kingdom of nations

Chapter 6 Jealousy
Cesar saw a not-so-strange figure by the kitchen stove.

The stoves in the castle were not as sophisticated as later generations believed. The only difference between them and the hearths used by civilians was their size.

A rectangular fireplace spanned almost thirty steps of the wall, and was intentionally divided into a large fire, a small fire, and embers. A soup pot was hung in the large fire area, an iron fork was placed on the small fire area, and acorns and pine wood were scattered on the embers. Poultry and animal meat waiting to be smoked were faintly visible in the rising smoke.

The short servant who brought water was squatting by the small fire, seemingly working seriously, but every once in a while he would take out the iron fork and cut off a small piece of meat, eat it, then smack his lips and shake his head as if tasting the flavor. Several people rolled their eyes at him, but he either pretended not to see it or gave a nasty fake smile.

He knew, of course, that the kitchen staff would have liked to attack him with sticks and forks, and would have preferred to have him thrown into the hearth, but he was a knight's son, a servant to Prince Baldwin, and one day he might become a squire. They didn't even dare approach him because he would spit at them—and that was... the spit of the person closest to the leper!

Klamm's expression suddenly turned ugly. He strode towards the little man, pulled him up, slapped him, kicked his butt and drove him out of the kitchen. However, the little servant did not show any fear. He kept smiling and jumping around like a clown.

"You're still so proud?!" Kram said angrily, "You're going to get out, you know that?

The little servant's smile froze on his face. He widened his eyes, bared his teeth, and looked like a rat cornered in a corner. "What are you talking about, Uncle?" he shouted. "What do you mean I'm going to get out? Who has the right to do that?"

"There are too many people," Klamm said. "Who do you think you are? Witt, you are nothing but my brother's illegitimate child, a fool who crawled out of Isaac's woman's belly. I worked hard to take advantage of this good opportunity to get you to the castle, but you ignored my kindness and wasted my favor and money in vain!"

"What nonsense are you talking about?" Witt shouted. "I have always been a good servant and a good slave. I always remember my good master and serve him conscientiously and work for him!"

Kram laughed out loud this time. He grabbed the leather bag hanging from Witt's belt and shook it, sending the silver coins tumbling all over the floor. As Witt scrambled to pick it up, Kram was too lazy to hide his disappointment. "You think I don't know where all this money came from?" He pointed into the kitchen. "See that beautiful boy next to me? He's the new attendant chosen by His Majesty the King for Prince Baldwin."

Witte's hand paused. "A new squire?" he asked. "Is he the son of a count? Or a grand duke?"

"No, he was just a slave of an Isaac merchant." Klamm said disgustedly, "Look, this position should have been yours, but you were only interested in such a small amount of money. Now the prince has a new partner, he doesn't need you anymore, you all have to get out!"

"This isn't fair!" Witt raised his head, his eyes gleaming with ferocity. "This isn't fair! His Majesty said..."

"Yes," Clam interrupted him, "His Majesty said that if you could please Prince Baldwin, he would grant you humble commoners the privilege of serving as his attendants. But did you do it? No! The prince doesn't like any of you! But he only saw the child once, then allowed him to sleep next to him and wear his own clothes."

Witt glanced quickly towards the kitchen. Although he couldn't see clearly from a distance, he still remembered the quick glimpse he had taken in the tower. At that time, he had remarked on how the new servant acted like a woman... "Is it him?" he asked through gritted teeth. "He wants to drive us all away! Right!"

"It doesn't matter," said Klamm. "When I have chosen new servants, you will all leave the castle - do whatever you want, be a farmer, a craftsman, or a cook... It's up to you, and I will not care about you anymore, Witt. You are as useless as your father and your mother Isaac!"

He almost roared the last sentence, then turned around and walked away without looking back.

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Boiling water gushed out from the thin mouth of the kettle and fell into the wooden barrel covered with silk. Steam rose up and the air suddenly became hot and humid.

There are many reasons why the church does not encourage bathing. One of the important reasons is that bathing is undoubtedly a luxury, which runs counter to the simplicity required by the church.

Because the bathtubs here, even those used by princes and kings, are still full of fine wooden thorns because there are no tools available for fine polishing. In order to avoid being pricked, they must be covered with a layer of silk every time they bathe. However, these expensive silks completely lose their original value after being tortured by boiling water, trampling, and pulling.

