Chapter 44

Hearing this, Heraclius took a deep breath. Although he had expected this and felt happy, he had a headache when he thought of the things that would follow. The troublesome thing was that this matter could not be delayed.

"Didn't they catch that Pope's envoy?"

"That mouse has a keen sense of smell and decided to flee when he heard I was safe and sound," Amalric I said: "He is not the Patriarch. The Patriarch can still dream of becoming the master of the Holy City.

He stayed here, the risk was too great and the benefits were not much. Anyway, even if their conspiracy succeeded and Al-Azar became a theocratic state, the Patriarch would still need Luo Mu's support. At that time, not only could he not pursue the envoy's fault, but he would have to fawn over him instead."

"What about that handwritten letter?"

"It can't stand any scrutiny, just like the envoy's identity,"

"That idiot!"

"Not that stupid," Amalric I looked at Heraclius: "It's just that the temptation was too great, my friend."

"I would rather stay by your side."

"But I have no one to use." Amalric I spread his hands, "Can't wait for the Luo Majiaohui to send another bishop." The Pope's envoy fled, and the fact that the Patriarch was killed by "pagans" could not be hidden for long. The Pope had always wanted to get Al-Azar—no, wait, saying so, the envoy's decisiveness was not so strange. After all, for the Luo Majiaohui, whether the Patriarch or Amalric I died, they would win.

"Then I will start handling this matter immediately." Thinking through the joints, Heraclius no longer declined. Although this meant that he had to operate his own promotion, from monk, porter, lector, exorcist, acolyte, subdeacon, deacon, all the way to priest... although one or two ranks could be skipped, it was also full of irony.

"Baldwin should be happy," Amalric I said suddenly: "He has been very worried about Cesar."

Heraclius immediately raised his head vigilantly, but he could only see Amalric I's messy curly hair. The King lowered his head to look at the documents very timely.

He publicly announced that Cesar was his student before holding the "selection ceremony," just as Cesar thought, more for the King and Prince Baldwin, to avoid any bad changes. The problem was that things did not slide to the worst side, but also stopped at an awkward position.

"Prince Baldwin hasn't woken up yet." Heraclius gently changed the subject.

Sure enough, hearing that Baldwin had not woken up, Amalric I's attention immediately left the documents: "Didn't he wake up once yesterday?"

"Woke up, drank some honey water, and fell asleep again."

"I have to go see him." Amalric I said to himself.

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Is Amalric I a good father? Yes. Then is he a good king? Yes, but this good king must definitely be above the good father.

When he learned that his only son, Baldwin, who had grown to nine years old, had contracted the leprosy that everyone feared, he was shocked, sad, and angry—he knew this was not an accident, but a conspiracy that had been brewing for a long time.

When he brought Cesar to Baldwin and promised him that he would never abandon him, he had both a bit of fatherly love and a bit of cold thinking—you know, if a king or lord does not have an heir, it will inevitably attract wolves—and in Al-Azar, because there must be a king who can lead the Crusaders to fight the pagans, the succession of the throne has never been so peaceful.

Female heirs must rule with their husbands, and young children have no possibility of ascending the throne safely.

The King would not, as those people expected, drive away his only son because of being too cowardly or pious. Before he had a second son, Baldwin would be a nail nailed to the Holy Land, making those ambitious guys feel like a thorn in their throat.

But the previous "selection ceremony" could be called ups and downs, full of waves. Even a person with a firm temperament and firm will like Amalric I could not help but be exhausted. When he picked up Baldwin by the shaft, he no longer expected Baldwin to receive the blessing. Just like this, he thought, as long as there were enough loyal ministers and generals left, even a leper who had not received the blessing could hold the power of the Holy Land.

He was not greedy. Ten years, ten years would be enough. When his young son grew up, he could let Baldwin abdicate to the monastery. More likely, Baldwin would be dying by then, just waiting for God's call.

Therefore, when Amalric I walked into the Holy Sepulchre hall, he only regarded all this as a rehearsed drama and didn't take it to heart. He only worried about whether Baldwin's condition would worsen due to the coldness of the stone during this time. When the cleric shouted "The Holy Sepulchre is glowing," he didn't even react and was almost pushed out by others. It was Heraclius who shouted for the King to look at his son that people made way.

