Chapter 101: Funeral and Wedding (Part 1)

Saladin was right. Amalric I's death made him a hero, not a clown.

His first attack on Egypt was a failure. Although he used his own money to pay the commissions of all the knights, he would still be criticized for being too gullible or too cowardly. And the second time, he had made up his mind. He borrowed money from nobles, borrowed from merchants, and misappropriated the dowry of the Byzantine Princess.

He could be said to have staked everything on a single throw, and he was only one step away from success. If he were still alive, this expedition would become a stain even harder to erase than the previous battle—if the first expedition could be said to be a lack of experience, then the failure of the second expedition could nail him to the pillar of shame completely.

But he died.

A knight dying on an expedition was equivalent to booking a position as a saint for himself—the deep black litter had just left Gaza when he met pilgrims who came in droves. They and the knights who should have returned home by boat in Gaza followed the King's coffin all the way to Jerusalem.

The people of Jerusalem had long been crowded into every street and alley, scrambling to shed tears and pray for their King, and lit countless candles and torches.

And on the day he was officially buried, looking at it, you could only see a piece of dark, gloomy color.

Not everyone could afford mourning clothes, but as early as hearing this sad news, someone began to donate dye and black cloth. Poor residents and pilgrims might only have such a piece of cloth. They draped it over their heads, folded their hands, and watched the six black-clad pallbearers place the King's coffin on their shoulders, surrounded by monks, clerics, and nobles, slowly heading toward the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

The dark brown coffin was draped with two layers of pall, purple silk and gold velvet. The gold belonged to the Christian King, while the purple came from the last garment sewn by the Byzantine Princess for her husband.

When people heard that in the King's will, these two palls would be donated to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and could be used by all the dead who held funerals here, they could not help but shed tears.

For them, Amalric I belonged to the kind of king who was not very good, nor very bad. He did not levy heavy taxes, nor was he cowardly or afraid of war, but this plain impression changed completely after Amalric I died on the expedition.

People in this era had very strange requirements for monarchs. They did not expect him to be very benevolent, nor did they expect him to be very wise. That was because they could find benevolence from the clerics, and wisdom should be used by ministers and judges. A king should lead his knights to gallop on the battlefield. If he could win territory for the secular crown, that was certainly a good thing, but if he could fight for God's authority, punish those hateful pagans, and ensure the safety of believers, that was the true glory.

Therefore, whether it was the knights who came in an endless stream to mourn the King, or these ordinary residents and pilgrims, their grief and pain were real and had little hypocrisy.

"Will His Majesty be canonized?" A pilgrim looked at the coffin moving away, crossing himself, and asked as if he were muttering to himself or praying.

"He should be," his companion replied. Although they did not seize the Saracens' territory this time, Amalric I did indeed capture Bilbeis and Fustat. True, they expelled the Saracens, turned their temples into churches, and held mass there—in fact, if Jerusalem today were a theocratic state, perhaps Amalric I would have been hailed as a "saint" long ago, just waiting for the procedure to be completed.

But Amalric I clearly did not intend to leave Jerusalem to the Church, whether it was Jerusalem's or Rome's.

The people of Jerusalem recognized the first two pallbearers—it was the young Prince Baldwin—he would soon become the new King of Jerusalem, and the one beside him was Cesar. Ordinary people might not think there was anything, but those who knew a little about power disputes could not help but change color slightly.

Because pallbearers generally only had two identities: one was the deceased's close friend, and the other was the deceased's colleague. Even if a son who loved his father very much and was already an adult was willing to carry the coffin, there would be a dispute. Not to mention that from the age, Baldwin had just left childhood, and his companion was even less so.

Although Cesar was already a Knight of Bethlehem, Prince Baldwin had not yet participated in any government affairs, let alone him.

Whether it was Bohemond or Raymond, they all thought this honor was too much.

At that time on the battlefield, there were no close relatives to take care of Amalric I's appearance. It was understandable that Baldwin let Cesar do it. But now they were already in Jerusalem. Regardless of tradition and law, Cesar should not have a place among the pallbearers. But Baldwin was very persistent, and Patriarch Heraclius, the Countess of Jaffa, and the Wang Hou also expressed support. The ministers finally had to give in.

After all, in a funeral, the person with the most say was the deceased's family.

The people who saw the King off were almost all blocked under the steps of the Square of Suffering. Heraclius sent hundreds of clerics, holding candles and holy water, to walk through the crowd, leading them to disperse gradually, so as not to cause chaos as Cesar reminded, and then cause terrible accidents like trampling.

Gerard's head of the family also found the previous managers. It was interesting to say that these managers were the ones Cesar stood up for when he was doing penance in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Later, some went back, and some stayed here. They all had a craft, and because of Cesar's care, they had become the leaders of the workers among the pilgrims.

Under the call and control of the clerics and managers, the crowd left in sighs and sobs—they did not just leave like this. According to custom, after the funeral was completed, there would be large-scale almsgiving, with money and food, which might be in different locations, but ensuring that everyone could get it.

