Chapter 84: Siege! (4)

Compared to Heraclius's heavy heart, Amalric I was entirely indifferent, even pleased to see it. He consoled Heraclius, saying, "Think back to when we were their age."

"I was nothing like that!" Heraclius said, his tone resolute.

"You just didn't make it so obvious. Every time we called for you, weren't you the one eagerly grabbing your hammer, mounting your horse, and riding off with us?" Amalric I exposed him without a shred of mercy.

Heraclius coughed twice. "That was to protect those poor pilgrims... What they are doing is still too risky."

"If they don't do it now, when will they?" Amalric I replied. "Baldwin and Cesar's situation is even worse than ours was back then."

Amalric I was not the Queen's eldest son. His elder brother was Baldwin III, a wise king possessed of both intellect and strength. No one expected him to die so young and without an heir—and at that time, just as Count Étienne and all younger sons felt, all the glory was draped over the first-born heir.

Whether it was the father's favor, the mother's affection, or the support and gaze of the courtiers.

Although Raymond and Bohemond were considered Amalric I's "brothers without blood," they were chosen by the saints under God's gaze together—but at that time, no, it should be said that until Baldwin III passed away, they would rather serve as squires by the former's side than accompany Amalric I.

Amalric I did not feel resentful because of this; otherwise, he would not have continued to rely on them. What else could he do? He would have a title, he would have a fief, but most things required him to obtain them with his own courage and luck, one blade and one sword at a time.

He could do nothing for Raymond or Bohemond. He could not send troops to drive away Raymond's bastard uncle (this fellow had been constantly fighting Raymond for Tripoli), nor could he drive away the stepfather and mother for the now-adult Bohemond to reclaim Antioch...

But looking back at himself then, Amalric I did indeed feel a trace of irrepressible sorrow.

"You know Baldwin," Amalric I said. "Sometimes he becomes very stubborn."

Ever since Baldwin received God's blessing and displayed the profound favor he had obtained from the saints, the number of people wanting to return to or come to his side had grown. First and foremost was David, then Abigail—who had previously been forcibly sent back to Antioch by Bohemond, but had now returned.

There were also other young men from surrounding lords and knightly orders—Amalric I had also advised Baldwin not to dwell on it too much, that a king should be magnanimous, but Baldwin had said that he did not hate them, yet it was very difficult to continue to love them.

"Cesar once told me that precious emotions are like a flawless jade plate; once shattered, even if you hire the best goldsmith, you cannot mend those tiny cracks. My feelings for them are the same."

He, in turn, advised Amalric I: "Rather than letting them stay by my side and making me think of the past from time to time, it is better to keep our distance. When the future comes, perhaps we can still coexist as harmoniously as a king and his subjects."

Amalric I was also helpless about this. What he worried about was that if Baldwin only had Cesar by his side...

He hoped Baldwin could have more people around him. Now, he didn't care as much about Cesar's origins—he truly couldn't bring himself to say the word "slave." How could a child like Cesar be a slave?

No one would believe it.

Fortunately, since joining the expeditionary force, as more lords and nobles came to participate in this holy war, the number of young men had been constantly increasing. While there were certainly scoundrels and rogues among them, most were brave and pure-hearted lads.

They held no ill will toward Baldwin. Even if in their homelands, lepers were viewed as people punished by God or cursed by the devil, Baldwin showed none of the terrifying morbidity they had previously seen or imagined.

His eyes remained bright, his skin remained smooth, and his mind remained clear—even sharper and more intelligent than most. His left hand might be a bit stiff, but who else could receive as much favor from Saint George as he did?

What these youths loved most was gathering around Baldwin, asking him to summon Saint George's spear. Although they could not touch the spear, just watching it made them feel as if they had received infinite blessings and grace, feeling energetic and immensely strong, as if charging into the Saracen army would be no problem at all!

Amalric I had initially worried that Cesar might try to sow discord and spread rumors to continue monopolizing Baldwin's friendship—just as the former Witte had done—to drive these people away from Baldwin.

He had thought wrong.

Cesar was no true child; the soul within the shell was already an adult. He looked at Baldwin as if looking at the unfortunate little patients he had seen in the hospital in the past.

Now that Baldwin's condition was stable and he possessed power that ordinary people lacked under a "blessing" that he still found hard to understand, and now that there were many enthusiastic little friends, he was more than happy.

