Chapter 22: Sibylla Suffers Humiliation (Part 3)

Count Etienne only felt like he had been struck by lightning.

He had always thought that he was a law-abiding, peace-loving, good old man.

He had only done one outrageous thing in his life, which was to take away his lover Adelaide at the wedding scene, but he also had to say that the marriage between Adelaide and Anseau II did not go through to the end, and his behavior did not violate the doctrine.

He also accepted the punishment, accepted the challenge of a king and two counts, and later bought five hundred years of indulgences from the church—two hundred years more than the sin of marrying his own sister.

He felt that he had truly done his best and there was nothing to criticize, but people always felt that he was a frivolous and wanton guy since then.

But at least his lord Louis VII should have some understanding of him. Otherwise, His Majesty would not have entrusted the heavy responsibility of Holy Land envoy to him. He didn't expect that Louis VII actually had other plans... God bless, he never thought about becoming the son-in-law of Amalric I, the King of Yafa, and he never thought about becoming a Knight of Christ, the guardian of the Holy Sepulcher!

He was not that pious!

He complained to his personal servant, and the servant immediately took off his hat, pressed it to his chest, and expressed infinite sympathy to his master. Just now, Count Etienne had done an irreversible thing. He didn't think he did anything wrong, but it did make the scene at that time very... absurd.

In the Frankish court, Count Sancerre had always been a popular figure—because of the incident of breaking into the church and snatching the bride, people's views on him were almost completely fixed. Men regarded him as a tricky and disgusting enemy, while noblewomen regarded him as a lover who was both challenging and fulfilling.

He admitted that he had never remained chaste, but both he and the woman could guarantee that they were just immersed in an atmosphere that was distant, elegant, and lofty, without too intimate contact, and without letters that could leave evidence. They were like larks, meeting on the branches at night and separating when the dawn came.

He was accustomed to the ambiguous atmosphere in the Frankish court, and thus ignored the strangeness in the Yafa court—the eager eyes of those dignitaries, the provocative gazes of young knights, and the whispers of maids and attendants.

They arranged him on the Princess's left hand, so he treated her as the hostess of the castle, serving a noblewoman like a knight, serving her hand-washing water, taking a towel, cutting meat for her, serving a spice tray for her, peeling nuts for her—but he could swear that he was truly honest and dutiful, and did not make any overstepping words or deeds!

After the last dish was taken down, the servants cleaned the long table and organized the hall. A spacious place was opened in the center of the hall for dancing. This was also one of the procedures that must be followed after the banquet. People looked at him and also at Princess Sibylla, and as the most important guest, he should also dance with the hostess here.

So he stepped forward and invited the Princess. He had to admit that Princess Sibylla was indeed a beauty. And her beauty was different from the beauty in the Frankish court. Perhaps because she was the only daughter of the King of Yafa, she lacked the humility and gentleness that women of this era must have. Although she needed to raise her head to see his face, she did not show any shyness when making this gesture, and even carried a bit of consideration.

Count Etienne even thought for a few minutes that he was going crazy because he drank too much wine or ate moldy bread. Her eyes looked at him as if she was determined to win, as if she was looking at a piece of jewelry in a jewelry box. She stretched out her hand to him, looking like she was going to hand herself to him, but in fact, she was pulling him toward herself. Count Etienne felt that he was the one who was grabbed.

Even so, Count Etienne still held a glimmer of luck. He was thirty-seven years old, and Princess Sibylla was only thirteen. To put it in a less pleasant way, he could not only be her father—if the children's marriage was more hasty, it was not impossible to be Sibylla's grandfather. He had self-knowledge.

But this self-knowledge was soon broken. They danced, and Bohemond, Prince of Antioch, stood up again, suggesting that he write a love poem for the Princess. Poetry was also one of the compulsory subjects for knights. And at a banquet, it was also a common and happy thing for a knight to offer a love poem to someone he admired.

