[{"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-24":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},2332992,4562,"Chapter 24: The Unlucky Count Étienne (Part Two)","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-24",24,"\u003Cp>It’s snowing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Count Étienne’s expression instantly darkened.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In fact, even without him saying it, those gathered around could feel it—though the dim light made it hard to see small details, what else could be constantly settling on their hair, eyebrows, and beards but snow?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not to mention the peculiar chill of a snow day, steadily surging toward them like a Turk’s dagger, piercing their joints with clarity and speed, cutting their lips, stabbing into their throats, making every slight movement feel as if their blood were being drained away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Count Étienne firmly believed he had been cursed by demons to end up in this predicament.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Envoys—even those who, even amid open war, carried flags and declarations to the enemy’s camp—were not all subjected to humiliation or death; he was the Holy Land’s envoy—Frankish, British, and Holy Roman ties with the Holy Land had never ceased, especially before and after every crusade, when every king, every lord, every grand master of a knightly order had to maintain frequent and close contact to ensure coordination and prevent miscommunication or severed lines.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Envoys carrying letters and charters might face some danger, but unquestionably, they received the greatest respect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Louis VII summoned him and handed him the commission as Holy Land envoy, Count Étienne fully believed this would be a noble act of devotion to God, to the king, and to Christians; though the journey was long, treacherous, filled with beasts and infidels… he still proudly thought he could complete the mission and return home safely, as every previous envoy had done.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he never imagined that not all dangers came from beasts and infidels—a young, beautiful princess could trap him just as easily. Faced with those hostile glances, Count Étienne dared not stay until the next day—God knows, that night he wore chainmail, kept his iron helm on, eyes wide open, sword gripped tight, staring at the door, enduring each moment as if it were a year, even though Amalric I, realizing his mistake, assured him no one would challenge him to a duel or commit any vile act…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Étienne himself had been twenty when he stormed into the church and seized his beloved Adèle—how could he not know what reckless things young men of twenty were capable of?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had no choice but to abandon his original plan—after all, no one who came to the Holy Land could possibly avoid pilgrimage—he and his knights, squires, and monks departed early, leaving only a distant gaze toward the sacred hill in the pale golden dawn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Those around him sighed bitterly; each believed this was a rare opportunity, using every means to join this party—who wouldn’t want to see the silk workshops on the island of Andros, tour the ruins of the Colossus on Rhodes, sing loudly in the semicircular theater of Myra, stroll along the harbor of Phoenicia, and feel the cool sea breeze amid the cries of seagulls?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They planned to pray before the tomb of Saint Nicholas, seek the miracles of Saint Peter in Cyprus, pass through the Gate of David, gaze long at the famous golden dome of the Temple Mount—the temple of infidels, now belonging to Christ’s knights; they would go to Gethsemane, where Jesus once prayed with his disciples and where Judas betrayed him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They would go to the holiest place of all—the Church of the Holy Sepulchre—crawling forward, kissing every inch of ground: the prison where Jesus was held after his betrayal, the hollow where the cross was planted, the pillar to which he was bound during his scourging, the stone stained with his blood when the crown of thorns was forced upon him, and finally, the stone tomb where he rested and rose again…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the chapels built around this sacred site—Mary Magdalene, Saint John, the Virgin Mary, Saint James, Saint Peter…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had come full of hope, even paying substantial fees in advance—now all of it was gone, and Count Étienne endured even more complaints; he could only promise them on the ship that upon returning to France, he would gift each of them a present worth a hundred gold coins. Hearing this, their anger instantly vanished, their faces brightened.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, this expensive debt could not be borne by Count Étienne alone; fundamentally, this was the arrogance and recklessness of Louis VII and Amalric I—there was no reason for him to shoulder responsibility—Amalric I had already promised him a generous compensation, and Louis VII surely wouldn’t be stingy; using this money to ensure his safety on the return journey would be the most sensible course.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Count Étienne never imagined that his ship would run aground shortly after passing through the strait between Cyprus and Tarsus.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>We have carefully described the routes of the First and Second Crusades; if you, like the king and prince of Arles, possessed a map of this, you would notice something interesting.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That is, from the map, the crusaders could have boarded ships in Sicily or Athens and sailed directly across the Mediterranean to Arles—but instead, they chose the harder path, traversing nearly all of Europe, Western Asia, and Central Asia, passing through parts of Seljuk territory and crossing Armenia to reach Antioch…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Did they think God’s test was too easy and decided to make it harder?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course not. It was due to the backward state of shipbuilding and navigation at the time—vessels of all sizes were almost all single-masted, single-decked, powered only by wind and human strength, utterly incapable of withstanding the storms and waves of the open sea; and the resulting problem of insufficient cargo capacity forced people into constant dilemmas—either prioritize passengers and goods, or prioritize supplies…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Another difficult hurdle lay in navigation and route-finding—later generations often saw captains and lookouts of this era holding up telescopes, scanning the horizon—what were they looking for?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Land.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had to rely on landmarks on land or islands to confirm they hadn’t gone astray… there was no choice—the Saracens had not yet introduced the oriental compass or south-pointing chariot to Europe; that was still a century away…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In short, ships of this era nearly always hugged the coastline, ensuring they wouldn’t get lost, avoiding deadly storms, and making it easy to stop and resupply—but this created one problem: ships were easily wrecked on nearshore reefs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Count Étienne had not yet realized this was no accident, but the captain was a decisive man; upon discovering the ship had run aground, he ordered the sailors without hesitation to drive the vessel toward shore. The ship groaned under unbearable strain, expending its last strength, and finally came to rest—wrecked, but not sunk.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They could not determine where they were—perhaps Christian territory, perhaps Seljuk land—but staying here was certainly no good. There was a notoriously infamous law at the time: shipwrecked goods belonged to the local lord—regardless of faith, anything washed ashore from a wrecked vessel became the property of the local ruler.