Chapter 14: Man-Made

Longinus was just like the holy spear of the same name, tall, thin, black, and sharp. He often squinted his eyes and looked down at others from a high position.

Longinus was not his original name. He had made a vow that he would not take back his surname until he had achieved something. However, it seemed that this hope was becoming increasingly slim.

You know, wandering knights like him filled the entire Holy City. They were there for various reasons: some were abandoned by their families, some were rejected by the lords they served, some had failed to achieve or had made vows, or some had done things not allowed by customary law and canon law. They were all holding a thin hope, using the names of "pilgrimage" and "fighting against heathens" to enter Al-Lazarus.

This idea was not strange. After all, the Knights Templar, the Knights Hospitaller, and the four Christian kingdoms on the Arabian Peninsula were all born from the Crusades. Unfortunately, time waits for no one. Now the major forces in Al-Lazarus had already taken shape, and it was no longer a time when a lone knight could get praise, gold, and titles based on courage and martial arts alone.

Longinus boarded a ship to Yafa at the age of seventeen with his servants, three horses, a set of armor, and weapons. Now there was only him, a piece of leather armor, a long sword, and a horse. For ten years, he had been seeking opportunities everywhere. But for large knightly orders like the Knights Hospitaller and the Knights Templar, he didn't even have the chance to step through the door without a referral. Rich merchants and nobles who came on pilgrimage either had their own guards or preferred to hire knights from the Knights Templar. He turned to bribe officials in Al-Lazarus, but they were either liars or useless waste.

Ironically, in the end, it was a slightly compassionate piece of waste that gave him an opportunity, which was to serve as an attendant for the clerics of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Clerics were not only in churches and monasteries; they also often had to go out to perform sacraments for pious and valuable believers. And once they left Al-Lazarus, clerics were one of the fattest prey that bandits liked most—perhaps you would ask, why didn't such a job have fierce competition?

Well... that was of course because... the clerics were too stingy. The wages they paid could only ensure that Longinus wouldn't be poorly clothed or hungry. There was also an empty promise—a promise to recommend him to the King of Al-Lazarus, and, Longinus could enter and leave the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and the Square of the Passion in front of the church as he pleased—like a monk.

So Longinus used this privilege to make money.

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre was not open to anyone at any time, although according to canon law, it should have been. But monks and clerics always had ways to refuse those pilgrims who didn't give enough offerings. They couldn't see, touch, or smell even a trace of the precious traces related to Jesus Christ, so there were always large groups of pilgrims who could only wander in front of the stairs leading to the Square of the Passion, weeping and praying, kneeling and bowing, hoping that some good person would be willing to pity them and take them in.

Longinus was not a good person, but he was unexpectedly good at finding opportunities, and he was not greedy. He only charged half the price of the clerics. When he didn't need to go out, he would pick a few pilgrims at dusk and when the sky was dim, claim they were his friends or companions, and take them into the church. This could be said to be a win-win situation. Pilgrims could fulfill their wishes, he could subsidize his poor life, and the clerics could also use him more justifiably—although some of them were quite critical of this.

But sometimes, the knight would look up at the sky and fall into deep thought. Was his life just like this? He didn't know when the clerics would be unable to bear it and tell him to get lost. Even if they were willing to tolerate him, how many years could he maintain his current physical strength and sharpness? He had also thought about saving a little money, but the armor had to be repaired and wiped, the horse had to be fed, the sword had to be maintained, and he himself had to eat and drink...

Thinking that in five or ten years, he would be like those old or disabled knights he saw, holding a shriveled purse, hanging his head, riding an old horse with bones sticking out, carrying a long spear that could break at any time, walking on the path back home full of fear and despair, begging his nephew for a favor, and plotting a job on his farm, like a supervisor or something... Maybe he would have descendants, maybe not, but even if he had descendants, his descendants would only be commoners.

He had seen with his own eyes how his father and brother treated a commoner.

Anyone with a heart would be terrified by this.

"Longinus?"

