Chapter 70

"Why not?" Cesar asked strangely, "In Lazarus, I asked you if you had been 'chosen,' and you answered me that you hadn't even participated in the 'Selection Ceremony.' At that time, your father couldn't afford this money."

And at that time, Longinus's eldest brother had already controlled most of the affairs in the castle. Just waiting for his father to die, he could logically send all his little brothers away. This money that could be exchanged for a vineyard, he would rather use it on his own son.

"I am willing to pay this money for you," Cesar said, "and I won't be in a hurry to ask you to pay it back. You can pay it back to me slowly in the future, and I have also asked my teacher, he will open a special permit for you. Although you have passed the age of participating in the 'Selection Ceremony,' this is not without precedent."

There had also been some people who decided to eliminate this unwillingness because they received an unexpected gift or inheritance. Even if they were twenty, thirty, or even sixty years old, they could find a way to request a special permit from the local bishop and then hold the ceremony as an overage person—of course, this practice required paying more money and making more concessions.

But in Lazarus, Longinus's identity and age were not a problem.

"I know," Longinus replied, "Others don't understand you, can I not understand you? You are a person who will raise pity for civilians you have never known and probably won't know in the future, and give them help. Am I your squire? Although I cannot be as noble and excellent as you, I believe I have not failed your trust and completed every job you entrusted to me.

But before I knew you, I..."

Speaking of this, he was a bit ashamed, "I did the work of a broker at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, secretly profiting from the piety of pilgrims—I worked for the clerics of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Relying on this convenience, I could bring two to three people to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre for pilgrimage every day. This is a way I used to make money.

My lord, I have been to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre countless times, and I have also knelt at the feet of Christ to pray countless times, but He has never given me a response, and I have never felt the call from any saint.

I think, precisely because I did such blasphemous things and accumulated so many sins, it is impossible to be chosen. Since that is the case, why waste your money and the Patriarch's grace in vain?"

"But if you want to say that," Cesar walked in front of him without looking back: "What about those clerics who dig money from pilgrims' pockets before allowing them to step into the Church of the Holy Sepulchre?

Since you have stayed in Lazarus for so long, you should know that the saint's favor never seems to be based on things that ordinary people can feel and see.

Who knows?

Perhaps Witt is also a pious guy." Speaking of this, he was a bit disgusted.

Longinus seemed to be comforted by him. "Perhaps you are right," he lowered his head and thought for a while, and said: "Even that kind of guy can receive a blessing, I am at least better than that guy."

"Then do you want to try?"

"God, I am already thirty years old, my little master. I believe that anyone who hears about this will laugh their teeth off."

"They also say you are a slave of a slave. You don't care about this, so why care about those sour words from those people? Even if you are not chosen, you have a gold master willing to pay for you, a cleric willing to pray for you. Do they have that?"

Longinus couldn't help but smile. He remembered the days spent in dull and dark taverns, those who made him swear never to become like that.

They were really a group of good people. Without them, perhaps he would have fallen long ago and couldn't touch Cesar—a master who, except for being a bit small, could almost be said to be perfect.

He stopped at the end of the steps. He knew that neither Baldwin nor Cesar would allow others to enter their rooms at will. He put down the copper pots, bowed to Cesar, and walked out.

Cesar watched him turn the corner of the corridor before pushing the door open, first putting the clean linen on the box, then bringing the two copper pots in. Inside the two copper pots, one was boiling water, and one was ordinary river water. He put the river water in the corner of the room, then brought the third pot, which was purified water.

He heard that ancient Egyptians had a device or medicine for purifying river water, but with the invasion of foreign enemies, it also disappeared in the long river of history like most inventions. He used the charcoal water purification method, washing the charcoal clean and letting it stand in the water. He could get clean water in two days and one night.

Unfortunately, this method could not be promoted and popularized. Because people now don't understand why water becomes clean and sweet when charcoal is thrown into it. They only think it is a kind of witchcraft. Making a fuss is one thing, but the trouble is the church and those with ulterior motives who are still watching.

On the expedition, Baldwin couldn't bathe every day and could only rely on wiping to keep his skin dry and clean.

This was a very important step for lepers. Any infection and damage would cause the skin there to fester rapidly and be difficult to heal.

He endured the pain and wiped himself. Only in places he couldn't see, like his back, did he let Cesar help. Baldwin twisted his body to look at his elbows and the back of his knees, places easily overlooked, while reminding Cesar to wear gloves. Sheepskin gloves could perfectly isolate possible harm.

