Chapter 148: The Sultan's Funeral (Part 2)

"Has any of you seen Count Joscelin III of Edessa? I mean Cesar's father."

A knight asked, but then he realized he had made a mistake. Count Joscelin III of Edessa became a prisoner when Zengi captured Edessa Castle and was taken to Apoler. At that time, he was only a five-year-old child. In the following ten-plus years, he had been lingering on like a prisoner in Apoler Castle or other remote fortresses.

Whether it was Tripoli, Antioch, or Amalric I, they all seemed to have forgotten him. Even when their envoys came to Apoler, they never mentioned this person, let alone proposed to ransom him.

"I have seen Count Joscelin III of Edessa's father—that is, Joscelin II. In fact, even when this father was continuing his rule of West Edessa (at first Zengi did not annex the whole of Edessa), he didn't seem to have any intention of saving this only son. I don't know if it was out of loyalty to God, or if he thought that paying a large sum of money or ceding territory for an heir who could be had at any time was truly not a very wise act."

In short, by the time he himself became a prisoner of the Turks, he hadn't achieved any remarkable results. Just as Cesar's sister said, Count Joscelin III of Edessa was able to send the two siblings out of Apoler back then, thanks to the efforts of the former Archbishop of Edessa and those loyal attendants.

"I have seen Joscelin II," an elderly knight said hesitantly, "but he was just a rude and uncultured guy, and he didn't look much like Cesar in appearance. But I heard his wife, the Armenian princess, was indeed an unforgettable beauty."

"That's it!" The atmosphere among the knights suddenly became lively.

"If you ask me, Cesar's appearance either followed his grandmother or his mother. Yes, he is indeed a bit delicate. I don't mean he lacks masculinity. I mean..."

"Ha, we understand what you mean, we understand. Sometimes I also feel he should be placed on an altar for people to worship."

"If it were in the ancient Roman or ancient Greek period, those pagans might really do that."

"His father will be very happy to see him. Who wouldn't want such a son?" A knight sighed. Other knights began to mock him; they only wanted to be Cesar's friends, brothers, or brothers-in-law, but he was whimsical, wanting to be Cesar's father.

"I don't have such luxury," another knight said. "As long as my future son has one-tenth of Cesar, I will be satisfied," he clicked his tongue, "I don't even dare to expect him to have one-third, or even half of Cesar. If so, I would even feel fear. My God, he shouldn't be something a mortal possesses."

This sentence might have been just an unintentional remark, but it made the atmosphere in the room stagnate. Whether young or old, the knights present stiffened unconsciously. No matter how old they had grown, even if they had become fathers and grandfathers themselves, the shadows and fears left by their male elders still lingered like maggots on their bones.

It was just that some realized this was a mistake, while others still regarded it as a golden rule.

Some said that as a son, the most expected thing was to hear the father say, "Son, I am proud of you." But conversely, what a son feared most was the father's disappointment in him, especially in this period. As the monarch in the family, the father had great power over their children.

When they were disappointed in a child, at best they would be shelved, treated coldly, whipped, or scolded; at worst, they would be banished, forced into a monastery or the army. Sometimes, when there were too many sons and the other party truly brought too much trouble, the father might even deprive him of his inheritance and surname, letting him completely fall into the class he once trampled on at will.

If Cesar were only six years old now, the father's return would certainly be a good thing, but he was already nearly sixteen...

The knights looked at each other: "His Majesty will find a way to handle this," a knight said hesitantly. And those older knights who had experienced more things held no hope. Baldwin IV was indeed a brave and fearless knight king, but clearly, he was still a bit naive in politics and could be said to be completely inexperienced.

After winning the great victory at the Battle of the Horns of Hattin, anyone could see he was a bit carried away. Even Cesar found it hard to endure, but he didn't notice it at all. When Cesar's identity was exposed, he only saw the benefits and didn't see the danger.

"I heard this mission was pushed by Patriarch Heraclius," a knight said in a low voice. Other knights nodded knowingly.

