Chapter 34: The Invitation and Gift of the Templar Knight Geoffrey (Part II)

"I'll take you to the market for some fun." Upon seeing Cesar, these were the first words out of Geoffrey's mouth.

Even though Cesar's body did not house the soul of a nine-year-old child, he couldn't help but let out a small cheer. There was no helping it; ever since he arrived "here," the places he stayed were almost fixed—either the Monastery of Saint John, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, or the Castle of the Holy Cross.

It was only when he went to find Count Etienne that he finally left the Shengcheng, but to be honest, no one could appreciate the scenery during days and nights of trekking and prayer. The scenery wasn't much to look at anyway; the pilgrimage routes of the 12th century were not as flat, beautiful, or sacred as people imagined. Trees looked like demons, rivers resembled nooses, and everywhere there were corpses lying about—some shriveled, some bloated, and others reduced to white bones.

He had wanted to step out and see for himself for a long time. Who wouldn't be curious? This was, after all, a city from a thousand years ago!

This city had stood here for three thousand years. It originally belonged to the Semites and the Canaanites. The Isaacites were their descendants, and they established their own kingdom here. This kingdom did not last long—only three hundred years—before it was destroyed by the Assyrians amidst internal divisions. After the Assyrians, the Babylonians, the Persians, and the Romans had all been masters of this place.

No one could deny that this city, located at the center of the Fertile Crescent of the Arabian Peninsula, connecting Europe, the Arabian Peninsula, and Egypt, and perched high upon the Judean Mountains, was an important chess piece in both politics and economics. Even without any religious significance, it was a contested throat or heart of a place.

"The market day of Jerusalem is every Tuesday and on festival days," Geoffrey said. His beard was shaved exceptionally clean today, and he wore a nearly new sheepskin tunic. He noticed Cesar staring at that tunic.

"Thanks to you, little brother. That day, when I went back with that tattered tunic and told our quartermaster, he was so moved he nearly wept. He asked me to return the tunic to him so he could treasure it, and in exchange, he gave me the most complete one. What's wrong?"

"This is nothing extraordinary," Cesar said. "If we are talking about danger, fighting the Saracens is truly a life-and-death struggle, whereas for you, that is almost as routine as praying and chanting."

"I think it's because you are too young—nine years old," Geoffrey said. "You don't know, but among the soldiers accompanying us that day, there was one who was married and had children. Unfortunately, his only son died at six. He believed it was a punishment from God, which is why he came to the Order. He saw you and liked you immensely. If the matter of Count Etienne hadn't involved so much, perhaps he would have even stopped you from taking risks."

"Sometimes you seem to forget your own age," the Templar joked. "Is there an old spirit hiding in that body?"

There actually was. Cesar's expression remained unchanged. There were no old spirits here, only a poor soul. "I heard from His Highness that the Jerusalem market is fixed in the Jewish quarter."

"Hmm, the kings of Jerusalem, starting from Baldwin I, set the market near the Dung Gate, east of the Western Wall. It is said this is because the Jews often ran to the Western Wall to weep, which annoyed him, so he placed the market there to see if he could drive those Jews away."

"Did he drive them away?"

"It's quite difficult," Geoffrey said maliciously. "After all, that is the only place where they can prove they once had such a glorious history."

In fact, the Temple of Solomon where the Templars resided was the First Temple of the Jews. However, it had been completely destroyed back in 586 BC after Nebuchadnezzar II of the Babylonian Empire conquered Jerusalem. The existing temple was a pagan temple built by the Saracens on the foundation of the Temple of Solomon, so the Jews did not acknowledge it as the dwelling of God.

Now, the Jews mourned the Second Temple, which was built after the Jews returned to Jerusalem from their Babylonian captivity and was burned down by the Romans eleven hundred years ago, leaving only that one wall.

Although the Crusaders fought for God, they did not like the Isaacites much. They believed the Isaacites had long since become the dogs and spies of the pagans. During the battle to capture the Shengcheng, at least tens of thousands of Isaacites became souls under the Crusaders' blades.

