Chapter 38: Selection Ceremony (Part II)

Before the Patriarch finished speaking, the chaplain who had previously reminded or informed had already rushed forward impatiently. Even though everyone glared at him, he was publicly unafraid. It wasn't that he had superhuman courage, but that the Patriarch stood behind him, and he was facing a group of sinners. Did they dare to take action against him?

Someone wanted to stop him but couldn't wait for the king's signal. The knight hesitated for a moment, and the chaplain took a big step into the gap in the crowd and grabbed the arm of the green-eyed boy—hey! He knew that in the Holy Land, whether it was residents or pilgrims, they called him the "Little Saint," but these tricks, these stupid, lowly people couldn't grasp them. How could chaplains like them not understand?

He had no fear of Cesar, nor half a bit of respect, just aiming at the thoughts of the superiors, wanting to take this opportunity to give Amalric I an embarrassment, using this as a stepping stone.

In an instant, a thousand thoughts turned in Cesar's mind.

He could indeed argue, explain, or question, but what was the use?! Not to mention whether the believers were more willing to believe him, faced with the Patriarch's fury, even Amalric I could only bear the shameless insults with a livid face.

Precisely because a bishop dressed in white robes and wearing a high miter was inevitably a representative appointed by God, everything he did could be attributed to God's name. Even if he did something evil, the secular court could not judge him; this was God's power.

And the malicious pointing of that chaplain put him in a dangerous situation. As long as he was pulled out—the chaplain was an adult, and chaplains at this time also received training together with knights, and no matter how agile he was, he was just a nine-year-old child—once he stood beside the Patriarch, whether voluntary or not, Baldwin's crime would be settled!

He didn't want to think about why Amalric I remained silent at this time. There wasn't much time left for him to think—Baldwin had already eagerly turned his body, wanting to push the chaplain away. He even saw the chaplain's mocking expression and his open mouth—perhaps in the next moment, he would shout "Sinner!"...

Cesar looked at the chaplain and reached out to the back. He remembered that a Knight of the Holy Sepulchre was standing behind him, but he didn't know that Geoffrey had already sneaked to a distance of less than three feet from him. The Knight of the Holy Sepulchre hadn't reacted yet, and he had already pulled out a Hungarian dagger he carried with him and stuffed it directly into Cesar's hand.

The chaplain only felt some resistance on his hand and didn't take it to heart. If the other party didn't struggle or howl, he would instead feel something was missing—this despicable guy looked down at those cold green eyes and licked his lips like a lizard. The most vicious words were already on his lips—and then he saw a flash of white light.

He was thinking, who raised a mirror, or was it the reflection of sunlight on the gold foil of the holy icon... and he fell backward involuntarily. He grabbed around with both hands, but only one hand brushed against a knight's belt.

The chaplain fell to the ground, and only then did he realize something. He raised his right hand and found it was unusually light, and then he found...

His hand, his hand, was gone! His hand was gone!

The chaplain screamed hysterically. Compared to the pain, it was more fear. When he watched lords or kings cut off the hands and feet of those thieves or tax debtors, not only did he have no pity, but he would also comment on the embarrassed posture of the punished with great interest, only regretting that there were no more shows for him to enjoy.

But when it was his turn, he couldn't care about anything else. He was crying and screaming, rolling on the ground clutching his arm...

Amalric I hummed with satisfaction.

Baldwin stared wide-eyed at Cesar, almost unable to believe that his little companion was so bold. And Geoffrey pushed away the Knight of the Holy Sepulchre who was in the way, pressed Cesar's shoulder, and said in the smallest voice: "Well done!" while taking away the gleaming Hungarian dagger and inserting it back into the scabbard.

The Templar Order and the king had contradictions, true, but in preventing Jerusalem from becoming a theocratic state, their goals were consistent—the Templar Order had a good relationship with the Roman Church because of the distance, but if a Patriarch suddenly appeared on top, they didn't believe he wouldn't covet the Order's huge wealth.

The Patriarch was also stunned.

A chaplain could be so disrespectful to Cesar. As the only spokesperson for God in the Holy Land, the Patriarch had never put this little person in his eyes. No matter what this little slave did, it wasn't worth his time to think about.

Even if there had been that grand charity event, yes, he did good deeds, but so what? It just won a smile from the nobles. Later, did any king or lord buy him a holy office?

He was, is, and will continue to be a little attendant by the Prince's side.

But it was this little attendant who cut off the hand of the chaplain beside him!

