Chapter 116: The Lady of Love and Beauty (Extra Chapter!)

"They really treated me like a child." Baldwin said in a low voice, without much indignation in his tone, but with a bit of helplessness.

In these few months, he finally understood. Even if it was a few months later, he would be sixteen—according to Amalric I's will, from that day on, he could have all the rights and status of a monarch.

But in fact, even Amalric I himself failed to make everyone convinced—at least the Grand Master of the Templars and the members often sang the opposite to him. Now they were still singing the opposite, but targeting Raymond and Bohemond—but for Baldwin, this was not a good thing either. This meant that the Templars had not even put this young monarch in their eyes.

Until today, they were still discussing how to conquer Mleh. Even though Baldwin and Cesar had already produced evidence that Nur ad-Din might go to war at any time, they remained unmoved, or rather, maintaining the safety of the pilgrimage route was the top priority.

No, to be more precise, they might believe the intelligence brought by those merchants, but the analysis and judgment based on this intelligence were completely different from Baldwin and Cesar—after fighting the Saracens for so many years, they were quite familiar with the Saracen political and military system, even if they couldn't say they knew it like the back of their hand.

In the court of the Turkic Seljuk, there was only one master, and others were slaves. Once the master passed away, before a new master appeared, people would only be greeted by chaos and disorder. Nur ad-Din had three sons and his nephew. As long as he died, the Saracens would immediately fall into civil strife.

Since this was the case, knowing that he was not long for this world, Nur ad-Din didn't even dare to leave Aleppo, let alone launch an expedition to Al-Azar. Even if he suddenly went crazy, how long could he persist?

Whether it was Nur ad-Din or Amalric I, preparing for an expedition would take at least a year or two, and the siege would last for weeks to months. And they had already made an agreement with the Byzantine Emperor Manuel I. When they attacked Mleh, the Byzantine fleet would also arrive at Adana (a Byzantine city near Mleh's territory) at the same time, forming a pincer attack with the Crusaders.

If so, they might be able to finish this war in three months, not only ensuring the smooth flow of the pilgrimage route but also using it as a base to attack the Sultans of the Turkic Seljuk.

Even if the Saracens dared to attack Al-Azar, they could return in time. Al-Azar was not a small city with low walls. The Crusaders spared no effort to attack it for a month and a half before they took it down. And in these decades, successive Kings of Al-Azar had been constantly reinforcing the walls and increasing the fortresses, making it more majestic and solid. According to a cleric, "Unless God himself sends down divine punishment, it is possible for it to be destroyed."

However, Raymond and others did not think this was a terrible mistake. The new king was still an impulsive teenager after all. Although he had participated in battles and expeditions, his accumulated experience was still insufficient.

However, Raymond would occasionally ask himself, would he be willing to hand over the power in his hands in a few years?

Five years, he thought, and it might even be ten years, until King Baldwin IV and his children grew up.

Judging from Baldwin's current situation, his physical condition was still okay, but he didn't know when it would take a turn for the worse. Raymond had inquired with some clerics. Leprosy patients could indeed be fine all the time, but perhaps one day, they would suddenly ulcerate all over, have high fever, fall into a coma, and then be unable to support themselves, needing to be anointed and repent. The whole process might only take a month or two, at most half a year...

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but worry. If Baldwin remained immature, too frivolous, or trusted that kid of unknown origin by his side too much, his regency might last for fifteen or twenty years, until the child of Abigail, Bohemond's son, and the Princess grew up, he might have a chance to rest.

That is to say, his war with Bohemond might have to be fought until the graveyard.

The struggle between them began when they became attendants of Baldwin III and continued until the reign of Amalric I. Unexpectedly, after Baldwin's generation, it would continue to his descendants.

He was quite confident in himself. He was experienced, sophisticated, and—at least he thought so himself, even if he was not that upright and fair, he could be considered diligent and responsible.

Bohemond? Pfft!

Loud cheers shattered Raymond's sweet fantasy. He came back to his senses and found himself sitting on a high stand. He remembered that in order to dispel the anxiety and worry of the young monarch, he and Bohemond had specially held a small tournament during this time.

Although it was called small, the preparation, announcement, construction of stands, fences, and railings before the tournament, and the rooms, servants, stables, tents, and camps prepared for the knights coming from afar were all indispensable—in order to make this tournament more interesting, they also recruited some musicians, troubadours, and flashy prostitutes and dancers.

There were also dwarves and clowns from various castles, totaling several dozen.

They also implored the former Queen, now the Queen Mother, the Byzantine Princess, to lend her animal trainers and those wild beasts. Before the tournament, there were dazzling programs that kept people busy. Not only that, he and Bohemond also each offered a generous bounty.

"Is that your son?" A small noble took the opportunity of the crowd surging and leaned over, flattering: "What a brave, what a handsome young man. In my opinion, in the whole castle, no, the whole Al-Azar, or even the whole Holy Land, there couldn't be a more outstanding knight than him."

If he said some other flattering words, Raymond might have accepted them with a smile, but when it came to the most handsome and brave, he immediately couldn't laugh. "And our King." He said coldly.

