Chapter 108: Bethlehem (3)

When Cesar was a page by Amalric I's side, because the King was busy with the upcoming expedition, he had never opened a King's Court, nor was there any need—the territory of Al-Asar was not large, the King didn't need to consolidate his rights and gain the support of the people during his travels. And when Amalric I was alive, there were many people who opposed him, but few had the courage to launch a rebellion.

He had only seen in the market how the inspector punished those bastards who stole, evaded taxes, or used inferior goods. That couldn't be called a trial. The inspector would take a look or two and know who was the plaintiff and who was the defendant, and who was the guilty one. Next, he just needed to make a punishment.

The court in Bethlehem was also opened in the square. This square was called Manger Square, right in front of the Church of the Nativity.

In the center of the square, people built a high platform. On the high platform were a long table and three back chairs. The middle back chair belonged to Cesar. He didn't yield in this regard. This was also the best time for the people of Bethlehem to recognize him. If he showed cowardice at this time or was mistaken for cowardice, they would still regard Bishop Andre as the master of Bethlehem.

Sure enough, when people saw a beautiful youth sitting in the Bishop's seat, they couldn't help but whisper, but when Longinus led the guards over, they still took off their hats and bowed their heads to show respect—to Cesar's right sat the Bishop, but to his left sat a merchant named Jacques. This merchant was famous in Bethlehem for being rich, generous, and fair. The Bishop told Cesar that he could be regarded as a representative of the people.

Jacques bowed when he saw them, and sat down after the two sat down. Cesar wasn't very unfamiliar with him. After all, it was only the night before that he had sent a whole box of gold coins, a good horse, and three silk robes.

The first things sent to them were just some small disputes. People at this time lacked logic in their speech and actions—people who hadn't received systematic education were like this, and there was no evidence. Most were hearsay. One person even claimed that his constant hiccuping was because his neighbor cursed him...

The Bishop and Jacques's expressions were very relaxed, as if they were watching a farce or a few jokes. If they were impatient, the Bishop would exchange a glance with Cesar (Jacques didn't express any opinion), raise his finger, and tell the guards to drag them down and beat them with a few sticks.

And finally, the first murderer who should be taken seriously was dragged up—a dog.

It was a large dog. Cesar couldn't distinguish its breed. People at this time didn't have the concept of breeding, but it could be seen that it was very fierce and combative. Even though its fur was covered with bloodstains and one leg was broken, it was still growling in a low voice.

Its owner was the plaintiff. He angrily and sadly recounted the reason for the matter—he bought this dog from a traveling merchant, and he raised it from a puppy to be this big, consuming enough food to feed three people. Although it hadn't failed its master's upbringing later, it guarded cattle, sheep, and houses for him, and never made a mistake.

But just two days ago, it suddenly went mad while in the house, tore his child out of the cradle, and ate it.

He believed that either this dog was born cruel and ungrateful, or it was possessed by the devil. He could have simply beaten it to death, but he didn't want to let it get off so easily. He requested the lords to give it the punishment it deserved and cast it into hell, even if it was not pardoned at the end of the world.

Gentlemen, if we saw a person saying this today, we would surely think he was crazy, but at this time, his request was completely reasonable. He paid the fee for the appeal, and the Bishop didn't mind casting a dog into hell.

Cesar gently expressed his condolences to this unfortunate man. This case was of course not difficult to judge, but he hesitated slightly when signing the verdict. He saw the dog's eyes. It wasn't drooling, its eyes weren't red, it didn't fear wind and water, and it didn't look like a mad dog.

But some large dogs would also become irritable without warning because they thought "children," especially infants in swaddling clothes, were lower in rank than them, or were stimulated. But he still asked casually: "Did anyone see this dog bite the child? You, or the wet nurse?"

His question made the Bishop pause, and the plaintiff looked even more confused: "What? My lord?" He recalled, and pain twisted his face into a dough, "No, I didn't see it. I heard the child's wet nurse screaming. We ran over and saw bloodstains by the cradle. We tracked along the fallen items and blood, and we saw the dog, and my child..."

Cesar lowered his head slightly, looking at the man who still had tear stains on his face, "Did you see it tearing the child with your own eyes?"

The man seemed to want to answer: "Yes," but he also hesitated: "I'm not quite sure..."

Cesar assumed the scene at that time. The dog went mad, the wet nurse screamed, and the swaddling clothes were carried away...

"How far was the place where you found the dog and the child from the cradle?"

"It was several hundred feet away," the man said.

"I don't want to pardon a murderer, or let a devil escape, but I think, if your child hasn't been buried yet, go and measure the size of the wounds on his body with a ruler, and look at the distance between the two teeth—I know this is a sad thing, but—if you are willing, measure the size of the wounds on the child, and then compare it with the dog's."

The life of a dog was of course not very important, but the culprit was probably not this dog, or something else.

"My lord, what do you mean?" the man asked hesitantly.

"I can't be sure what happened. After all, my saint can't see the past—has it gone mad before, bitten you or anyone else?"

"No," the man said: "Before, small children played with it, and even if they hurt it, it didn't show its teeth."

"Then go and see," Cesar said: "No matter what you want to do, there's no rush."

The man hesitated for a while, looked at the Bishop, the Bishop nodded, and he bowed to Cesar and walked away in a hurry with several others. It seemed he intended to do as Cesar said.

This case was temporarily shelved, and several people dressed as farmers walked up, knelt on the ground, and recounted their request.

They were accusing a group of insects, yes, insects, "They ate our olives!"

