Chapter 103: The Funeral and the Wedding (Part III)

Bohemond rushed over.

He, the Count of Tripoli Raymond, and several other lords were not in Al-Asar every moment. Although they were vassals and ministers of Amalric I, they also had their own lands that needed governing.

Unless Amalric I prepared his army and summoned them to fight together against the Christians' enemy, the Saracens, they would not bring their knights and join Amalric I's command to fulfill their inherent obligations and exercise their rights that would last until death.

Or unless something major happened in Al-Asar, such as the Prince's previous misfortune, the King's recent passing, and this marriage connecting the Principality of Antioch with the Kingdom of Al-Asar.

Bohemond was already accustomed to being disappointed in his son.

Sometimes he always felt that this son not only failed to inherit his bloodline but also failed to inherit that part belonging to his mother. After all, his mother was a Byzantine princess—"Byzantine conspiracy" had long become a conventional adjective, widely circulated among the nobles of the Holy Land.

He also knew well how much trouble and crisis a fool could cause. So when the Count of Etienne met with an accident and it was proven to be related to Abigail, he did not hesitate to beat Abigail severely and send him back to the principality.

In these few years, even though Amalric I had forgiven Abigail and allowed him to enter the Church of the Holy Sepulchre to complete his selection ceremony, Bohemond had not relented—Abigail's selection ceremony was held at the Church of Saint Paul in Antioch. This church, in terms of holiness and orthodoxy, was certainly far inferior to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and even inferior to the Church of the Nativity or the Temple Church, but so what?

If Bohemond had a second child, even if it were a daughter, he might have disposed of this useless little mongrel Abigail. He disappointed Bohemond time and time again, especially now that several youths of his age were becoming increasingly outstanding.

When the Grand Duke walked into this hall, this feeling became even more obvious.

Because he saw Cesar serving on the right side of the throne, a position of the highest trust, second only to the King. When people walked up to pay their respects to Baldwin, it was as if they were also paying their respects to this Knight of Bethlehem.

Although Bohemond only needed to nod slightly, when he saw that radiant youth, a surge of indescribable emotion could not help but churn in his heart.

He still clearly remembered when this little Isaacite slave first took communion on Baldwin's behalf, inciting Abigail's jealousy because he could stand beside Princess Sibylla.

At the time, he only found it amusing; his annoyance was also due to his son's shortsightedness.

What did it matter if he could stand beside Princess Sibylla while taking communion? He was merely a small gift casually bestowed by Amalric I to comfort Baldwin, just like a piece of candy taken from a jar by parents to dismiss a crying child.

No matter how much Baldwin liked him, could he be accepted by other pages and knights in the castle? Could he follow his father or elders to learn and absorb the various lessons and experiences needed by knights and ministers?

Could he appear openly in Amalric I's entourage, carrying his banner or holding his cloak?

By the time they grew up, this little black-haired fellow might still be a servant, at most a page. Abigail, David, and others might have already become true knights, even able to serve Amalric I in the court and on the battlefield. Why should he care about such a small character?

Thinking back now, Bohemond felt a slight regret, yes, very slight. Because until now, he did not believe that the chronically ill Baldwin could achieve any astonishing greatness. Just as Amalric I expected, he was only a transition.

As long as he persisted for ten or fifteen years, until the child of Abigail and Sibylla came of age, he could logically follow the call of God or Death and yield the throne of Al-Asar to the latter.

And during these fifteen years, he, Raymond, and others would not allow this young king to be too wanton and perverse, giving too much power to an Isaacite slave. Bohemond believed he could do it.

He was the Grand Duke of Antioch, the maternal grandfather of the future King of Al-Asar. As long as he could persuade Raymond, Baldwin's regent, as long as that stubborn bull was willing to listen to his arrangements, he could guarantee that for this long period, Al-Asar would belong to them.

However, at this moment, this naturally treacherous old fox would not show any unusual expression. He even bowed to Baldwin with what could be called respect, and then turned to his son.