However, among these people, many were also here for Cesar. They were not like those nobles and lords who would sigh the moment they heard of Cesar's background.

They simply did not believe Cesar could be the son of a farmer or craftsman; that was absolutely impossible! And now that he was already an intimate servant by Baldwin's side, once Baldwin ascended the throne, what title or fief could he not have?

They even thought, just like Baldwin, of their own widowed sisters or aunts. It didn't matter if Baldwin was unwilling to let people go; the female relatives could bring their dowries and marry into Arasalu, just like Baldwin I's third wife. She was the widow of a Sicilian lord, and after marrying into Arasalu, didn't Baldwin I use her dowry to build several castles?

"Just for this face alone," one knight said to another, "my aunt would be willing to travel a thousand miles."

"Your aunt doesn't even have a fief, nor does she have inheritance rights," the knight with golden-red hair said. "I don't think Baldwin would be willing to entrust Cesar's marriage to such a woman."

"Do you have any good candidates?" the knight asked bluntly in return.

"I do, though she is a bit older, but she is indeed very wealthy and has a quite vast fief," the golden-red-haired knight said. "She just has one major drawback."

"What kind of drawback?"

"Her husband is still alive."

The knight who started the conversation laughed heartily, clearly thinking the other was just telling a joke. "Oh," the golden-red-haired knight said, "they're back."

"Arthur, Blondel..." Baldwin walked into the tent. The two knights bowed to him together. Cesar moved slightly aside to avoid being misunderstood.

These two young knights—one was Arthur from Aquitaine, the other was Blondel from Nesle—were both of extraordinary birth. Arthur's father had once served Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, and he was able to come to Arasalu to participate in the holy war this time because he had a letter of introduction from the knight Ma Xieer.

Arthur was seventeen this year, but according to him, because of some things that had to be done, he had already received his golden spurs and sword belt, becoming a knight. He had also participated in several wars before. "But if I could, I would rather call this war my first battle!" he said, his eyes burning and his voice resonant.

"That will be a very difficult battle, and there won't be much in the way of spoils," Baldwin said gently.

"I only wish to be able to kill the most Saracens!" Arthur shouted. Blondel couldn't help but roll his eyes. Nesle was in eastern France, Aquitaine in southwestern France, but he hadn't heard of an Arthur in Aquitaine. However, when he asked about the situation in Aquitaine, the other answered fluently and was very knowledgeable about the situation at the court of Louis VII.

He turned to get a cup of water for Baldwin, only to find that Cesar, who was by Baldwin's side, had already filled a silver cup with sweet but lukewarm water. He gave it to Baldwin first, then to Arthur, then to Blondel, and finally took a cup for himself, sipping it slowly.

"I like ice water," Arthur said. "If there's no ice, don't make it so hot."

"Water that is too cold will make your internal organs explode," Baldwin said.

"What kind of hellish theory is that, a Saracen one?" Although Arthur complained a few times, he drank no slower than anyone else. In the blink of an eye, it was as if there had never been water in the silver cup. He went to pour water himself; this impolite and rude behavior made Blondel sigh at length.

Baldwin and Cesar did not mind. Arthur was perhaps the one among these young knights and squires who hung out with them the best; he was straightforward, exceptionally brave, and generous enough.

In the several tournaments Amalric I had held to wear down the knights' energy, he had taken first place every time, but he didn't want the losers' horses or armor, nor did he want the ransom, as if he had entered the tournament just for the sake of fighting.

And compared to other knights who were still hesitating about whether to approach Cesar, he was the first to link arms with Cesar and sit with him to drink and dine.

He even exchanged surcoats with Cesar, though it was a pity Cesar didn't have a coat of arms yet—presumably Amalric I was waiting for Baldwin to give him one—but Arthur's surcoat was embroidered with brilliant lilies.

"I heard about you from Ma Xieer," he said, staring curiously at Baldwin and Cesar when they first met. "Especially you. I heard you once walked into the Templar's Tortosa Castle alone, just to beg the cruel Walter not to let countless civilians lose their lives because of his conflict with Amalric I."

"But that sounds like something a monk would do," he asked Cesar. "Why don't you participate in the tournaments?"

"I am not keen on or skilled at killing," Cesar said. "And I am still a squire. If I were to fight as an attendant, it wouldn't be very fair to ordinary people since I have received God's blessing."

