Chapter 77

Cesar didn't think at all that what Walter and Geoffrey said would be any good news. It was one thing when he first arrived, but he had been in the Holy Land for so many years, how could he not know what kind of people these Templars were?

Sure enough, the so-called good news was that they had left him the most precious prisoner. If it were on a battlefield of Christians against Christians, this would be equivalent to sending him a sum of money, but this was a battlefield of Christians against infidels, and Amalric I had said that this battle did not need any prisoners.

So his use was for Cesar to cut off his head.

Cesar remembered that the Prince had also told him that when he was nine years old, he had executed a criminal under the supervision of the King and Heraclius, and the one who died was not a thief or a beggar, but a lord who bore a grave crime.

For the Frankish nobility, this might be a tradition.

Walter saw the person behind him. The elder was riding a horse, looking not like a prisoner, but like a friend he had met occasionally. "I heard that after you came to the Saracen road, the first person you killed was just a stupid servant. Now you can make up for this regret."

The Templar said while looking at Cesar's face with a smile, as if to discover something buried deep in his heart. But Cesar just nodded silently.

The leader, who was tied up and placed in an open space, also saw the elder, and he revealed a look of grief, indignation, and despair.

Upon hearing those Franks say that this child, who had clearly not yet become a knight, would execute him, he became even more angry. Clearly, it was not only knights among Christians who would demand treatment corresponding to their status.

Walter was already prepared to cut off the other party's hand or foot. Unexpectedly, the elder just said a few words to him in Greek, and the leader calmed down.

He scratched his ear and turned to Cesar.

"What did they say?"

Any knight who came to the Holy Land was basically an adult, and some even had years of fame, but their academic performance was generally not very good. They usually spoke Frankish, and their common Latin was stuttering.

After staying in the Holy Land for a few years, some knights could understand some simple Saracen, but the elder used Greek, so they were in a dilemma.

When the elder and Cesar talked before, they also used Greek.

For Saracen scholars, Greek was not an unfamiliar language. They had been busy translating and researching ancient Greek academic classics and had a very thorough understanding and mastery of this language.

Cesar had systematically learned Greek because of interest when he was in another world. After arriving here, under Heraclius's guidance, Greek and Latin were already like mother tongues to him, and communicating with the old man was effortless.

"He is persuading another Saracen to accept his fate."

"Is that so?" Walter asked suspiciously, "But he said a lot."

"That's because Greek is not as concise as our language."

"I am not a fool," Walter muttered, but did not pursue it further.

Cesar swung his longsword, and everyone present was a little nervous. Until a sword fell, the leader's head fell to the ground, and he was actually able to let out a sigh of comfort—killing a person who could not resist was completely different from fighting on the battlefield. Geoffrey felt relieved; Cesar did it beautifully. At this time, any hesitation or doubt would lead to extremely bad consequences.

There were many knights who were brave on the battlefield, but when executing, they failed to cut off the neck at once, leading to the criminal struggling wildly, making it bloody and unbearable.

Afterward, it was the elder's turn. His last words were: "What a pity. Child."

Although this sentence was in Saracen, everyone present understood it, and then his head rolled together with the leader's.

After completing this work, the knights and squires all moved. They cut off all the Saracen heads, washed them roughly in the small lake nearby, sealed the broken ends with lime, then piled them in wooden boxes, and loaded them into the four-wheeled carriage, while the bodies were abandoned in the wilderness, left to be devoured by beasts.

"Is it him? Is it them?"

When returning to the camp, Damara, who had already received the news, ran in front of everyone. She didn't know which Saracen had killed her good sister Elena, but it didn't stop her from boldly opening the boxes and looking at them one by one.

After looking, she didn't even have time to wash her hands before rushing directly to Cesar, hugging his waist tightly with both hands, saying endless words of thanks, until her father ran over with a strange expression and pulled her away.

He was, of course, delighted that his daughter had such a knight who had shown wisdom and bravery at a young age, but he also had some worries.

Gerard's family head was a good father and did not expect his daughter to win much glory and wealth for himself. He only hoped that she could find a lord with a gentle temperament and no great ambition. Even if it was not in the Holy Land, but in Frank or the Apennines, he could accept it.