To this day, Amalric I still couldn't help but feel surging emotions and hot blood for the scene he saw at that time.

He had received the blessing of Saint George. The light at that time was like a torch, lasting for several hours, and it could still appear in the morning light until he walked out of the church.

In contrast, his brothers without blood, that is, Raymond and Bohemond, Raymond's light might be brighter than his, but the time was very short, almost extinguished when it was only a quarter of a candle. Bohemond's time was slightly longer, but the brightness was weak, flickering, almost making people mistake him for having received "bestowal" instead of "grace."

And when he stepped into the Holy Sepulchre, it was as if he had stepped into a courtyard at daytime. Every small place was clearly identifiable. He saw his son Baldwin crouching beside the stone bench where the Savior had once lain, his expression serene, his breath steady, and a spear leaning against his shoulder.

The blade and shaft of the spear shone with bright light. At this time, Amalric I still thought it was a holy relic placed here by the clerics. He reached out to take it, but couldn't help but scream—he was burned.

Only then did he realize that this spear did not have a real entity.

It was light.

Amalric I's shoulders heaved, and his eyes were filled with hot tears. The worst result flew away from him like a crow on a tomb. He was fortunate to be bathed in the glory God gave his son. He knelt on the ground, tears dripping on Baldwin. The King almost dared not touch his son until people outside couldn't help but beg—they also wanted to admire such a miracle!

The small cave really couldn't hold too many people. Amalric I carried Baldwin out. The spear still floated beside Baldwin, not disappearing—his vision was blurred, and he was wholeheartedly looking at his son, not noticing that after he left with Baldwin, the light in the cave did not dim much.

The clerics of the Holy Sepulchre Cathedral took out the long poles used to lift the canopy. The Grand Masters of the two major knight orders took off their cloaks, and several noble ladies tied them to the long poles to make a simple sedan chair. They placed Baldwin on it, covered with the wool cloth on the Holy Sepulchre.

The pilgrims and residents gathered outside the Passion Square all saw it—the spear that was still dazzling even in the sunlight, surrounded by fine lightning, the tip of the spear like a flower bud or flame, its length far exceeding that of an ordinary spear, perhaps as long as three people connected together.

"This is the long spear Saint George used to slay the dragon." Someone said with awe. He made the sign of the cross and knelt down slowly. Behind him, more people sighed and shed tears, praising the merciful God in their mouths, putting down their knees one by one. They were even a bit dazzled, unable to believe that they were so lucky.

Amalric I was worried that this spear would disappear at some point, so he adopted this overly abrupt means of publicity. But when they returned to the castle, after three days and three nights, the spear still stood firmly beside Baldwin, not dissipating.

"When do you think it will disappear?"

"I don't know," Heraclius said honestly: "I have indeed heard that after a child was 'chosen,' the holy light lasted for several days without leaving. As a result, the church sent people to investigate, only to find that someone had rubbed phosphorus powder on him..."

Amalric I laughed: "The Luo Majiaohui will definitely think so too." He reached out and touched Baldwin's cheek, finding that the red spots on it were still the same. The previous smile immediately turned into uncontrollable pity and regret: "They still couldn't cure him—he will be a powerful warrior, a wise king, but if this talent could be applied to 'bestowal,' perhaps he could be cured himself."

"Perhaps God intends it to be so," Heraclius said: "Only great people will be tested."

"My Baldwin is like this, and your Cesar is also like this."

"Mine? Your Majesty, Cesar is not my son."

"For a monk who has sworn celibacy, a student is his son." Amalric I turned around, "How is Cesar? Has the light on him dimmed or disappeared?"

"No," Heraclius said cautiously: "I actually think that he and Baldwin seem... you know, chosen in the same selection ceremony, they are brothers without blood, and the breath between them seems to be echoing each other."

"What about the shape? Has it changed?"

"Still a shield."

"Baldwin saw Saint George," the King said: "What about him, did he tell you who he saw?"

"Saint Jerome."

Amalric I stopped, "Saint Jerome."

"Yes."

"It is said that this knowledgeable and self-disciplined sage once pulled a thorn from the paw of a lion in pain," Amalric I said, "I hope he is like this too."