When he saw Abigail dressed in a crimson velvet coat, dark blue tights, and a silver belt, his expression grew even gloomier—Amalric I had not been gone for even a week, the priests at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre were still holding atonement masses for him every night, the mourning ceremony in the city would last for a full fifty days, and the children were to observe mourning for four months.

At this time, there was no strict requirement for mourning for those who were not blood relatives, but everyone who appeared before Baldwin wisely changed into black or dark coats, and their attire was exceptionally simple, wearing almost no jewelry except for rings, just to avoid stabbing Baldwin's heart.

Baldwin himself wore only a simple linen robe and a wool cloak, with only a brown leather belt tied around his waist, and there was no embroidery or embellishment on his collar or hem. Cesar, standing beside him, was also dressed entirely in black, solemn as if he were about to go into asceticism at any moment.

He certainly knew that Abigail was dressed this way to see Sibylla.

Bohemond could not help but feel a sense of relief. He thought he should thank those two knights who had beaten his son black and blue—if Abigail had returned to the Holy Cross Fortress and, instead of offering condolences to Baldwin or the Queen, had run straight to Princess Sibylla—perhaps even saying some witty remarks and giving some gifts—that would have been a deadly and ridiculous affair.

"Since you have come," Baldwin sighed and said, "then everyone, tell us what happened at that time."

The two knights were tall and sturdy, with scars left from mourning Amalric I still remaining on their faces. They vied to tell the story. To be honest, Abigail was not so dull as to do something stupid like wantonly disparaging Amalric I and Prince Baldwin at such a depressing and painful time.

He wasn't insane.

It was just that while the two knights were waiting for the guards to check their documents, he happened to come in from outside. His overly flamboyant and exaggerated attire caught the attention of the two knights, and then they heard him say that although he also regretted the passing of Amalric I, he had to say that if the King were not about to die, perhaps he would not have decided on the Princess's marriage so quickly.

He also said that although he had previously received many rewards from the King, there was nothing better than this.

These words did not seem wrong at first glance. But to the two knights who had just bid farewell to Baldwin, witnessed the sickly Prince's deeply profound and sincere remembrance and sorrow for his father and monarch, and were completely influenced by this heavy emotion, it sounded very harsh.

So they immediately rode forward and questioned how this young man could say such despicable words.

How could Abigail think much of these two provincial knights? He had seen countless such knights in the Holy Land, not to mention that he had come to marry Princess Sibylla, and perhaps in a few years, he would be able to share the crown of Al-Asar with Sibylla and become the King of Al-Asar. These people should be crawling before him, begging for his forgiveness, hoping to offer him their loyalty.

He did not think he had said anything wrong, and even felt extremely aggrieved, while also having a sense of reliance on his status. Even if Baldwin wanted to punish him unfairly, he would be marrying Sibylla in a few months; could they really throw the Princess's husband into prison?

"I am willing to apologize," Abigail said dryly, "but not for my words—when I said these things, it came entirely from my heart. I did not have any intention of disrespecting the King."

He argued, "His Majesty is almost like my father. I grew up under his care; he often stroked my head, praised me, and encouraged me. And I am going to marry his daughter. I can swear that I also came with a heavy and sorrowful heart.

It may be that these two gentlemen were too eager to earn some merit—they had sworn an oath to His Highness before, which led to this misunderstanding..."

He spoke with ill intent. Everyone present could hear that he did not feel he was wrong and intended to shift the blame onto the two knights, intentionally leading people to think that it was they who had deliberately provoked the incident in order to perform before Baldwin, wanting to pin groundless charges on an innocent person.

Baldwin did not look at him; he felt disgusted just by looking at Abigail for one more second. He only looked at Bohemond. From those blue eyes shot a light identical to that of Amalric I, so cold and so hard, "Thirty lashes."

Bohemond silently accepted the order. Abigail did not even realize for a moment that this punishment was for him. The knights on the side, who had been waiting impatiently, immediately stepped forward and grabbed his arms, and only then did he understand and start screaming.

