Chapter 7: Selected

Cesar's guess was right. Amalric I, and even Baldwin, praised his approach unanimously. Baldwin gave him a Damascus scimitar as comfort and compensation, and Amalric I's reward had two items.

One was allowing him to complete the "oath ceremony."

The oath ceremony was originally only between vassals and monarchs, and later was pushed by monarchs to every citizen under their jurisdiction. Every citizen had to swear to the envoy that they would be loyal to the monarch and his heir. Before the ceremony, Heraclius also baptized Cesar, of course, secretly, just to ensure his Christian identity. After the baptism, Cesar kissed the cross, placed his hand on the Bible, and said.

"I swear here that from today on, I will be loyal to my King Amalric I, the most pious King, guardian of the Holy Sepulcher, son of King Fulk V of Jerusalem and Queen Melisende.

In my relationship with him, I am kind-hearted, and my behavior is free of fraud and malice. For the honor of the kingdom, I follow the requirements of the law and do everything that a person should do for the monarch. May I have God's help, may I have the Holy Land's help."

Originally, such an oath only needed the King's envoy to witness, but according to Amalric I's request, the Duke of Antioch Bohemond, the Count of Tripoli Raymond, as well as the Grand Master of the Knights Hospitaller Aug. de Balben, and the Grand Master of the Knights Templar Philip de Milly were all among the witnesses. This posture simply made people mistakenly think that they were witnessing for the son of a duke. Among them, the Count of Tripoli Raymond's expression was the ugliest.

After the ceremony, he immediately chased after the King, seemingly wanting to say something, but soon turned back in frustration. Seeing him like this, Bohemond laughed and held his arm: "You know our friend can sometimes be very stubborn," he said: "Occasionally accommodate him, after all..." He tilted his head, signaling the left tower: "Rome didn't send back any good news."

"Those boars!" Raymond cursed, then frowned impatiently: "What are they arguing about outside?!"

"Several servants who dared to murder the Prince's attendant are going to be hanged," an attendant replied. He was looking out from the window in the corridor with great interest.

Raymond snorted lightly: "A bunch of useless things!" He refused Bohemond's request—to go see the hanged criminals together, and walked away alone.

As soon as he left, Bohemond also put away his smile: "... You weren't much more useful, Raymond," he said softly, and the attendant behind him immediately lowered his head.

————————

This is the second gift Amalric I gave to Cesar.

To be honest, even knowing that these few people who were about to be hanged were either participating or aware of the murder attempt on him, Cesar was still not keen on watching others die, especially the people around him, from the castle steward to the attendant officer, from the attendant officer to the knight's squire, from the squire to the lowest groom and laundry woman, all showed great interest and couldn't wait.

By noon, the square was crowded with people around the erected gallows.

Cesar even had the honor of watching with Prince Baldwin at the crenel of the defensive tower, without having to crowd into the hot, noisy, and smelly crowd. Cesar didn't feel how relieved he was about this—this defensive tower was exactly the one where Witt and others set the trap. I don't know if it was the castle steward's special performance to cut ties with Witt, or a kind of contempt and mockery for the weak.

The reversal of prey and hunter did trigger one after another laughter from the bystanders, especially when they were led out like cattle and sheep, and then hanged with a rope loop.

"If it were you who fell down at that time," Baldwin suddenly said: "They would also laugh so happily."

"If I died, would they still receive the same punishment?"

"Probably not," Baldwin looked down at the crowd in the square and said slowly: "Before becoming my attendant, you were just a slave, at most a commoner. And these people were all selected by the castle steward from Jerusalem and surrounding territories after I was confirmed to have contracted leprosy.

They are either the unloved youngest sons of lords, or wandering knights who have lost their territories, or illegitimate children or legitimate children who are not recognized—I mean Witt.

His father and Isaacite woman were officially married, but this marriage was not recognized whether from canon law or customary law. Later, Witt's father died on the battlefield, his mother remarried, and he lived by his uncle of blood. Even so, people would still believe his words instead of a dead man."

A rope loop was put on a neck. The end of the rope loop was handed to an attendant. He tied it to the saddle, and then whipped it neatly and cleanly. The horse rushed out violently. The servant jumped high from the ground like a bounce, and then fell heavily. His neck was immediately broken, his head tilted to one side, and people cheered.

"You did a good job, Cesar," Baldwin said: "Don't be too sad, they all deserve it." When Cesar looked at him in surprise, Baldwin smiled slightly: "What's there to be surprised about? Although we haven't been together for a week, some things are visible without deep friendship."

He comforted: "Your choice is correct, without hesitation, nor too impulsive. Your decisiveness and keenness are enough to make my father willing to guarantee for you, so you can truly become my attendant."

"Ah..." Baldwin suddenly said: "Look, it's Witt."

Witt was the last one to be led to the gallows. Before, Cesar felt he was like a cunning weasel or skunk. Now he still looked like one, but not like a living animal, but like their fur, shrinking into a ball overnight. But this didn't mean he accepted his fate. Along the way, he kept shouting, and even Cesar and Baldwin on the crenel could hear him.

He complained, he begged for mercy, he cursed, he begged for amnesty, he claimed he was the illegitimate child of a count, the illegitimate child of a duke, the illegitimate child of an archbishop... His shouting was not only useless but also attracted ridicule. The execution soldiers felt impatient and noisy. The rope loop was put on his neck faster than before. The attendant whipped the horse lazily, and the horse ran out...

Everyone thought this farce was about to end. The two on the crenel had already withdrawn their gaze, but they didn't hear cheers. After a short silence, people actually let out even louder screams.

