[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations":3,"chapter-the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-165":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","The Nation of Ten Thousand Nations",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2333133,4562,"Chapter 165: The Isaeans","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-165",165,"\u003Cp>“Be careful with these Isaeans. Even the Savior was sold for only thirty silver coins in their hands. They care nothing for any ideal, morality, or law—only personal desire—and will use slander and defamation to cover their own crimes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I cannot say there isn’t a single trustworthy person among them, but whether in Arasal or Bethlehem, there are far more Christians willing to serve you—you have no need to pay them any mind.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bishop Andrew spoke solemnly, then remembered he was addressing merely a boy of ten or so—a youth prone to vanity and weakness, easily deceived by the feigned frailty and suffering of the Isaeans.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For some time now, the Isaeans in Bethlehem had been gossiping about how they had been robbed of one hundred thousand gold coins by the Saracens for attempting to ransom their masters.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Any listener would be startled by that sum—it could nearly buy a king—but Bishop Andrew knew at once it was greatly inflated. He knew far too well the tricks the Isaeans played with currency exchange, for they paid taxes to him in Bethlehem.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the early years of his arrival in Bethlehem, he had not only dealt with hoarding, smuggling, loan-sharking, and plundering, but also with the rampant circulation of clipped, counterfeited, and impurely re-minted coins—so he had hanged one batch of Isaeans after another until he crushed that vile trend.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only when they realized Bishop Andrew was no longer the idle, incompetent fool of old did they reluctantly cease.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then the Isaeans’ bribes arrived at his door: gold, jewels, even women. What amused him most was that the Isaeans’ bribes were utterly unlike those of other merchants.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Other merchants offered goods or money to lords or officials to beg for mercy and leniency—hoping only that they would not be too greedy, that taxes might be reduced, never arbitrarily raised, and that they would not be driven to ruin over such trivial trinkets.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Know that nobles of this time often seized merchants’ goods under various pretexts—such as landing tax: whether on mules, horses, or wheelbarrows, any goods touching the ground became the lord’s property.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Or when they wanted something but lacked cash, they would detain passing merchants under the charge of damaging the lord’s property—easy to prove, since forests, lakes, even bridges counted as the lord’s assets—and extort them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But generally, if merchants were not foolish and lords not cruel, both sides could maintain polite, reciprocal relations—though merchants usually dealt only with the lord’s stewards or guards.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some merchants also offered large gifts to request special privileges—exclusive rights to sell certain wines, olive oils, or indispensable goods—so they could monopolize the trade and earn greater profits.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the Isaeans were different.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They held a peculiar belief: if you accepted their bribes—money or goods—you became, in some sense, one of them, a man nominally still a Christian but in truth an Isaean.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They bought you to place you on their side, yet unlike other merchants who groveled, they naturally assumed they could now stand shoulder to shoulder with you as equals.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This may be a delusion inherited from the ancient Egyptians and Romans.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When those two great empires still stood, some Isaeans had indeed become their officials and viceroys, turning to exploit and oppress the empire’s common folk.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But in the Christian world, they had no such advantage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Again and again, their probes were both laughable and repulsive.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I hear you admire an Isaean craftsman. I’ve seen his work—it’s exquisite. But be careful: never make him your servant, never let him near you or stay at your side. Show disdain—not only to him, but to others.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I hear many Isaeans often speak with him. Have you given him any promise?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bishop Andrew nodded slightly, then said, “This is the advice of an elder. If you will heed it, I say: in your first year here, treat them harshly. These men yield only to power, violence, and humiliation—they will never thank you for mercy.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You are a kind man, but mercy must be measured.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps sensing his words were too harsh, Bishop Andrew added gently, “I, along with the thirty Knights of the Holy Sepulchre still stationed in Bethlehem, are at your service—should you need them, call upon them anytime.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He even joked, “The wooden racks outside Bethlehem’s walls are repaired every year—never rotted, never fallen—they’re always ready to hang a batch of men and dogs.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar could only thank him for his kindness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He still could not grow accustomed to the intensity of people’s emotions here—there was no gray, only black and white.