Chapter 98: The Death of the King (6)

"My eldest daughter, Princess Sibylla, will be betrothed to Abigail, son of Bohemond, Duke of Antioch, and become husband and wife." As soon as the King finished speaking, Raymond suddenly turned his head to look at Bohemond, and the expression Bohemond showed indicated that he really knew nothing about the decision the King had made this time.

That's right, everyone in Jerusalem knew that Abigail was almost madly in love with Princess Sibylla. And according to the current situation, the King only had Baldwin as an heir, and Baldwin's illness meant he was unlikely to have a healthy heir. He could only choose the son of his sister.

If he were still to die before the age of thirty, it would mean that the child who had not yet grown up would need a regent, and this regent could only be his mother or father.

Speaking of Sibylla, Bohemond could only say "heh" in his heart. Although she had tried her best to dress herself up as a smart person—but it was a pity, she might be able to play those young people in the palm of her hand, but she could not shake old foxes like Bohemond. To put it bluntly, even Raymond, such a straightforward and stubborn guy, she could not control, let alone those ministers and generals who had their own thoughts and had been immersed in power for many years.

Bohemond wanted to laugh, but Amalric I immediately announced another decree.

He appointed Raymond, Count of Tripoli, as Baldwin's regent.

Although Baldwin was an adult and had become a knight, he still needed an experienced and steady elder to assist him. He handed this power to Raymond—he was also Baldwin's cousin. As for how long—Amalric I pondered for a while. At this time, Raymond's heart was about to jump out of his chest.

Immediately after, he heard an answer that disappointed him immensely.

"Sixteen," Amalric I said. Sixteen. Baldwin was already fourteen this year. By the time they returned to Jerusalem and he participated in the government and held power, it might only be a year or so. What could be done in a year? He could only help Baldwin stabilize the uneasy emotions and complicated situation inside and outside Jerusalem. That is to say, he got a job from the King, but did not get the reward he deserved.

Not only that, Amalric I handed his daughter Princess Sibylla to Abigail, son of Bohemond, simply to let them check and balance each other, so as to avoid the situation of one person dominating the court.

The smile on Bohemond's face seemed to prove that he had already thought of this problem, but would he say no, I do not accept this marriage? No. Just as he had once said to his son Abigail, those young people chasing Princess Sibylla, Princess Sibylla's beauty and talent were of course one aspect, but more importantly, it was because she possessed the right of inheritance to Jerusalem.

In Jerusalem, in the absence of a male heir, the King's daughter could also wear the crown. And as Princess Sibylla's husband, whether it was Abigail or anyone else, they could stand by her side and share this power. Bohemond would naturally not easily give up such an opportunity.

Just like him, even knowing Amalric I's suspicion and precaution against him, he had to accept this appointment.

Even if Amalric I said that when Baldwin was sixteen, he must return the power in his hands.

But what if Baldwin still could not show the qualities to be convinced by then? Perhaps he could... Raymond was frightened by the thought in his heart.

But immediately he thought again, this was not his fault, it could only be said to be the arrangement of God or fate. If not, why did Baldwin's illness not heal with the blessing?

Not to mention, earlier in the Caliph's palace, he suffered serious burns in order to rescue Amalric I. Raymond had seen lepers and understood—once they were injured, the disease would develop more rapidly—and he was so young and frail. As an elder, he should have shared some heavy responsibilities for him, at least... not let him die prematurely.

Not to mention that although this expedition could not be said to have gained nothing, it did not achieve Amalric I's initial purpose. In the next few years, they would expedition again. No matter whether Baldwin intended to stay in Jerusalem or go far away as the commander of the Crusaders, did he not need a trustworthy person to manage government affairs and prepare logistics for him?

He thought so, and his mood became strangely peaceful again. Bohemond glanced at him, as if he had already seen what he was thinking.

In front of all the witnesses, after determining the fate of his eldest daughter, only son, and second daughter, Amalric I finally let go of the boulder in his heart and showed a look of relief.

He insisted on walking back to his tent and collapsed on the soft couch, never to get up again.