Although Cesar said he was a low-sensitivity person, meaning he was not easily infected with leprosy, Baldwin still didn't dare to take his condition lightly.

Before it worsened, he still felt he had received God's favor. After it worsened, he never dared to take his condition lightly again.

Fortunately, after Heraclius got the prescription written by Cesar, he had roughly gathered all the medicinal materials on it within a few days—except for some plants that could only be seen in the Far East continent.

But he also said that Lazarus was originally a big city connecting the East and the West, a religious, economic, and commercial center. Since Eastern silk and porcelain could be transported here from thousands of miles away without any damage, it made no sense that some dried flowers and herbs would make these merchants feel troubled.

The only difficulty was to let these merchants keep their mouths shut.

"But if your father can take Egypt, or at least take Fustat or Damascus, those merchants, even for their own business routes and lives, will keep this secret firmly."

"Baldwin?" Cesar whispered a reminder. Baldwin realized that the wounds on his back had already been medicated. Next were the places he could touch himself. He hurriedly took the ointment and used his left hand.

"How do you feel now?" Cesar asked.

"Very good." It was precisely because of the immediate effect that he developed greed. If these medicines didn't work, he wouldn't have let Cesar try a second time.

His left hand was originally the most obvious symptom. When it first started to worsen, he could barely feel it. Now, when he used this hand, he only felt like he was wearing a thin sheepskin glove. The touch was not so sensitive, but it wouldn't hinder his usual work and martial arts practice, and riding a horse to fight was even less of a problem.

After wiping the ointment and waiting for a while, letting its smell dissipate completely, Baldwin put on a silk shirt.

Usually they didn't dress like this. After all, as a squire, they had to feed horses, wipe helmets, move things, and run errands. If they wore silk, it would be broken and dirty all of a sudden.

This extravagant practice, even the Sultan and Caliph might not be able to bear it—after all, war reparations in this era were still calculated in silk robes.

But today was slightly different. The envoy from Fustat would meet the King and submit the state letter.

Although knowing that the content couldn't escape begging, questioning, and intimidation, for two children, it was a rare opportunity. The King had long decided to have them serve by his side and draw rare experience from it.

And before this, Heraclius had specifically given them a lesson, letting them roughly understand the situation of the current Fatimid dynasty.

Why did Amalric I come to attack Fustat at this time? Of course, there was a reason. And this reason could be traced back to the time when the current Fatimid Caliph, Al-Adid, ascended the throne.

Al-Adid was also a second son. When his brother ascended the throne, he was a teenager and died not long after. When he ascended the throne, he was still a child who didn't understand anything.

"He is about the same age as you. Honestly, according to the news brought back by the merchants we bribed, he is a quite ignorant and cowardly child, but full of ambition. His former Vizier, that is, his Prime Minister, was a mature and reliable good man. But this minister died not long after, and his son inherited his position.

At this time, there was a cunning and treacherous guy named Shawar. He won the favor of the little Caliph through flattery, so he took the opportunity to kill that young man and replace him.

But his behavior aroused the dissatisfaction of some people in the Fatimid court. They drove him away and elected another person as Prime Minister."

"Is this Shawar the one who promised my father two million gold coins?"

"Yes, it's him. He was the Vizier for a short time, but when everyone was opposing him, he fled to Nur ad-Din of the Seljuk Zengi dynasty.

Nur ad-Din sent his two generals to Fustat. They killed Shawar's opponents, but Shawar probably didn't expect that his move was completely driving a tiger to swallow a wolf. The wolf was gone, but the tiger refused to leave.

So he sent an envoy to request your father, our King, to send troops to drive away Nur ad-Din's army—why?"

"They are all Saracens, right?" Baldwin asked.

"All of them. I said before," Heraclius said: "We have the Latin Church and the Orthodox Church, and they also have 'Traditionalists' and 'Orthodox'. 'Traditionalists' choose suitable leaders through consultation or election, while 'Orthodox' tend to look at whether the leader has the bloodline of the Prophet Muhammad. The Fatimid dynasty is 'Orthodox', and the Seljuk Zengi dynasty is 'Traditionalist'."

"Is it similar to the relationship between the ancient Roman Senate and Caesar and his descendants?"

Heraclius nodded in agreement: "Exactly, but they are ultimately two fruits on the same vine, so it can also be said that they are all our enemies."

He smiled: "But that Shawar doesn't seem to think so. Nur ad-Din's army refused to leave, so he asked the Christians for help, not caring about his face and faith at all.