This did not involve morality and doctrine. Many husbands would be happy to see such a scene, which meant that their wives were admired by many people, and as a husband, he also felt honored. The problem was that Princess Sibylla was not married yet. A man, especially a man not in a marriage relationship, publicly expressing his love to an unmarried woman at a banquet was almost a proposal.

Count Etienne suddenly felt cold all over, but the gazes gathered on him forced him, making him unable to rudely refuse or remain silent—he could only stand up "happily" and write a love poem for Princess Sibylla:

"A scroll of poetry under the tree shade,

A bottle of wine, a bit of bread,

With you singing happily beside me in this wilderness,

Wilderness, is heaven!"

This poem was short and simple in wording, and the Count recited it dryly, without any emotion. But everyone present was overjoyed. They clapped their hands forcefully or knocked on the table.

Except for Sibylla's admirers, everyone was smiling. They invited Count Etienne to the center of the hall, surrounded him, and Princess Sibylla's attendant walked up to him with his head held high and offered him a sable cloak.

This was of course a gorgeous piece of clothing. If it were in the Frankish court, if a noblewoman asked her attendant to do so, Count Etienne would definitely accept this gift full of love gladly. But at this time, how could he not understand?

This was the first step of marriage negotiation!

Although marriages at this time were mostly like transactions or alliances, and the two parties might not have even met, at most they could only look at portraits, contact, discuss, and bargain, not by the clerics or capable ministers beside their fathers, but in order to make the marriage look more formal, or to cover it with a veil of affection, there were also some recognized customs, one of which was to let young women prepare a cloak for their future husbands.

Count Etienne watched the attendant walk up, spread the cloak, and was about to put it on him. His face was numb and his limbs were stiff, but he still tried his best to control himself and took a step back.

The attendant did not expect the Count to have such a reaction at all. He spread his hands, and the cloak had already fallen. Without support, it fell to the ground with a whoosh.

The cold atmosphere spread rapidly around Count Etienne. Wherever it went, the laughter and shouting disappeared. The joy on people's faces faded, replaced by horror and suspicion.

When he saw Count Etienne take a step back, Amalric I was also stunned, but he was, after all, the King of Yafa, and immediately reacted to where it went wrong!

This was all to blame on Louis VII. Louis VII himself was an incomparably pious believer. After Pope Eugene III issued the Crusade amnesty, the first one he notified was him, and he did not let Eugene III down, responding without hesitation, even because this Crusade consumed a lot of money and manpower. So much so that his Queen Eleanor insisted on divorcing him. The failure of this marriage completely separated Aquitaine from the Capetian dynasty and Falanxi, and made Louis VII the object of ridicule by the world—

Regardless, his previous marriage with Eleanor only brought him two daughters, and he also kept claiming that it was because Eleanor's physical condition was not good that she could not bring him a son. But what was unexpected was that Eleanor divorced him and married King Henry II of England, and quickly gave birth to three sons for Henry II.

It could be said that if it weren't for the fact that Louis VII finally had an heir of his own five years ago, his situation would be even more embarrassing. Like such a pious and firm King, he probably didn't expect his subjects to regard the throne of Yafa as a snake or scorpion, and avoid it...

Count Etienne couldn't laugh or cry. He knew that Louis VII was entirely well-intentioned. Before, he had tactfully asked why Count Etienne hadn't remarried and if there was anyone he liked. The Count used the excuse that he was still missing his late wife to prevaricate.

If he knew that the King was planning to send him to Yafa for marriage at that time, he would definitely say loudly: No! Your Majesty, I don't intend to remarry. Even if I remarry, I will only find a suitable object in the country, instead of running thousands of miles to the Holy City to be the Princess's husband!

Amalric I only felt a dizziness and couldn't help but raise his hand to press his forehead. Fortunately, at this time, Count Etienne had already reacted. He immediately knelt down and put his hand on his chest. He said sincerely—he never expected that he could have such honor to win the favor and appreciation of Amalric I. If he could marry Princess Sibylla, this was God's gift, fate's gift, and supreme glory. He was incomparably terrified and almost couldn't believe it.