The knights were exceptionally angry. Even their mortal enemies—the Saracens—would pause negotiations and war when Amalric I died, and allow them to see Amalric I off, letting the King peacefully embark on the road to Heaven.

But this fellow, a Christian, a person protected by Amalric I, who was even Amalric I's future son-in-law, whose child might even become the King of Al-Asar.

As for him, not only did he not show the proper pain and sorrow, but he was even full of joy, performing even worse than their enemies.

The maid rushed up the tower to report the matter to Princess Sibylla. She thought the Princess would plead for mercy, but Sibylla just placed her hands on her knees, "You all leave."

The maids dared not speak and had to stand up and exit the room. When only Sibylla was left in the room, she stood up and walked toward the window. This was the small room they used for needlework; the light was sufficient, and below was the square.

The knights dragged Abigail directly to the center of the dusty square. People gathered around out of curiosity; after all, one could tell from his attire that he was a person of noble status, but soon someone recognized him, although he had left the Holy Cross Fortress for several years.

"Isn't this Abigail, the only son of the Grand Duke of Antioch?"

"How could he—doesn't he know the news that the King has passed away?"

"He still has a marriage contract with the Princess, promised by the King... but... ha!"

Sibylla stood at the window, coldly overlooking the scene below.

The knights treated Abigail as if he were a criminal, or a pig. They stripped off his luxurious crimson velvet coat and milky white silk shirt, tied him to a crude rack, and then, according to Baldwin's order, gave him thirty lashes without any discount.

Such flogging could naturally not be as disorganized as people whipping livestock. A knight served as the executioner; his arms were thick, and one could see at a glance that he was quite sturdy and powerful. When he swung the whip, he was as skilled as priests reciting scriptures, unhurried and methodical, only striking Abigail's bare back with a 'crack' every once in a while.

Abigail was also a chosen one, but he had clearly not experienced any great hardships and could not bear it at all, and his saint seemed not very willing to pay him any mind. By the third lash, he was already howling loudly, begging for the saint's protection, but there was nothing.

Funnily enough, the knight acting as the executioner even looked up and glanced around for a while, and only after confirming there was nothing unusual did he grin and continue hitting.

Another knight standing on the side counted for Abigail in a matter-of-fact way. Abigail fainted at the seventeenth or eighteenth lash.

The knight seemed to want to ask Baldwin for instructions—should they continue hitting? —but was stopped by Bohemond, who was watching coldly with his arms crossed. The Grand Duke looked like he wanted to finish the remaining dozen lashes himself, but he only ordered the knight to finish it and be done with it.

Sibylla watched as Abigail was released from the rack like a pile of messy trash, and two servants walked out to carry him away, full of anger and despair.

She had long known that she would inevitably marry, if not Abigail, then someone else—like David, or a noble who had traveled from afar from Frankish lands.

The Princess had never fantasized about her marriage like other noblewomen. She was prepared, not even caring if her future husband was old, brutal, or ambitious, but she really could not bear that her future husband was such a useless coward.

She sat back in her chair blankly. The sky outside the window was darkening rapidly. Without her orders, the maids dared not enter to light candles for her. She sat like this for a long while, until the cold night wind penetrated her thin clothing, and she bent over and coughed violently, nearly failing to hear the movement outside the door.

The maids were exclaiming and bowing. In this castle, very few people received such treatment, but she guessed it should be Baldwin. He had come to comfort her; after all, he had just punished her future husband.

"Sister?"

Sibylla grabbed a water cup and took a large gulp of cold water, and then said in her gentlest voice, "Come in, brother."

The door opened, and Baldwin walked in. Sibylla stood up, wanting to bow to him, but because she had been maintaining a stiff posture for so long, her knees were already numb. It was fine when she stood up, but when she curtsied to Baldwin, the Princess suddenly felt a sharp pain and uncontrollably fell forward.

Amidst the maids' exclamations, someone grabbed her firmly.

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 104 =====