But Cesar, this person, was destined to be twisted into endless conspiracies and schemes, and might not be able to escape until he died.

Even though people said that this child who was once a slave had a limitless future, as the head of the Gerard family, he was the clearest—monstrous wealth and power often meant countless infighting, struggles, and death.

He knew that his daughter was not the kind of woman who enjoyed conspiracies and schemes. If she entered into a betrothal with Cesar, it would not be a good thing for her or for Cesar.

"You should go back to the Saracen road," he said to Damara.

The attitude of the Gerard family head made Baldwin a little displeased, although very slightly.

He knew that the Gerard family had invested in Cesar, but it did not mean that the Gerard family head could put on such a standoffish attitude.

Although he would not choose a girl like Damara as a wife for Cesar, in his view, Damara was too childish.

Moreover, although she was a girl from the Gerard family, she had several older sisters above her, which meant that she would not get much dowry, and there would be no territory—obtaining territory through marriage was the fastest way for knights without inheritance rights to become lords, otherwise, he would have to wait until he ascended the throne to find an opportunity to enfeoff Cesar.

He had already entrusted Cesar's marriage to his mother, the Countess of Jaffa, and his sister, Princess Sibylla. They would certainly be able to choose a satisfactory marriage for Cesar.

——————

That night, Amalric I held an incredibly lively banquet. This banquet lasted all night, and Cesar drank a lot of wine, several times his usual amount. There were, of course, the enthusiastic requests and invitations of others, but more of it was to release that pressure that was difficult to resolve.

Baldwin didn't say anything, but when the dawn of the next day was approaching, and except for those on duty, all the tents were in silence, he suddenly touched Cesar's arm: "Do you want to take a bath?"

Before going to sleep, they had simply washed, that is, wiped their faces and bodies with linen.

In the military camp, if you want to take a hot bath, it's not impossible, but it will definitely disturb many people—those carrying the bathtub, those carrying hot and cold water, those serving on the side—generally speaking, only the King or the commander is qualified.

So generally, from knights and their squires, to those attendants running around, servants, and even the lowest laborers, they can only bathe in nearby rivers or lakes. Disgust for filth is human nature—even monkeys take baths.

This nature would not be forced to change until one or two hundred years later, because of the rampant spread of the Black Death.

There was a small lake near their tent. It connected to a tributary, and even though many people fetched water here, there were no signs of drying up or turbidity.

Some patrolling knights saw them and saluted the Prince—a monk reminded them that the water here was exceptionally cold.

The place Baldwin found was a depression connected to the small lake. Under the cobalt blue sky, it looked exceptionally dark, surrounded by dense reeds, forming a natural barrier.

Cesar suspected that an exceptionally thick tree had once grown here, and after it fell, it left a cave. The lake water surged into the cave, creating a "small pool" that was both proper and clean. Baldwin reached out and tested it, and it was indeed as the monk said. Although it was October in Egypt, the lake water was still a bit cold.

So they went to find some stones, heated them on the bonfire, and threw them into the "small pool." The hot stones made a hissing sound as soon as they touched the water, and at the same time, a large amount of white smoke rose.

A few knights came to look, smiled, and walked away.

Only then did they jump in with a splash. It must be said that the warmth brought by the stones was not much, just making the water no longer so ice-cold.

But it was this coldness that took away the heat accumulated in Cesar's body.

He looked at Baldwin. They were already thirteen years old, and in another year, they could officially become adults, talk about marriage, possess power, be looked at squarely, and Amalric I was also preparing to promote them to knights.

Their height had already exceeded that of ordinary squires, and some knights could not compare to them, but whether it was Baldwin or him, the childishness of a child still remained on their faces.

Cesar was incredibly eager to grow up, but he also knew that nothing could be achieved overnight. And even if he grew up, before getting rid of the shackles of this world on him, he would still have to suffer for the tug-of-war between reality and ideals.

"Don't be in a hurry," Baldwin said. He saw Cesar raise his eyes in surprise to look at him, and he smiled, "Do you think I can't see what you are thinking in your heart?"

"In fact, I am also very annoyed by this behavior. Every time I see them, I feel like I see devils crawling out of hell—I don't understand, if we are righteous and those Saracens are evil, how can our knights be more greedy and violent than them?"

