Chapter 130: The Son of Joscelin III, Count of Edessa! (2)

They had not met for a full six or seven years, but the moment she saw Cesar, she knew he was the brother whose whereabouts she had not known—he had grown up, but his face had not changed much, except for becoming more handsome, especially those emerald-like eyes—she remembered that when her brother was four or five, if they needed to take him out, their foster mother would wrap him in a headscarf to cover his face, yet he would still attract many people's attention, all because of those eyes.

Even after she later arrived in the Sultan's harem and saw so many beauties, she had never seen anyone with such gorgeous eyes. At first, she could hardly believe it. She knew her brother, like her, had been sold into slavery—according to those hateful slave merchants, the most likely fate for such a handsome boy was castration, followed by entry into the harem of the Caliph or the Sultan.

Just thinking that she might meet her brother in Sultan Nur ad-Din's harem made her tremble with fear, but she did not extinguish the idea of continuing to look for him—even if he had... he was still her brother, and she had to find him.

Even if he were destined never to have a marriage, a wife, or children, she could still bear an heir for him. But even in her most beautiful dreams, she had never imagined that her brother would be sitting beside the King of Jerusalem, being affectionately called brother by him, sharing his glory and power.

She had been so hesitant at first because she thought she was in a dream, and that when she woke up, she would still be in that small room with a dozen other women, waiting to be summoned by the Sultan or never—until she hugged him tightly, feeling the pain of the cold chainmail and the cross pressing against her skin, did she know that all of this was real.

"I saw my brother here at your place. I once thought I would never find him again. I thought he was dead, or had fallen into an even more unbearable situation, but no, he is standing right there."

She turned back and pointed at Cesar, "Look at him. He is not Cesar; he is Joscelin IV, inheriting the names of his great-grandfather, grandfather, and father. He is your cousin, Your Majesty, the future Count of Edessa. His father and your mother were born of the same womb."

She spoke decisively and logically, making it hard for anyone to think this was the dream-babble of a madwoman, and those present were all dumbfounded, unable to believe it.

The first to believe were the young knights like David, who had long said that someone like Cesar could absolutely not be the son of a farmer or a craftsman, much less the bastard of some Turk.

But some ministers frowned, their eyes filled with suspicion as they looked at Cesar—like Raymond, Bohemond, and others who stood on the same side, they showed even more contempt, believing this could only be a lie, or perhaps even a spy sent by the Saracens to sow discord and stir up trouble among them.

But their reactions were never the most important—Baldwin IV stood there, taking about the time of a few heartbeats to understand what the Saracen slave girl had said, and then he jumped up, truly jumped up, his feet leaving the ground by at least three feet.

He shouted with incomparable excitement, actually jumping directly from where he stood onto Cesar, hugging his neck tightly, kissing him fiercely on both cheeks, and then laughing loudly.

"God! God!" he shouted, "I knew it! I knew it! Cesar, I liked you the moment I saw you, and you were just as close to me the moment you saw me, even disregarding that I was a leper who could be driven out at any time! We were so happy together; there was no one before, and no one after. You surpassed all my companions because you were originally my brother, my own brother, our blood can flow together!"

"Your Majesty!" Raymond shouted, but Baldwin could hear nothing now.

Finally, it was Queen Mother Maria who stood up, gently placing her hand on Baldwin to let him return to his seat, and then letting Cesar return, while she held the black-haired slave girl—no, if what she said was true, she should be the daughter of a count, a noblewoman.

The Queen Mother had always liked Cesar, but her thoughts strangely coincided with Raymond and the others; she also worried that this was a conspiracy intentionally concocted by the Saracens, perhaps even a trap.

A slave girl and a noblewoman received completely different treatment at the King's court. With the County of Edessa now fallen, she could only be kept in the Castle of the Holy Cross. Given Cesar's gentle attitude toward women and Baldwin IV's trust in him, she was very likely to become a lady-in-waiting to the Princess, and many parts of the castle would be open to her; she would be unimpeded, and could communicate inside and outside without any obstruction or surveillance.

"Then, what is the evidence, child?" she asked gently but sternly, "Evidence. We cannot determine the ownership of such an important title and territory based on your word alone." Even if Edessa was already the property of the Saracens, the Count of Edessa could still seek support from Christian nations in the name of reclaiming the territory—money, men, and supplies.

"I have it, of course, but it is not with me." This was natural; every slave girl sold into the Sultan's harem would undergo a thorough search and inspection. After entering the palace, they had to engage in various arduous tasks, and even more so, bathe under the supervision of the head maid, and with a dozen people sleeping in one room, it would be a fantasy to say they could hide anything.

Heraclius raised his hand to signal her to stop talking for a moment, then turned to the Saracen envoy, who was first dumbfounded and then at a loss, "Do you have her birth certificate?"

The envoy nodded. Unlike what people in later generations imagined, those girls sold into the Sultan's palace, although all plundered, had origins that were almost all verifiable. Whether they were the daughters of craftsmen, farmers, merchants, or even nobles, the prices were different. Where did they come from? Did their parents have a surname? These all required detailed records.

