Chapter 6: Jealousy

Cesar saw a not-so-unfamiliar shadow by the stove in the kitchen.

The stove in the castle is not as delicate and exquisite as people in later generations recognize. It is no different from the stove bed used by commoners except for its size.

A rectangular fireplace almost spanned the wall for about thirty steps. It was intentionally divided into large fire, small fire, and embers. The large fire part hung soup pots, the small fire part held iron forks, and acorns and pine wood were sprinkled on the embers. The poultry and beast meat waiting to be smoked in the rising smoke were looming.

The small servant who delivered water squatted in the small fire part, seemingly doing things seriously, but every once in a while, he would take down the iron fork and cut a small piece of meat, ate it, and then smacked his lips and shook his head as if tasting the flavor. Several people were rolling their eyes at him. He either didn't see it or showed a malicious fake smile.

Of course, he knew that the people in the kitchen hated not being able to take sticks and forks to deal with him, and it would be best to push him into the stove bed, but who let him be the son of a knight and the servant of Prince Baldwin? He might even become an attendant lord in the future. They didn't even dare to approach him, because he would spit at them—this is... the spit of the person closest to a leper!

Kram's expression suddenly became ugly. He strode toward the little guy, pulled him up, slapped him, and kicked his butt to drive him out of the kitchen. The little servant didn't show any fear, always grinning, jumping, looking like a clown.

"You're still proud?!" Kram said angrily: "You're going to get out, do you know?

The little servant's smile froze on his face. He widened his eyes and bared his teeth, looking like a mouse forced into a corner: "What are you talking about?" he shouted: "What do you mean I'm going to get out? Who has the power to do that?"

"Too many people," Kram said: "Who do you think you are? Witt, you are just the illegitimate child of my brother, a real fool crawled out of an Isaacite woman's belly. I painstakingly used this good opportunity to get you into the castle, but you disregarded my kindness and wasted my favors and money in vain!"

"What are you talking about," Witt shouted: "I have always been a good servant, a good slave, always thinking about my good master, serving him seriously, and working for him!"

Kram could really laugh now. He shook the leather bag hanging from Witt's belt, and the silver coins immediately rolled all over the floor. When Witt hurriedly lay down on the ground to pick them up, he was too lazy to cover up his disappointment: "Do you think I don't know how this money came from?" He pointed to the kitchen: "See the beautiful child beside me? He is the new attendant chosen by His Majesty the King for Prince Baldwin."

Witt's hand stopped: "New attendant?" he asked: "Is he a count's son? Or a duke's?"

"Neither. He was originally just a slave of an Isaacite merchant," Kram said disgustedly: "Look, this position should have been yours, but you only stared at that little bit of money. Now it's good, the Prince has a new partner, he doesn't need you anymore, you all have to get out!"

"This is unfair!" Witt held his head high, murderous intent bursting from his eyes, "This is unfair! His Majesty said..."

"Yes," Kram interrupted him: "His Majesty said, as long as you get the liking of Prince Baldwin, he will grant special favor and allow you humble commoners to be the Prince's attendants, but did you do it? No! The Prince doesn't like you, any one of you! But he only saw that child once, and he allowed him to sleep beside him and gave him his own clothes to wear."

Witt looked at the kitchen quickly. Although the distance was far, he couldn't see clearly, but he still remembered the fleeting glance in the tower. At that time, he also said how the new servant was like a woman... "Is it him?" he gritted his teeth and asked: "He wants to drive us all away! Right!"

"It doesn't matter anymore," Kram said: "Wait until I choose new servants, you all have to leave the castle—do whatever you should do... farmers, craftsmen, or cooks... whatever you want, I won't care about your business anymore, Witt, you are as useless as your father and your Isaacite mother!"

The last sentence he almost roared, and then he turned his body and walked away without looking back.

——————————

Boiling water sprayed from the thin spout, falling into the wooden bucket covered with silk, steam rolled up, and the air suddenly became hot and humid.

The Church does not encourage bathing. There are many reasons, one of which is that bathing is undoubtedly a luxury, contrary to the simplicity required by the Church.

Because the bathing barrels here, even those used by Princes and Kings, inevitably have many dense wooden thorns due to the lack of tools that can be used for fine grinding. To avoid being stabbed, every bath must be covered with a layer of silk, and these expensive silks lose their original value completely after being tortured by boiling water and stepping and pulling.

