Chapter 35: Mithridates' Prescription (Part I)

Geoffrey watched as Cesar picked up the money pouch and tied it to his own belt, nodding with satisfaction. As an old knight, the thing he had the least patience for was talking to stupid people, whether they were inside the Order or outside of it.

He noticed that after the child finished putting away the money pouch, he seemed to have something else to say to him. "Is there anything else you need my help with?" He couldn't think of anything for a moment; if it were him, the biggest thing would be leaving that cursed place, the Castle of the Holy Cross.

"I have a servant," Cesar said. "When I was doing penance at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, he served as my guard."

"And?"

"He is a wandering knight, but he has a surname and a background. He has been in the Holy Land for several years and has always wanted to join the Crusaders but hasn't succeeded."

"You want him to join us?" This was a bit difficult, Geoffrey frowned.

How to put it? When the Templar Order was first established, almost any knight could join. But fifty years later, the Templar Order was already a golden Temple Mount; it no longer needed people to add luster to it. Instead, those who joined could gain quite a few benefits from it.

Therefore, wanting to join the Order was harder than joining the Church. One had to have power, money, or land; in any case, it couldn't be a wandering knight without any support or background.

"He doesn't have such grand ambitions," Cesar said. "As long as he can practice in the Templar Order for a period of time, that will suffice."

Geoffrey raised an eyebrow. "A period of time?"

"He will leave after January 6th."

"Does your Prince know?"

"He does not."

Geoffrey suddenly revealed a playful smile, and then this smile became lighthearted. "That is very good." His gauntleted hand crossed the table and landed heavily on Cesar's shoulder, and suddenly this space became darker and more secretive. "Perhaps you are too young, perhaps Baldwin is too young; you have not yet realized what a king, a person with endless power, can be twisted into?"

"You love your master, which is worthy of respect, and to be able to maintain your own ability to think and your own code of conduct on this basis—this is not something everyone can do. There are always some people who are like stubborn guinea pigs, never stopping until they have smashed their heads and bled."

He sat back in his chair. "Are you talking about that black-clad knight who has been following behind us? I agree. You can call him in."

"You discovered him?"

"I discovered him from the drawbridge. He is very clever and agile, but I am a warrior of Christ." Geoffrey pointed to his own head. "To deal with those Saracens who are as cunning as foxes, how can one not be vigilant enough?"

Cesar couldn't help but show a bit of admiration. When Geoffrey saw this, his heart felt a sudden sense of comfort. To know that if a child reveals wisdom that surpasses that of his peers, or even adults, it indeed makes people feel happy, but at the same time, there is inevitably a bit of frustration.

Being able to make him show the expression a child of this age should have—if he weren't worried about getting drunk, the Templar would almost have called the tavern owner again to buy a few more large mugs of beer and drink heartily.

Longinus had been waiting outside the tavern early on. As soon as Cesar called, he ran in. Upon seeing the expressions of Cesar and that old knight in the white tunic, he knew the matter had been settled. He immediately wanted to kneel down and kiss Geoffrey's gauntlet, but he was pulled up by him. "Just bowing between brothers is enough."

"It just so happens that the quartermaster has complained to me about lacking manpower to organize the warehouse," Geoffrey said. "You have a guarantor whom I trust, and I hope you can live up to his trust."

"I will never fail his expectations of me," Longinus said sincerely.

"What is your name?"

"You can call me Longinus for now. I made a vow before coming here: until I have achieved something—at least cutting off the heads of three Saracens—I will not take back my original surname and name."

"Then you are quite lucky," Geoffrey stroked his clean chin. "Give him a gold coin, let him go shave his beard and change into a clean tunic. Do well," he said to Longinus. "If you do well, perhaps there will be an opportunity to stay in the Order."

Longinus, however, said, "To be able to stand among the knights of God, even for just three short days, is an honor sufficient for me to preach about for a lifetime."

Geoffrey scoffed. "Since when has the Templar Order become so unappealing?" But deep down, he actually preferred people like Cesar and Longinus—those who didn't reveal a greedy look of joy and impatience the moment they heard they could join the Templar Order. This was a rather contradictory psychology, yet it was very real.

He didn't say much, just waved his hand and walked out of the tavern. Longinus looked at Cesar, and Cesar nodded.

They got on their horses. Longinus tried hard not to let himself laugh. Ever since he met this green-eyed, black-haired boy, he had never seen him lose his composure, even when encountering assassins, even when facing hundreds or thousands of poor pilgrims...

But today, Cesar was riding his little horse, Castor, and was suddenly a whole head shorter than them, indescribably... cute. Only then did Longinus realize that this master he followed was still just a child.

"What is going on?" Geoffrey muttered. The street they passed through was originally very crowded, and now it was completely jammed. Today, in order to have some heart-to-heart talk with Cesar, he hadn't brought any attendants—when Longinus saw this, he immediately dismounted and raised his scabbard to whip the sluggish crowd, "reminding" them to clear a path.

"They caught two people who intended to sabotage the market." Geoffrey could vaguely see some swaying figures and movements and guessed what had happened there.

There was always an open space in the market used to publicly punish merchants who evaded taxes or sold fake goods. The two merchants who previously sold bad wine and dead birds—one was still drinking his wine, his body already frozen red, and the other was still eating his dead birds. And between them, there was one more woman. She was in rags, kneeling on the ground, and two people were digging a pit for her, preparing to bury her alive.

The market inspector also saw the white tunic and red cross, so he hurriedly waved the crowd away, telling them to come back later to watch the excitement.

At this time, the crime of sabotaging the market was very serious; men would be hanged, and women would be buried alive. It was just that when Cesar passed by on his little horse, Castor, the woman suddenly raised her head and looked at him. Cesar was just stunned, and Geoffrey, who had been paying attention to him, noticed. "Do you know her?"