It was just that he was, after all, a subject of King Louis VII of Falanxi. His marriage must obtain the permission of the King. He would ride fast and rush back to Falanxi as soon as possible to seek the King's grace, and then come to propose to the Princess grandly.

Almost everyone knew that this was an excuse. His reaction just now had already shown that he didn't want to be Amalric I's son-in-law at all.

Amalric I pinched his eyebrows with his fingers, stood up, walked down the high platform, affectionately took Count Etienne's arm, promised his request, and indicated that he would immediately write a personal letter for Count Etienne to take to Louis VII.

Whether Amalric I would scold the reckless Louis VII in this letter, we have no way of knowing.

The only thing known was that Count Etienne stood up as if he had been granted amnesty and immediately took his people out of the hall. The banquet ended hastily. Everyone, including Amalric I, tried to keep silent, and their gazes almost didn't dare to meet Princess Sibylla's. This was truly an unimaginable farce, and the only victim might be one, and that was Sibylla...

Even Baldwin and Cesar, who were curled up on the "Gallery," didn't dare to make a sound. They sat there without moving until everyone in the hall had left, and then they breathed a sigh of relief and stood up, "Too bad." Baldwin said, but he didn't dare now, and didn't know how to comfort his sister. Being rejected on the spot was a great humiliation for a noblewoman.

"I'll ask the castle steward to call a merchant in." Baldwin said with a headache, "See if there are any jewels or silk there." Perhaps Sibylla would feel better if she saw these gifts.

Cesar didn't think so, but he also lacked experience in comforting women: "We can also try others, such as books, birds, etc."

Count Etienne was originally supposed to stay at Saint-Cross Castle for a period of time, at least until after the Epiphany; otherwise, he would miss several important holidays while on the road. But because of this misunderstanding, he left Jerusalem in a hurry the next morning with his knights and servants.

Amalric I took people to see him off. It was not until the third day that Baldwin told the castle steward about this. The castle steward took the order and left. Before evening prayer, he led a jewelry merchant into the castle. The jewelry merchant opened the jewelry box in front of the Prince and his attendants in fear and trembling.

The jewels at this time could not use the cutting technology of later generations. Basically, they were polished into round, oval, or square shapes, but jewels were jewels. Even if the processing means were so crude, when held in the hand and examined while rotating toward the sun, the gorgeous colors and special texture would still make people sigh at the Creator's exquisite craftsmanship.

"You should also pick one for Damala."

Perhaps this world also had the proverb that whoever you talk about, whoever will come. Before Cesar could politely decline, a servant came. It was sent by Damala. Cesar followed this servant down the tower under Baldwin's subtle smile. He saw Damala at a glance. She was standing in the shadow of the tower, wringing her hands, with an anxious expression, and even stomping her feet from time to time.

As soon as she saw Cesar, Damala rushed up and grabbed his sleeve. Cesar's heart moved, and he leaned down, and heard Damala say with a tight voice, "Something happened! Cesar! I heard Abigail's servant say that they bought off Count Etienne's guide and let him take Count Etienne to the jackal's den!"

The jackals here did not refer to the kind with four claws and two ears. That kind would only become the knights' skins, coats, and a not-so-delicious dinner. Cesar immediately lifted his cloak to wrap Damala in his arms and took her up the tower. Baldwin's face changed when he saw them. He waved his hand and drove away the merchant, "Damala, is it Sibylla..."

"It's Abigail. He swore to wash away the shame for the Princess, but His Majesty has strictly forbidden anyone from challenging Count Sancerre—" some knights also realized that it was best to let this matter pass quietly, and no one would mention it again in a few months: "He hasn't become a knight yet, so..." Damala took a few deep breaths: "He sent someone to buy off the Count's guide, saying he wanted to take them to Mleh's territory!"

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 23 =====