That noble choked, but he had an incomparable thick skin and immediately continued, "Except for the King."

Raymond sneered, "No, not just the King, you also have to add one person—the Bethlehem knight."

Sure enough, the next moment, people cheered, red flags unfolded in the field, and the herald stood up and sang the name of the Bethlehem knight loudly.

"It still sounds a bit strange, Cesar of Bethlehem." Baldwin muttered.

The Franks of this period did not value surnames much. Their names were generally Name + Territory or Birthplace. Cesar had been criticized for not having a surname, which meant this. But now he was a Bethlehem knight, so he could be called Cesar of Bethlehem.

Cesar's opponent was David, and the result needed no words. Even though it had been agreed that neither side of the competition would use the power bestowed by the saint. But when Cesar first arrived at the Castle of the Holy Cross, he had already been able to defeat David in the game of hitting the target—at that time David had already received three years of knight training, while Cesar had only learned riding and long spear for two months.

Even David knew that when facing Cesar, he inevitably developed a sense of fear—and a bit of frustration. He believed that he would also be a brave and fearless knight in the future, but Cesar had indeed experienced more cruel struggles—he unfortunately fell off the siege ladder on the first day of the siege. Although because he had God's blessing, he did not suffer a lifelong disability, but he was unable to participate in the subsequent battles.

He was sent back to Al-Azar.

If Cesar was already a sword tempered many times in the flames of war, David could only be said to be a piece of decoration hanging in the hall. He might achieve more prominent merits in the future, but at this moment, he was no match for Cesar at all.

Cesar knocked David off his horse with one blow, and the cheers that had been prepared long ago suddenly gushed out. Raymond couldn't help but look unhappy, but he had to clap his hands perfunctorily.

Poor was the noble who came to flatter. He probably didn't know the Bethlehem knight very well, or had some misunderstanding about him, thinking that he was able to rise so high just by relying on his friendship with the new king. He stood stiffly there, at a loss. Raymond felt a bit pitiful for him, "You go down." He said, and turned to look at his child.

"It doesn't matter." Raymond said to himself: "David, you will be the Count of Tripoli in the future."

Perhaps—also will be... A thought involuntarily emerged in his heart. Sibylla and Abigail had been sharing a room for several months, but the Princess's belly still had no movement. Although he also knew that a woman getting pregnant was not something that happened overnight—a newlywed couple might see the wife's belly bulge after a month or two, or they might not see any hope for several years or even more than ten years. This was God's will, making their marriage not smooth enough.

For example, Eleanor of Aquitaine and King Louis VII of France.

But if they really couldn't have children, or could only give birth to daughters, the inheritance rights of daughters were always after male heirs. And as Bohemond said, he was the cousin of Amalric I, and his son was also Baldwin's blood relative. After more than ten years, when Baldwin IV was physically broken and difficult to sustain, if Abigail and the Princess still had no children...

Of course, there was also Princess Isabella. But at that time, Princess Isabella would only be barely an adult, while his David would already be an adult of about thirty, a knight, a noble. If he could establish some merits in these few years, such as occupying a city or recovering some territory—as his father, Raymond also had confidence in obtaining the support of the Hospitallers and the Templars.

By then, perhaps his struggle with Bohemond could reach a real ending.

When he looked at David again, there was no more irritability in his eyes. He even personally took off his son's helmet and wiped his sweat. David was a bit low in mood; he had failed his father's expectations again.

"It's nothing," Raymond said, "Everyone has their own strengths, and your strengths might be something they can't reach."

David couldn't understand the meaning of his father's words for a while. He was about to continue asking, but heard a crisp cry and shout, and the sound of leather shoes stepping on the wooden stand floor. It turned out that the champion of today's tournament, the Bethlehem knight, was hanging a wreath on his spear according to tradition.

He was going to present this wreath to the most beautiful and noble woman here.

Generally speaking, this kind of ritualistic support and gift—unless this knight had already sworn to a noblewoman, knelt at her feet, and sworn to defend her dignity—otherwise this wreath was generally presented to the woman with the highest status in the field.

The woman with the highest status appearing here today was the Countess of Jaffa.

Since Amalric I passed away, she had often traveled between Jaffa and Al-Azar. After losing her father, she of course hoped to give her two children more comfort from their mother. But as far as she was concerned, the only one who needed her comfort might be Baldwin—Sibylla was becoming more and more paranoid, arrogant, and willful.

The Countess of Jaffa had already shown a smile. She saw that this child was letting an attendant hang a wreath of forget-me-nots. The purple little flowers were also dotted with white little roses, and bright red ribbons were tied on them. She pondered, took off one of her bracelets, which was a return gift from a noblewoman to a knight.

"I remember the last time I became the 'Lady of Love and Beauty' was twenty years ago," she turned her head to her companion and said excitedly: "Amalric I won the championship of that tournament, and he gave the wreath to me. I didn't expect that after twenty years, I could still be the 'Lady of Love and Beauty' once."

