Mithridates' Formula (Part Two)

Cesar hesitated, a rare occurrence.

He had once been a doctor. In that other world, people had always believed that Chinese and Western medicine were separated by an uncrossable gulf, but that was not the case. Their courses, practices, and theories had some common ground, so Cesar knew very well that certain herbs used by people of this era could have considerable effects on the organs within the body—some effects might even last a lifetime, beyond reversal.

Of course, he still had not figured out the origins or scope of application of "Bestowal." Perhaps the monks kept by the Pope or patriarchs truly could cure liver and kidney damage completely, but this differed from the dangers he had encountered before—he had no certainty what to do if these potions contained large quantities of... to give the most direct examples—birthwort... colchicum...

The aristolochic acid in the former could directly harm the liver and kidneys, while colchicum could cause gastrointestinal bleeding and neuropathy.

What made one laugh and cry was that precisely because poisonous plants produced immediate reactions in the human body, they were instead thought effective and used widely and for long periods...

"I'll go first," Baldwin said, propping himself up on one elbow and nudging Cesar to signal him not to speak. "Cesar has to attend to me."

"Not a bad reason," Heraclius said. Then he looked at Cesar. "And you?"

His gaze was unusually gentle, and his voice was calm and even, yet cold sweat had already drenched Cesar's back. He was not sure whether he should take another risk. He looked at Heraclius, then at Baldwin. There were only the three of them in the room.

"My lord," he said softly, so softly that Heraclius would scarcely have heard him if he had not been standing right before them. Naturally, if anyone outside was eavesdropping, as long as they had not received "Grace" or "Bestowal," they would not be able to hear either. "May I look at the formula?"

Heraclius' expression immediately turned dangerous. Had a real nine-year-old child been sitting here, he would surely have trembled all over, unable to speak. The priest bent down. "The formula? You can understand this?"

The formula itself was a minor matter. The problem was that Cesar had not undergone "Selection" and had never received "Bestowal." What right or opportunity did he have to acquire medical knowledge?

Strangely enough, when one opened the scriptures and some rough records, one found that the profession of "doctor" had appeared very early. In the time of Saint Cosmas and Saint Damian, preaching and practicing medicine had still been separate. Those two martyred saints had been born in AD 300, which meant there had still been doctors then.

But no one knew when it began. As more and more priests and monks received "Bestowal," the Church gradually monopolized the profession of "doctor." They even declared that anyone who had not received "Bestowal" and was neither monk nor priest had either been beguiled by the Devil, was a wizard, or had been possessed by some bastard of Hell. Such people would face judgment, and their fate would then be decided according to circumstances—those who could afford the fine would repent and hold Masses, for a price; those who could not would be excommunicated, generally men, or burned to death, more often women.

After Cesar came to Baldwin's side, he had not yet understood the countless taboos of this era. Once, he had carelessly suggested finding a better doctor for Baldwin's illness. The moment Baldwin heard it, his face changed drastically, and he solemnly warned Cesar never to mention such a thing again. Cesar had lost his memories and was a man without a past or support. If someone with ill intentions overheard and reported him to the monks, it would become a great deal of trouble.

Ever since Cesar had come to Baldwin's side, Baldwin had always cared deeply for him. This was the first time he had spoken so sternly, so Cesar understood the weight of the matter. But he had to ask, not only for himself, but for Baldwin as well.

"If I wished, I could throw you into prison over this matter alone," Heraclius said gloomily. "No, I will not tell you, boy. What do you think a formula is? If I were willing to put it up for sale, countless bishops and kings would pay a pound of gold for every word. Unless..." He watched the two boys instantly straighten their backs, then finally could not help laughing. "Unless you become my student..."

"I am willing to become your student!" Cesar immediately said, though he hesitated slightly. "But if the blessing I receive is 'Grace,' or if I am not selected..."

Heraclius pondered for a while. "It is not as though monks have never become students of knights. Not being selected would indeed pose a slight problem, but I do not think the Church can be full of fools. If it comes to that," he said readily, "you can offer up this formula. For the sake of this formula, the Church's examiners will show mercy." That was only if Cesar wished to become a doctor. If he did not, it would be even simpler. Not every monk could receive "Bestowal."

There was no lack of people who had been selected yet remained weak. Was Witt not one of them? Heraclius had already decided to kill him on the night of the Lord's Nativity, lest Baldwin fail the "Selection Ceremony" and someone use Witt to make trouble.

