Chapter 69

The sea breeze blew, lifting a corner of the silk tapestry hanging on the window, and the sunlight poured in, waking Baldwin and Cesar.

Baldwin sat up, still a bit dazed for a moment. When Cesar on the other side of the couch also woke up, he remembered that they were no longer in the Holy Cross Castle, but in the Crusader castle of Gaza-Jaffa.

When they were in the Holy Cross Castle, as the King's squires, they needed to spend the night wrapped in bear skins at the door of Amalric I's room. But when the King went on an expedition, even if there were rooms, the ones responsible for guarding would not be them, but real knights. They could have their own residences.

In addition, Heraclius, after checking the Prince's body, believed that bear skins and cold stone floors were not conducive to the healing of those ulcers and blisters, and would aggravate the development of the disease—Amalric I's only heir was still Baldwin. Although he adhered to most of the principles of a knight and a King, he had to give way in the face of reality.

Exempted from night chores, Baldwin's condition was indeed much better. Perhaps there was also the reason that Heraclius had taken over that dangerous errand. The Prince occasionally felt ashamed. He had once loved this teacher very much, especially when everyone left and Heraclius was still teaching him, but in his heart, Heraclius's importance still couldn't be compared with Cesar.

Perhaps this was because he knew very well that Heraclius did so for his father, Amalric I, while Cesar was only for him.

"I'll go get some water," Cesar said.

In the Holy Cross Castle, these trivial tasks could be left to servants, but on the expedition, everyone was a screw in the war machine. Just increasing the burden on others for the sake of enjoyment would only make people look sideways and be displeased.

Even if Cesar and Baldwin did everything themselves, there were still people whispering, thinking that Amalric I shouldn't have inserted his heir and another child who was only thirteen into such an important and sacred battle.

But Baldwin and Cesar both understood that the fact that the Byzantine Princess gave birth to a daughter instead of a son in expectation had dealt a not-small blow to Amalric I.

He was almost forty, not to mention the breath of death on the battlefield could overturn a person at any time, even if he were a King. He felt terrified and worried at the same time. If he died while Baldwin was still a minor, he would have to appoint a regent for Baldwin.

But he inherited the throne because his elder brother had no heirs. If he had a little blood relationship with Baldwin III, then the painful fact encountered by the current Duke of Antioch, Bohemond III, told him even more that a regent would never give up the power in his hands—before Bohemond III was a minor, the regent was his mother, and it could also be said to be his stepfather, Raynald of Châtillon.

Bohemond was born in '44, but by the time he was sixteen, his mother and stepfather still refused to give him power. It wasn't until '60, when Raynald was captured by the Seljuk Turks and Bohemond returned to Antioch, obtaining the support of the knights of Antioch and Baldwin III, that he got back what originally belonged to him.

With these guys "pearls before," Amalric I didn't dare to test human hearts at all, so he made a move that wasn't strange in the Frankish period, which was to promote Baldwin to a position where even if someone held him back, they couldn't hold him back for too long or in too wide a range.

Fortunately, although the disease was not cured, Baldwin had received a blessing, and the saint's favor was profound. In these three years, no one could deny that he was an outstanding apprentice knight, and he was competent enough as the King's squire.

Amalric I had already decided that in the process of attacking Fustat this time, as long as Baldwin could win a victory as a commander and leader, he would immediately hold a "knighting ceremony" and dub him a knight.

What he was hesitant about now was whether he should dub Cesar a knight at the same time. If so, he hoped Cesar could have a surname, but who should give this surname was another problem. After all, anyone with a discerning eye could see that in the future, if Baldwin ascended the throne, the companion he would rely on and trust the most could only be this blue-eyed companion.

Or could he give Cesar a small piece of fief?

In this era, if someone was lucky enough to obtain a new territory, they were qualified to use it as a surname, or rather, people's names were used back and forth at this time, and without adding the birthplace to end it, it was really a call and response.

It was best to be considered prosperous, but it had to be small enough. Prosperous because Cesar needed to have a pivotal position in the war and the court, and small because Amalric I was worried that he would also become the next Raynald of Châtillon. Perhaps, if a brilliant result could be achieved this time, a piece of land far away in Egypt could be rewarded to Cesar.

He would inevitably stay in Lazarus for a long time to serve Baldwin in the future, and could only collect taxes and offerings from the territory, unable to manage it directly. And the territory being isolated outside meant that he would inevitably have to seek more help and support from Baldwin to stabilize his position as a lord...

As for what Baldwin said about hoping to find a female heir and widow for Cesar, Amalric I threw it to the back of his mind as soon as he thought about it. Women! Hey, women! Sometimes they would snatch power from their sons' hands, but in front of their beloved, they became soft and easy to manipulate—a King would not share power with a Queen, but a Queen would put the crown on her husband's head...

He didn't doubt at all that with Cesar's appearance and temperament, which woman could remain indifferent before his smile? If he followed Baldwin's wishes, Cesar could leap to become a lord with real power, or even the master of a county...

"Your Majesty? Your Majesty?"

Heraclius called Amalric I several times before calling him back. Only then did he refocus his attention on official business. There would only be more things to do on an expedition, not fewer. He lowered his head and saw the draft of the letter Heraclius wrote for him—to Manuel I.