Her companion was her good friend who had always been with her. Hearing this, she couldn't help laughing. She was about to say something, but the expression on her face suddenly stiffened.

The Countess of Jaffa immediately turned her head, her face suddenly cold. She saw her daughter—Princess Sibylla.

The Countess of Jaffa was once the mistress of Al-Azar, but after she divorced Amalric I, she was just an ordinary noblewoman. Just as Sibylla shouted in anger, her status was already below her daughter. That is to say, at this time, Sibylla was the most noble woman in the field—this realization immediately made her feel a bad premonition.

"What do you want to do?" She asked in a low voice.

Sibylla stood in front of her, her face cold, "You should salute me."

The Countess of Jaffa's lips trembled, but she could only bend her knees and lower her head. But before she fully stood up, she grabbed Sibylla's arm, "Have you told your brother? Have you told the Bethlehem knight?"

Now Cesar was no longer an ordinary servant. He was a knight, had a fief, and was a close minister by the King's side. Although Damara of Gerard wrote a letter to lift the oath he made to her—when they returned to Al-Azar, Cesar went to swear to her, fulfilling his promise—although this oath lasted for a short time, everyone knew that the Bethlehem knight was an upright person who kept his word.

When Damara made the request to him in Bilbeis, he was still just a novice knight and had not yet officially sworn. He could have refused completely.

But he didn't. He accepted this difficult job, and it was also because he had such courage, wisdom, and strength. If it were another knight, he might not only waste his time in vain but even lose his honor and life there.

If he presented the wreath to Sibylla in such an occasion, he would have to swear to her and become her knight. From then on, he would have to take on all the obligations and duties like every knight who had sworn.

The Countess of Jaffa knew very well that according to Sibylla's temperament, she would never easily let go of the Bethlehem knight, this useful tool.

At this time, the Bethlehem knight had turned to the stand. The people who were noisy before became quiet. They looked at each other, discussing, and Baldwin even stood up from his seat. He looked at his sister with that cold and sharp gaze for the first time. He loved Sibylla, but he also did not allow anyone to wantonly use and humiliate his best friend and brother by relying on the friendship between him and Cesar—and in front of him, this was almost a provocation.

He regretted it. Not long ago, Sibylla had hinted to him—wanting Cesar to swear loyalty to her—but at that time, he just firmly refused, but did not give more warnings and reprimands.

If he wanted Cesar to become Sibylla's knight, he would have done so long ago. People who didn't know the truth might think that being a princess's knight was not a bad thing for Cesar.

But Baldwin, although often blinded by family affection, could still feel Sibylla's subtle malice toward Cesar. And he also saw how Sibylla "used" Abigail, that kind of unscrupulous, unsparing energy made him feel cold even when he looked at it. If Abigail was not the only son of the Prince of Antioch, Amalric I would have cut off his head himself when the incident happened.

Let alone Cesar was still a good person with high character and unyielding spirit.

If he were Abigail, would he agree to Sibylla's request? He would not only not agree, but would also try to persuade and stop Sibylla—but for Sibylla, this was betrayal.

But if Cesar did not hand the wreath to Sibylla, for Sibylla, it was also betrayal. He would face her endless revenge—he was not yet a Count, or the son of a Duke.

"Everyone, why are you all staying here?" A pleasant voice suddenly broke the silence in the field.

When people saw who was coming, a long sigh swept through the stand and the field at the same time. Everyone was looking at the people around them, and then laughed dumbly. It turned out that this sound came from a sigh they made at the same time, "God bless." Someone whispered.

It turned out that the person who made this sound was none other than the Queen Mother Maria, who should not have appeared here. She was wearing a white robe, a black cloak, and holding the young Princess Isabella in her arms. She was not wearing a crown, just simply wrapped in a headscarf, and the headscarf was a bit crooked, as if she came in a hurry.

Her face could not be called beautiful, but at this moment everyone felt (except Sibylla) that she was as beautiful as the Virgin Mary.

Who was the most noble woman in this field now? Of course, it was the Queen Mother Maria.

Sibylla stood in place, her face pale for a while, red for a while, and then turned iron-blue. And the Countess of Jaffa loudly reminded: "Please salute, Princess." For a while, the noblewomen around couldn't help laughing, even those brought by Sibylla. And after the Countess of Jaffa saluted, she didn't care about the Princess, and sat back to her seat leisurely.

The Queen Mother Maria did not walk or take a carriage. She rode on a tall Arabian horse—one of Amalric I's relics—and her maids also rode horses behind her. She walked directly into the field and faced Cesar.

Cesar showed her a grateful smile and slowly moved the tip of the spear toward the Queen Mother. The Queen Mother calmly reached out and took off the wreath, putting it on the head of her little daughter Isabella. She looked down and found that she came in a hurry and had nothing on her to give back to Cesar, so she had to take a ribbon from the little princess's hair and tie it to the tip of the spear.

This looked a bit ridiculous, with only such a small thin ribbon tied to the sharp and long spear, but when Cesar raised it, the cheers from the audience far exceeded every previous one.

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 117 =====