Now it was the Patriarch's turn to have his face change drastically. First, it was the pale of disbelief, then the red of anger and shame, and finally the black of a face like water. He raised his trembling finger and shouted in an equally trembling voice: "Sinner! Sinner! A sinner who should be thrown into the lake of fire and burned for ten thousand years!"

Amalric I could finally laugh: "Did he do anything?"

"He killed a chaplain!" The Patriarch roared. At this time, the chaplain was crawling to his feet begging him to save his hand, but he was kicked away by him. He went to beg other chaplains, saying incoherently something about how the gift of God they received was more than others, and it must be able to restore him to his original state.

But since the Patriarch said "he is dead," these chaplains and monks just crossed themselves frequently, praying for God to show mercy, but didn't move at all.

The Patriarch's shouting was also heard by the people behind the procession, or rather, when the chaplain was still struggling, the chaplains beside the Patriarch also issued the same severe questioning.

Geoffrey thought Cesar would be flustered when Amalric I didn't immediately stand up to protect him and would start arguing for himself, but unexpectedly, the green-eyed boy just stood in place, motionless, without action or speech.

At first, the people indeed fell into a brief anger—this was the Holy Land! Killing a chaplain, even if you bought a thousand years of indulgences, you couldn't redeem the sin, and such a sin shouldn't have been forgiven in the first place!

They shouted, asking where the murderer was. They wanted to catch him, tear him apart, and use the sinner's blood to wash away his sin!

But when the Patriarch's chaplain pointed out the murderer, they became quiet instead. They didn't have the scene the Patriarch thought would happen, where they would be filled with righteous indignation at a call. Men and women looked at each other, seemingly unable to understand the chaplain's words, even though the chaplain's finger stubbornly pointed at Cesar.

"Stop talking nonsense," a woman in rags said with a voice that sounded like it had been scalded by charcoal: "Such a small child, how could he kill a chaplain."

This sentence was like a stone thrown into a calm lake. People immediately started discussing it, saying things like "He is indeed a child," and "He has done so many good deeds, we all saw it," or "The Patriarch also said he is a pious good person," or "Did this chaplain commit some crime, or was he possessed by the devil, and the Little Saint used a wooden stick to hit him and beat the devil out?"

Things like this hadn't happened before; for the sake of exorcism, accidentally beating someone to death...

With this, whether they saw Cesar cut off the chaplain's hand or not, the people in the procession laughed heartily. The Patriarch was furious. He wanted to get angry and roar, but as soon as he looked up, he saw Prince Baldwin, who was standing beside Cesar and had been holding his hand tightly, and immediately remembered the most important thing.

He spat at the chaplain who was still groaning: "Don't think that you can use some devilish tricks to intimidate us, and we will let you in." The Patriarch straightened his back, which had unknowingly hunched over: "A person's blood has already flowed here, and a second, third, fourth person's blood can also flow. Use your swords to threaten me, see if I will yield!"

Amalric I really wanted to try, but unfortunately, the weight of a chaplain and a Patriarch was completely different.

"We cannot stay here." Heraclius said in a low voice, looking at the thin line of white light in the distance with a grave expression: "According to tradition, the person accepting the test should enter the church at Matins (five to six in the morning)." Although it wasn't like no one had chosen to hold the ceremony at Prime (nine in the morning), Baldwin's status was special, and the Patriarch's interception and questioning added insult to injury. His "Selection Ceremony" must be held so that people couldn't pick out a single flaw.

"Except for the Church of the Holy Sepulchre..." Amalric I hesitated. Heraclius had discussed with him before, if something unexpected happened at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (Amalric I didn't think so)—then which church should they set as an alternative.

Churches, chapels, and chapels were dotted all over the Holy Land like stars in the sky, but there weren't many that could be compared with the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

The Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem (where Jesus was born) was three leagues away from Jerusalem. In such a short time, they couldn't rush there. Not to mention that they couldn't ride horses, and the procession after mass was also part of the entire ceremony process. Without it, the ceremony would be difficult to be recognized.

Then what about the Church of Saint James, the Church of Saint Anne? Unfortunately, they were not built for God and the Son. The former was a disciple of Jesus, and the latter were the parents of the Virgin Mary. Perhaps you would say, there was also a "Church of the Tears" built where Jesus wept, but it was still a small chapel at this time and couldn't hold the ceremony at all.

Amalric I raised his eyes and glanced at the Patriarch. "Let's go to the Temple Church!"