Cesar weighed a pound of dried St. John's wort on a scale and put it into the water.

St. John's wort is a medicinal herb often used by monks and civilians. It can treat sunburn, burns and cuts, relieve muscle pain, and relieve the symptoms of gout and rheumatism. However, its effect on leprosy is minimal. It can only delay some early symptoms and prevent them from developing too quickly, such as herpes and numbness. After using it, Baldwin could only sleep more soundly.

While Baldwin was taking a bath, someone knocked on the door again. This time the knock was much more polite. Cesar opened the door and saw a plate of neatly stacked clean clothes.

"Who?" Baldwin asked.

"Someone has sent me some clean clothes." When common people still regarded clothes as an important inheritance passed down through generations, the king of Alaska only changed a linen shirt every day. However, Prince Baldwin had contracted leprosy and needed to maintain absolute cleanliness. In addition to bathing, the clothes he changed every day had to be taken away by servants, washed and sent back.

The clothes placed on the large wooden tray were not only clean but also quite fluffy, still retaining some warmth brought by the sun. The deep purple lavender was intertwined in the fabric, exuding a pleasant scent. On top were stockings, under the stockings were shirts, under the shirts was a black coat, and next to them were gloves and a veil.

"Cesar?"

"I'll find you another coat, Your Highness," Cesar said. "This coat has been stained with bird droppings." He pulled out the black coat and threw it on the ground, then found a creamy white wool coat from the trunk. He then carried the "bird droppings-stained" coat out the door and returned to the tower before Baldwin finished his bath.

The problem with the coat, of course, wasn't the guano. It wasn't really a coat, but a robe. While high-ranking officials often wore black coats, leggings, or capes, black robes were still reserved for funerals, reserved for the deceased and close family members.

Or perhaps, if Baldwin were healthy, the black robe wouldn't be such a sensitive thing. But back when he was at the Monastery of St. John the Baptist, Cesar, who was beloved by the monks, had learned from them that before a leper was expelled from the city and their homes, if they received mercy from the church, a priest would perform the sacrament of the Last Supper "in advance."

The patient would wear a black robe and, surrounded by relatives and friends, stand in a dug grave. The priest would anoint the patient with holy oil, sprinkle holy water, listen to the confession, and chant prayers. Finally, a group of monks would scoop up a handful of sand and sprinkle it on the patient, saying, "You died in this world, but you have been reborn in the presence of God."

It's like a funeral.

If Cesar had been a little careless, or had not been clear about the above matters, and had hastily handed the black robe to Baldwin, according to those people's thinking, even if His Royal Highness the Prince did not immediately become furious, he would certainly feel resentful, or if Amalric I knew about this, he would immediately drive away this reckless or stupid servant.

Cesar's sharpness undoubtedly disappointed some people. Before the evening vespers began, the short servant came personally to invite Cesar to a banquet. According to him, they had prepared the best wine and pork pies with sincerity, and also planned to share with the newlyweds the tips on how to serve nobles.

Cesar wasn't sure whether it was sincere, but Witt and his servants who were in cahoots with him did put a lot of thought into it.

Servants were not allowed to drink wine under normal circumstances. They could only drink bland beer. In addition to pork - pork was rarely seen in Alaska because Saracens did not eat pork and the climate and environment here were not suitable for raising pigs - pork pies also required the use of fine wheat flour to knead the dough, which was then fermented and baked in the oven.

"Your Highness must not be disturbed from resting." Witt said attentively. They entertained Cesar in the one of the twelve defense towers, which was closest to the left tower. In addition to a considerable amount of wine and pie, they even found prostitutes. They were all bare-chested and very charming. The men felt a little intoxicated in the hot little room before they had time to drink.

There is nothing much to say next. They drank, ate cakes, and laughed loudly. They didn't look like they had known the bad news. Witt sat next to Cesar, and on the other side was a prostitute. Witt leaned over and whispered the so-called tricks in Cesar's ear - in fact, they were not really tricks, but some tempting and decadent things, but they were exactly what big boys like Cesar's age were most interested in. The prostitute either held a wine glass or a pie, and kept feeding him food and drink.

They kept making noise until late at night. "We should go back," Witt said. "Shouldn't we pray before we go back?"