The farmers said, they even caught some insects and put them in a cage made of grass and brought them here as representatives of the defendant, "Every year," they said angrily, "these hateful, little servants of the devil, every time the olives bear fruit, they fly here, lay eggs on the fruit, their maggots will suck dry the juice of the fruit, either making the fruit fall, or making the fruit shrivel, unable to squeeze out good oil."

"Today they are exceptionally dense, there are five insect eggs on every ten fruits," the farmers said desperately: "If they can't be driven away, we can't harvest olives, can't squeeze oil, can't exchange for wheat, and we will have to starve to death."

This matter was much more serious than the previous case. Cesar looked at the Bishop. The Bishop just shook his head: "The servants sent by the devil in these few years are indeed more than in the past. We held mass, held processions with holy images, and sprinkled holy water on the olive trees—but, I think, this might be because one of them committed an unforgivable crime."

He turned to the farmers, showing a severe expression—he said he would send clerics to investigate the matter. If it was determined to be a human sin, then as God's representative on earth, they would take extremely cruel means to punish the sinner, by fire or water.

But if no sinner was found, then it could only be said that this was God's punishment, and all the villagers had to serve, pay fines, and repent for this.

And if so, the disaster still couldn't be alleviated, then it must be the devil at work, and he would issue announcements and documents to excommunicate these insects—Cesar looked at the Bishop and found that he was indeed serious... not joking or teasing.

Afterward, the Bishop also let the farmers bring up the insects that had been caught and personally executed the severe punishment of "crushing." These insects, which should be some kind of fly, were crushed with a crackling sound. Cesar didn't know what expression to put on—but he still raised his hands very seriously and applauded to show his admiration and emotion for the Bishop...

But this certainly wouldn't work.

Cesar was already prepared to go to the Bishop in the evening to talk about it. After all, Bethlehem's olive industry was also part of his income. He didn't need to worry about being questioned for overstepping his authority by intervening in it.

The Bishop wiped his hands, changed his shoes, and returned to his seat. The plaintiff of this case retreated gratefully. Originally, it should have been the case of the man and the woman, but a commotion came from not far away. They looked up and saw that it was none other than the dog's owner and plaintiff!

As soon as he saw Cesar, he immediately threw himself under the high platform, weeping, and indicated that according to Cesar's instructions, they had indeed discovered the clues behind this tragedy.

They examined the wounds on the child's body. The two deepest bite marks did not match the position of the dog's canine teeth. Afterward, they severely interrogated the wet nurse, only to find out that it was the wet nurse's dereliction of duty. She leaned against the cradle and took a nap. It wasn't until she heard the baby crying loudly that she found it had been dragged away by a wild beast.

Before she screamed, the dog chased after it. When people arrived, they saw the dead baby and the dog, and thought it was the dog that attacked the baby. And she, in order to cover up her own fault in this matter, went with the flow and said it was the dog that bit the child.

People chased out for a distance and indeed saw an old wolf lying dead on the side of the road.

When she was dragged before the high platform by people in a sorry state, she was still arguing eloquently. No matter what, she didn't feel she should bear much responsibility for this matter. This was God's will, the devil's trick, making this child suffer... Of course, she said this, and couldn't avoid getting a few more punches...

The Bishop was also very angry, mainly because this stupid woman actually equated God with the devil. He gave her a sufficiently severe punishment: imprisonment, hard labor, and compensation for the employer's losses.

And the lucky dog was taken back by its owner.

"But how did you guess that the dog went to protect the child, not to harm the child?" the Bishop asked.

"I once heard a similar story—a loyal dog, seeing its little master attacked by a wolf, bravely pounced on it, fought with the wild beast, and brought the little master's body back to his home, but people only saw its blood-stained teeth and body, thought it had regained its wild nature, ate its little master, and beat it to death, but it was just fulfilling its duty."

"This is the first time I've seen such a thing," the Bishop said: "It's simply like seeing King Solomon." He firmly remembered this story and prepared to copy it into his diary when he went back.

This case was indeed enough for people to talk about, and it also made them more interested in the subsequent judgments.

The third case was not very complicated. In today's words, it was a divorce case.

Before the court opened, someone had dug a hole in the square. Now the guards walked over and lifted the wooden board. The hole was about half a person high and one person wide. At this time, the plaintiff and the defendant both walked up. They were originally a couple, but because of irreconcilable contradictions, they had to divorce—if one of them was a king, or just paid money to request the Pope to issue a certificate to indicate that the marriage was invalid—this matter wouldn't be anything.

But if they were just an ordinary couple... and still wanted to divorce, then they could only adopt the method of "divorce by duel."

Divorce by duel meant that the couple would have a fight—the kind where one lives and the other dies.

"The husband clearly has the advantage in this duel," the Bishop whispered in Cesar's ear.

At this time, the sturdy husband had one hand tied and was put into the pit. In his free hand, he held a thick wooden stick.

And the wife was indeed much more slender than the husband. She stood outside the pit, holding a cloth bag in her hand, and a stone was inside the cloth bag. She could use the stone to hit the husband. If she could knock the husband unconscious and drag him out of the pit, she would win.

Conversely, if the husband knocked down the wife and dragged her into the pit, the husband would win.

"What happens if you win?" Cesar asked.

"If the wife wins, the husband is beheaded. If the husband wins, the wife is burned at the stake," the Bishop said.

Before the duel started, the wife suddenly raised her head and looked at the high platform. Cesar almost exclaimed in surprise. He didn't recognize her at first, but when he saw those eyes hidden under messy hair, he remembered. Wasn't this the woman who was arranged by Heraclius and Amalric I to intentionally plead for help when he was doing asceticism at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre a few years ago?

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 109 =====