Speaking of which, Amalric I would get angry. He had reached a marriage contract with the Byzantine Emperor, marrying his grandniece, Princess Maria. According to the agreement, Manuel I should have provided thirty light warships and ten heavy warships as a dowry, equipped with enough rowers and sailors, and most importantly, Greek fire.

But in the end, only thirty palace warriors, thirty heavy cavalry, and one hundred light cavalry came with Princess Maria. This was also within the scope of the agreement—but the warships were nowhere to be seen.

And those thirty warriors were mostly lost at the welcoming ceremony, and those cavalry—fortunately, Amalric I didn't trust the Byzantines that much, only in the conflict with Templar Walter de Mesnil, he tried to arrange them in the reserve team with a tentative mood...

The result was that if it weren't for the vigilant Cesar always remembering Walter's characteristics, and his knights being brave enough, perhaps Walter's surprise attack would have really succeeded...

And he, the King, would have become a laughingstock.

Of course, he should also know that one shouldn't have any expectations for the Byzantines. If their cavalry could still be as brave and victorious as in the Justinian period, how could their Emperor ask for help from the Pope of the Latin Church? And during the First Crusade, even the earliest ones, the peasant army holding pitchforks and flails could defeat the defenders of Byzantine cities and rush in to loot...

Without soldiers and knights, and without a son, then the only thing Amalric I could seek in this marriage contract was the warships promised by Byzantium. Fortunately, after delaying for ten months, Manuel I finally fulfilled his promise: thirty light warships, ten heavy warships, fully loaded with weapons and armor, and fully equipped with sailors and rowers.

Now they were docked at the port of Jaffa, and with them were galleys from Frankish, Castile, or Hungary, bringing new Crusader knights, their masters, and high-ranking clerics.

Snow-white seagulls shuttled through the clear sky, gray sails, and transparent air. The Crusader castle at the port of Jaffa was already considered huge, enough for thousands of knights to be stationed.

But the number of people here had exceeded ten thousand and was increasing rapidly. Continuous tents spread in all directions like moss after rain. Colorful flags were like blooming flowers. The filth produced by these people was all poured into the sea, breeding a large amount of seaweed, which attracted a large number of small fish, and small fish attracted big fish and seabirds.

Along with them came merchants, craftsmen, and prostitutes. Even the residents of Gaza-Jaffa flocked here, hoping to do business with these outsiders. At the connection between this city and the port, a new small city was almost formed. Daily conflicts, shouting, and fighting could last from the brightest time to the darkest time. Hostility could extend from region and race to faith—heretics were always more hateful than heathens!

For this reason, Amalric I had to speed up his pace of action. It could be said that he had to hold three or four meetings with senior Crusader generals every day, wanting to determine the steps and rhythm of the battle as soon as possible. "Let these young guys send their energy to those Saracens!" he said.

And this letter, written by Heraclius and written by Amalric I himself, sent to Manuel I, was only about one thing—money! Want money!

Amalric I no longer intended to spend his mind on the Byzantine army and warships. Now the large army gathered in Jaffa. Although it was said that one should prepare weapons, horses, and food for fighting for God, stop joking. If the knights were really that noble, there wouldn't be looting of European and Byzantine cities and villages.

Now these guys could honestly buy things because Amalric I had begun to generously give rewards to everyone, and there was also a sweet bait he hung in front of these guys—Fustat.

Fustat was the first capital city established by the Saracens in Egypt, prosperous, wealthy, and sacred, waiting for their favor—she was a graceful lady wrapped in thin gauze, plump and charming, covered with gold, jewels, and pearls, just waiting for a strong and powerful knight to snatch her and take her into his arms.

Of course, attacking such a huge ancient city would not be a simple matter, but these people came here, would they still be stingy with their lives?

But the daily consumption would still make Heraclius, who was doing statistics and calculations, go dark in front of his eyes every day, and the answer he summarized was always enough to make Amalric I palpitate.

Daily salt, sugar, barley and wheat, oil, wine... wood, stone, cowhide and sheepskin, black iron and refined steel... horses, donkeys, and mules... were all clamoring that he must win this battle, otherwise, he was afraid he would have to mortgage Lazarus.

This made him even more righteous when writing letters. He even shamelessly said in the letter that if the siege failed due to insufficient preparation, he would take the large army to seek help from Constantinople...

Heraclius checked the King's grammar and spelling, only hoping that Manuel I, who was no longer a young man, would not be "struck down" (Greek Apoplexy, meaning stroke, a term coined by the ancient Greek medical sage Hippocrates) because of this, but to say there was any pity was also fake. Amalric I didn't hide his plans for Cesar from him, and he was bent on seeking a good place for his student.

He handed the letter to the messenger and leaned against the window to look down, just seeing the child who was both hateful and likable passing through the noisy square. He was holding a stack of linen, and behind him followed a knight who was not wearing a surcoat, Longinus, carrying two copper pots, one of which was still steaming.

He knew this knight. The King had wanted him to join the Order of the Holy Sepulchre, but he refused after consideration.

——————

"Longinus," Cesar said: "Do you really not intend to try again?"

(End of chapter)