Having received an answer that pleased him, Heraclius decisively took out the formula. Cesar lowered his head and, sure enough, saw birthwort. Fortunately, there was no colchicum. The other ingredients could also be called bizarre beyond measure, such as poisonous snake flesh, but at least they would not cause immense harm to the human body. He read through the ingredients one by one, asking Heraclius about certain parts because the formula had been written, according to current custom, in ancient Greek verse. "Bitumen... Saint John's wort, lavender, rose, saffron, mint... black pepper and cinnamon, cardamom... myrrh, frankincense, turpentine... castoreum, storax... Arabian gum... Grind the balm, gum, and medicines with wine until fine and smooth, then add several ounces of honey."

"Is this birthwort necessary?"

"You really can understand it?" Heraclius was surprised. "It can be replaced with mandrake or poppy milk."

Neither of those was anything good, and the last was particularly hated in later ages. "If it is replaced with mandrake, does the amount need to be increased?"

"That depends on which part you use. Use half as much for seeds. No adjustment is needed for flowers and leaves. For roots and stems, increase the amount."

"Can we use flowers and leaves instead?" Cesar asked. "Will there be enough time?"

Heraclius glanced at him. "By the time you thought of that, the third watch would already have passed." He smugly took out two more bottles of medicine.

"You guessed I would ask about the formula?"

"No, these were prepared to prevent you from having severe reactions." Heraclius lifted the case beneath the table. When he opened it, rows upon rows of glittering little glass bottles dazzled their eyes.

"Some people break out in rashes all over the moment they touch mandrake. Others vomit without end at the touch of birthwort. Still others cannot come into contact with any poppy milk—at the slightest touch, they have difficulty breathing and their hearts pound wildly. I also changed some of the other main ingredients in several bottles. Some people's taboos are always quite strange..."

"You have considered everything thoroughly," Baldwin said with wholehearted admiration. What pleased him even more was that Heraclius was willing to accept Cesar as a student. This meant that even if Cesar could not be selected while Baldwin was, Cesar's status would still be enough for him to remain by Baldwin's side.

Heraclius smacked his lips. Both children had pleased him today. He pulled out a drawer from the case, took out two cups no bigger than thumbs, and set them on the table. He opened the bottles wrapped in strips of cloth, each cloth covered in tiny ingredient names, poured several drops into each cup, and told the children to drink.

"Wait, together?"

"I believe I can look after two," Heraclius said.

So making them choose who would go first had simply been the monk's prank. Cesar felt a little helpless. He had noticed that adults seemed increasingly fond of teasing them now.

"You are back?"

Heraclius gave a start. Only then did he recognize, from the familiar voice and outline of the body, that the person waiting in his room was his master, Amalric I.

"Why have you not lit the lamps, Your Majesty?"

"Darkness is sometimes better for thought." Amalric I turned toward Heraclius. "How are they?"

"A slight fever, some vomiting, and hallucinations—but before I left, they had both fallen asleep."

"Did you see the knights?"

"They will guard beneath the tower through the night. Without your command, no one may enter and no one may leave." Going a full week without seeing anyone was nominally "fasting," but there were too many eyes and ears in the castle. Those behind them surely knew that the first trial of the "Selection Ceremony" had arrived. Baldwin was now weak, sluggish, and wholly incapable of resistance. Anyone harboring intentions would surely exploit the opening.

"How is Baldwin?"

"He is well. He is strong." And full of confidence and compassion. His way of thinking had also become more thorough than before. He had already realized that his father did not want him and Cesar to become true friends. Though Amalric I said aloud that Cesar should be treated as the son of a duke, he still wanted Cesar to be a slave—the more highly Baldwin valued Cesar and treated him as an equal, the stronger Amalric I's killing intent became.

"What about Cesar?"

"He is taking care of Baldwin."

"He did not vomit? He has no fever?"

"What is strange about that?" Only Heraclius could lie so calmly before a suspicious old lion. "Cesar is the prince's attendant, is he not? Must I or Baldwin look after him instead?" In truth, Heraclius had cared for both of them, and after they felt slightly better, the two had cared for each other.

"I hope he remains so loyal forever." Amalric I pressed at his temple. "I shall return first."

"Wait, Your Majesty," the monk said. "There is something that requires your confirmation—regarding your marriage..."

"Amalric I's marriage? Could Manuel I truly agree to it? If he had expelled Prince Baldwin from the beginning, Manuel I might not have hesitated. But he has made it plain that he intends to keep this heir. Even if Manuel has several daughters, he would want every marriage to earn him a powerful bargaining chip... This marriage surely cannot happen."

