The Selection Ceremony (Part 2)

Only two children remained in the vast church.

Temple Church had originally been a Saracen temple. It followed the ancient basilica style of architecture—that was to say, it was one enormous rectangular structure.

A colonnade encircled the building for worshippers to rest beneath, while inside lay an empty hall. Longitudinal rows of columns divided it into several elongated spaces—from the main doors onward: the narthex, the nave, side aisles on either side of it (the nave stood much higher than the side aisles, allowing for clerestory windows), the great hall, the north and south transepts, the raised platform and altar, and finally a semicircular apse.

From the north gate to the semicircular apse was roughly three hundred French feet, while its width was half its length and equal to its height.

Such a magnificent hall had not been abandoned after the Crusaders recaptured Jerusalem. It was first used as the temporary palace of the King of Jerusalem in the Holy City. Once Holy Cross Castle was completed, the Knights Templar needed a place to station themselves, so Baldwin II, then King of Jerusalem, bestowed this place upon them. The Knights Templar thus received their name.

The Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of Solomon's Temple, founded in 1119, truly lived up to their name. The Templars had very little money—or rather, all their money had gone toward weapons, armor, horses, and other military supplies, so they could fight the heathens. When they moved into the Temple, they immediately converted it into a Latin-cross church, but did so very crudely—in short, they preserved everything that could be preserved and saved wherever they could save.

Seven enormous lampstands suspended at the highest point, which could hold candles or burn lamp oil, had been retained. So too had twenty-eight smaller lampstands and forty-nine torch brackets fixed to the columns.

They were all lit now. The great lampstands in particular had their oil bowls filled with clear olive oil. Spices had been added to the oil, so along with the descending light came a rich fragrance—myrrh, crisp and cool; frankincense, sweetly tart; sandalwood, mellow and deep.

Seventeen small marble "niches" had also been retained and filled with statues of saints—because seventeen was a number belonging to heathens (Note 1), another niche was later added, making eighteen in all.

Some saints wore expressions of compassion, others stern solemnity. By custom, each held the instrument of his martyrdom—Saint Peter rested an inverted cross against his shoulder; Saint James held a great sword, while Saint James the Lesser, sharing the same name, held a club; Saint Bartholomew carried his own skin in one hand and a flaying knife in the other; Saint Simon raised a saw, and Saint Jude—not Judas—faced him, likewise raising an axe...

A prayer niche, practically the emblem of a Saracen temple, stood in the semicircular apse. Because it used gold, silver, and gemstones, it too had been retained. Only the Saracen scripture written upon it had been ground away, and a cross bearing the crucified Jesus had been placed inside, with the letters INRI above it.

When the Savior was nailed to the cross, Pilate, governor of the Isaac Province of the Roman Empire, had written such a placard and placed it atop the cross—Jesus Nazarenus Rex Iudeorum—meaning, "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Isaacites."

It was said that every Templar had to come and kiss this cross before joining the order.

And to turn a rectangular building into a church whose inner space was at least cross-shaped, the excess space naturally had to be partitioned off. The Templars of that time used neither stone nor brick—far too expensive!—but cedar planks, abundant in this region.

The stark-white cedar partition walls stood in the Temple for a long time. Only after the Knights Templar became a little more well-funded did they hire painters to cover those cedar partitions in brightly colored tempera paintings, generally of the most common subjects, such as "Christ in Majesty," "Dormition of the Mother of God," "Promises of the Sacred Heart," and the like.

That thoughtless decision meant that the old wooden partition walls could not be replaced before they completely rotted away, for no one wished to bear responsibility for destroying holy images.

Most painters of this time still used the "frontal face, profile body" convention inherited from ancient Egypt. Like the screen they had seen in the chapel at Holy Cross Castle, every figure's face looked toward the viewer while the body turned sideways—whether it was the Virgin Mary in blue robes, saints in red, or Jesus Christ wrapped in white linen... even the angels flying through the air and the demons trampled in the mud were the same.

Anyone walking amid those images would feel countless pairs of eyes staring straight at them, an unspeakably terrifying sensation.

Of course, Cesar was probably the only one who felt that way. From the time Baldwin was still in swaddling clothes until he was discovered to have leprosy, a full nine years had passed beneath the gaze of those eyes. To him, these saints were more like family and friends hanging upon the walls. Before, he had thought he would only ever see them in his own room for the rest of his life. Seeing them now, he felt only joy, not fear.