"Attendants also receive blessings," Arthur said. "And what do you mean by not skilled? I heard you killed hundreds of people with Baldwin on the battlefield at Tortosa, and held off the tearing of a mother bear that had lost its cubs under the eyes of everyone. Although I didn't see it when you disguised yourself as a noblewoman to wipe out that group of Saracens, I have seen you galloping by Baldwin's side, knocking down any enemy who dared to approach."

"Let's not mention the noblewoman thing; that was a last resort," Cesar said. "Just like the other things you heard, it was nothing more than fulfilling the obligations and duties of a friend and subject."

Hearing this, Arthur looked up at Baldwin. "You two are really like the legends say, having taken a vow to be brothers?"

"Is there anything wrong with that?" Baldwin asked.

"Nothing, it's just that as a future monarch," Arthur said, "perhaps some people would feel you aren't cautious enough."

But that was probably several months ago. Now, Arthur, like everyone else, not only didn't feel that Cesar was unqualified to stand side-by-side with Baldwin, but even felt that if Amalric I hadn't redeemed Cesar from the Isaacs, Cesar might have had better options.

"Come, Arthur," Baldwin called out, "come see the situation we scouted today."

Arthur and Blondel were also "chosen ones." The saint Arthur looked up to was Saint Paul, just like Walter—Saint Paul did not seem to be a saint of a quiet temperament.

Arthur was as warlike as Walter, even somewhat violent. He was even taller than Baldwin and Cesar—six feet five inches—but his shoulders were much broader, and his body was more heavily built. It could only be said that if Baldwin and Cesar were the lean, tall type (calling them thin wouldn't be an exaggeration), he was the type of giant with a tiger's back and a bear's waist, and he would likely become even stronger in the future.

The saint Blondel looked up to was Saint Martin, who was famous for suffering long-term hardships in prison. The favor Blondel received was also related to protection and the alleviation of suffering.

It was hard to say whether Baldwin choosing them as his aides had anything to do with this—he knew someone had compared him and Cesar to "God's spear and shield." Although he felt Cesar's power should be more than that, for the time being, at least when he couldn't fully provide him with protection, this metaphor wasn't bad.

It was just that when choosing knights, after he chose Arthur, he subconsciously chose another "shield," even though he knew Cesar wouldn't leave him to protect others... but...

"Who drew the map?" Arthur's question woke Baldwin. "Cesar drew it," he said.

There were two bridges connecting Rawda Island and Cairo, not counting the suspension bridges in the air. One was a wooden bridge (it seems the King's intelligence was still a bit off), set up in the center of Rawda Island, leading straight to Cairo's King's Gate. They were unlikely to choose this one. The other was located at the southernmost tip of Rawda Island, a distance from the city gate, but not too far—at least a cavalry charge could reach it.

"They will attack the King's Gate first, so the Saracens inside can't rush out to support."

"But if they discover us, they can still come to reinforce from the suspension bridge between the city wall and the fortress." Arthur compared the parchment with satisfaction. This map was not as gorgeous and exquisite as the ones he had seen before, but it was exceptionally clear—plan, side view, and general structure, and it even marked detailed dimensions.

"Where did you get these dimensions?"

"Cesar dove underwater to measure them."

Arthur couldn't help but glance at the black-haired youth. Sure enough, his hair was still a bit damp. "You?"

Knights would learn to swim, but swimming was not diving. But if it wasn't diving, those Saracens guarding the bridge would have discovered the invading enemy in an instant.

But what Arthur envied most was Cesar's skill in drawing maps. As a knight and future general, no one knew better than him what an important role a detailed map could play in a campaign.

Even though he had never seen this kind of "map" before, it was as if it had vividly placed the scene in front of him. Just by looking at it, he could think of how to fight, how many people, what direction, what to use—catapults, crossbows, or Greek fire... Cesar even marked the material of the bridgehead arrow towers.

"There is one more thing," Cesar reminded. "Tomorrow we also need to be careful; they might release ships tied with iron chains from upstream. They will attack the people on the bridge from the ships."

"Is this also what you saw?" Arthur asked.

"I couldn't swim that far, but I saw the arrowheads and fire-scorched marks left on the bridge body."

Arthur's gaze shifted uncontrollably toward Baldwin.

"I have a quite suitable marriage candidate... Your Highness, beautiful, wealthy, has a very large fief... the only drawback... will also be gone very soon..."

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 85 =====