The Patriarch of Jerusalem paced back and forth through the room, muttering almost uncontrollably.

"Why not?" the visitor asked. He wore black like a simple monk, yet the golden cross hanging within his robe showed that he was no impoverished man. "Manuel I has always wanted to attack Egypt. If he wishes to gain a powerful ally, marriage is the best way to forge one—"

"But Prince Baldwin..."

"He can only live to thirty. That is precisely why Manuel will agree—Amalric I's intentions are clear to all of us. He has married a new wife, and he is still in his prime. He can have another son. Before that child comes of age, it will be Prince Baldwin who keeps the throne safe for him. The most wonderful part is that once his younger son reaches adulthood, Baldwin should be dead."

The current Patriarch of Jerusalem turned to look at the papal envoy. He had arrived without sound or trace. When two monks brought him before the patriarch, he had not knelt to kiss his feet. Instead, he had stood proudly and produced the Pope's token and credentials. The Patriarch of Jerusalem had truly been startled.

When people spoke of the Christian Church, they were most familiar with the Eastern and Western Churches, Constantinople and Rome. Yet Jerusalem's uniqueness undeniably surpassed those two cities. It was the holiest of lands, the place where Jesus Christ and countless saints had been martyred. Holy relics filled the eye wherever one looked. People would bend down, pick up a stone, and bring it back to their own city. That stone from Jerusalem would then be revered as a holy relic and enshrined in a church or monastery.

Why had Jesus Christ been sent to the cross by the priests of the Isaacites, by his own people, if not for profit and the right to speak?

Urban II, faithfully carrying out the Cluniac Reform policy of "papal supremacy" left by his predecessor Gregory VII, must have had God and the saints in his heart when he went before kings and nobles, delivering impassioned speeches, stirring them with bloody threats and honey-sweet temptations, and calling on them to fight for God. But he must also have been thinking of gold and land.

The first and second eastern expeditions could both be said to have been driven single-handedly by the Church of Rome. Indeed, it gained certain benefits. First, the Crusaders' campaigns dealt a powerful blow to those heathens and heretics, restoring strength to the Papacy just as its power had been waning. Second, trade between East and West, once monopolized by the former two, now became the prize of merchants and guilds from the nations of Europe. Finally, the Crusaders' knights brought vast wealth and resources back from the East, and a large portion of those goods and connections fell into the Church's hands.

But would the Church be satisfied with that?

No, it would not. It wanted everything. But the Crusaders' leaders—the King of Jerusalem, the Count of Tripoli, and the Prince of Antioch—had no intention of spitting out the rich, succulent meat already in their mouths. Especially the King of Jerusalem. When the first king, Baldwin I, needed to be crowned, even though the bishop of the time had hidden in a cave, Baldwin still sent soldiers to drag him out and force him to anoint him, an indispensable step in the coronation ceremony.

When confronted by the Church's questioning, he would rather wage war for a month straight, marching southeast into Egypt and eastward to Petra, than yield to the Church. He shattered the Pope and cardinals' designs to turn Jerusalem into a theocratic state.

After that, it went without saying. Every King of Jerusalem had to spar with the Church after ascending the throne. The kings were hardline, and the Church resorted to every means—there had even been cases of bribing or beguiling the priest administering the last rites to a king, making him force the dying king to agree to dedicate Jerusalem to the Church...

No one was unaware of the true culprit behind Prince Baldwin contracting leprosy. Amalric I's nearly coldhearted and bizarre reaction was even more like a declaration of war against the Church.

The patriarch was almost persuaded. "But if I do that, I will utterly offend Amalric I."

"You think refusing to treat his son Baldwin does not offend him?" the papal envoy said. "Once Baldwin dies, we can punish him on the charge that a leper defiled the Holy Land and brought down Heaven's rebuke. To redeem the sins upon him, he will do his utmost to display piety and loyalty over the coming years, and then... our opportunity will come."

He gave a shrill laugh. "Do not worry. Even if he marries a Byzantine princess at once, his child cannot grow up in a single day."

"Amalric I is not a man who will let matters rest."

"That is true. But we are thousands of miles away. You, however," the papal envoy clicked his tongue, "do not have many choices. What? Will you bow and scrape at the feet of Amalric I and Prince Baldwin, begging them to forgive you? Even if your priests are willing to treat Baldwin, whether they can cure him is another matter. Are you certain he does not know who was behind his illness?"

He raised another finger. "Besides, if he recovers, he will merely be another Baldwin I. That was why we acted in the first place."