A slight cough suddenly came from outside the door, and the knights immediately shut their mouths and straightened their sitting postures. Sure enough, Geoffrey walked in from outside the door.

These chattering little birds! The old knight muttered in his heart, but he also knew that he shouldn't be too demanding at this time. If it were just an ordinary mission, that would be fine, but this mission was accompanied by the passing of Sultan Nur ad-Din, and this city was plunged into great grief—just like Amalric I not long ago. In the next seven or eight days, this pain and indignation would further strengthen and expand, and there would be nowhere to go—it was conceivable that a storm group large enough to cover the entire Apoler would soon condense here.

And they were now at the center of this storm group, seemingly calm, but as long as one of them overstepped a little, it would immediately attract everyone's targeting—by then, even the Sultan's son might not be able to resist the surging public opinion. Judging from the madness of the Saracens, they might be torn into countless pieces directly.

So this time, all members of the delegation could almost only stay in their rooms or walk in that small and exquisite courtyard. They could not leave Apoler Castle to go to the market or other places, let alone train or gallop as before. According to the laws of the Order, they could not play chess or gamble either.

These days were indeed hard to endure, but listening outside the door, he found that their words were becoming more and more bizarre and off-track, so he knew he had to walk in to stop it. After getting along for more than ten days, the vast majority of people in the Order had become Cesar's supporters.

This was not strange. People were always superficial. A perfect appearance could become evidence for many people to convince themselves. Before, some people had doubts about him, also worrying that he was not as good as his reputation—even among the Crusaders, this situation was not rare—there were many figures described by minstrels as St. Peter or St. George, who revealed the nature of hyenas, rats, or even maggots when they were truly together day and night.

But if he could be consistent in word and deed, and satisfy the fantasies of these young knights in other places, they would not only not be jealous but would be even more convinced and revered, just like the knights who once gathered around King Arthur—each of noble birth, exquisite martial arts, and outstanding appearance. Placed anywhere, they could be called a respected lord, yet they were willing to obey King Arthur unconditionally and follow his orders to conquer everywhere. Wasn't it because King Arthur was indeed a perfect saint?

But if they brought this kind of thinking into the current environment, it would be a bit inappropriate. After all, their leader was the Grand Master of the Order, and their King was Baldwin IV of Amalric I. What they should follow and worship should be God, not a mortal with flesh and blood.

He was more worried that after Count Joscelin III of Edessa was released, these knights would show this defensive and vigilant mood. If Count Joscelin III thought they were instructed by Cesar, it would make this strange father-son relationship worse, even adding frost to snow.

Thinking of the entrustment of King Baldwin IV of Amalric I before departure, he couldn't help but shake his head in his heart. He only hoped that the arrangement of Patriarch Heraclius could make the feelings between this father and son move in the direction people expected.

He gave those knights a final warning look, left the room, and walked to Cesar's place.

The former Cesar could only sleep on a trundle bed under the prince's bed, or sleep wrapped in bear skin outside Amalric I's door, but now he had a room of his own. This room was decorated entirely according to the specifications of the Sultan's son. The ceiling, walls, lintels, and window frames were all covered with exquisite carvings and gorgeous paintings. According to the Saracen doctrine, these carvings could not contain figures, only flowers, plants, birds, and beasts, but the craftsmanship of the artisans was so exquisite. When you were in it, it felt like you were truly in a deep forest.

Against the wall was a wide soft couch, with blue-gold and golden curtains hanging above. The couch was piled with soft pillows, cushions, furs, and silk that flowed to the ground like water, covering the couch tightly. Only the four golden feet carved into tiger claws at the bottom could be seen.

Just one look, and Geoffrey had the intention of throwing himself on it and having a good sleep.

Cesar was no longer resting but had lit a candle, reading and transcribing those precious medical classics by the window.