And Baldwin and Cesar's party were still constantly walking toward the depths of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The Kings of Jerusalem of all generations were buried here—no, it was not quite right to say buried. After all, people at this time still used the tomb + lead coffin method, which was quite similar to the Romans, except that the body would not be cremated.

The oak coffin was moved into the stone coffin—if it were an ordinary funeral, the lid of the stone coffin would need levers and crowbars to cover it, but here the six pallbearers were "blessed" knights. They lifted it lightly together and pushed the lid on silently—"Wait," Baldwin said: "Let me see... Father again."

Raymond sighed. Baldwin leaned over and kissed the King's cheek, while taking off a reliquary and placing it in Amalric I's clasped hands. The reliquary contained the hair cut from him, his sister Princess Sibylla, and his younger sister Isabella.

"It is okay," Baldwin said. Before the coffin lid was completely closed, he took one last look at the King. The King was surrounded by fragrant dried flowers, his face peaceful, only his lips were slightly upturned because a piece of ancient Roman gold coin was pressed on them.

"Bless us, Father," he prayed silently in his heart: "Just like you did before."

————

After they returned to the Holy Cross Castle, Baldwin's first thing after washing up was to see the women.

Beyond the imagination of later generations, women, especially noblewomen, were not allowed to appear in the funeral procession at this time. Some women would be allowed to walk at the end of the procession, but they were basically "mourning women" of disreputable origin, that is, professional mourners. In some families with few descendants, their appearance was just to render the atmosphere.

In the Wang Hou's, that is, the Byzantine Princess Maria's living room—a large room, the Wang Hou in white sat by the window, while other noblewomen sat around her in black. Princess Sibylla sat subtly opposite her on an exquisite chair carved with grapes, and she and Baldwin's little sister Isabella were held in the arms of the Countess of Jaffa. She looked very accustomed to the Countess's embrace, neither crying nor making trouble.

The Countess of Jaffa looked at Baldwin worriedly. If Baldwin were still a Prince, she would definitely go up and hold him in her arms, but he would soon become a King! A fourteen-year-old King was not unheard of, but she had to worry about whether this heavy burden would make her child's already very weak body worse.

When the Wang Hou saw Baldwin, she immediately stood up, held his hands, and let her stepson sit beside her—she only gave birth to a daughter before the King went on the expedition, which disappointed many people. Now Amalric I was dead, and her hope of giving birth to another heir had vanished. But from another perspective, it was difficult for Baldwin to have his own heir—

This meant that if Princess Sibylla gave birth to a son, he would naturally become the King after Baldwin, but... who knew how the world would turn out? If her daughter Isabella could give birth to a son, this son would also have the right to inherit Jerusalem! No, it should be said that if Sibylla died before Baldwin, and unfortunately had no descendants, then her daughter Isabella would be the Wang Hou!

Even if this Wang Hou had to share the royal power of Jerusalem with her husband, so what? Her bloodline would eventually flow forever in this holy land!

The Wang Hou told herself that there was still a long way to go. Isabella was too young, but being young had its advantages. For example, she would definitely not choose a fool like Abigail of Antioch as a husband for her daughter.

But from the surface, the Wang Hou's performance was impeccable. Her eyes were swollen, her face was sorrowful, she listened attentively to every word Baldwin said, and occasionally asked about the details of the send-off ceremony, especially asking whether Baldwin had placed the reliquary containing the hair of every child of the King in the King's coffin.

"Although I know this is a bit overstepping," the Wang Hou asked: "Is it possible to ask the Knight of Bethlehem beside you to paint a portrait for the King?"

She was of course talking about Cesar. Cesar could paint, which was discovered by the clerics when he was doing penance in the monastery, and he was even pulled to repair murals and panel paintings. It was just that after coming to the castle, he had been busy, and only revealed a little when copying maps not long ago—after all, the painting techniques at this time were still very clumsy and childish. Even if he only learned a little out of interest and need, it was enough to make people now marvel.

"My Isabella has not seen her father yet," the Wang Hou said.

Baldwin's heart softened immediately. Amalric I did not care about this daughter. To be precise, he did not care about any daughter. He even hated them a little, especially after Baldwin became ill. Seeing them, the King could not help but think that his country and army would be handed over to a stranger in the future... For an ambitious person, it was almost like a curse.

"Of course," Baldwin immediately let Cesar come over. Cesar saluted the Wang Hou, and then sat at her feet at her signal—this was a very close position. Little Princess Isabella saw him and immediately abandoned the Countess of Jaffa, swaying toward Cesar. Cesar grabbed her, skillfully turned her around, and let her lean in his arms.

The noblewomen could not help but laugh when they saw this, but at this time, laughing loudly was clearly inappropriate. The smile on the Wang Hou's face was like a ray of sunshine in thick clouds, fleeting. She pointed to Baldwin and said: "This is your brother," and then she hesitated slightly: "This one can also be said to be your brother."

People all looked at Prince Baldwin. Baldwin just showed a gentle and melancholy faint smile: "Yes, Isabella," he whispered: "He is Cesar, he will love you and protect you forever."

(End of chapter)