In fact, if it weren't for Cesar's strong memory, he wouldn't really remember this woman, as most of the poor people at this time were disheveled and ugly. "She is the woman whose child was sick."

Geoffrey smiled. So she was that special actress arranged by the chaplain Heraclius. It was just that regarding what happened later, he didn't know if Heraclius and Amalric I would regret it. He looked at Cesar. "Do you want to save her?"

"What happened?" Cesar asked.

It wasn't complicated to explain. It was just that this prostitute had some dispute with a customer. During the pushing and shoving, the prostitute fell onto a stall, and that stall happened to be selling dyes. Now all the goods had fallen to the ground, flowing everywhere along with the broken jars.

Although this woman was unintentional, she couldn't afford to compensate for the merchant's dyes, so she could only be judged according to intentional sabotage of the market.

The dye merchant was also complaining on the side. He didn't necessarily want to watch someone lose their life; it was just that his dyes were all broken, and with no one to compensate him, his business was completely ruined. He was bankrupt, so who would pity him?

Cesar glanced at the empty, crooked stall. There were indeed many black, white, green, and yellow dyes flowing on the muddy ground. Although there was no expensive red, indigo, or purple, this money was definitely not something this woman could afford to pay.

He was still hesitating, but at this moment, someone finally recognized him. Immediately, someone said they were willing to pay the fine for this prostitute. The dye merchant also immediately changed his dejected look, no longer mourning those dyes, as long as this pious good person was willing to bless a few pieces of jewelry he had with him.

Geoffrey laughed and scolded in a low voice. This merchant was truly clever. These few jars of dye added together wouldn't exceed three silver coins. Any holy object blessed by the "Little Saint," if taken back to Europe, could be exchanged for one or two gold coins with a story attached.

Cesar didn't agree to bless his jewelry but instead compensated for those dyes and left quickly before the crowd gathered.

The market inspector also had to sigh at the prostitute's good luck. He took out a few copper coins and gave them to the people digging the pit, then waved his hand in annoyance, telling them—along with that woman—to get lost. The woman disappeared from everyone's sight quickly. She heard someone scolding her for not thanking the saint, thanking God, and sincerely repenting for her sins.

But she knew that guy wasn't any saint at all. She still had her child, both of whom were hired to perform for others to see. Her child hadn't recovered at all, or rather, she didn't want to raise him. She had eaten that date herself; she wanted to live.

What was his name again—oh.

Cesar.

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Count Etienne set off on the Day of the Holy Innocents. Although Amalric I sincerely tried to persuade him to stay for a while longer, the Count already knew that Amalric I was preparing to hold the "Selection Ceremony" for Prince Baldwin on January 6th.

Hey! He knew with his knees that that day would absolutely not pass quietly and smoothly. As an outsider, who knew if some conspiracy would befall him? Especially since he already knew that his enemies were not only evil but stupid and unscrupulous.

Until he left, he never saw Cesar again. However, it would be difficult for Cesar to remember this Count again.

The most important, most critical, and most fatal preparation before the "Selection Ceremony" had arrived.

This was a secret that only circulated among the upper echelons.

The "Selection Ceremony" could only be held in a church, and in ordinary churches, the failure rate was very high. If one wanted to be "selected," it was best to hold the ceremony in those cathedrals that hid true holy relics, had been recognized by the Roman Church, and were worshipped by kings, lords, and countless believers.

The children accepting the test needed to fast for three days before the ceremony, bathe daily, pray at fixed times, and then kneel before the altar, reciting the Lord's Prayer until they felt the descent of a saint or an angel. They would guide them onto the path they should take and bestow upon them abilities that surpassed those of mortals.

After the children walked into the church, for a full day and night, they could not walk out until they were "selected." Walking out meant the "selection" had failed, and after that, it would be impossible to have the power to hold a "Selection Ceremony" again, even if you were the only son of an emperor or a king.

But this also created a problem, which was that not all children could be as calm and patient as Baldwin or Cesar. Don't look at the age limit for the "Selection Ceremony" being fourteen; there were plenty of idiots like Abigail—so, when the nobles wanted to get a satisfactory result... of course, they would use all sorts of methods.

One of the most common methods was using drugs.

Stimulating, soothing, invigorating, controlling... However, there were not many chaplains who could do this. Either it didn't have the intended effect, or the dosage was too high, or it was improperly prepared, causing the user to drop dead...

"It is called Mithridates' Prescription." Heraclius held up a small glass bottle for Baldwin and Cesar to see. This bottle was only as long as a finger, with a bulging belly, and could hold about three ounces of the potion. "This name comes from a legend. In 120 BC, the King of Pontus held a grand banquet to celebrate the Prince's birthday, and at this banquet, Mithridates V was poisoned and died in front of the guests and his own son."

"This was the nightmare of Mithridates VI's life. He feared he would also be poisoned, so he hired some doctors to make him poisons with lower toxicity, taking them daily, hoping to escape the threat of poison—he succeeded, although this caused the tragic ending where, when Pontus fell, his suicide by poison failed, and he had to let his attendant kill him."

"Mithridates VI died, and his kingdom perished, but this prescription remained. It is said that the Egyptian Queen Cleopatra used it, Nero's mother Agrippina the Younger used it, and the Egyptian snake charmer used it."

"I obtained this prescription from my teacher, and over the next dozen years, I optimized and refined it. Its effect is immediate, and because it is very effective, I cannot give it to you too early—in my previous experiments, taking it for more than ten days would result in death."

He placed the small glass bottle in front of the two. "But it will still trigger some hallucinations and pain—who among you will go first?"

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 36 =====