Cesar weighed a pound of dried St. John's wort and put it into the water.

St. John's wort is a medicinal herb often used by monks and commoners. It can treat sunburn, scalds, and cuts, resolve muscle pain, and also relieve symptoms of gout and rheumatism, but it has little effect on leprosy. It can only be said that it can delay some initial symptoms and make them not develop too rapidly, such as herpes and numbness, etc. Baldwin also slept more peacefully after using it.

When Baldwin was soaking in the bath, someone knocked on the door again. This time the knocking was much more polite. Cesar opened the door and saw a tray of neatly folded clean clothes.

"Who?" Baldwin asked.

"Someone sent the washed clothes." While commoners still treat clothing as an important inheritance passed down for generations, the King of Jerusalem only changes a linen shirt every day, but Prince Baldwin, because he contracted leprosy, needs to maintain absolute cleanliness. Except for bathing, the clothes changed every day must be taken away by servants and sent back after being washed clean.

The clothes on the large wooden tray were not only clean but also quite fluffy, still retaining some warmth brought by the sunshine. Dark purple lavender was placed in the fabric, emitting a pleasant fragrance. On top were long socks, under the socks was a shirt, under the shirt was a black coat, and beside it were gloves and a veil.

"Cesar?"

"I'll find another coat for you, Your Highness," Cesar said: "This coat got bird droppings on it." He pulled out the black coat and threw it on the ground, found a milky white wool coat from the clothing box, and then carried the coat "soiled by bird droppings" out of the door, and returned to the tower before Baldwin finished bathing.

The problem with that coat was, of course, not bird droppings. To be precise, it was not a coat, but a robe. Nobles and nobles often wear black coats, tight pants, or cloaks, but black robes are still limited to funerals, belonging to the deceased and closer family members.

Or rather, if Baldwin were a healthy person, perhaps a black robe wouldn't be that sensitive.

But when he was still in the Monastery of Saint John the Baptist, Cesar, who was liked by the monks, learned from their mouths that people who contracted leprosy, before being driven out of cities and homes, if they received the mercy of the Church, would have priests come to hold a "pre-emptive" last sacrament.

The patient must wear a black robe, stand in a dug grave surrounded by relatives and friends, the priest applies holy oil, sprinkles holy water, listens to confession and recites scriptures, and finally a group of monks shovel a few handfuls of sand and sprinkle it on him or her, saying while sprinkling: "You pass away in the dust, but you gain a new life before God."

Equivalent to a funeral.

If Cesar were slightly negligent, or didn't know about these things, and rashly handed the black robe to Baldwin to wear, according to those people's thoughts, even if the Prince didn't immediately get furious, he would inevitably feel resentment, or if Amalric I knew about this, he would immediately drive away this attendant who was either reckless or stupid.

Cesar's keenness undoubtedly disappointed some people. Before the evening vespers began, the little servant personally came to invite Cesar to a banquet. According to his words, they sincerely prepared good wine and pork pies, and also intended to share the tips on how to serve nobles with the newcomer.

Whether it was sincere or not, Cesar was not sure, but Witt and those servants who were in the same boat as him did spend some thought.

Wine is not something servants can touch in normal times. They can only drink beer with a bland taste, and pork pies, besides needing pork—pork is rarely seen in Jerusalem because Saracens don't eat pork, and the climate and environment here are not suitable for pig farming—also need fine wheat flour to knead the dough, and the dough is sent to the oven to bake after fermentation.

"Can't disturb His Highness's rest," Witt said diligently. They treated Cesar in one of the twelve defensive towers, the one closest to the left tower. Besides a considerable amount of wine and pies, they even found prostitutes. They were all bare-chested and full of style. The men in the hot small room felt a bit tipsy before they even had time to drink.

There is nothing to say next. They drank, ate pies, and laughed loudly. They didn't look like they knew about the bad news at all. Witt sat beside Cesar, and on the other side was a prostitute. Witt leaned into Cesar's ear and whispered the so-called tips—in fact, they couldn't be counted as tips, but some things that tempted people to fall, but they were exactly what a big boy of Cesar's age was most interested in, and the prostitutes were either holding wine glasses or holding pies, constantly feeding him to eat and drink.

They kept making trouble until late at night, "We should go back," Witt said: "Shouldn't we go pray before going back?"

