kingdom of nations

Chapter 353 Frederick I's Wishful Thinking
Meanwhile, Frederick I and his son Henry the Younger were also dining.

Before him lay a large plate of fragrant, steaming, golden saffron stewed mutton, a large basket of white bread, each loaf as big as an adult man's two hands, and a cold silver pot filled with chilled wine with rock sugar.

He grabbed a piece of mutton and stuffed it into his mouth. While chewing, he tore off a piece of bread and soaked it in the broth until it became completely soft before putting it in his mouth and swallowing it with a combination of sucking and biting.

Add a glass of chilled, sweet wine, and what could be better?
Frederick I ate while smacking his lips, his beard dripping with soup.

He had been fighting almost constantly since adulthood. At first, he fought against those unruly vassals. Later, he was invited by the Pope to Rome to suppress the rebels who had started a riot. After that, he fought against the Milanese. He fought six battles against the Milanese, winning and losing. But no matter which one, on the battlefield, let alone enjoying delicious food, sometimes even being full was a luxury.

He knew this all too well and hadn't had any expectations for the food during this expedition—even in a territorial war just a stone's throw away, the most generous lord could only hold two banquets in his castle, one before departure and one after the triumph (this banquet could be omitted if there was no triumph), during which plenty of meat would be provided so that the knights and soldiers could eat to their hearts' content.

But after leaving the castle, the food supply became unstable.

Did all the knights enjoy hunting? Perhaps some did, but most would certainly prefer to rest and recuperate in their tents. However, they couldn't do without hunting; without these extra supplies, they might be too hungry to even mount their horses.

Frederick I faced a similar predicament. He still remembered the stares of the knights and soldiers when they looked at him. They later began killing horses and mules and plundering the surrounding farmers. But when hunger struck, they even wanted to devour Frederick I, let alone anyone else.

Frederick I made a terrible vow to the Byzantines on this expedition because he knew that in such a distant place, the army was his only support. If the soldiers mutinied, he might not even be able to return to Swabia (his fiefdom), and his eldest son and heir, Henry the Younger, might also suffer.

Even so, his army still encountered a brief famine during the long march. Fortunately, this famine became the knights' motivation to attack Konya. After Konya fell, the problem was solved.

But this problem disappeared without anyone noticing after arriving at Arrassa Road. Was it because of ample supplies? Frederick I wasn't sure, after all, he didn't have many officials around him who could calculate and count; in the past, it was the priests around him who took on this task.

Even the most calculating priests couldn't help but look troubled when they saw the stacks of ledgers that were almost taller than themselves. Frederick I knew this was indeed a difficult task, so he could only follow tradition and let the knights plunder. After all, he couldn't be sure if his supplies had been correctly distributed to everyone and met their needs. He could only barely estimate how long they could last. Even so, he could still consider himself a commander who was good at planning ahead.

Before he even arrived in Arrassa, he had heard from Bohemond that the young Cypriot lord valued food and drink to the extreme. At the time, he was dismissive of this and even somewhat disdainful, since gluttony (the meaning of gluttony is broad; besides wasting food, excessive indulgence in eating is also a sin) was also one of the sins defined by the Church.

But since arriving in Arrasa Road, he realized that the other party's emphasis on food was not only for himself, nor only for his relatives and friends, but also for his knights and soldiers, and even for the common people—yes, he had seen the dregs accumulated in the brewing barrels on a commoner's table—which contained sugar.

Before long, his knight came running to him with envy and told him that Cesare's knights, squires and even every soldier had a fixed amount of meat, milk and oil every day, and even precious tea and coffee.

Frederick I, seeing the longing look on his face, suspected that if this knight didn't have a fief in Swabia and couldn't stay in the Holy Land, he might also have gone to pledge his loyalty to Cesare.

"Their laborers can all eat soup with oil!" the knight exclaimed excitedly, leaving Frederick I speechless.

He thought it was just temporary encouragement before setting off, but Frederick I found that the quota remained unchanged until they captured Damascus.

He assumed that Cesar would spend more money in this area than he did, and wondered how a young man could afford such a large expenditure. So he asked his son, Henry Jr., to find out. The result surprised him – if calculated on a per capita basis, Cesar's expenditure was not higher than theirs, and was even slightly lower.

Shouldn't he also recruit some people who are good at counting and calculation?
Frederick, lost in thought, put his finger in his mouth, sucked on the rich broth, tore off half a bread, scooped out the soft sac inside, dipped it in the broth and ate it, then stuffed it with mutton, and then ate heartily with gusto.