A voice brought Longinus back from the possible hell to the human world. He saw the monk Thomas, and a boy beside him.

The boy's coat was dark green velvet, which he rarely saw even when he was at home, and he wore a silver cross on his chest. "Longinus," Thomas said. "I have something to entrust to you."

"What is it?"

"I know you are very familiar with the church," Thomas said. "This little brother has made a vow to personally cleanse the Lord's dwelling. I have homework to do and cannot accompany him—although I would be very willing to, so, knight, can you look after him for me? You only need to do it from when the morning star rises every day until Morning Prayer."

Longinus was naturally not very willing, but he knew that the monk Thomas's secular surname was Gerard. In Al-Lazarus, the surname Gerard was never to be underestimated. Could this child be from the Gerard family? If so, it was understandable for him to act like this. But as soon as he saw the child's eyes, he couldn't be sure. He didn't have much knowledge, nor was he very good at singing or writing poetry, but this child definitely had something completely different from the noble children he had seen before.

"Alright," like all mortals, Longinus didn't know what kind of important decision he had made, nor did he know that his fate had turned here. Rather than being intimidated by the cleric's order or having other plans, it was better to say that he was also tired of his repetitive and desperate life. "What do you want me to do?"

"Do as you usually do, and do it now." The boy answered humbly.

"I have taken my friends and companions, or their relatives and friends, through this holy temple more than once," Longinus said. "Follow me."

Since Golgotha was called a mountain, it meant that the Church of the Holy Sepulchre built on top could not be as flat and equal in height as a huge building on flat ground. It was divided into three parts, arranged from low to high. The end of the narrow and steep stairs was a square plaza. "Square of the Passion," Longinus said. "A part that is open to the outside."

The reason it was called this was because the Square of the Passion—as the name suggested—was the place where Jesus Christ suffered. There was a round hole in the plaza, which was said to be the trace left after the cross that nailed Jesus was driven into the ground. Jesus Christ had once called out and prayed above it, begging for God's mercy. The Virgin Mary, disciples, and believers had also knelt and wept on this ground. So, a long time ago, the clerics of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre built a rectangular building in the name of maintaining the holy traces to protect and hide it—except for those pilgrims with enough power and money, the commoners who were short of money could only stand on tiptoe outside the pine gate, hoping to occasionally catch a glimpse of the holy traces from the cracks that appeared from time to time.

Some of them, seeing Longinus bringing the boy, couldn't help but reveal a look of disappointment. Longinus acted cautiously. Although his behavior could be considered to have the tacit consent of the clerics, he didn't get carried away. The number of people he could take into the church every day was only two or three. With this child here, it meant that today's quota would be one less.

"But looking at this noble person's dress," they whispered, "he is not the kind of person who can't take out an offering, right?"

Cesar was also seeing people outside the castle for the first time. Those who could come on pilgrimage were destined not to be the kind of commoners or slaves who were truly poor to the point of having nothing. If they couldn't even fill their stomachs, how could they afford the food and travel expenses needed on the pilgrimage? Even so, their appearance and momentum still couldn't compare to the humblest servants in the castle. If one had to use a metaphor, it was like a group after group of wild rabbits, with messy fur, turbid eyes, full of vigilance, and hard to approach.

Longinus had long been accustomed to the attention of the crowd. He pushed open the heavy door for Cesar, isolating those jealous and unkind gazes.

This made Cesar feel familiar. Walls and ceilings built of long giant stones, weak light cast in from small windows and then annihilated by bright candlelight, exquisite tapestries hanging around, portraits of saints worshipped, flags and strips hanging from the arched ribs. The only difference was that in the middle of the smooth granite floor, a piece of rugged rock ground was exposed. At this time, there were no pilgrims. Longinus took Cesar to see it. "Come and touch it." He said, kneeling down to touch the round hole.

Cesar did the same, but compared to the pilgrims and clerics who were single-minded, he couldn't help but think of that young Isaac person. He came to save the world, but was betrayed and judged by his own people, and then executed like a thief—the reason was just because he touched the interests of those Isaac officials and elders—when he was nailed to the cross, what was he thinking? Did what he believed in exist? If he was indeed still watching this human world, seeing the clerics use his holy miracles to gather and extort the wealth of believers, would he laugh, or be angry?