Heraclius went in, performed another prayer for him, and listened to his confession—he had confessed before, but Heraclius believed he would have more places to confess... in view of the previous knighting ceremony and public will.

This time Amalric I was more composed, perhaps because he had finished handling all matters, just waiting to follow God's call back to the kingdom of heaven. He was not panicked. After all, whether it was the Church or the saints he had seen, they had all given him revelations. Warriors who fought for God, especially those who died on the way to an expedition like him, would absolutely not fall into hell.

As soon as they were freed from this heavy old skin of the world, they could immediately see the gates of heaven open to them. Golden light shone through the thick clouds, and saints and angels stood at the gate, welcoming his arrival.

Heraclius anointed him, not just on his forehead, but also on his shoulders, hands, and feet. Then he placed a Bible by Amalric I's pillow, leaned down, and whispered: "Should I let Baldwin come in to accompany you?"

Amalric I nodded. Heraclius walked out, lit two candles, handed one to Baldwin, and then told him to place the other by Amalric I's hand. Subsequently, he lit more candles, but everyone guarding outside the tent held one in their hand.

This represented the divine. As a cleric said, God was a ball of burning fire—the wick of the candle symbolized His will, the purest and whitest will.

Life was like a candle, gradually burning out.

Heraclius placed a small cross into Cesar's hand so that he could stay by Baldwin's side. He might be Baldwin's only, most trustworthy reliance.

Since Cesar came to this world, he had seen too much death, but no death was heavier or more critical than this one. Not to mention Baldwin, even he himself was confused about the future.

Amalric I not only knighted him but also made him the Lord of Bethlehem, but he only felt a sense of bewilderment. He could vaguely feel that the King did not treat him as sincerely and enthusiastically as he did Baldwin. He had the suspicion and precaution that a king should have, and was good at manipulating others and playing with power, even toward his only son Baldwin.

But just when he was so close to death, he gave a gift so generously to someone he seemed not to like very much. If this was the price he paid for Baldwin, Cesar had to admit that he had indeed hit his vital point.

——————

"What are those Christians doing?" Shirkuh looked at the flickering lights in the distance and asked suspiciously.

"Praying for their King," Saladin said.

"What do you think of the negotiation result today?" Shirkuh stretched his limbs: "If their King dies, can the contract they signed with us still be recognized?"

Saladin smiled: "No contract is better than a sword," he turned to Fustat, which was still burning: "Perhaps there is fire. They and we are just expedient measures—the Christians plundered Bilbeis and Fustat. Except for a few, they are already impatient to return to their hometowns.

Even if Amalric I still wanted to fight us, even if he were safe and sound, how many troops would he have left?

As for us, uncle, we cannot fight the Christians and Nur ad-Din at the same time."

"The Sultan..." Shirkuh asked hesitantly: "Is he really seriously ill?"

"I am afraid it is not a serious illness, but that he does not have much time to live," Saladin said: "Perhaps God is indeed protecting us. The Christian King is going to die, and Nur ad-Din of Zengi is also going to die, and Shawar of Fustat has already repaid the debt he owed us with his life."

Shirkuh showed a look of emotion: "Saladin, I really did not expect that we could reach this step."

Saladin's background could not be said to be ordinary, but it was also difficult to associate with prominence. He was born in Tikrit. His father was a local official. At that time, Tikrit still belonged to the Uqaylid dynasty. Shortly after, his father was dismissed and could only take him, who was still in swaddling clothes, to the Zengi dynasty to seek a position.

With this transfer, they came to Damascus. Saladin's childhood and youth were spent entirely in turmoil, and his family conditions had never been very good. If it were not for his intelligence, perseverance, and an uncle serving in the Zengi army, it would not have been so easy to get Nur ad-Din's attention.

Saladin had to admit that Nur ad-Din was a respectable sage.

But Nur ad-Din was old. An old man, without a qualified successor, his thinking would become dull and narrow—but his authority was still deeply established in everyone's heart, so much so that it was not until the second distant assignment to Egypt that Saladin finally convinced his uncle Shirkuh.

Suddenly, a small whimpering sound came from the tent beside them.

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 99 =====