The Templar Geoffroy's Invitation and Gift (Part One)

After enduring such hardship, the only benefit Count Étienne gained was that he could spend the next several holidays at Holy Cross Castle. His monks and knights also had ample time to purchase the goods they wanted—Amalric I had indeed paid them all the rewards promised in the count's stead, and compensated as much as possible for some of the losses they had suffered in the disaster, such as horses and tack, clothes, swords, and armor, so that everyone would be sufficiently satisfied.

Yet from that day on, Count Étienne no longer made a point of seeing Cesar. People said that this truly had been no more than a passing whim of the lord's. Some believed that Cesar must have received a separate reward from the count, and so the attendants and squires who had always been cold toward Cesar suddenly became enthusiastic.

Either they complained to Cesar that they had carelessly lost, damaged, or soiled some invaluable holy relic and needed compensation, or else they would be whipped and driven from the castle; or they would mysteriously tell Cesar that a beautiful courtesan had arrived from somewhere, skilled in her arts, lushly built, and asking an exorbitant price—but if she saw a lovely child like Cesar, perhaps she might not charge a single coin.

Or they would first praise Cesar's good fortune, then lament how black luck had hung over them at the gaming table lately—they begged Cesar to bless their dice, then asked him to throw a couple of rolls for them. They swore solemnly that if Cesar won, all the money would be his; if he lost, they would bear the debts.

If Cesar still ignored them by then, these people would deliberately seek out flaws in his conduct. By rights, Cesar rarely left the left tower, and they could scarcely find any fault with him—but where there was a will, there was always a way. Once they had "found" something, they would hypocritically tell Cesar that a little money would be enough to keep their mouths shut.

Had the soul in this body not already been an adult, he would have stepped into at least one of those traps.

Baldwin knew that Count Étienne had indeed given Cesar a reward. He did not question him too closely, but he feared Cesar might be cheated out of his money. So, beginning on the first Sunday of Advent—the Sunday nearest December 1—he kept Cesar tightly by his side. No one dared play tricks before the prince.

But there were also some people whom even Baldwin could not refuse.

The day before Saint John of Kanty's feast day, December 23, the Templar Geoffroy Fuller had his attendant deliver a letter to Cesar early in the morning, asking to meet him. Around the hour of None—roughly between two and three in the afternoon—he would wait by the drawbridge.

For a man of such standing, whether because of his past care or his present favor, Cesar could not possibly refuse to go. Yet Baldwin was deeply worried. "If he were a Templar of fifty years ago, I would not stop you. Not only would I not stop you, I would encourage you. The Templars of that time were, just as their vows declared, believers, pilgrims, and knights. They stood ready at every moment to bleed in God's service. They were steadfast, humble, and obedient. I am certain every Templar from those days now sits beside the saints.

"But as some philosopher once said, once a tree grows tall, it is bound to have withered branches and fallen leaves.

"Because the first Templars truly fulfilled their vows, people saw it and came to love them, respect them, trust them. They regarded them as God's knights. As they did for any church or monastery, they paid taxes to the Order, made offerings, donated cloth, grain, money, even land, to support the Order's eastward endeavors.

"In only a few decades, the Knights Templar's estates had spread across the entire Holy Land and half of Europe. And they changed as well.

"They still claimed to be knights, but when they lent money, they were like an Isaac moneychanger; when they built ships, they were like a Genoese shipowner; when they collected land taxes and tolls, they were like a French lord.

"They took shares from slaughterhouses and textile workshops, charged fees for the use of mills and ovens, leased out vineyards, sold fishing rights in rivers, and their lands produced wheat and vegetables day and night—enough to feed an entire Holy Land.

"An organization so vast could not possibly avoid corruption. I have already heard some very unfavorable tales about them. So has my father. He once warned the Knights Templar, but the result was what it is now: the Order hates my father and believes he intends to seize their property and power.