Behind the small hall of the Square of the Passion were the stairs going up, wide and long. At the top of the stairs was a cedar gate. Two clerics were waiting by the gate. After entering the door, he saw a red stone the size of a bed. Without Longinus's explanation, Cesar could guess that it was the stone where Jesus Christ was laid after being taken down from the cross by his disciples after he died. The Savior's blood soaked this stone, making it a holy relic.

Walking up from the second hall was the true Holy Sepulchre. The ebony double doors led to a circular domed hall. In the hall was a magnificent golden house, inside which was Jesus Christ's tomb, which originally belonged to a rich merchant who donated it to the Savior—this was a narrow stone cave that one dared not believe, and the entrance could be blocked with a stone—which was what Jesus's disciples did. After Christ was resurrected and appeared eleven times, people opened the tomb and found that only a shroud was left inside.

Now the shroud had been obtained by the Roman Church. Here, there was only a stone cave that looked exceptionally smooth because of countless people rubbing it. However, under the illumination of silk and gems, even the plain gray-blue rock seemed to become noble and brilliant.

Longinus opened the brocade curtain, allowing Cesar to behold the last residence of the Son of God in the human world.

Cesar knelt down and prayed silently for a while, reached out to touch the smooth stone, and then touched his forehead lightly.

"You have seen it too," Longinus said earnestly after taking this boy, who could occupy a place in the church or court just by his appearance, through the entire Church of the Holy Sepulchre. "Sir, I don't know how you made such a vow, but just by your own strength, if you want to clean the entire church, it will take a lot of time and energy. Your fingers will ache, your skin will grow calluses, and your fatigue will also affect your work. If you ask me, you might as well give me some money, and I will hire some servants for you. When someone asks, I will proclaim your name."

His words sounded reasonable, but Cesar knew very well that this gentleman was just performing the duty of a broker. It wasn't that he would break his promise, but after he took the money, he would use the opportunity of taking people on pilgrimage to holy relics to exchange for free labor, and the money Cesar gave him would all fall into the pocket of this wandering knight.

Cesar wouldn't blame such a small person, but he wouldn't be manipulated by him, deviating from his original intention. "That won't do," he said with a smile. "I came here precisely to suffer."

He walked out of the church with Longinus and came to the plaza. At this time, the sky was still dark, but those pilgrims who were unwilling to leave the stairs had already woken up. They curiously stared at Cesar and Longinus. Longinus watched the boy take a wooden long spear from a servant, which was just tied with many rags at the end, and a water bag. The boy sprinkled a little water on the rags and began to clean from the first step.

"What is this?" Longinus asked.

"A mop." Cesar answered. Before he came to the castle, floor cleaning still relied on maids kneeling on the ground and wiping with rags and sponges. He didn't know why there were brooms at this time, but there was never a mop. Obviously, to clean stone and wooden floors, the efficiency of a mop was much higher than hand wiping. He thought perhaps there was some taboo, but after he let the servants build a mop, they immediately imitated and used it happily—of course, before that, they also specifically and very formally requested his permission.

Longinus still wanted to ask two more questions, but at this time a pilgrim had approached. Although he was dressed like a Christian, as long as one looked carefully, especially someone like Longinus who had seen a lot, one could see at a glance that he was an Isaac person—Jesus Christ was born in the tribe of the Isaac people. He should have become an elder or even a King of the Isaac people. Unfortunately, the Isaac people didn't have such wisdom and foresight. They framed and killed the Savior, although this was the suffering that the latter had to experience. But as executioners and traitors, the Isaac people had always been hated and excluded by Christians.

Longinus didn't have that kind of pure hatred. He despised the Isaac people, but he wouldn't despise their money.

"Oh, oh, isn't this brother Shylock?" He walked toward that Isaac person and smiled, holding that fat arm.

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 15 =====