childhood, those loyal knights created another secluded paradise for him?

On the road to Arrassa, more than bravery, he heard words about Cesare that were mostly about mercy, and mercy was the word Philip II encountered most often.

His father was kind, his mother was kind, his ministers were kind, his priests were kind, and he himself was kind, of course. But he knew that most kindness was as indifferent as their treatment of ants—even if they occasionally took a fancy to tossing a piece of candy to these insect-like beings.

Some ascetics, however, have an excessive sense of compassion; they have boundless pity for the poor, yet they glare angrily at the nobility.

But as a monarch, Philip II could see that their behavior was more like a means to prove his own integrity and selflessness.

Cesar came to visit him, bringing King Arrassal's greetings and gifts, as well as apologies. Throughout the visit, his words and gaze made Philip II feel comfortable, without any flattery towards the king or mockery of the weak.

He regarded him as a patient to be treated gently, rather than a ladder to climb or a wounded beast. This sense of comfort led Philip II to frequently visit this rather eccentric knight after his recovery. The knight's erudition far exceeded his expectations; no matter what topic he brought up, the knight could respond and open up new areas for him.

He was also pleased to see that the other man was not a brute who only cared about money and fighting. César was not only very good at mathematics and logic, but also had some knowledge of finance and commerce. In particular, his views on taxation were refreshing to Philip II.

He only resented that Cesare was now the despotic monarch of Byzantium. To make a somewhat crude joke, Cesare's territory now even exceeded that of Philip II's royal domain. Otherwise, he would have tried every means to take him away, bring him to his own court, and make him his minister.

He even complained a little that Count Étienne hadn't been clearer back then. He could have easily managed to bring César back to Paris from Arrassa and then have him negotiate with the Church—the King of Arrassa was a king, but wasn't the King of the Franks also a king?
“I’ve heard you’ve been having some troubles lately,” Philip II said. “I think I could…” Before he could finish, a loud, rough laugh broke the silence around them, causing a commotion in the crowd before they parted to the sides.

Although this is somewhat difficult, after all, they are currently watching the martial arts tournament from the stands.

A huge shadow fell over Philip II's head. Philip II stood up stiffly. The newcomer was none other than Frederick I, with Richard I and Baldwin on his arms.

Richard I was overjoyed, while Baldwin was helpless.

"I've heard about you and those bastards. As a valiant warrior, you don't need to think about it for so long," Frederick I said loudly. Even those around him who weren't listening attentively could hear every word he uttered. "You shouldn't forget your duty, young monarch. You are a knight. Those fellows... let's just say that. Disputes between knights are the easiest to resolve: fight, fight, fight!"

There is nothing but fighting.

He chuckled again and said to Baldwin and Richard I in that unpleasant tone, “You are their king, and you should have come up with a solution for them long ago: let them duel. The victor can get whatever he wants, and the loser can shut his stinking mouth.”

Philip II's face was both pale and bluish, but it wasn't immediately apparent under the brightly colored curtains.

He intended to make amends with Cesar, but he never expected that even the opportunity to do so would be snatched away, and at this very moment. He was just a hair's breadth away from being able to speak calmly, rather than bursting into a string of vile curses.

Frederick I didn't care how angry he made Philip II.

He believed his judgment was as swift and decisive as lightning, and as just as divine.

There were four Christian kings present: Philip II, Frederick I, Richard I, and Baldwin IV. Although in terms of status, the latter was no match for Cesare, they were equal as Crusader knights, just as a knight could force a king to swear an oath—provided that the king would acknowledge himself as a knight.

Frederick I hadn't expected that his proposal would be so firmly rejected by the minor nobleman. Longinus's brother was greedy, not stupid; he repeatedly condemned his brother from a moral high ground, yet dared not directly confront Cesare.

He knew that if he dared to do so, it would be tantamount to throwing an egg against a rock.

However, he also had his own arguments before Frederick I: "Who doesn't know that His Highness is God's favorite? He receives a hundred times more favor from saints than others, or even more. On the battlefield, he is like a hammer that strikes the enemy directly, a tower that can be moved. His very existence is unfair."

"If you want me to duel him, then take custody of my brother; you may even void the contract between us. I am a sensible person and would never place a toddler before a hungry beast."

The knights booed, but he remained unperturbed. "Why despise me?" he said, looking around. "Please do not look down on me or laugh at me. I am willing to hand over the power to you all. Is there anyone here who is willing to accept this challenge on my behalf?"

People fell silent; no one dared to utter a sound. Although hailed as the Shield of the Holy City, it seemed less fearsome than the Spear of the Holy City. Knights skilled with shields knew all too well that, with sufficient strength and sturdy materials, a shield strike could be just as deadly as a broad two-handed greatsword, capable of severing bones, causing blood to gush from the mouth, and resulting in instant death.