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Things later generations deemed unimportant were here decisive factors in life or death.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>About the Isaeans’ hypocrisy, cunning, and fickleness: Baldwin warned him, Geoffroy warned him, Saladin warned him, and now Bishop Andrew said the same. Had he not been a soul from elsewhere, but a child raised here since infancy, he might long ago have been swayed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No—he should not say “swayed.” He might have long held such deep-rooted prejudices himself, needing no one to remind him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After Bishop Andrew left, Cesar sat at his desk, fingers interlaced, thinking long. Should he follow the people’s view of the Isaeans—treat them with crude, cold hostility?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He could not be certain, but all things must be judged objectively. “Tomorrow, summon the Isaean elders of Bethlehem. If they ask why, tell them: I wish to know how the Isaeans plan to observe their New Year.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Longinus bowed and withdrew. But minutes later, he knocked again on Cesar’s door. Cesar saw Bishop Andrew return, followed by a group of cloaked figures with hoods drawn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bishop Andrew himself held a candle before the foremost figure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Baldwin!” Cesar cried.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For a man of Bishop Andrew’s rank, only a few could command such deference. Since neither the Pope of Rome nor the Patriarch of Arasal could possibly be visiting now, it could only be the King of Arasal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man lifted his hood, revealing a triumphant face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After this shocking turn, Baldwin IV had not insisted Cesar remain in Arasal’s Holy Cross Fortress, but allowed him to return to Bethlehem after the funeral of Joselin III and his wife—to rest and acclimate. Those who knew him were astonished.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had assumed that even if Baldwin could restrain himself from personally journeying to Damascus to ransom his friend, he would at least warmly welcome him in Arasal and house him in the room beside his own.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But in just a few months, Baldwin seemed to have emerged from the desperate need to cling to something after losing his father and king. Rather than forcing Cesar to stay by his side regardless of his health, he preferred to let him rest quietly in Bethlehem.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all, Bethlehem was Cesar’s domain—in Bethlehem, the king was not the master; Cesar was. And he had sensed his vassals still viewed Cesar with caution; his trust and affection for Cesar did not extend to them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even though Joselin III and his wife’s deaths had been proven unrelated to Cesar—he bore no responsibility—some in Arasal still whispered: the timing of their deaths was too convenient.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, for Cesar, the best possible scenario would be for Joselin III himself to step forward and declare he was Cesar’s father, his sole heir—but Joselin III could not rise to speak. Like Heraclius, Baldwin, and those who loved Cesar, they must find another path.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The bodies of Joselin III and his wife were brought back to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. As with Amalric I, they would lie here beside the Son of God, and like Amalric I, they could be called martyrs. Joselin III’s deeds had brought no shame to his name or bloodline.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had been raised in a pagan castle, yet never renounced his faith, never desecrated icons or crosses. His wife was a Christian. He never abandoned his beliefs, and resisted to the fullest extent possible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>More importantly, he was dead—unable to add any further stain to his record. His “canonization proposal” was submitted alongside Amalric I’s.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, this required vast sums of money and influence. But compared to Amalric I, Joselin III’s chances were even greater.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all, if Amalric I were declared “Saint Amalric,” his descendants’ right to rule Arasal would become unquestionable—Rome would find it hard to intervene again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Arasal, a massive campaign of promotion had already begun. For a year, priests would hold continuous masses; monks would pray day and night in rotation; pilgrims who lit a candle for them would receive a silver coin in return.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At their funeral, besides their children Nattia and Cesar, King Baldwin IV attended. His arrival brought his entire court; all the nobles of Arasal followed behind, dressed in black mourning robes, faces solemn—immediately silencing some malicious rumors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some claimed Baldwin had refused to let Cesar enter the Holy Cross Fortress because he had grown weary of him—that this close advisor would soon become a discarded pawn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But they were disappointed: the young king behaved toward Joselin III as a nephew would toward an uncle. No one believed this was for the unknown Joselin III—it could only be for Cesar.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had sworn to be brothers and friends.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thus, when Cesar hurried back to Bethlehem after the funeral, no one criticized him. But how could Baldwin be a man who stayed still?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After rewarding and soothing the ninety knights who had accompanied Cesar to Aleppo and escorted him back from Damascus, he stayed only one day in the Holy Cross Fortress. That very night, disguised as an ordinary knight with only two attendants, he hurried to Bethlehem.