He composed his expression and steadied his heart. Hooking his arm through Cesar's, he placed him opposite himself—an altar crowded with candlesticks and sacred vessels stood between them, and beneath their knees lay coarse linen cushions stuffed with unwashed wool.

When the selection ceremony was first established, the children could wear only linen robes, go barefoot, and kneel directly on the ground. It was so whether they chose the sweltering Feast of Saint Eusebius on August 2, or held the ceremony on Epiphany, January 6, as Baldwin had.

But after a time, women began to come weeping and begging, afraid their children would return to enjoy bliss at God's feet before they could gain a saint's favor. The clergy had no choice but to make a small concession, allowing the children to have a cushion or something similar during the ceremony, though its materials could not be overly extravagant.

Even an ordinary shepherd could have afforded the cushions beneath Cesar and Baldwin's knees, but they were stuffed full of wool and were even somewhat larger than those beneath a king's knees. A small boy could have curled up on one and slept comfortably.

"Did anyone really do that?" Cesar asked curiously. If someone fell asleep during Mass, he would surely have to buy an indulgence—or be pinned to a bench and beaten.

"I don't know," Baldwin said. "But if you ask, whether they were chosen or not, they will certainly tell you how harsh and difficult that day and night had been—that they suffered countless disturbances from demons, endured countless trials from saints, and could only hold on until the doors opened by relying on hearts that were strong, devout, and pure."

Cesar considered it and found that it really could only be described that way.

"I'll only tell you..." Baldwin whispered. "I didn't tell the teacher, and I didn't tell my father, but after I took the teacher's potion, I really did see a demon."

"What sort of demon?"

"...One exactly like me... a leper covered in sores, with mutilated limbs."

Cesar wanted to take Baldwin's hand. Baldwin reached out, but the altar was too large; they could only touch each other's fingertips. "When I saw it, I was no longer afraid. It threatened me, saying this was my future—that I was destined to die miserably in pain and despair, all alone, with not a single person by my side. But I immediately said that I still had you. You would certainly stay with me."

"Demons are the best liars," Cesar said. "You will become a knight, and you will become a king. And I will always remain by your side."

"Even if I drive you away, don't leave."

"Even if you drive me away, I won't leave."

Baldwin immediately smiled in delight, then solemnly took out two small fish bladders tied with strands of hair and sealed with wax.

During the "selection ceremony," those being selected could not wear weapons or jewelry, nor could they dress in fine clothes. They could only wear the simplest linen robes, which reached only to the knees and had no belts.

To be cautious, Heraclius had not even put the potion into glass bottles. Instead, he had used the bladder of a deep-sea fish. Once treated, such a bladder could contain a small amount of liquid, and the drinker could swallow it whole without leaving the slightest trace.

Cesar hesitated only briefly before Baldwin saw through him. "If it were anything else, I could indulge you..." But not this time.

Baldwin watched Cesar take the fish bladder. "Baldwin, my friend," Cesar said, "if something happens..."

"Are you worried about those enemies in the shadows?" Baldwin cut in. "They may still have other means, but we are in the Temple.

"The Templars, the knights of the Holy Sepulchre, and the Knights Hospitaller are all here. My father is here as well, the King of Jerusalem, and we are under the gaze of Jesus Christ and the saints. What could they possibly do?

"But if you refuse to swallow the potion in order to protect me, then if you are chosen, so be it. But if you are not chosen—my regret will never end. Even if I stand before God, my first tear will surely be shed for this."

Cesar could only swallow the potion.

Before the potion took effect, Baldwin was still urging him, "Pray, pray. If you truly cannot believe in a certain saint, then revere him as your teacher. Remember, before a saint, you are like a transparent crystal. He can see you perfectly clearly, so it is better not to believe than to lie... Never try to deceive a saint!"

Baldwin's voice gradually drifted away. Heraclius truly was a monk skilled in medicine. Even now, Cesar did not know precisely what effect these potions could produce, but the side effects after taking them had visibly diminished. One had to know that there were no instruments or reagents available now.