Following the king's order, the mighty procession struggled to turn around on the narrow steps and walked toward the Temple Mount, leaving the Patriarch, who was in a state of uncertainty in front of the Plaza of the Passion, behind. The chaplains and monks behind him were overjoyed, thinking they had won a victory. Only a few people were guessing whether their master had suddenly fallen ill.

—If Prince Baldwin were "selected" at the Temple Church, wouldn't the Patriarch's behavior today make him the thorn in Amalric I's side from now on?

And if the sinner he judged received God's blessing, wouldn't it mean that he had made a mistake? This kind of thing could be big or small. You know, the position of Patriarch of Jerusalem was also coveted by many people.

——————

"How dare you?" On the way to the Temple Mount, Baldwin asked in a low voice.

"Someone wanted to stab me with a knife, do you expect me to slowly reason with him?" Cesar also answered in a low voice.

"Master Heraclius always says you are calm, and when you play chess with me, you never take risks."

"That's different..." Cesar still wanted to say something, but heard Heraclius's intentional coughing. The two children immediately closed their mouths and didn't dare to say anything.

The Temple Church was not far from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. When they arrived, the daylight was just beginning to appear. Amalric I and Heraclius breathed a sigh of relief.

The Grand Master and the Prior of the Templar Order pushed open the heavy temple doors. The candles and oil lamps inside had already been lit, but looking in from the entrance before the long corridor, it was still pitch black.

Baldwin closed his eyes slightly and took a deep breath a few times. He turned his head and looked at Cesar: "Let's go in."

"Let's go in." Cesar was also a bit nervous, but he had always been a person who didn't make unnecessary guesses and internal friction. Just like the thinking he inevitably did before every action, he had also prepared for not being "selected," or being "selected" but receiving "Bestowal" instead of "Blessed," or perhaps the biggest crisis in this "Selection Ceremony" hadn't arrived yet...

People watched the children walk into the nave, the doors were closed, and then the procession circled the Temple Church once—everyone here would bear witness to this sacred ceremony. The chaplains and monks would pray all night, and the knights would also recite scriptures in their hearts, hoping that God could choose a new, good master for the Holy Land, who must not be cowardly, cruel, or lewd, but pious and wise, able to overcome all evil in the world and defend and save every lamb of God.

Someone advised Amalric I not to wait here. They could understand a father's worry for his child.

But according to past experience, when holding the "Selection Ceremony," if the children knew that their relatives were outside the door, they would instead develop a reliance, unable to devote themselves wholeheartedly to gratitude and calling to the saints, leading to the failure of the ceremony...

Even if the square in front of the Temple Church was very spacious—calling the most skilled archer among the Turks to shoot an arrow from one end to the other would be very difficult—it was best for Amalric I not to stay here.

Amalric I accepted the advice, but he didn't return to the Castle of the Holy Cross either, but stayed in a building newly built by the Templars on the west side of the Temple. This building was very high, and one could see the gate of the Temple directly from the window. This way, as long as his child walked out, he would know immediately.

——————

Geoffrey the knight saw Longinus in the stables on the east side of the Temple. This pawn, who should have been left here by Cesar, "What did your little master say to you?"

The sudden question made Longinus jump almost from the pile of cargo boxes. Only after seeing it was Geoffrey did he slow down his tense expression: "So it's you."

The stables here could be traced back to the Solomon period. The Templars didn't change the foundation but built new walls and roofs on top of it. I don't know what the original designer was thinking, or if it was limited by the terrain, but the layout of the stables wasn't square, but winding, with quite a few dead corners that couldn't be easily discovered.

Longinus chose one of them. He climbed onto the pile of cargo boxes, and from here he could just see the side of the Temple Church, while others couldn't easily discover him.

"I am asking you."

"Some things that are best not to happen." Longinus said.

"Is there anyone left in this Shengcheng that your master trusts?" Geoffrey sighed.

"That's a large sum of money." Longinus made a gesture: "If gold could float on water, this money could let me step all the way back to my hometown, Brest." He added: "Brest is a small peninsula town in the northwestern corner of Brittany. If Brittany is seen as a finger sticking out, it is on the nail tip of this finger."

Geoffrey lowered his head to trace the map and then raised his head: "Do you think that thing will happen?"

"I hope not."

"Fine, you stay here."

"And you?"

"I am going to take on the most urgent mission," Geoffrey had already turned around, shaking his hand casually: "The kind that requires leaving the Shengcheng immediately."

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 39 =====