"Shouldn't we demand more of ourselves with a broader mind, a fairer attitude, and stricter discipline?"

"And this is the most sacred place in the world."

"But after these knights arrived in the Holy Land, not only did they not receive the due enlightenment and become more humble, honest, and kind, but they seemed to have released the beasts in their hearts, becoming unscrupulous and without bottom lines."

"Sometimes I wonder, what kind of people would they be when they were in Frank, Hungary, and the Apennines? Would they do this to their own people and other people's people?"

"If so, what terrible torture are those farmers and craftsmen who are fellow Christians enduring? Tell me," he asked Cesar, "if I become the King of the Saracen road in the future, can this situation be changed?"

"Certainly," Cesar said: "But it will be very, very, very difficult."

"After all, we and the Saracens were already standing on two completely different positions."

"I'm not just talking about faith, but also this land. This land originally belonged to the Isaacites, and later belonged to the Romans. It was only after the Romans left that it was the Saracens' turn."

"Of course, we can also become the new masters of this land, but it will inevitably go through a painful struggle and brewing. After all, no one will unselfishly give the power and interests in their hands to others."

"Jesus Christ only shook the slight power of the Isaacite priests and was framed to death by them."

"The Saracen road is the center of the world. The golden crown is inlaid with the pearls of religion, the rubies of economy, and the sapphires of legitimacy. Who can easily give it up?"

"If you are the King of the Saracen road, you cannot fight the entire Saracen world alone. You need helpers, you need vassals, you need endless resources, but these are not free."

"Just like this expedition, your father Amalric I has already raised a huge amount of assets, but still cannot afford the consumption of the entire army. If he does not allow them to plunder, does not allow them to rape, does not allow them to commit arson and slaughter, he will only be seen as cowardly or stingy."

"They will not think your father is a good person, but will only think he is not worth following. They have already come, and if they don't get what they want, you should know what will happen."

Baldwin slapped the water, "What else could it be? Wanton behavior against everyone! If possible, they would even let the Saracen road change a king. This kind of thing has not happened before."

"But there is always a way, right?"

Cesar recalled what had happened in his world: "There is, but it takes a saint to complete it."

"Who? Jesus Christ?" Baldwin said, then realized he was a bit too disrespectful. He hurriedly prayed silently and made a cross on his chest to show repentance. However, the punishment still came. He sneezed, very loudly. Cesar immediately interrupted the conversation and pulled him out of the water.

They quickly wiped their bodies dry with cotton cloth, changed into clean and warm clothes, ran back to their tent, pulled the fur to wrap around themselves, and had a comfortable sleep.

When they woke up the next day, Amalric I's rewards and the gifts of the nobles had already been placed in front of their tent, the most conspicuous of which was the silver-plated chainmail and helmet gifted by Elena's husband, and the longsword gifted by Gerard.

Because Cesar was always inseparable from Baldwin, their gifts were also double.

"This chainmail needs to be resized," Baldwin said with some dissatisfaction, "It doesn't fit very well."

He was a bit picky. After all, that William Marshal who had been highly praised by the King had only received a suit of silver-plated chainmail gifted by Amalric I.

"If it's loose, let it be loose. I can tighten it with a belt." Cesar didn't care. The armor at this time, whether it was cotton armor, leather armor, or chainmail, needed to be made according to the wearer's figure and belonged to custom-made products.

For Cesar to see, the height and width of this chainmail were just right, only slightly larger. It might have originally belonged to some lord and was won or bought by Elena's husband as a gift.

If it were to be adjusted to be exactly the same as his current figure, then the blacksmith would have to remove a lot of excess parts. But he thought, as long as the nutrition was sufficient, he and Baldwin would soon become strong, and at that time, they would have to add the parts that were cut off. Wouldn't that be superfluous?

Besides, he couldn't wear such a suit of chainmail on the battlefield. This silver-plated or gold-plated chainmail belonged purely to expensive decorations. Wearing it on the battlefield, wouldn't it be asking the enemy to aim at you?

"Also, you can wear it when you are promoted to a knight," Baldwin said. However, soon, Cesar put on this chainmail—for no other reason, Amalric I's decree sent to Bilbeis finally had a reply.

(End of chapter)