Baldwin had seen a demon disguised as himself in his hallucination, yet Cesar had never been able to see the familiar past and familiar crowds in his visions. Was it because this world did not permit it, or because his subconscious had always obeyed his command, shutting out every possibility of exposure?

But this time, Cesar clearly felt that something was coming toward him.

Cesar lost consciousness. He seemed still able to feel the existence of his body, but it had long since lost all connection to his soul. He tried to find the right way out among a tangle of chaotic lines, but they gathered and scattered by turns, never forming objects he could recognize. Countless sounds surged into his body like a tide, swelling him amid the clamor before vanishing in an instant, leaving behind a soft, hollow void...

He seemed to see something—was that a saint Heraclius had spoken of? That body seemed to be made of light and mist. No features or contours could be seen, yet for no reason at all, he felt a powerful urge. He had to catch up with it, he had to speak to it, he had to...

More and more shapes of light appeared. They moved ahead of him, seemingly slowly yet as though flying or flashing through space. He could not catch them, nor could he even touch them...

Wait for me!

He shouted. A voice—or perhaps it could be called that, for it appeared directly inside his mind—said, Hurry, hurry, come! We must catch up to Him!

Catch up to whom?

The Lord of all nations!

Who?

He made rivers burst forth from the desert; He made flowers bloom from steel; He made mire harden into roads; He made city-states shatter into grains of sand; He made lions and lambs dwell together. He bore thunder, He held light in His hand. None was more pure than He, none more just, and none more powerful—quickly, come with me! Let us follow Him, let us enjoy peace and bliss in His heavenly kingdom!

Tell me His name!

His holy name is...

The ground vanished beneath Cesar. It felt as though he had fallen from a tremendous height and struck the earth. The hard, icy sensation told him that he had merely fallen onto the stone slabs before the altar, yet pain still tore through his entire body as though he had been crushed to pieces. His memories came in broken fragments. He did not know whether he had been "chosen" or not—he gasped for air, his fingers clamping tightly around his throat. No, no! This was not a normal reaction!

Unless Heraclius had brought the wrong potion. But even the first time, his reaction had not been so severe. Cesar turned over and immediately wanted to vomit, but they had not touched even a drop of water since the night before the ceremony, so only a faint bright trace remained on the floor.

He turned his head and wiped his face against his shoulder. He could distinctly feel his heart pounding wildly, as though it might leap from his chest or throat at any moment. He no longer wasted strength, but crawled across the floor toward the other side of the altar. Baldwin's side was utterly silent; perhaps his condition was even worse—several breaths later, he saw Baldwin lying flat on his back, head tilted to one side, completely unconscious.

Cesar yanked away Baldwin's veil and pulled open his eyelids. When he saw those pupils, already contracted to pinpoints and unresponsive even to the sudden light, he could not help closing his eyes.

He placed Baldwin across his knees with his back against the altar, then felt around for one of the candlesticks upon it—he could barely hold it. Thankfully, before it could set his robe alight, he blew out the candle. Then he bit off the candle with his teeth, exposing the sharp spike atop the candlestick. Those spikes were meant to secure candles, and from frequent use, they were sharp and bright.

He pricked his own finger with the spike until it bled. Once some of the fog in his mind had cleared, he pricked Baldwin's finger as well.

It took Baldwin quite a while to wake. He knew he might have made another mistake and had even dragged Cesar into it, but this was not the time to apologize. "What... what is it?"

"I..." Cesar was about to say that he did not know, when a strange smell suddenly awakened those memories that had been forcibly put to sleep.

Every young doctor had seen, smelled, and touched things that only required the smallest amount to turn someone instantly into a beast, into a demon. Because of their profession, they had access to potent painkillers and could easily attract the attention of people with ill intent. Sometimes those people had once been their friends. In previous cases, doctors had often been careless, allowing friends to steal blank prescriptions and passwords, leading to their own imprisonment.

"It is..." he said, gasping. "I smell... the scent of poppy..." He tilted his head back, looking at those lights. They were not dazzling, but they were bright enough to sting his eyes—the great lampstands, the smaller ones...

He had once watched servants in the castle lower the lampstands to clean them. Bowl-shaped lamps were fixed to those stands; with olive oil added and a wick twisted in, they could burn for a long time.

If what someone had added was not olive oil, but an ointment made from those sinful fruits...