In addition, girls of each class would receive different education, and this education would also affect their value. Therefore, in the slave market, it was not a group of people watching from below while a slave merchant grabbed a girl, stripped her naked, and showed her to the crowd—that was just a secondary creation by Renaissance painters based on their own imagination and people's interests.

On the contrary, just like all trading processes, the transaction was extremely serious and formal. "Goods" had production dates, ingredient ratios, and some quite detailed precautions.

Both parties to the transaction would often write a long, dense paragraph (the higher the value, the more detailed the content) of descriptions and agreements on the sales contract. As for those slave girls of unknown origin and with no skills, unless their beauty was truly unparalleled and stunning, they were unlikely to be picked by the Sultan's head eunuch. Otherwise, they could only become the lowliest maids or be sold to other noble families.

The envoy glanced at Cesar and also felt that fate was truly wonderful.

But given that this knight had recently groomed and cleaned their Sultan, for the sake of this kindness, he did not mind making a small return at this time. He took out the documents belonging to this black-haired slave girl from the box. It consisted of several sheets of parchment, detailing which merchant bought her from another, and how this merchant sold her to the Sultan's palace—

How old was she when sold? Who were her parents? What was her physical condition? Were there any missing teeth, obvious scars or moles on her skin, did she have siblings? These were all recorded clearly.

Raymond grabbed it first, flipped through it for a while, and then frowned. It clearly stated the identity of their parents—if what she said was true, then her father was just an ordinary knight, and her mother was just an Armenian woman; it did not say she was a noble.

"They were our foster parents," Natiya said quietly, "The birth certificate is fake, to avoid Nur ad-Din's pursuit and search."

"This matter is becoming increasingly bizarre. You say your father is Joscelin III, but forgive me for saying so, it seems he became a captive of Zengi at the age of five, along with his mother and the Archbishop of Edessa." Bohemond finally spoke. On this matter, he and Raymond stood on the same side—to balance the new and old forces in the court, Amalric I had bestowed a fief upon Cesar before his death, Bethlehem. He was not a landless man to be mocked.

And the great victory Cesar had previously won with the King by the Sea of Galilee had laid the foundation for him as an unquestionable important minister. If he were allowed to continue to develop—he and Baldwin IV were already in a relationship of mutual support and achievement, not to mention that they had a definite blood connection. The Countess of Jaffa would also support them without hesitation with Balian of Ibelin—now, the balance was suddenly broken, and in a direction unfavorable to them.

"If you are willing to give me some time," Natiya said, "you will be able to distinguish the cause and effect." This was why she insisted on appealing to the King of Jerusalem in such a public setting.

"But the negotiations..."

Baldwin IV interrupted Raymond, "The Count of Edessa is still alive." Still in Nur ad-Din's castle. If what this girl said was all true, then there was no doubt they must find a way to redeem the Count of Edessa... even if only for Cesar's sake.

And this daughter of the Count of Edessa had calmed down. The initial ecstasy was slowly fading, and she knew that every word she said afterward would be very important: "My father, Joscelin III, Count of Edessa, was born unfortunate."

This opening statement made most of the people in the hall show displeasure or embarrassment again.

There were many reasons for the fall of Edessa, but among them, there must have been the disregard and betrayal of allies—it had always been the weakest link among the four Crusader states, and could even be called the outpost of the four Christian kingdoms, with its territory surrounded on three sides by the terrible Saracens.

According to feudal law, customary law, and doctrine, when the County of Edessa was attacked, Antioch, Tripoli, and Jerusalem should have sent troops to rescue it in time. This was the covenant of mortals and also the law of God. But the problem was that Joscelin II was a hot-tempered ruler. After he ascended the throne, he did not get along well with Raymond, the ruler of the Principality of Antioch, which was closest to Edessa.

This discord was reflected in all aspects. They declared themselves the protectors of the other, demanded loyalty from the other, and then pulled each other's legs when dealing with the outside world. When one side was attacking an Emir, the other would make peace with that Emir, and vice versa.

The outcome caused by this behavior, which stemmed only from personal self-interest, was, of course, disastrous.

In the late autumn of 1144, when Joscelin left Edessa as usual to go to Turbessel (a city on the west side of Edessa), a messenger found him in a hurry and told him that Sultan Zengi's army had surrounded Edessa. Hearing this news, Joscelin II was, of course, terrified. He asked Antioch for help but was refused by Raymond.

Raymond clearly stated that he had no obligation to help a vassal who refused to acknowledge him. Subsequently, Joscelin II asked Tripoli and Jerusalem for help. Helplessly, the Count of Tripoli at that time was caught in a war of succession with his illegitimate son. As for Jerusalem, Fulk I and Queen Melisende had agreed, but it took them a long time just to assemble the army, and as a result, before they even set off, they received the news of the fall of the Count of Edessa.

In this war, Joscelin II was in Turbessel, so he was fortunate not to become Zengi's captive. But everyone in the city of Edessa was either killed or became the Sultan's slaves. This included his wife and son, as well as the Archbishop of Edessa.

That five-year-old boy was Joscelin III. In '59, Joscelin II died in a Seljuk prison, although all he could inherit was an empty crown.

(End of Chapter) ===== CHAPTER 131 =====