"Is it so necessary to race against time?" Geoffrey said. "The sky is already very dark, it's not good for your eyes." As he spoke, he lit another candle for Cesar. "This can also be considered consuming the enemy's assets," he joked, but the suddenly strengthened light did make Cesar's eyes feel much more comfortable.

"It was my negligence; the sky wasn't that dark before." Cesar put down the book, leaned back, stretched his stiff limbs, and then stood up from the chair.

He invited Geoffrey to sit down and poured tea for himself and him.

In his world, leprosy was no longer an incurable disease. Through various methods, whether traditional Chinese medicine or Western medicine, patients could be cured or, at the very least, prevented from worsening or recurring. But in this world, in the Christian kingdom and society, doctor had become a taboo word, and herbs were the products of witches and devils. Although there were still many people in secret, including dignitaries, who flocked to them, it was ultimately not a card that could be played openly.

Seeking records related to it in the church was even more impossible. Even if they used herbs, they would only tell you that this was the most precious holy relic or holy water blessed by the bishop. And the only one who could treat lepers with power that did not exist in the other world was an old monk beside the Pope. He was infinitely loyal to the Pope, and the Pope would not let him leave the Vatican. They had no chance to contact him at all.

Cesar tried to find something useful from documents related to him, but the information obtained was almost all meaningless ravings, unlike hymns, or like legends—what he placed his hands on the leper, and the leper was immediately cured. To read these records, it was better to read scriptures; Jesus did the same.

But was it useful for him and Baldwin now? No.

And in the Saracen medical books—it might be unbelievable to some, but at this time, Saracen medicine, after absorbing and including everything, had reached a new peak. They had standard medical textbooks, medical schools, and libraries, internal medicine and surgery... In the medical books Cesar borrowed, there were complete medical records—written records that were almost no different from current medical records.

They would organize records according to time, dosage, and the development of the condition, including those they cured with the power given by the Prophet.

Although Cesar still couldn't find records of leprosy being cured in these records, he did see records of lepers successfully extending their lifespan to forty-five years under the prayer and treatment of "scholars."

And for Baldwin and Cesar, even extending one day was good. As long as it was extended for one day, Cesar's research could continue for one day. Maybe some incredible results could be obtained in this day? Such things had happened in the other world. A patient with a long-standing illness, just because a new treatment method was adopted, could quickly improve. This speed could be a year, a month, a week, or even a day.

Especially the hope brought to the patient by the "Chosen One" was a brand-new and highly effective treatment method for Cesar. He was not just looking, but learning, hungrily, even if people said that if a person received "grace," they could not receive "bestowal," but so what?

Were there few priests around him? He could fully explain his thoughts to those priests and ask them to try and implement them according to his calculations.

If it weren't for this, he wouldn't have shown such an aggressive posture when he was in Damascus—he thought that once he hesitated for the sake of false fame, he might miss a precious opportunity—and it was fleeting, and might never be found again.

"They are all worried about you," Geoffrey said.

Cesar was stunned for a moment, then couldn't help but laugh, "Thank them for me."

"Are you not worried at all?"

"Everything has a solution," Cesar said. He owed this body. Even when he descended here, the soul in this shell had already perished in pain due to high fever and torture, but undeniably, the birth parents of this body not only gave birth to him but also sent him out of Apoler Castle. He was not sure what it would be like now if he had stayed in Apoler Castle, but it certainly wouldn't be better than it was now.

Even if he was once sold as a slave, this was because Count Joscelin III of Edessa trusted the wrong person, not his original intention.

He would surely repay this favor. But he was not the kind of simple person who would obey everything as long as it was his parents. If the other party touched his bottom line, he would also find ways to restrain them.

After all, he had already cultivated an independent personality and correct values in the other world. He would not be swayed by the words of those priests, and of course, he would not blindly follow all the rules in this world.

Geoffrey was about to say something, but was interrupted by a melodious and loud call. It was like singing, and like prayer, "Their priests are calling them to get up and pray," the old knight said.

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 149 =====