To be honest, it was the lord who first demonstrated it. When people saw this scene, they were all dumbfounded, and the priests even showed their displeasure—it was really too unrestrained. But the knights didn't care about that, and soon the priests had no choice but to follow suit, otherwise they would have nothing to eat.

However, when it came to other dishes, this lord placed excessive emphasis on order and cleanliness.

People in Germany still use their fingers as utensils; it is a right given to them by God.

But in the Holy Land, people have begun to use spoons and forks more commonly, and they also use a type of utensil that came from the East, consisting of two thin sticks.

Frederick I didn't even try. He knew his thick fingers weren't suited for it, and he rarely used a fork or spoon, only carrying a dagger to cut meat from whole pieces.

After several banquets, he found the dagger largely useless. According to Cesare's instructions, all meat, even if covered in fur, feathers, or flour, needed to be cut, cooked, and even seasoned beforehand, so everyone could simply take what they wanted. This certainly didn't conform to the Church's guidelines or people's traditions. However, after a few complaints, the knights quickly grew to like this way of eating—it wouldn't soil their beards or fingers. After all, they couldn't afford to wear silk robes like the emperor, and neat beards and sideburns would also win the favor of noble ladies.

Just like little Henry, who is now not only skilled at using spoons and forks, but also at those strange cutlery. He would even make bets with his knights to see how many heavy silver coins they could pick up with sticks—ten coins each, piled together, and whoever picked them up first got to keep them.

Henry the Younger always won, but he wouldn't take the silver coins. Instead, he would laugh and push them all to his knights. Frederick I appreciated this, for a stingy lord could not gain loyalty.

However, in Frederick I's view, young Henry still had much to learn—both on the battlefield and at court.

He knew that Philip II often went to see the young lord, saying he wanted to discuss drama, music, and painting with him. Good heavens! Frederick I saw right through the young monarch—where did this art come from in Arazarus? From the Saracens, perhaps?

In Europe, what troubled monarchs the most was definitely not disputes and wars with other countries.

It could even be said that when they were at war with other countries, they could actually profit from temporary taxes and war laws. What bothered them most were the ministers with ulterior motives, the ambitious vassals, and the populace who would occasionally incite riots.

However, the real and thorough feudal system implemented in Europe meant that royal power had to compete not only with papal power but also with the power held by the subjects.

Frederick I was no exception, and although he was proud of his crown—Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire—this throne was not passed down through bloodline or surname, but through election, and like any election, the process was fraught with compromise, flattery, and bribery.

Why did he, at over sixty years old, lead a massive army across the entire Anatolian peninsula to the Holy Land to fight countless Saracens?

Of course, it was to lay the foundation for his son's future. He hoped that after his death, Henry the Younger would be elected as the Holy Roman Emperor and take over the crown from him.

So, if Henry the Younger could emulate the Cypriot lords and implement laws that benefit the common people in their Swabian territory and the territories of their relatives and allies, would he also gain the same loyalty and prosperity?

Frederick I is uncertain.

But if Henry Jr. can do that, his path to the throne will be smoother.

“But in return, you may suffer some hardship,” Frederick I suddenly said to young Henry. Regardless of what others said, he could see that Cesare, the lord of Cyprus, himself almost never indulged in pleasure. He had no women or men around him, he did not gamble, nor did he dance, and he only hunted for food and social purposes.

Henry was completely baffled, but he was already used to his father's sudden whims—he was probably thinking of something again—and now Henry looked at his father as if he were looking at his little brother Frederick II.

However, the older one was even more difficult to deal with. After all, he could pull out a wooden board to spank Frederick II, but he couldn't find an iron chain to restrain his father and prevent him from running around.

"How are our knights eating these days?"

Young Henry was even more confused, but he still subconsciously replied, "Like other knights, Your Majesty, we are given a fixed amount of food every day."

While in Arrassa, the Cypriot lord proposed a system of grain coordination. Frederick I was initially reluctant, but after reviewing the relevant ledgers, forms, application forms, and roster samples, he agreed to give it a try.

The knights were divided into many small teams of ten, each responsible for their own squires and servants, and the accompanying laborers were also counted.

Although the quantities and types of numbers are different for each person, the numbers above are reassuring. Although the priests complained again about using Saracen numbers, they were simple and easy to remember. The knights didn't like reading or doing math, which was something they already knew.

You can't only praise something when it's in your favor.

Indeed, there was no food shortage during the long march. After they captured Damascus, the army underwent another round of census—the number of casualties was deducted, and the wounded were sent back to Al-Araza or Tripoli to recuperate for a period of time before being re-engaged in the battle or sent home, depending on the situation.