The men and women burst into laughter one after another. The prayer Witt said was of course not the literal meaning, but asking if they wanted to go to the toilet. The castle's tower usually sets up a toilet at a high place. From the outside, it looks like a small room protruding from the wall. Nobles always call it a "wardrobe" or "prayer room" in a literary way. Witt's saying was a bit ironic.

"You go first," Witt said: "Attendant lord, I had someone scrub it before, it's clean."

"Okay," Cesar said slowly. He looked quite sober, but his slow pace and the hand he had to put on the wall showed that he was also getting drunk.

The tower's toilet is Roman-style, no, it should be said that the castle's toilets are almost all like this. You can imagine it as a platform built of stone, with a wooden board that can accommodate two people sitting side by side on the platform, with a hole left on the wooden board, and under the wooden board is a vertical tunnel, twenty or thirty feet long, and at the bottom is a deep pool, piled with people's excrement.

The fishy and cold wind swept up from that black hole, making people nauseous, but in this smell that made people uncomfortable and just wanted to escape quickly, there was a strange sweet fragrance. For a moment, Cesar couldn't remember what this was. He felt the wall, looking for the candle stub and flint stored in the recess, but didn't find it. There was only a ventilation hole at a high place, but perhaps for defense against foreign enemies, the ventilation hole was very small, and it was night, so he couldn't see anything.

He only thought for a few seconds and wanted to leave. At this time, a black shadow rushed toward him and pushed him toward the stone platform. Cesar's knees hit the stone heavily, and he couldn't control himself to fall forward, but while falling, he agilely curled up his body and fell-rolled out of the narrow space between the wooden board and the other party's body—he had once looked for a way to survive under the hooves of hundreds of horses and the claws and teeth of dozens of hunting dogs, so doing this was not difficult.

After his knees, his shoulders also hit the wall, but he didn't feel any pain at all. He drew his dagger in one go. This short knife was originally Baldwin's. The blade was only a palm long, used to cut meat and bones on the dining table, but there was no problem using it on people.

A thin and long man rushed up. Cesar's short knife bit his thigh from bottom to top, tearing open the thin linen cloth. In the crisp sound of the fabric being torn, the elasticity and softness unique to human skin and muscles were transmitted from the blade to Cesar's tiger's mouth. He held his breath and continued inward, upward, until the place most important to men.

The rust smell of blood was mixed with the hot stench of fresh feces and urine.

The third attacker flinched. He didn't hesitate to abandon his companion and fled into the darkness, but Cesar had already recognized who he was.

He stood up. At this time, he could see the situation around him slightly. The first person who attacked him was stuck, no wonder he didn't join the subsequent battle.

That was a big guy, stuck in the wooden board, head down, stuck to his shoulders. No matter how he danced, he couldn't break free, only able to swing his feet in vain. But that hole, if Cesar wasn't wrong, no matter how big it was, it wouldn't allow an adult man to stuff his head and shoulders into it.

He walked over sideways and touched the broken part of the wooden board. Part of the fresh stubble was jagged, but part of it was as straight as a line.

Cesar remembered where the sweet fragrance came from. Ordinary people might find it hard to think of, but in the monastery, carving is also a skill that monks are good at. That is the smell emitted by wood after it is cut, accompanied by messy sawdust.

Someone carefully sawed this wooden board, but only to the point where it wouldn't break completely, and then placed it loosely on it. If he had lost his vigilance because he was full of wine and food, and sat down without hesitation as soon as he entered, then he must have fallen into the manure pool below, dying in an ugly and shameful way.

To ensure foolproof, that person also ambushed outside with two other people. If he didn't fall into the trap, he would also be caught by them and thrown directly down.

When Cesar inserted the dagger into the crack of the wooden board, he thought about whether he should tell Baldwin first, or Kram, or threaten this guy to pull out the mastermind hiding behind him, but he finally just showed a bitter smile.

"Damn world!" he said, and then pulled the dagger. The Prince's dagger was indeed thick and sturdy enough, and the wooden board immediately made a squeaking sound that it couldn't bear. The man who was stuck immediately shouted in horror, but he was hanging upside down and couldn't make as loud a sound as when he was standing upright, and even Cesar could only hear a burst of inexplicable rumbling sounds.

For this man, this period of time must have been very long, but for Cesar, it was only a minute or two. When he lifted the man's legs and threw him down, he didn't hesitate.

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 7 =====