They walked forward along the Jerusalem boulevard. In the 2nd century, after the Romans destroyed the Jews' Second Temple, their Emperor Hadrian rebuilt Jerusalem. Following the Romans' usual obsessive-compulsive style, he divided the square city with two perpendicular main roads, like a cake evenly cut into four pieces. The market was in the bottom-right piece.

Now, four neat rows of cowhide canopies had been erected there. Because the market was not entirely fixed—the king or local lords could change the location at will—merchants did not build houses there, aside from the existing shops.

Under these canopies were individual stalls. Some belonged to the merchants themselves, while others were rented. Most of those renting stalls were traveling merchants or farmers who hadn't reached long-term agreements with merchants—the goods they traded were very common, such as fish, fruits and vegetables, eggs, cheese, and honey, or chickens, ducks, pigs, and goats, as well as linen or cotton cloth woven at home.

Of course, there were also some less common items: clothes, shoes, soap, woven baskets, pottery, tin plates, and furs that the merchants boasted about loudly. Although they might not have even seen the heels of the castle steward's shoes, they all unanimously claimed these were "screened after being sent into the castle or the official residences."

But there were always people holding onto the temptation of being able to "wear the same coat or boots as the noble lords, just with slight flaws," "eat the same food, just not quite fresh enough," or "wear the same jewelry, just with smaller gems and less pure gold," standing before these stalls, hesitant. And the merchants always had ways to persuade them.

One merchant directly boiled hot red wine with spices; another hung up a chart of coat-of-arms patterns so customers could compare them with the engravings on their rings or forks at any time; the merchant selling fur clothes hired a tailor, so if the customer had any dissatisfaction, it could be modified at any time.

"Those spices are just dregs left at the bottom of the bag, or they've been mixed with sand and dyed," Geoffrey twisted Cesar's curious head. "Most of the jewelry is fake, and the clothes might have been stripped from dead people. Let's go that way," he was much taller than Cesar and riding an adult horse, so he could see further. "There's some excitement to watch over there."

Cesar thought it was juggling. When they arrived, he realized it was the market inspector punishing a few merchants and farmers who hadn't paid taxes, as well as two idiots who dared to sell rotten goods.

Of course, one had to pay taxes to do business in the market: market tax, transaction tax, and tax for using weights and measures (some goods required both buyer and seller to go and weigh them). But there were always people who wanted to take the opportunity to play their little tricks, thinking they could escape the inspector's sharp eyes.

Once caught, they couldn't help but weep and beg for mercy all the way, but the king's tax officials had long since developed hearts of iron. Those who could pay the taxes and fines also had to be whipped on the spot—that kind of waxed wooden board would make buttocks and thighs swell up with a single strike; if they couldn't pay the money, they would be sent off to perform forced labor.

Although it was interesting to see those who hadn't paid taxes caught, it paled in comparison to punishing the two guys who sold rotten goods and were stupid enough to get caught.

People of this era were actually quite imaginative.

These two unscrupulous merchants—one sold stinking beer and sour wine. After the inspector received a report and tasted a mouthful, he decided this stuff should only be poured into a cesspit, so they rudely stuffed the wine merchant into a barrel. He wouldn't be allowed out of that tiny barrel until he drank all the remaining wine.

As for the other one, he sold some dead quails and pigeons to a customer. When the customer asked why these birds weren't moving, he even said they were just sleeping... There was no need to say much about this one either; people pulled the feathers off the birds, used tree gum to stick them onto his face, and then forced him to eat the bloody meat.

Geoffrey laughed out loud while watching. Only after he finished laughing did he notice the child beside him didn't seem very interested and was even a bit dispirited. "You don't like this? How about I take you to see some juggling?"

Cesar shook his head. "I'm a bit hungry. Let's go get something to eat." Ever since he saw that dwarf crash into the antlers, he thought he wouldn't have any interest in watching juggling for years to come.

