Chapter 167: The Isaacs' New Year (4)

"You go to Nazareth."

Suddenly hearing this sentence, Sibylla lost the composure she had been struggling to maintain. She looked at Baldwin in disbelief, as if looking at a monster that had turned into her brother's appearance.

She had always been fearless because she knew Baldwin was a guy with a soft heart. She even joked privately with Abigail that although his brother had the reputation of Little Saint George on the battlefield, he was as weak as a woman when facing his relatives. He would sob in his mother's arms and yield again and again under his sister's soft pleas.

And before today, it was indeed so.

Baldwin sat behind the desk, hands crossed, looking at her calmly.

Even at this time, even though he had realized that his sister might not love him as he thought, he was still willing to give her some tolerance for the sake of having the same father and mother, but...

"Why must you stay in the Castle of the Holy Cross?"

He asked somewhat confusedly, "Could it be that if this child is born outside the Castle of the Holy Cross, I won't acknowledge him and won't let him be the heir to this kingdom? As a pregnant woman, what you need most now is quiet recuperation; don't consider too many things. Nazareth is a prosperous and beautiful city, and I have promised the bishop there that I will donate a small chapel for him."

"You can spend the next few months in his mansion. When the child is born, he will be welcomed back to Jerusalem, and I will let Patriarch Heraclius baptize him." He paused, not promising when he would publicly declare this child his heir.

After all, infant mortality was very common in this era. He didn't want the Kingdom of Jerusalem to have an heir announced on one side, and then have it gone next month or next year, which would inevitably cast a layer of ominous shadow over Jerusalem and their family.

Sibylla was speechless. She naturally couldn't state their scheme clearly. This was also because Baldwin had always grown up in Jerusalem and didn't understand the poison brewing in the courts of Francia or Apulia.

This was a fairly simple scheme, but once it was done, it would be killing three birds with one stone.

It might not be obvious in Jerusalem. But if it were in the court of Francia, people would look at how much favor someone could get in front of the King, or the person with the highest status could also do it.

And the latter showing favor to someone didn't need to be as straightforward as Baldwin. Their indications were usually quite subtle, perhaps just saying the first sentence to someone (within a day), allowing him to be the first to follow, and—requiring others (this person was mostly the previous favorite) to make way or give up a room, etc.

The rise of a new star often started from these smallest details. You could see it as a means for these kings to control their ministers, but it was indeed much simpler than letting ministers and generals guess the King's mind blankly.

If Baldwin was exactly as they expected, whether it was out of guilt or anger, as long as he left the Castle of the Holy Cross, they had ways to make people who didn't know the truth think that Baldwin valued this unborn baby even more than himself.

This would bring about an illusion—no matter what glory and achievements Baldwin IV had obtained, they could only be as short as a comet passing through the sky, and the only one who could continue this brilliance was this child.

They revered the King, so they should revere this child cherished by the King, because—the King was kneeling for him, planning for him.

But what could an infant in swaddling clothes do? Of course, it was up to this baby's father, mother, and even grandfather to worry for him... In this way, they could grasp most of the power in the court within a few years, instead of waiting in vain for more than ten years, waiting for this child to grow up, and waiting for Baldwin IV to be sent to the Cathedral of the Holy Sepulchre.

Secondly, not to mention a leper, even an ordinary person would trigger illness due to drastic changes in emotions—clerics often said that intense emotions would generate heat in the body, thereby stimulating the growth of humors and disturbing the fragile balance system.

Rage would cause blood to rush from the heart to the limbs, leading to blood vessel swelling and boiling blood; once black bile was heated, it would evaporate to the brain, leading to hysteria; mucus was caused by depression and sorrow, and once there was too much mucus, people would become depressed, uneasy, easily frustrated, and might even commit suicide.

And all these situations would cause those bad things to spread to all parts of the body faster—that is, the condition worsened.

Bohemond didn't intend to let Jerusalem welcome another King's funeral so quickly, but Baldwin was too good. That's right, just too good.