He walked into Cesar's room. This room was below Baldwin's bedroom. Amalric I didn't care what kind of room, what kind of clothes, or what kind of jewelry the prince was willing to give his attendant—but...

Longinus stood up from the bedside and knelt to the King, "I remember you are a knight," Amalric I's hawk-like gaze swept over his back, "No need to act like a servant. How is he?"

"Still in a coma."

"Hasn't woken up?"

"No." Longinus said: "Always in a coma."

"What are you afraid of? Are you afraid that I will be unfavorable to your master?"

"I... didn't mean that, Your Majesty."

"Then get out of my sight!" Amalric I said. Longinus had to retreat. The King came to the bedside. The prince's little attendant was still in a faint. His face was paler than ever, even on that day in the Judean mountains.

Amalric I remembered that Heraclius and he had roughly analyzed the events of that day, although there were some parts that made him unhappy—for example, the preparations Cesar made. What made the King's face tighten most was that these preparations did not fail at all.

He had to admit how much trouble his arrogance had caused, and he had to admit that without Cesar, his son would only be waiting to die.

Amalric I lowered his head. The light covering Cesar seemed to be lighter than that on Baldwin, but in terms of form...

"Shield..." he whispered: "But not 'bestowal'—it is 'grace'."

He turned and left, Heraclius followed closely. When the door closed, Longinus breathed a sigh of relief and dropped his shoulders.

Amalric I was not the kind of person with delicate thoughts. He didn't notice the little tricks Heraclius and Longinus played. In Prince Baldwin's room, the windows were half-covered, making the whole room much darker. Although this kind of light was more suitable for patients to rest, it also made the spear look brighter.

And Cesar's room, the windows were all open, and candles were burning in the corners of the room. Besides these, there were several mirrors. Just walking down the dark spiral staircase, it was hard to find for a while, but by comparison, one would feel that Cesar's light was dimmer than Baldwin's.

In fact, it was just the opposite.

After Amalric I carried Baldwin out of the Holy Sepulchre, everyone present almost followed closely, and their eyes didn't shift for a moment. Heraclius could only nod briefly to Longinus.

Longinus immediately dragged the cloak, crawled into the Holy Sepulchre, and wrapped his master. His whole body was jumping with his heartbeat, trembling, his mouth was astringent, and his hands and feet were numb.

Fortunately!

Everyone, including Heraclius and Longinus not long ago, had a stubborn cognition that an attendant could not surpass a prince, no matter in which aspect.

So when Amalric I wept, roared, and praised God in the Holy Sepulchre, no one would think that God would give more gifts to a small person.

Especially after seeing that spear—they unanimously determined that this was "Saint George" descending to the world again.

The rhetoric that Amalric I and Heraclius had been arguing—that Prince Baldwin contracting leprosy was not cursed or punished, but tested as a great person—finally became a fact.

But if one of these people turned his head, he would find that after Prince Baldwin left, the light in the Holy Sepulchre not only did not disappear but was the same as before. This means... if Prince Baldwin's light was like the bright moon, the current light was like the dawn. No matter how bright the moon is, it is hard to compare with the dawn.

Only three people knew about this, Longinus, Heraclius who returned, and Thomas.

If it weren't for these two people, Longinus would have no way to transport his little master out of the Holy Sepulchre Cathedral silently.

He knelt by the bed, looking at his little master's calm face, thinking, fortunately Amalric I is a king, he would not reach out to pull open an attendant's blanket. If he pulled it open... he would find that what Heraclius said was a shield, but more accurately, what covered Cesar was layers of flashing scales, from the neck to the chest, from the chest to the shoulders, from the shoulders to the arms, from the abdomen to the legs. Each scale was flowing with light. These lights flowed from one scale to another, and then occasionally erupted with a sharp light, just like the fire light splashed by thunder hitting the sea or rocks...

Heraclius said this was scale armor, but Longinus had also seen the scale armor worn by Byzantine soldiers, and he always felt it was not quite like it—these scales were not hanging outside, but seemed to grow directly from the body... This association made him tremble all over. This was too ominous. In the Christian world, dragons were not a holy creature.

Saint George's spear had once pierced a dragon.

(End of chapter)