"Then let's go to the 'Bush'." Geoffrey said.

The "Bush" here was not the one by the dense forest; it was just because 12th-century taverns usually allowed vines to cover the front and sides of the building to indicate that wine was for sale, so sometimes people used "Bush" to refer to a tavern. There was some ready-made food at the market, like roast meat and pies, but Geoffrey didn't dare test his and his little attendant's luck.

They came to a tavern at the back of the market, not far from the Dung Gate, hanging a wooden sign carved with a human leg. Don't misunderstand; this was not a human-meat inn. This represented the two saints, Saint Cosmas and Saint Damian, because when they were practicing medicine and preaching in Syria, they had once reattached a severed leg for someone. At this time, even knights and lords were illiterate, let alone the general public, so most places that needed to be remembered used patterns instead of text.

As soon as the tavern owner saw that conspicuous white-background red cross, he immediately welcomed them eagerly. Tavern food was usually very simple, but what couldn't money do? He quickly arranged a sumptuous table of food. It was just that Templar knights were always required to be simple and temperate, so although these things were fresh and delicious, they had no added spices and no dyes, and all that was served was freshly brewed beer, no wine.

But for Cesar, it was just right. Geoffrey wasn't the type to care about those things either. They sat opposite each other and ate and drank heartily. When they had eaten enough, they told the owner not to let anyone else disturb them—they were sitting in a corner by the fireplace—and only then did Geoffrey say to Cesar, "Has Etienne seen you?"

The fact that Etienne could propose the first path to Cesar meant he must have agreed upon it with Geoffrey. When Geoffrey asked this, Cesar could only nod. Seeing this, the Templar asked, "You refused him, and you refused me too?"

Cesar took a deep breath and nodded again.

Geoffrey lifted the edge of his tunic to wipe his face, showing no sign of displeasure. "I guessed as much. When they brought you to me, they said you came on behalf of Prince Baldwin. At first, I thought you were being coerced, but later... I realized you were sincere. You were even willing to die for him; anything else I say would be in vain."

He felt his side and untied a calfskin money pouch from his belt, throwing it on the table. "This is for you."

Cesar didn't need to look; he could hear that it was another bag of gold coins. "I don't need..."

"No, you do." Geoffrey said decisively. "I have heard of your good deeds, but if you want to stay by the Prince's side as his attendant, squire, or knight, money is absolutely indispensable."

He raised his thick fingers and pointed them out to Cesar one by one. "When you are still an attendant, you can wear his clothes, use his weapons, and wear his jewelry; people will only envy you. But when he becomes a knight, you will have to be his squire, and that's where the need for money comes in. First, you have to equip yourself with a set of gear: leather armor, chainmail, helmet, longsword, shortsword, dagger, bow and arrows... a horse... harness... greaves, cloak... shield..."

He counted them all the way down. "When you become a knight's squire or a novice knight, you will need to have attendants. One attendant, but everything he needs must be fully equipped by you."

"Finally, when you become a knight, your attendants will increase to three. You should have a personal chaplain, and perhaps two servants. Of course, the configuration, annuity, and daily food and drink expenses for these people are all your responsibility."

"I admit, Prince Baldwin holds you in high regard, but not to mention whether his mind might change, even if it doesn't, when you need these things, can you really reach out your hand and ask him for money?"

He pushed the money pouch. "And you don't have to feel too bad. There are one hundred gold coins here, but I only filled thirty. Do you know where those seventy came from?" The Templar smiled mischievously, his eye wrinkles dancing.

"These belonged to that guide. When they were fighting the wolves, the beast's claws tore open his money pouch. Most of the one hundred gold coins he traded his life for were scattered. Later, the Count and my attendant picked up a portion. They didn't dare to embezzle them, so they handed them over to my sergeant. He gave them to me, and now I have given them to you."

He leaned back, spread his arms, and sighed comfortably. "Fate is sometimes really interesting, right?"

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 35 =====