Your father, looking at the two million gold coins, agreed. That was in '63."

"He didn't fulfill his promise."

"Who could have thought that the Vizier of the Fatimid dynasty would be a treacherous person like an Isaacite? The winner of that time was your father,

But that general of Nur ad-Din—a Kurd—he incited the Egyptians to chisel open the Nile dam, and the flood separated us from Nur ad-Din's army.

And at that time, it was almost winter, and supplies were insufficient, so the King could only withdraw his troops. Shawar also used this as an excuse to refuse to pay the two million gold coins."

Heraclius thought for a while and added: "It should be said that they even defaulted on the tribute paid by the Fatimid dynasty to Lazarus every year in the agreement signed with us by Ruzik, the Vizier during the Caliph Hafiz period."

"Is the current Vizier still Shawar?"

"Still him. Although from the perspective of Christians, he is a petty person full of lies, despicable and mean, but from another perspective, he also gave us a lot of help.

He managed to provoke Nur ad-Din of the Seljuk Zengi dynasty's jealousy of those two Kurds. Things that the army couldn't do were done by a few letters.

Nur ad-Din recalled those two generals. They might be in Damascus now."

"Except for those two people," Baldwin asked sharply, "Does the Fatimid dynasty have any capable generals?"

"What do you think?"

"How could he do this?" Baldwin couldn't believe it, "Even the stingiest hunter knows to feed his dogs."

"This is the diversity of people. Children, if this battle can achieve what your father," he looked at Baldwin, "your King," he looked at Cesar, "expected results.

It is very likely that he will confer honors on you on the battlefield, bestow sword belts and golden spurs on you. This is an honor that no one can question. But if you become a knight, it means you will have to take on all the responsibilities of an adult in society.

You will come into contact with more people, and they will be more complex. You need to know how to judge a person's character. It's nothing if a person is stupid, and it's nothing if a person is bad. You can even use their stupidity and badness.

But once a person is both stupid and bad, just as you said, a rotten peach will quickly make all the surrounding peaches rot. For this kind of guy who not only harms himself but also harms others, what you need to do is to get rid of them at the first opportunity.

Of course, for us, standing from the enemy's position, the more such people, the better."

"What do they want to get by coming to my father here?"

"I think he might promise more gold and hope your father withdraws his troops."

"Withdraw troops? My father has already thrown away almost enough money to value an entire Lazarus in this regard. They even defaulted on two million gold coins. How can they afford such a large compensation, or are they willing to use Fustat as collateral?"

Baldwin's words made Heraclius show a smile, "After all, he succeeded before," he ridiculed mercilessly.

At that time, Amalric I sent troops for the two million gold coins promised by Shawar, but in the end, he wasted effort, manpower, and financial resources in vain. Except for attracting ridicule and distrust, he didn't get anything.

So this time, even if Shawar said flowers, don't expect Amalric I to change his mind.

When the lesson ended and they were about to serve by the King's side, Cesar hurriedly mentioned Longinus to the teacher, "I don't necessarily want him to invoke a certain saint, but the great war is imminent," as long as he was in the army, he would have to fight: "If he can receive a blessing, his chance of survival will be a bit higher. This can also be considered my little selfishness."

Regarding Cesar's request, Heraclius didn't disagree. Besides, Cesar had few cards in his hand, and Longinus counted as one.

Heraclius had always been decisive. The next day, Longinus was dragged by several monks to bathe, fast, pray, and then thrown into the Church of St. John the Baptist in the middle of the night on the fifth day.

Like the monastery of St. John the Baptist where Cesar once stayed, the one worshipped here was also St. John the Baptist. It was said that he once baptized Jesus Christ and more people in the Jordan River, so he had an extremely special status among all saints.

But Longinus really didn't dare to compliment this building...

Because the bottom base of this building was the temple of Dagon of the Philistines. When the Byzantines occupied this place, they built a church on it. When the Saracens captured Gaza-Rafa, they built a temple on the ruins of the church...

When the Crusaders took this place, the temple became a church again.

It was simply a nesting doll.

And what made Longinus uncomfortable was that the accompanying cleric told him with pride that the story of Samson pulling down the temple pillars and dying with the enemy in the Old Testament was said to have happened in the Temple of Dagon, which was under their feet.

He meant that this was also a holy place, but Longinus didn't think so happily, remembering that his little master was also jokingly called "Little Samson" by the monks because of his great strength.

(End of chapter)