He wasn't even sixteen yet, hadn't taken personal rule, and hadn't even had the experience of leading a large army on an expedition, yet he could bloom with such brilliant light on the battlefield of the first battle, making everyone dare not despise his talent and gift. Such achievements could only be compared with Baldwin I.

And his character—although he was still very young, people also said he was like the pious and just Godfrey.

Even worse, when he was first diagnosed as a leper, the squires around him left him because of fear or his father's orders. Although he had recruited them back now, a careful calculation would show that from nine to fourteen, the most easily cultivated period, and the time he needed affection most, whether it was David, Abigail, or others, was a blank space.

Even if they did their best later, they could only become his ministers. His confidant was only Cesar, and Cesar was also a person who always surprised them.

He was more perfect than Baldwin, and had even caused Amalric I to have murderous intent because of this. And not long ago, the last short board in his life was filled, and that was his background.

He was already the Count of Edessa, one of the rulers of the four Christian kingdoms. You might say that the County of Edessa no longer existed, and now it was the territory of the Saracens.

But this didn't mean he had lost his claim to that land. As mentioned before, he could even use this to ask for help from Tripoli, Antioch, and Jerusalem to organize a counterattack and retake Edessa.

The kings of the four Christian kingdoms had all sworn to be of one mind and move forward shoulder to shoulder. If someone betrayed an ally, not to mention the already precarious Crusader kingdom alliance, even their ministers would doubt whether they should continue to maintain their loyalty.

With him, there was an extra powerful arm beside the young King, and they were both so young, while Raymond and the others were already old, and their heirs were so unsatisfactory.

David might barely do, at least able to hold the fort, but let alone the likes of Abigail.

Finally, there was Sibylla's little ambition.

She had once heard that Byzantine emperors were necessarily born in the Porphyra; as the name implies, it was a room where the ceiling and walls were decorated with purple hangings, and every prince and princess was born there, to the extent that later generations used "born in the purple" as a synonym for an emperor.

There was naturally no Purple Room in the Castle of the Holy Cross, but she could create one. For example, giving birth in the small chapel where the True Cross was placed—she hoped that when people mentioned her child as soon as he was born, they would say this was a baby born under the True Cross, and he was born to be the King of Jerusalem.

And she, she was his mother, just like the Virgin Mary gave birth to the Holy Son Jesus. His flesh and blood came from her, and she could naturally and justifiably divide, or even monopolize, the power that originally belonged to the King.

But at this moment, the once incomparably beautiful fantasy had been shattered by Baldwin's sentence, "Don't you love me anymore?" This sentence came entirely from her subconscious.

Baldwin looked at her. He also discovered that he perhaps didn't understand this sister very well. As a boy, the education he received was completely different from that of a girl.

Sibylla's beauty had a high degree of recognition when she was very young. It was the consensus of women that she would inevitably become a noblewoman who could make countless knights, nobles, and even kings bow down in the future.

And from then on, Sibylla realized her uniqueness, so that she was very cold to everyone. No matter how much attentive care she received, she felt it was taken for granted.

To him, this brother—when she was young, she might have loved him, and even after he contracted leprosy, she had come to see him regardless of the clerics' obstruction, and had given him gifts. She comforted him, saying that even if he went to the monastery, she would come to see him often.

Such a warm scene, now that Baldwin thought about it, felt full of complex sounds and gray noise.

Did these really just come from a sister's care for her brother? Or was it that she felt that without Baldwin, she would be the female heir to Jerusalem?

At that time, Sibylla was about to reach adulthood, and her marriage had been put on the agenda. She was indeed able to marry and have children.

And before her, Jerusalem had also had a female heir.

No, Baldwin immediately said to himself, impossible. He knew his sister always had some irrational delusions. But he also knew that women, like men, had the same desire and pursuit for power. This was understandable. People were born with greed. This was original sin and could not be shaken off.

Only those bitter monks who had fanatical faith and were unwilling to continue living a sinful life in the world could abandon everything secular.

No one didn't want power. Even if he wanted to do good, he had to have power and money to achieve his wishes.

"You can't treat me like this. Father instructed you to take good care of me!"

Facing Sibylla's questioning, Baldwin pursed his lips in embarrassment.

