Chapter 80

The noisy place was not far from where Baldwin and Cesar were, separated by only three houses and an alley.

The knights who were also attracted by the noise were already impatient. He glanced at the Templar who was bored and leaning against the wall, intending to end this troublesome matter cleanly—he didn't care about justice or good and evil. Anyway, there were tens of thousands of Saracens in this city. These people were gold pots and powder kegs, and there was not so much time for them to waste.

But his squire suddenly ran over and said a few words to him in a low voice. He was stunned for a moment, then pulled the torch inserted in the wall and walked out.

Others in the courtyard couldn't help but stop talking. They were panicked, not knowing what had happened.

Not long after, the knight led another team in. The leader of this team was two young probationary knights. Their attire was more noble than the squires, but their spurs were still silver.

Under the flickering firelight, the hair of the two probationary knights was dark, but one was darker than the other, like black. The black-haired probationary knight had a pair of green eyes that seemed to shine in the dark, while his friend had a pair of gentle blue eyes, but more solemn and self-restrained than the former.

They saw the Templar, who was so arrogant that he didn't put anyone in his eyes, suddenly put down his hand, walked to the blue-eyed probationary knight, bowed his head to salute, and then reached out to pat—the green-eyed probationary knight took a step back, avoiding a pat with a saluting posture. The Templar muttered something like "grudge-holding little bastard" and moved to the side.

"What happened here?" Baldwin asked.

Cesar was observing the situation here. This was a two-story small building very common in Bilbeis. The highest point was a platform that could be used for drying grain and clothes. The second floor was for the owner and his family to live, and the bottom floor was a workshop or shop. The walls extending from both sides of the small building created a small courtyard. An olive tree was planted on one side of the courtyard, and the branches were covered with golden and green fruits.

And the people gathered under the olive tree actually included all the ethnic groups in Bilbeis: the Christian victors, the Saracen losers, and the Isaacites who were despised and excluded by both. What was especially strange was that the Isaacites, who had always been united, were clearly divided into two groups here and were glaring at each other.

Baldwin was waiting for someone to give him an answer, but someone suddenly threw himself at his feet. He almost stabbed him with a sword—fortunately, Cesar held his arm in time. He looked down, it was an Isaacite dressed as a Frank—pointed shoes, tight pants, short robes, and a cloak outside... what made people recognize him as an Isaacite was that he also wore a small round cap, which was called "Kipa" in Hebrew, meaning "covering," which Isaacites used to express awe for God.

"Isaacite?" Baldwin frowned. He moved his feet away and asked at a humble and flattering face: "Who are you? What do you want to do?"

"Please allow me to appeal to you, Your Highness," the man said: "I am an Isaacite, but also a servant of your father. I listen to his instructions and buy wheat, barley, beer, and beans for him. I am called Laban. If you have ever heard of me, then you must know that I am the most honest and loyal person."

This sentence made everyone present laugh.

Laban did not take offense at all. He put his knees on the ground and held his hands tightly—he saw that Baldwin was not the kind of person who liked to humiliate others, so he said cleverly: "I am here to save my people, but I have been hindered by others. If you are willing to preside over justice for me, Your Highness, I am willing to repay your kindness with a set of chainmail and three silk robes."

This reward was enough to bribe a knight or an official, although Baldwin was a prince, he had not yet reached adulthood, had no territory, and had no knights of his own—not to mention as a teenager, there were many places to spend money.

But what disappointed this Isaacite was that although the Prince was young, he had calmness and caution beyond his age. He was not moved by the reward promised by Laban, just waved his hand to let him step aside, and then looked around: "Besides him, is there anyone else who wants to speak?"

"I..."

"Hadiri..."

Unexpectedly, two people stood up at the same time wanting to speak. Baldwin looked at them. One was a middle-aged man dressed as a traditional Isaacite, and the other was a Saracen.

"You speak." He pointed to the Isaacite.

The Isaacite walked out. He wore a multi-cornered hat, a shawl, a wide robe, and brown cowhide sandals on his feet. "Your Highness," he bowed and said with some sorrow: "My name is Hadiri, just an ordinary goldsmith. Thanks to the grace of God and the Caliph—now I have to thank the pardon of King Amalric I—I make a living in Bilbeis..."

"He, and his wife, and two daughters are my prisoners." The Templar, that is, the Mr. Geoffrey we are already familiar with, interjected a sentence. This was to remind Baldwin and Cesar... this was not the King's property.

"Yes, yes, this knight lord captured us outside the city..." Hadiri said, "But he is a merciful person. He allowed us to redeem ourselves."

"It's not the time when the Saracen road was broken, is it?" Geoffrey said humorously, but this cold joke only made most people in the courtyard tremble involuntarily.

To say that letting prisoners take money from themselves to redeem themselves was of course impossible. Just like at a tournament, one knight is knocked off his horse and becomes another knight's prisoner, his horse, armor, and even clothes are considered spoils of war, and he has to take extra money to redeem himself—it's the same here.

"He told me," Geoffrey said: "Although he left Bilbeis, he didn't take all the money, and part of it was hidden in a secret place, right in his house. He could take me to get it—I promised him. God bless, my mood has been good these days, but..." He raised his hand and pointed to the small building, the meaning was self-evident.

This small building had long been looted, furniture, furnishings, utensils, silk carpets... even the doors and windows, mosaics, brackets for fixing torches and candles were dismantled, leaving only the walls painted with chalk, and the flower and grass patterns drawn on the walls—but it could still be seen that when the owner was still here, it was a warm and peaceful residence.

"No, no, no," Hadiri said hurriedly: "I swear I didn't deceive you. I hid my money in a place that absolutely no one knew and could not be discovered—" He turned to Laban, "But before I left, I told this place to my most trusted friend, at least I thought so..."