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>An infidel lord might even take the survivors along with the cargo—after all, slaves were also assets.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>You might think a Christian lord would be better? No—to avoid future complications, they would simply kill all survivors and witnesses alike…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Count Étienne and his retinue acted swiftly; they not only escaped alive but dragged their horses from the hold—some horses had broken legs or necks, left behind—while taking as much food and wine as they could.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After walking a while, they found the scenery unfamiliar, with no trace of human habitation. One knight climbed onto a broken, dead tree and gazed far off—but saw no smoke or fire from village or castle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Count Étienne tried to question their guide, but the man, as if struck on the head during the collision, kept moaning, unable to speak, eyes even closed—he couldn’t even point them in the right direction; if you put him on the ground, he couldn’t walk a straight line.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had no choice but to carry him on horseback.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone’s clothes were soaked; the daylight grew faint, offering no warmth or light—the pilgrimage route in December had already begun to frost with ominous white frost—the wind blew, and they shivered uncontrollably, barely able to stand. Seeing this, Count Étienne ordered the knights to dismount, placing the horses outside as windbreaks, while the men walked inside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fortunately, they soon encountered a pine forest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one knew how long this forest had existed, but the ground was thickly covered with pine needles, the top layer slightly damp, the lower layers thick and dry. The knights cheered at once, raking and digging up a large pile of needles, clearing a small patch of ground beside the underbrush, and starting a fire.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The horses remained outside; the squires tied together their horse blankets and cloaks, draping them over the animals, propping them up with swords and spears—creating a roofless tent, though it could only shield them from the wind. They shared some food brought from the ship, cracked open pine cones, drank wine, and only then did their bodies begin to warm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With the immediate crisis resolved, the knights grew lively. One bold squire—the illegitimate son of the Count of Champagne, and thus, by blood, Count Étienne’s nephew—could not help but half-jokingly complain: Count Étienne need not be so heartless.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Arles was the cradle of the Church, the center of the world, the place every Christian regarded as “most sacred.” Elsewhere, a king held only secular power; in Arles, a king held secular power and received God’s blessing, health, glory, and would surely ascend to heaven amid the company of saints.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To this young man’s challenge, Count Étienne merely shook his head. “I can answer you with a Saracen verse: ‘Arles is a golden basin filled with scorpions.’”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whoever covets it, whoever reaches for it, will be stung.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Although Count Étienne had stayed only three days in Jaffa and one night in Arles, he saw clearly enough: Amalric I was indeed a mighty ruler, but he had lost his former vigor and spirit—he was like a tree struck by lightning, rotten inside, with only the exterior barely holding together; he clung to life perhaps only because of his promise to Christ—he could not lightly abandon his throne until a suitable heir was chosen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But who would that be?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Prince Baldwin? A leper who would not live past thirty?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Or Raymond, Count of Tripoli? Bohemond, Prince of Antioch? Odo de Barres, Grand Master of the Hospitallers? Philip de Milly, Grand Master of the Templars? Or perhaps him—a French nobleman come from afar?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Count Étienne did not believe these men were as virtuous as they appeared, willing to place the crown of Arles on a stranger’s head. If he truly fell for their schemes, lost his reason to fleeting gain, and stayed to become Princess Sibylla’s husband, his most likely fate would be to be drained dry—used up, then “killed in battle,” “died of illness,” or “disappeared…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he could not speak these words to anyone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But Princess Sibylla is truly beautiful—I cannot believe you could be so cold-hearted.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This time, Count Étienne actually laughed aloud. “Precisely because I saw her, I became more determined to flee.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do you doubt her love?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Love? Though Princess Sibylla is only thirteen, I saw no trace of it in her eyes,” Count Étienne glanced around; the young squires and knights wore curious expressions, while the older ones smiled knowingly. “Don’t you feel the danger?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“A beauty like Princess Sibylla always has ways to make young men lay down their arms,” joked a knight older than Count Étienne. “Even if Satan dropped a basket at their feet, they’d leap into it without hesitation.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then let me teach you something,” Count Étienne raised a finger. “At any time, in any place, facing any person, imagine yourself in their place—would you, if you were them, give benefits to a stranger for no reason?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“When Odysseus’s sailors landed on a deserted island, a beautiful woman welcomed them, prepared a lavish feast—they ate, drank, and were turned into pigs by the witch Circe;\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was also the fierce Medea, who dismembered her own brother and left his body on the road to help her lover steal the Golden Fleece—but when Jason betrayed her, she wove a magnificent robe and crafted a delicate crown to gift his new lover, and the poor princess died poisoned;\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And Delilah, whom we know well—Samson knew she was his enemy’s daughter, yet still held her in his arms, revealed his secret, and was ultimately blinded by the Philistines, dragged to Gaza, chained like an animal, forced to grind grain…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Gentlemen,” he sneered, “Princess Sibylla is thirteen, and I am thirty-seven—older than her father. No matter how much they flatter me, I know I am walking toward my grave. Doesn’t she have companions of her own age, suitable rank, and handsome appearance?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She has made a deal that is utterly disadvantageous to her—I cannot imagine how much I would have to repay to satisfy her if I signed the contract.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He spoke without pause; the atmosphere grew heavy. The knight who had interrupted, pitying these young men blinded by beauty, suggested that while daylight still lingered, they enter the pine forest—there might be a nest of partridges, perhaps even rabbits or a deer. They still had some food, but it would be gone by tomorrow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The knight’s suggestion was met with universal approval.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",2228,"2026-06-20T20:58:34.857Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","d36603d9cc59b2c06a7a471280803bb625824fe2c73092098876a314a192ab88","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-25","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-23",168,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-cover.jpg"]