"I have heard Geoffroy's name as well. Perhaps he is not the worst among them, but if he is..." He took Cesar's hand and said cautiously, "If he makes you a request, asking you to leave me and join the Knights Templar—please believe me, it is not that I do not wish for you to have a good future. But the Knights Templar are absolutely not part of one."

He said with utmost earnestness, "If you wish to leave me, you may tell me. Even if you cannot go to Tripoli or Antioch, I can send you to Lower Lorraine—the first guardian of Jerusalem was the Duke of Lower Lorraine, Count of Bouillon, Godfrey of Bouillon—or anywhere else you wish to go."

"You would be willing to let me leave?" Cesar clasped Baldwin's hand in return. Baldwin always wore gloves, removing them only if Cesar asked. The symptoms of leprosy had already begun to show: his fingers were starting to swell and redden. They improved a little after Cesar soaked and massaged them, but both of them knew that Baldwin's illness was steadily worsening. No wonder Amalric I was unwilling even to wait until Baldwin's birthday, February 2, and intended to hold the "selection ceremony" in the first month of the new year.

No leper had ever undergone a "selection ceremony" before. After all, it counted as a sacrament. But most people clung to hopes such as: if Baldwin were chosen, he would be cured—or at least his condition might be slowed.

"I have considered this question over and over as well, especially after I rashly agreed to your request and let you go out in my place to find Count Étienne for Abigail's sins..."

Baldwin showed a thoughtful expression. "Look, I once wanted to cast aside everything worldly and withdraw into a monastery. But my father promised me that I was still his heir, still the prince of Jerusalem. Then he brought you to my side, Cesar. When I first saw you, I only thought that someone with your face truly ought not serve at a leper's side. But afterward, I thought again, and perhaps that was not such a bad thing."

He rose to his feet. "At first, I was willing to keep you because I thought I was only sheltering a little bird with beautiful but fragile feathers. If I did not, you would surely be battered by storm and gale, and perish too soon.

"But now I have seen that what lingered at my side was not a lark, but the fledgling of a goshawk. Though its wings are not yet full-grown, one day it will soar beneath the blue sky. Since that is so, if I still keep you at my side, it would not be protecting you. It would be selfishness."

He gave a bitter smile. "Especially now that I have discovered that, though I have always considered myself calm and wise, I am in truth still a child. For the sake of a little illusory honor, I sent you away. Although Geoffroy's letter did not say much, one look told me that you had suffered greatly, endured much misery, and nearly died.

"If such a thing happened again, I would never be able to forgive myself."

Cesar could only sigh inwardly. When Count Étienne said he was willing to plead with Amalric I on his behalf and redeem him, Cesar had indeed been tempted for a moment. It was not that he feared Baldwin's leprosy. He had spent several months with Baldwin already and could basically be certain that he was not especially susceptible.

Besides, Baldwin had always been very careful. Even after Cesar told him so, Baldwin often still wore a veil and gloves in his room. He never allowed Cesar to handle anything that might come into contact with bodily fluids or secretions—ever since a group of servants had been hanged, the new servants had become far more respectful and obedient.

Perhaps it was also because, to this day, none of the servants had contracted leprosy. At any rate, they were clearly more attentive in serving Baldwin now.

But Cesar had still refused.

The question Count Étienne had blurted out still lingered in his ears, but Cesar did not think himself worthy of much praise. Though he was grateful to Amalric I, it was far from matching his gratitude toward Baldwin, because some of the kindness he had received from Amalric I had been won through calculation and risking his life, while some had come from Amalric I's private motives.

He simply had not expected to encounter a child like Baldwin here.

This era, this land, was fraught with danger and surrounded by wolves. Though called the Holy Land, it was a blood-soaked millstone for human flesh.

He had never experienced war, but he had seen much life and death. He knew that before Death, few could maintain their former poise and bearing. Let alone that leprosy did not kill someone at once, but could bring years, even more than a decade, of pain and a future without hope—enough to shatter one's mind and leave one unable to control oneself.