"I don't care about this," the Templar muttered: "If you can't come up with the money, I can only find another buyer."

Baldwin frowned, Cesar asked: "Do you want us to help you recover this money?"

Hadiri shook his head. He knew very well that he met this Templar and thought he would die. He was able to allow Hadiri to redeem himself and his family, which was enough to make him overjoyed. Moreover, the other party was willing to follow him into the city—when he found that the secret room was empty, it was like a bolt from the blue, but he still had reason, knowing that begging again would be pushing his luck. The Templar not killing him was simply comparable to a saint.

"Oh," Geoffrey said, "It's like this, Cesar, I'm just about to take them away and stuff them to anyone," he was referring to those slave traders, "As a result," he looked at those Saracens, "they ran out and demanded to redeem these people from me."

Cesar's gaze turned to those Saracens. There were about five or six of them, all wrapped in headscarves. The leader had dark skin and wore a Saracen robe, just like the one he met at the market before, but it was not black but linen-colored. On the cowhide belt, one could vaguely see the hooks used to hang scimitars. They might have taken them off in a hurry before negotiating with the knights to avoid unnecessary conflicts.

But looking at it this way, even if he was not on Amalric I's list, he was not an ordinary Saracen commoner.

"How much money?"

"I don't want much," Geoffrey touched his face, "Ninety gold coins." He nodded at Hadiri: "He has two daughters like flower buds."

This price was really not high, but looking at it this way, Cesar was even more strange. A set of ordinary chainmail required at least forty gold coins (only the torso part), and the price of a silk robe was between eight and nine gold coins. The reward promised to Prince Baldwin by Laban alone was equivalent to this ransom...

"We have already negotiated," the Saracen said, suppressing his anger: "We came too urgently and didn't bring enough money. We have already sent someone to get it."

"Who knows what you are buying my people for?" Laban jumped up from the ground and said fiercely: "I am willing to pay three times the money!" He turned to Geoffrey, his tone became gentle: "Knight lord," he said respectfully: "You don't even need to wait, I have the money now."

"My husband's money..." Hadiri's wife said resentfully.

"Don't talk nonsense, woman, the devil should pull your tongue out!" Laban said sternly: "Your husband didn't leave any money for me!"

He turned his face again and showed an innocent face to Cesar and Baldwin: "My lords, please think about it. If a person decides to escape from this city, taking his wife and daughter, house, industry, and everything, why would he leave money for me?"

"This money is not for you!" Hadiri finally couldn't help but shout: "That's because I wanted to leave, but the clansmen decided to stay here. I was worried that if..." He stuck, "If something happened, I would let you take this money to help them escape from suffering!"

"Oh, oh," Laban said sarcastically: "Listen, listen, what a saint..."

Geoffrey laughed with a "pfft."

Laban paused and looked at them confusedly. He hadn't thought that there was a real "little saint" here, so he continued: "Then what's going on now? You abandoned your clansmen, but you didn't succeed in escaping, so you regretted it and planned to take this money to save your life?"

This was moral kidnapping, although there was no such word now.

But although Hadiri was not good at words, he was clearly a clear-headed person. He stepped forward, his eyes shining: "If a person doesn't even love himself, doesn't even love his family, and says he wants to love others, that... that is called being obsessed by the devil." He lowered his eyes slightly, "Although this did deviate from my original intention, I am just a mortal."

"How much money did you hide here?" Cesar asked.

Hadiri hesitated: "Fifty gold coins, but there are a few gems, worth more than forty gold coins, and a roll of dark blue silk, which is needed by a customer who ordered a holy relic niche from me."

Geoffrey curled his lips. He stared at Laban and could almost be sure that this guy took these things, planning to find an opportunity to pry them out of this guy's mouth.

"You are Saracens," Cesar asked again: "Why are you willing to pay such a large sum of money to redeem an Isaacite?"

"Hadiri is our friend," the dark-skinned Saracen said: "Although he is an Isaacite and also strictly observes the laws and faith belonging to their ethnic group, he has always been honest and upright. He has lived in Bilbeis for twenty years, never quarreled with anyone, never lied, and never lent a penny..." He glanced at Laban: "Completely different from his clansmen."

"Moreover," he continued: "He is also a scholar. He teaches our children mathematics, Latin, and astronomy."

Saracens have always respected scholars very much, not to mention that this scholar is also willing to teach their children important knowledge.

"Are you a teacher?" Baldwin asked.

The teacher here is not the teacher we are talking about now. In the Isaacites, this word represents the teacher of oral law—similar to the cleric in the Christian church and the elder of the Saracens.

"Of course not!" Laban took a step forward and answered resentfully on his behalf: "He is just a craftsman!"

Hadiri pursed his lips.

"You don't have a good relationship with him," Cesar asked: "But he is willing to redeem you for nearly three hundred gold coins?" Almost one-tenth of a count.

"Not for free," Hadiri said: "Isaacites cannot make Isaacites their slaves, but if I owe him a debt, I have to use my workshop and labor to pay off the debt. Three hundred gold coins, enough for me to do until I die, and..."

"And?"

"And he has always wanted to marry my daughter. As far as I know, he has another friend whose temperament is as violent and despicable as him. He has already agreed with him that after he marries my eldest daughter, he will arrange to marry my younger daughter to his friend. Of course, the latter will give him a generous reward for this."

Baldwin subconsciously looked at that Laban. Laban could not be said to be a person with an ugly appearance, but it seemed that his age was older than Hadiri's. His figure could not be said to be short, but precisely because he was still tall, when he hunched his back, it made people feel disgusted like a hyena.

Laban did not refute. Hadiri's words sounded reasonable, but Cesar always felt that something was wrong.

"Can you make a verdict?" Geoffrey yawned boredly, "I want to go back to sleep."

(End of chapter)