His next answer almost made Patriarch Heraclius, who was sitting beside him, laugh. "No," Baldwin answered very seriously, "No, Sibylla, Father never asked me to take care of you."

This slap was much louder than Queen Mother Maria's, but the fact was just so. Amalric I was a true political animal. His life was not for God, or for Jerusalem, or for his people and country, and finally for his family.

He spared no effort to fight against the Church to protect Baldwin; and couldn't wait to marry the Byzantine princess, letting Baldwin be a stepping stone for his second son, all for this reason.

As for his daughter, Amalric I didn't like this daughter very much, or rather, he had always been indifferent to her.

Although it was possible to have a female heir, the female heir also had to put the crown of Jerusalem on her husband's head, which meant his kingdom would eventually be occupied by an outsider.

If someone said they could exchange Sibylla for his second son, he would definitely recognize this deal without hesitation, even if he needed to make a deal with the devil.

When he died outside the city of Fustat, what he was thinking about was naturally only his kingdom and God. Baldwin was only put in his heart because he was his only heir and the future King of Jerusalem, and he planned for him in every way.

Sibylla—her only role was to give birth to a child for the Kingdom of Jerusalem, preferably a son. Other things couldn't leave any trace in Amalric I's heart.

But Baldwin's straightforward answer was indeed like a sharp sword piercing Sibylla's heart. She didn't think Baldwin would lie in this regard. There was no need, and no matter how much she hated her brother, she knew he wasn't a person who would lie about this.

Everything she had done before was like a joke. At the same time, he also realized that all the ghostly tricks were vulnerable in front of true legitimacy.

They might have indeed dealt some blows to Baldwin, making this young man yield his position due to impulse. But what was the use of that? He had so many people by his side. Even without Cesar, when Queen Mother Maria and Patriarch Heraclius discovered it, they would definitely persuade him to return to the castle.

Once Baldwin sobered up and realized he shouldn't continue to indulge her like this, the result was just like now. She was expelled, and people were happy to see it.

Baldwin was not the kind of person with delicate thoughts. He only saw his sister suddenly turn pale. Although he had been severely hurt by her using emotions as a weapon, he now felt a bit of unbearable pity.

"Sister." He took a step forward, wanting to speak, but Heraclius blocked him, "Accept the King's kindness." He said coldly, "Nazareth might be very suitable for you."

Sibylla trembled. She stared at Baldwin, seeing a monarch for the first time, not a little boy. Fear rose in her heart, but she didn't dare to ask that terrible question. Would she stay in Nazareth from now on?

Was it—even if her child returned to the Castle of the Holy Cross, would she never be able to enter Jerusalem again?

This thought made her dejected and lost. Until Abigail brought her away worriedly, she didn't say anything else.

Cesar leaned against the window, watching Sibylla and Abigail walk out of the Castle of the Holy Cross with a group of people, feeling emotional.

He still remembered when he first saw Sibylla, she was so perfect and brilliant, like the scorching sun. At that time, let alone him, even Baldwin seemed to be a star dimmed by the brilliance of the scorching sun.

But now, this scorching sun had fallen. She might still have beauty, status, and the title of mother of a future king, but she...

Cesar shook his head and threw these complicated thoughts behind him. He didn't know that Sibylla still harbored such vicious intentions. Otherwise, he wouldn't even have this bit of pity.

Baldwin's worsening illness was what worried him most.

Although he had returned to the Castle of the Holy Cross and lived in his room, both Heraclius and Baldwin hoped that he could stay here for a period of time, at least to smooth out the weakness brought by his hurried journey, and it would also be more conducive to the clerics' treatment of him. After all, there were the most blessed clerics in the Castle of the Holy Cross.

He walked away from the window and saw Longinus bringing up a cup of steaming hot red wine. This was medicinal wine, and the taste was not very good.

Cesar drank it clean in one breath with a posture of returning from death. When he was in a hurry to rinse his mouth with the clear water on the side, Longinus brought him a message: "A woman wants to see you, my lord."

"Who?"

"She said you should remember her. You once gave her a date, and later gave her justice."

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 168 =====