The rest of the people received extra meat, fat, and wheat, along with a little light wine.

This is a tedious, novel, but effective method.

In the past, when they wanted to reward knights and soldiers, the units of measurement were mostly a cartload, a pile, a few sheep, a few mules, a few cows, etc. This gave those in charge of supplies the opportunity to embezzle and line their own pockets. This time, all the numbers were clearly written in black and white on the ledger, and all weighings were done using scales that were openly placed in the camp. Anyone who had doubts about the food they received could go over and weigh it themselves.

Furthermore, members of the inspection team would carry flags and walk through the camp, loudly announcing the types and quantities of food each person was entitled to. Every knight, squire, and servant knew how much they were supposed to receive. Although embezzlement still occurred, such as taking a spoonful less wheat and a spoonful more lard, it was much better than before. As a result, the soldiers' morale became more stable, and they no longer clamored to go home.

The laborers no longer looked so dejected or numb; they couldn't even get enough to eat at home.

"There's been some trouble in Byzantium again." Frederick I said unhappily, digging his fingers into a piece of mutton with the skin still attached, imagining it as that wretched Byzantine and the head of Grand Duke Bohemond of Antioch, kneading it until it was crushed, before scooping it, along with the broth, into a bread bowl, rolling it up, and swallowing it in large gulps.

Despite his previous threats, the Byzantines did not seem to be completely subdued. On the contrary, although they dared not openly confront Frederick I, they would feign compliance while secretly going through the motions. The knights had already reported to him that the goods recently sent by the Byzantine Empire were either short of weight or of questionable quality, and some items were clearly stockpiled goods that had been sitting for years.

“I should teach these Byzantines a lesson. Do they think this place is a garbage dump? They throw all sorts of junk here.”

“We’re here to fight the Saracens,” Henry Jr. advised. “When we get back, we might as well teach them a lesson.”

Frederick I was somewhat appeased by him, and after a moment, he tilted his head and asked, "Have our merchants written to us?"

He wasn't referring to German merchants, but rather those who were doing business and active in Byzantium. Merchants have always been synonymous with spies and secret agents, and this was no exception. They might not serve Frederick I alone, but with the emperor's promise, they spared no effort.

“They say that Grand Duke Bohemond of Antioch and his ministers are arguing fiercely over the marriage of the Byzantine emperor,” said Henry the Younger, to which Frederick I scoffed—Grand Duke Bohemond of Antioch had used the excuse of a sudden relapse of an old injury to avoid participating in the holy war.

On the other hand, he was also involved—he positioned himself in logistics, and indeed, some supplies came from Antioch. His reason for staying in Constantinople was to better supervise the Byzantines.

Frederick I, however, had some doubts. He had once enjoyed the flattery and sycophancy of Grand Duke Bohemond of Antioch, but his trust was based on the assumption that Bohemond would not lie to him. After discovering that Bohemond had lied to him about Cesare, he lost interest in the man.

Later, he also learned about the grudges between Bohemond, Raymond, and some nobles of Arrassa and Cesar—after all, no one would slander another without reason. But the results he learned made him laugh and cry. Was it because the king was too young?

It's understandable that Baldwin's temperament became extreme after such a major upheaval. He'll be fine once his children grow up. Even if their son, the heir, isn't the king's close friend, can Baldwin really expect Cesar to take on all the political affairs in the future?

These people... it's a miracle that Baldwin IV has tolerated them until now. Now they have this fate entirely of their own making, there's nothing to argue about or pity about. But recalling some rumors spread by the Count of Tripoli, Frederick I suddenly had some other thoughts.

“Tell me,” he asked Henry tentatively, “if I could ask the Cypriot ruler for some money?”

"Pfft!" Little Henry was drinking—he said he shouldn't have been drinking soup or alcohol while dining with his father—and this choked him badly, his face turning red and tears streaming down his face.

Upon seeing this, Frederick I, without a second thought, slapped him hard on the back, nearly knocking out the last breath of young Henry.

"Oh God!" he cried inwardly. He was wearing a fine silk robe today, a gift from César after the fall of Damascus. He was furious, but he couldn't utter a single word to his father. He had seen many fathers with their sons; his father might not be as tender and protective as his mother, but he knew his father loved him too.

So what can he do besides roll his eyes?

"Why did you suddenly think of asking the ruler of Cyprus for money?"

Frederick I winked slyly at him. "Doesn't he want Edessa?"
Our army suffered relatively little loss in the attack on Damascus. Homs is now occupied by a eunuch, and Hamas is in the hands of Saladin's nephew. Saladin might come to his aid, but the journey is long, and who knows?