The men and women all laughed. Of course, the prayer Witt mentioned was not literal. He was asking them if they wanted to go to the toilet. The castle tower usually has a toilet built high up. From the outside, it looks like a small room protruding from the wall. The nobles always call it a "wardrobe" or "prayer room" in a literary way. It sounded a bit ironic to Witt.

"You go first," Witt said, "Master, I just had it cleaned before. It's very clean."

"Okay." Cesar said slowly. He looked sober, but his slow pace and the hand that had to be placed on the wall showed that he was almost drunk.

The toilet in the defense tower is Roman style. No, it should be said that almost all the toilets in the entire castle are like this. You can imagine it as a stone platform with a wooden board on the platform that can accommodate two people sitting side by side. There is a hole in the board, and under the board is a vertical tunnel, which is twenty or thirty feet long. At the bottom is a deep pool filled with people's excrement.

A fishy and cold wind swept up from the dark cave, making people feel sick. But in this uncomfortable smell that made them want to escape quickly, there was a strange sweet fragrance. For a moment, Cesar couldn't remember what it was. He stroked the wall, looking for the candle ends and flints stored in the recesses, but found nothing. There was only a ventilation hole at a high place, but perhaps in order to defend against external enemies, the ventilation hole was very small. It was night, so he still couldn't see anything clearly.

He pondered for only a few seconds before attempting to leave when a dark figure lunged at him, pushing him against the stone platform. Cesar's knees slammed hard against the stone, and he fell uncontrollably forward. But as he fell, he nimbly curled his body, tumbling through the narrow space between the plank and the opponent's body—tumbling out. He had once survived the hooves of a hundred horses and the claws of dozens of hounds, so this wasn't difficult.

After his knee, his shoulder hit the wall, but he didn't feel any pain at all, and he just pulled out the short knife he carried with him. This short knife originally belonged to Baldwin, and the blade was only a palm long. It was used to cut meat and bones at the table, but it was also no problem to use it on people.

A thin man rushed up, and Cesar's dagger bit his thigh from bottom to top, tearing the thin linen. Amid the crisp sound of the cloth being torn, the unique elasticity and softness of human skin and muscles were transmitted from the blade to Cesar's tiger's mouth. He held his breath and continued to move in and up, until he reached the most important place for men.

The rusty smell of blood was mixed with the hot stench of equally fresh feces and urine.

The third attacker retreated, abandoning his companions without hesitation and fleeing into the darkness, but Cesar had already recognized him.

He stood up, and at this time he could see the situation around him a little more clearly. It turned out that the first person who attacked him was stuck, no wonder he did not join the subsequent battle.

It was a large man, stuck in the board, head down, up to his shoulders, and no matter how he swung his arms and legs, he couldn't get free, so he could only swing his feet in vain. But the hole, if Cesar was right, was not big enough for a grown man to fit his head and shoulders in.

He walked over sideways and touched the broken part of the board. Only part of the fresh cut was jagged, while the other part was smooth as a straight line.

Cesar remembered where the sweet fragrance came from. It might be difficult for ordinary people to imagine, but in the monastery, carving is also a skill that the monks are good at. It was the smell of the wood being cut, accompanied by the messy sawdust.

Someone had carefully sawed the board open, but only to the point where it would not break completely, and then placed it loosely on top. If he had lost his vigilance because he was drunk and full, and sat down without hesitation when he came in, he would have fallen into the cesspool below and died an ugly and shameful death.

In order to ensure that nothing went wrong, the man ambushed outside with two other people. If he had not fallen into the trap, he would have been caught and thrown out.

As Cesar inserted the dagger into the crack of the wooden board, he wondered whether he should tell Baldwin first, or Kram, or threaten this guy to pull out the culprit hiding behind him, but in the end he just smiled bitterly.

"What a damn world!" he said, then pulled the trigger. His Royal Highness's dagger was indeed thick and strong enough, and the wooden board immediately squeaked under the weight. The man who was stuck screamed in fear, but he was hanging upside down and could not make as loud a sound as when he was standing upright. Even Cesar could only hear a series of inexplicable rumbling sounds.

For the man, this period of time must have been very long, but for Cesar, it was only a matter of one or two minutes. He did not hesitate when he lifted the man's legs and threw him down.

(End of this chapter)