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not only did Bishop Andrew, just leaving Cesar’s residence, stare in shock—even Cesar’s sister Nattia gasped, clutching her chest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Aleppo, she had heard the King of Arasal’s sole heir was a leper, and beside him walked a black-haired, blue-eyed servant, their bond like that of brothers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Saracens sneered: the servant had once been a slave; when Baldwin fell ill, all his attendants fled in terror, so his father had sent this man to him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the time, Nattia had felt a faint hope—after all, her brother was also fair-faced, with black hair and blue eyes. But even she thought it unlikely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though she had prayed daily to reunite with her brother, she knew that as a male heir, he was in the greatest danger. If the shadowy hand truly meant to exterminate them all, how could he possibly spare Cesar?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had not ordered soldiers to kill them outright. Perhaps he had once sworn an oath that forbade such direct action.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But for a nine-year-old child, making him die was so simple.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She remembered what her brother had been like: beautiful as an angel, yet no different from other boys in temperament. They had wandered endlessly, never settled. Though spared labor and well cared for compared to craftsmen’s or farmers’ sons, they gained little in human warmth or learning.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Nattia first entered the Sultan’s harem, she nearly died from the vile conditions and crushing labor. How could her brother endure such humble toil? Even if forced to, how could he win Baldwin’s or others’ favor?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Until she reached the Holy Cross Fortress and saw the servant standing beside the young king—she recognized him at once.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Unlike other boys who were delicate as children but grew coarse and hateful as men, her brother remained unchanged: those emerald eyes, black hair, pale skin. If anything, he was gentler, more approachable than before.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even when he mistook her for an assassin, he had not acted rudely—though he had stood as hard and cold as a shield.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She saw Baldwin leap onto her brother’s lap. She was glad their bond was so close—but still startled: the young king was as joyful as if he had just inherited another kingdom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the following days, Queen Mother Maria kept her close—never allowing her to meet Cesar too often. Nattia could guess why.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She was a woman from the Sultan Nuradin’s harem. Even after proving her identity, who could say she had not converted or betrayed?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Queen Mother Maria assigned an elderly maid to live with her. From this woman, Nattia drank in every detail of Cesar’s life since arriving in Arasal: how he won Baldwin’s favor, how he endured long, grueling penance, how he subdued unruly youths in duels, how he and Baldwin together saved the then-Byzantine princess—Queen Mother Maria—at the city’s entry ceremony; how they were promoted together as squires, studied together, trained together, played and feasted together.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had once shared a room, lain wrapped in bear pelts before the king’s bedchamber, marched with him to Egypt, been knighted by Amalric I on the battlefield, fought with fearless courage and perfect coordination, won countless respects and envies—not only for their deeds, but for their friendship.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She listened to all of it, storing it in her heart. But she had never imagined that a king like Baldwin IV would disguise himself and secretly visit Cesar’s residence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar too was surprised. He had returned to Bethlehem for only one night—indeed, the sweetness of the honeyed wine from his dinner with Baldwin still lingered on his tongue. He had not even thought of Baldwin when Baldwin appeared before him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s wrong?” Baldwin opened his arms. “Come, welcome me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar could only laugh and cry as he stepped forward and embraced Baldwin tightly. “Do Heraclius, Queen Mother Maria, and Count Raymond know you’re here?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course not. But for now, they have no time for me.” Baldwin spoke, then pushed Cesar back onto the couch, shed his cloak and outer tunic, and sat beside him in only a loose shirt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’ll talk with you,” he said calmly, “then have them prepare a room for me next door. I’ll stay here a few days.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wait—”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No need to wait, Cesar. Don’t worry—they won’t rush you back. For Raymond and Bohemond… and perhaps others… they may even prefer I stay in Bethlehem—at least for now.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar’s expression grew cool. He grasped Baldwin’s hand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s happened?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sibylla is pregnant.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",2343,"2026-06-20T20:58:34.857Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","8c435a8e1578a144a54985e36892da2ff25696c498b5031edee19c28fdde0e53","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-166","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-164",168,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-cover.jpg"]