We all know that Saladin is still in Egypt, so…”

Frederick I seriously counted on his fingers, "Holmes, then Hama, and then Apol. Our knights will serve us for forty days, but since it's an expedition, that number will definitely exceed that—especially if we continue north, it's no small sum."

But Cyprus is rich enough, right?

Moreover, since Apol's army went to Homs and Edessa's army went to Hama, it means that once we capture Homs and Hama, the road ahead will be wide open, and we cannot remain in the Holy Land.

So who got the last fruit? "Oh dear," he shrugged, "our Count Edessa," he mused, "you know, he doesn't have a good reputation in the court of Arrassa. People think he's a jester, a sycophant, and I used to think so too."

"Just because he has no land?"

"Do you think having land is a simple matter?" Frederick I glanced at his son with a smile. Young Henry was good in every way, but like him, he was born in a silver cradle. His father left them vast lands, forests and rivers, tens of thousands of farmers, magnificent castles, prosperous cities and bustling markets. Therefore, he probably did not understand how terrible it was to not have his own territory.

If he were merely a knight from the Franks, he might have had some breathing room after acquiring Cyprus, and people might even envy his good fortune. But the problem was that he had been proven to be the son of Count Josephine III of Edessa, and he was born with a heavy responsibility.

If he is content with the status quo and unwilling to reclaim the territory left to him by his ancestors, and chooses to live a life of mediocrity, people will sigh that although he is kind, he is cowardly—a weakness that is almost fatal for a lord. Not only will no new knights come to him, but the existing knights may also leave him.

Without his territory and knights, it would be difficult for his current Cyprus to maintain its prosperity. Compared to Philip II and Henry the Younger, Frederick I saw things more clearly: Cesar was able to gain so much support in Cyprus, Bethlehem, and Arrassa because of his undeniable record of victories.

Humans always admire the strong, whether men or women. A strong person can make a great sound even when speaking softly, while the roar of a weak person is as faint as a mosquito's buzz. The smooth implementation of the laws enacted by Cesar was directly related to the skill and courage he displayed.

Conversely, if he could reclaim Edessa, the last regret in his life would be made up.

Given the current high regard people have for him, he might even be considered on par with the King of Arrassal.

“Look,” Frederick I said, “how could he not take such a good deal?”

Henry was almost convinced by his father. "But... alright, how much money do you want?"

To Henry's surprise, Frederick I did not make an outrageous demand, as he had expected, for the whole of Cyprus. This time, it was Frederick I who rolled his eyes at his son. "Do you think I don't know? Cyprus is so prosperous because of him. I cannot guarantee that any official I send will maintain the current impartiality if it were anyone else, even myself. That is a treasure as abundant as the sea in gold and silver."

I might be able to get some money.

But in the future, Cyprus will only become a piece of chicken rib—tasteless to eat, but a pity to throw away.

Indeed, if Cyprus is no longer the Cyprus it once was, then being so far away and under the watchful eyes of infidels, it is truly impossible to abandon it or manage it, only to waste military resources and money in vain—if left unattended, it will soon fall into the hands of others—only causing trouble for their descendants.

“We can ask him for a sum of money and then allow him to pay in installments, but with some interest.”

That might not be impossible, Henry admitted.

If he were in Cesare's position, he would also be tempted by this deal. Although he would face many challenges after reclaiming Edessa, the vastness of Edessa was indeed unmatched by the other three Christian kingdoms.

He believed that with Cesar's will, perseverance, and conduct, and with the support of King Arrasalus, he could completely restore the glory of his ancestors, and even go further.

For Rome, Frederick I's actions can be seen as truly defending God's glory, expelling the pagans, recovering lost Christian territories, and asking for little in return—even the Duke of Antioch should thank him, since this would reduce the threats facing Antioch.

Although the Roman Catholic Church and Grand Duke Bohemond of Antioch might not think so.

Young Henry understood his father's intentions. After his father's death, he too would have to compete with the electors for the positions of King of Germany and Holy Roman Emperor. In such an election, military power was certainly an important asset, but gleaming gold was undoubtedly more desirable and would have far fewer negative consequences.

“That’s it, son,” Frederick I patted young Henry’s shoulder heavily again. This time, young Henry was prepared and at least didn’t almost bite his tongue.

"You give him a crown, and he gives you a crown in return. What a fair trade, right?"

Henry reluctantly put down his spoon. "Yes."