"What is that?" Cesar asked. He unconsciously approached the parapet. He saw a burst of pale white light suddenly erupt from Witt's body—the little guy's feet kicked the ground hard, his hands stuck into his neck and the rope loop, actually resisting the pulling force of the horse with this posture that was not easy to exert force—the rope tightened, broke, Witt flew forward and fell, and the light on his body disappeared.

And Baldwin beside him rarely showed a look of surprise: "How could such a person be selected?" he shouted involuntarily.

——————

"How could such a person be selected?" Amalric I said.

"Who can judge on behalf of the Holy Spirit?" Heraclius shook his head: "The people selected in the past were not necessarily saints, Your Majesty. It's just a matter of a holy order, it doesn't matter."

"I'm worried that someone will use this to make trouble," Amalric I said: "He wanted to kill the Prince's attendant before."

"Then we will send him to the monastery as soon as possible. Everyone selected by Raphael will be a monk. I will let John watch him."

"That's not enough," Amalric I said: "I want to hold Baldwin's 'selection' ceremony in advance."

"But Baldwin has no one around him now..." Heraclius was really surprised: "Are you trying to make that child Baldwin's brother?"

"I said I would treat him like the son of a duke," Amalric I explained: "He doesn't remember the past, of course, he doesn't remember his age and date of birth, but I asked the monks to check his teeth and bones. He is either nine or ten years old, just in time to enter the Church of the Holy Sepulcher with Baldwin."

He took a deep breath. Originally, Baldwin should have entered the Church of the Holy Sepulcher surrounded by the sons of nobles. Under God's gaze, the selected people would become brothers of different bloodlines, just like monks in the same monastery who love and respect each other. Now it is impossible.

No son of a lord or minister would be willing to become a brother with a leper.

"It's September now," Heraclius waited for a moment. He should have refused, but they received the answer from the Patriarch of the Holy Land today—like Rome, the religious leader of Jerusalem refused to hold a "forgiveness ceremony" for Prince Baldwin, unless Amalric I agreed to make concessions and let the Patriarch's power further penetrate into Jerusalem.

"Little Baldwin's naming day is on Candlemas (February 2nd). Generally speaking, children always complete the 'selection ceremony' between the ages of ten and fourteen... But if it is one or two months in advance, it should not be a problem. How do you want to arrange it?"

"The location is of course still in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher," Amalric I accepted the kindness of his friends and subordinates: "Although some people suggested changing it to the Temple, you know, that was originally the temple of the Saracens. I think it's still not very appropriate." He rubbed the ring on his hand: "Heraclius, who do you think he will be chosen by?"

"It should be Michael, Your Majesty," Heraclius said: "He will become a strong and wise knight, a perfect ruler, just like you."

"I would rather it be Raphael," Amalric I said slowly, as if he had already seen that moment: "If he becomes a monk, he can heal himself."

Heraclius was silent for a while and didn't remind Amalric I that even if selected, becoming a monk who can feel the Holy Spirit requires favor far beyond others to heal leprosy. Such monks are as rare as gold in the sand, and almost all of them are recruited by the Church. Otherwise, how could the Patriarch of the Holy Land and the Pope of Rome be so arrogant and unruly?

"As long as he is selected," he said: "he can delay the erosion of the disease. We can have more time to seek ways to heal little Baldwin, Your Majesty. You are the master of Jerusalem, the guardian of the Holy Sepulcher. God will not be so cruel to you."

"God also gave Abraham such a test," Amalric I muttered: "Unfortunately, I am not a saint. I am destined to be unable to pass this trial." He couldn't do it. He couldn't easily abandon his only son. The King rarely allowed himself to be depressed for a while, and then forced himself to cheer up again: "Once you confirm the time, tell me."

————————

"He was selected," Baldwin said after returning to the room: "Why, didn't anyone tell you in the monastery?"

"Maybe they felt I should know," Cesar said: "But I really didn't know." He remembered that when he couldn't move, several monks with fixed faces often came to see him, holding his hand, stroking his forehead. He occasionally saw light, but how could he have thought that this would be a supernatural power that transcended secular common sense?

"Let's put it this way," Baldwin said: "Some people are selected, Cesar."

The so-called selected people are of two kinds. One is regarded as being selected by Michael, the Archangel, the guardian of the Garden of Eden, the deputy monarch of the Kingdom of Heaven, and the monarch of light, like him, the most excellent and powerful challenger, the guard appointed by God, the leader of the Spirit of Holy Light. They usually have all kinds of wisdom and power that no one can reach, pious and pure, enthusiastic and credible, high moral character, brave and fearless...

"Of course, this is just talk," Baldwin said, making Cesar laugh: "The selected people usually become knights, and they are almost all descendants of knights. Perhaps there are descendants of hunters or craftsmen, but not many." Baldwin continued: "The other kind is regarded as being selected by Raphael. Do you know Raphael?"

"I know, the most merciful one among the seven archangels, he performs all the miracles of healing."

"The ruling angel of the second day, the monarch of the power angels, the guardian of the tree of life in the Garden of Eden," Baldwin said: "Those who are selected by him will become monks. They can heal all diseases and wounds, unless it is not allowed by God."

Cesar immediately caught a subtle difference: "Will all become monks?"

"Hmm," Baldwin said: "If that person doesn't admit that he was selected by Raphael, then he must be a subordinate of the devil."

"But you just said, if it's a person selected by Michael, they won't necessarily become knights."

"The Church absorbed a group of such people," Baldwin said: "Some of the priests in the Knights Templar and the Knights Hospitaller are people selected by Michael. They are not responsible for healing the wounded, only for fighting." Speaking of this, Baldwin's eyes carried a bit of gloom, but he didn't continue to explain.

"Then does that mean Witt is a person selected by Raphael?" Cesar didn't notice the sarcasm and doubt in his tone.

Baldwin held up a finger to his lips, ending the conversation.

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 8 =====