The favor bestowed upon Cesar could even be distributed among hundreds of knights. What does this mean?
This means that what the other party said is correct, and any knight who dares to duel with him must be prepared to break through the city walls with his own body.

Richard I frowned. He had fought alongside Cesar and knew this was no exaggeration. This was no longer a matter of bravery; an ordinary knight compared to Cesar was like a mortal compared to a blessed knight—it was indeed somewhat...

“If you insist that I do this,” Longinus’s brother pursed his lips, “then I am willing to engage in this completely unfair duel in order to obey the Emperor’s decree.” Upon hearing this, the faces of everyone present darkened—except for Grand Duke Bohemond of Antioch and a few people surrounding him.

“But that is still unfair. I am old, and my sons are still very young.”

"Young?" Baldwin couldn't help but ask, since every young man standing there should be older than Cesar.

“We all know that Your Highness is blessed with great favor. What you have received from God is completely different from what we have received. Your good name is thus widely known. Before you, neither the Turks nor the Saracens can contend with you. You cannot even be called a person, but a miracle. And now you want to fight against us ordinary people…”

"So what do you want?" Cesar asked calmly.

“To ensure fairness, Your Highness, you should generously allow us to seek the protection of the saint… but you cannot.” A clamor like a tidal wave erupted in the hall, but the other party remained unfazed: “Moreover, as the head of a family, I request my brother, son, and knights to fight for me.”

"All of you against me?" Cesar asked curiously. As soon as he finished speaking, people roared loudly. The knights could hardly believe what they were hearing. In duels, it was usually one-on-one, and occasionally two against two.

But such a thing as one against many has never happened before. It only happens to those of despicable character who deliberately humiliate their enemies, and they often send out not knights but squires or even servants who have not been knighted.

This could hardly be called a duel; it was more like an execution.

Although they all believed that the victor in this duel would undoubtedly be Cesare, this unfairness—it was unclear whether it was a slap in the face from Longinus's brother or from Cesare himself.

But Longinus's brother was adamant, believing that otherwise, the humiliation caused by the unreasonable demands made on him by the Cypriot lords could not be offset.

Indeed, some knights hesitated, after all, there are times when one side is limited in a duel - this is usually because one side is too strong or the challenger's demands are too harsh.

Although it is not unreasonable to terminate a knight's contract with a lord, they can do nothing if the other party insists on thinking that way.

Baldwin immediately wanted to refuse the request on behalf of Cesar, as they had countless ways to force the other party to agree to break the contract and set Longinus free.

But there was another troublemaker here, Frederick I: "Very well, as you said, your sons, brothers and your knights can fight in your place."

If a saint were truly willing to do this unjust thing.

The lord of Cyprus, however, refused, saying that if God truly favored him enough, he should grant him victory—no matter how harsh the conditions.

Richard I immediately looked at Frederick I in surprise. Clearly, Frederick I's attitude had clearly sided with Longinus's brother, which was somewhat unusual. Richard had assumed that Frederick I, as a valiant and skilled ruler, should admire Cesare as much as he did.

“Very well,” Philip II said, seeing that things were beyond repair. “This is an unjust duel, and you have the right to refuse, Lord of Cyprus, Count of Edessa, Knight of Bethlehem. But if you do not refuse and are willing to bear the consequences of this injustice, I hope this duel will be fought on the spot.”

There are many ways to duel.

We already know this, and if the other side is going to use a simulated war approach, that is, one against many, using real swords, then in the midst of the melee, someone might take the opportunity to do something—Philip II has already realized that Longinus's brother was obviously acting on someone's orders.

A jousting contest involves two knights wielding lances, charging at each other. This minimizes the chances of the opponent using their numerical advantage to wear down Cesar's stamina, obstruct his vision, or resort to underhanded tactics.

A knight may also face challenges from multiple opponents in a jousting match.

The only concern is that the other side is blessed by God, while the other is forbidden from seeking the saint's grace—although everyone knows that once Cesar kneels down, the outcome of any war, whether small or large, whether against a Christian knight or a group of Saracen cavalry, is not in doubt, it is still a problem to face so many beasts with only blessed flesh and blood.

However, there is another advantage to fighting on horseback: the outcome can be determined in one go. Being knocked off the horse, having a severely damaged spear, or having a broken shield can all be considered a defeat.

As monarchs, they could certainly step forward immediately to announce the outcome of the duel, thus preventing Cesar from suffering further harm.

"So... will you agree?"

Cesare glanced at the people around him. He saw Longinus rushing towards them and remembered their first meeting, when one destitute man met another destitute man—and at that time, he was just a lowly servant born into slavery. Longinus could have profited from his death, but he didn't.

To this day, what Longinus values ​​most is his character, rather than his talent and strength.

“I agree,” he said.

(End of this chapter)