Frederick I laughed triumphantly. Then he stopped laughing. “But you should be careful of Bohemond of Antioch. I have a feeling he’s up to something,” he hesitated for a moment. “Perhaps you could remind Cesare.”

"I think he should know to be wary of Bohemond."

"It's one thing for him to know, but it's another thing for you to remind him."

Frederick I withdrew his hand, casually wiped it with a linen cloth beside him, and then began to attack the plate of succulent stewed mutton. "You are a young man just like them. Go find him, talk to him, and become his friend."

This will make our future business negotiations easier.

Young Henry gave him a reproachful look. His father hadn't thought to wipe his fingers before patting him on the back, but now that he was done, he was wiping his fingers. What did that mean? Were his clothes less valuable than those stewed lambs?
“Yes, Father, as you command, Father.” Little Henry said in a gruff tone, and at the right moment scooped a large piece of stewed mutton onto his plate. “But you must also promise me that when I go to find Cesar, you must stay quietly in the tent and not run out to cause trouble.”

"Hey, is that how you talk to your father? And when have I ever caused trouble?"

"You even wrestled with a Turkic prisoner last time."

"He challenged me first."

Have you forgotten Arslan I?

"I'm much stronger than him!"

"That's not necessarily true..."

------

The dinner party in César's room was coming to an end. After a hearty meal, people were tired, so César told them to go back and rest, especially Baldwin.

Cesar also said he was going to take a short rest, but he didn't go back to his own room; instead, he went to Baldwin's room.

People at this time would not find it strange, after all, it was commonplace for the king to share a bed with his trusted ministers, and they would even take the opportunity to discuss some secret matters.

But Cesar wasn't there to rest, nor would he discuss anything with Baldwin.

Baldwin removed his mask and let out a sigh of relief. Looking at him, Cesar shook his head: "Perhaps we should consider this matter after this expedition is over." He pointed to the silver mask.

Baldwin shook his head: "It is precisely because of this expedition—if I lose, so be it; if I win, there will definitely be even more people who hate me and find it hard to tolerate my continued existence."

Now I'll put on the mask and act like I'm terminally ill, and they'll be at ease—they'll wait for me to die. After all, once leprosy starts to erode the body, it means the patient doesn't have many years left to live. You should be careful—I used to lament that Lorenz was a girl, but now I'm glad she is.”

But why didn't Portia have any more children after that?
Baldwin suppressed the urge to ask, watching Cesar pull up his sleeve, take a wad of alcohol-soaked cotton from a glass bottle with tweezers, wipe his arm, and then… he turned his head away.

Cesar smiled helplessly, his hands trembling slightly. "Are you still afraid?"

When they were on the battlefield, they were pierced by arrows, slashed by swords, and impaled by spears. When their wounds were examined, Baldwin would not even utter a groan, let alone look away.

But when faced with the tiny, fine needle, he was still as afraid as a child, and didn't even dare to look at it.

“That’s because I trust you,” Baldwin said. “I just wanted to admire the carvings above the bed; those Saracens had some taste in art.”

He stared intently at the headboard, gilded and inlaid with silver, carved with countless flowers, each with a gemstone embedded in its stamen, his eyes unblinking.

To be honest, the headboard looked familiar to Cesar, and then he remembered that it was very similar to the large handkerchief that Damara had embroidered for him.
The same brilliance, the same vibrant colors, the same dazzling array that's almost noisy...

After giving Baldwin the injection, he didn't leave. For half an hour, he kept a close eye on Baldwin's condition. In the next three hours, he moved the documents to the room to work on them, and finally stayed with Baldwin for the entire twenty-four hours before he felt at ease.

However, it must be said that the new drug works quickly and powerfully. This may be because leprosy has never encountered such an opponent in the world. Just as bacteria are sensitive to any new antibiotic, Mycobacterium leprae was defeated in the face of the new drug. Cesar has not been able to find any new symptoms for several months, not even blisters or redness.

While the damage caused earlier was difficult to undo, it wasn't too serious to begin with, thanks to Cesar's previous control. This made him feel incredibly gratified, even more so than any victory he had ever won.

What does it matter if we defeat an enemy who is also human?
The thing he was most proud of was defeating Death, who had been lurking around Baldwin for over a decade!

Before leaving the room, Baldwin put his mask on once again.

They were heading to a trial, and this trial was quite extraordinary.

First, in this trial, there were four Christian kings and one orthodox despot who served as judges. The people they were judging were a group of Turks, Saracens, and Isaacs, who were accused of harming, killing, and insulting other Saracens.

The feeling was truly wonderful, even Frederick I, who was not usually interested in setting up courts, was very excited.

(End of this chapter)