When Amalric I said that he was to serve Baldwin, Cesar had already prepared himself to face a mad, violent little beast, hysterical and aggressive from terror of the future.

In truth, he had been prepared then as well. If that had truly been the case, he would not foolishly have remained at the prince's side as a target of flesh and blood.

It would not have been difficult for him to do so. Though he faced Amalric I, he was not truly a child.

But a Baldwin like this made it impossible for him to say the words "give up." He was only nine years old, still a minor in any world, and yet after such a terrible change, he had retained a heart both pure and noble.

When he saw someone his own age who was more beautiful and healthier than himself, he had not grown jealous. Nor had he mocked or tormented him because of the gulf in their status. He had kept Cesar by his side as someone weak, but when he discovered that Cesar might have a better future, even though Cesar was now his only friend, he was still willing to lift him up and let him fly high rather than lock him in a cage.

"I have already refused Count Étienne," Cesar said. "And I will refuse Geoffroy as well."

Baldwin's eyes widened behind his veil. He had guessed that Geoffroy might take a liking to Cesar, but he had not expected Count Étienne to harbor such thoughts too. Now he truly felt a little sour.

"There is nothing good about Count Étienne either," he judged sharply. "His fief is small and barren, and he is a widower. If you went to his castle, there would not even be a lady of the house to look after you."

"I already refused him."

"A wise move," Baldwin said resentfully. "In short, neither of those two is suitable. A pair of fools."

"If they heard you, they would surely challenge you to a duel," Cesar said happily. "They are not bad people. At least Count Étienne is not."

He had told Baldwin only about the gold coins, but had not mentioned a single one of those travel passes. It was not that he meant to conceal them—mainly, the matter was exactly like his demand for the Templar map through the Gerard family. What Count Étienne had offered was almost the same as saying that Amalric I or Baldwin could not provide him with the protection he deserved.

Count Étienne had already suffered enough over refusing the marriage. While he was still at Holy Cross Castle, there was no need to create further complications.

So Cesar solemnly asked Baldwin for leave, then obtained permission from the castle steward. When he emerged from the tunnel through the gatehouse, Baldwin was watching him from the bridge tower.

Cesar looked up at him and remembered how, when they had said goodbye, Baldwin had kept chattering out instructions. Though the man he was meeting was a Templar—a Templar had sworn chastity, and chastity meant it was best not even to see women, much less touch them. That was why the pope had permitted them to build private chapels: to avoid women.

If a married man wished to join the Knights Templar, he also had to live apart from his wife, and could only become a sergeant wearing a brown or black robe.

Templars could not hunt or keep dogs, hawks, or falcons. The only prey they could hunt were lions in the Holy Land, and they were even forbidden from associating with hunters.

They could not indulge in entertainments such as chess, gambling, jesters, or minstrels. They ate collectively—on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, the Order provided sufficient meat. Unless fasting, they could drink wine, but drunkenness was absolutely forbidden.

Thus, the things Baldwin worried about most would basically not happen. If it had been another adult knight, he would have needed to beware of the man taking Cesar to courtesans and gaming tables, or hunting—hunting at this time was exceedingly dangerous—or getting him so drunk that he lost all awareness.

Baldwin saw Geoffroy. He had not entered the castle, and he was dressed in an imposing fashion. Truthfully, if Baldwin were to choose, he too would rather follow a valiant knight than a sick man burdened with sin. But he was willing to trust Cesar.

He watched as Cesar rode his little pony Castor, clip-clopping after the Templar's great horse across the drawbridge.

Not long after they crossed the drawbridge, a dark, thin shadow followed after them. Baldwin was just about to call out when he saw the figure bow deeply to him from afar, then wave the spear in his hand before swiftly leaving, before the guards could become alert.

Only then did the prince remember that when Cesar had performed the penance of Cleansing the Holy Sepulchre, there had indeed been a wandering knight who followed him and served as his guard.