The Chosen?

The soup in the clay pot had begun to turn pale. The cabbage and onions had gone translucent, reddish-brown slices of meat rolling in the broth and giving off a rich aroma. Cesar took out two large wooden cups—the kind people used for drinking beer—and ladled a cupful each for Baldwin and himself.

Baldwin sprang up and ran to the wicker chest, rummaging out a bag of white bread. Though it was called white bread, it was only slightly lighter in color than the dark loaves commoners could use as weapons, and it still contained plenty of bran.

Cesar drew his dagger and, resting it on his knee, sliced it up. They ate this way, drinking soup and eating bread. While Baldwin searched for peas with his spoon, Cesar finished his battle and began peeling an apple.

"You're still like this," Baldwin said. "Someone said that you definitely can't be a noble—perhaps just a farmer, or even a slave." He pointed at Cesar's apple. "Because you don't like wine, but prefer water and milk; you cook vegetable soup, and eat fruit raw."

That was because the vitamins and enzymes in most fruits were easily destroyed by high temperatures. If one's stomach and intestines were in good condition, raw food was still the better choice. The matter of wine had already been explained.

As for vegetable soup... it was not that vegetables could not be eaten raw, but in an age without pesticides or any notion of food safety, Cesar could never be sure that he would not swallow a frog or worm along with the leaves.

The disgust was secondary. Parasitic diseases brought by frogs and worms could be fatal.

"But it tastes good, doesn't it?" Cesar could not explain concepts that would not emerge for several hundred years. "Milk is sweet, vegetables are tender, and fruit is crisp and fresh."

"It's because you're good at it." Baldwin said this with complete sincerity. Cesar often prepared food for the two of them over the hearth. A growing boy was never full, and Cesar could make quite delicious things without using the vast quantities of spices a cook would need. All he required was a little salt and failed wine—that was, grape vinegar.

"Perhaps my father was an exceptionally gifted cook," Cesar said solemnly. "He may be serving a sultan or caliph now."

Baldwin could not hold back his laughter, but then his expression turned serious. "No," he said. "Your father must be a knight, anxiously searching for you." He set down his wooden cup and pressed one hand over Cesar's. "How could a lion be born from jackals? The virtues and talents you possess must have roots to trace back to."

He said earnestly, "One day, you will be reunited beneath God's gaze. When that time comes, I will beg Father to let him join the Crusaders, fight the Saracens, and win honors and glory beyond counting."

Cesar imagined his father, a leading authority in medicine, clad in armor with a lance tucked beneath his arm, holding the reins in one hand as he galloped across a dust-choked battlefield toward countless Saracens dressed in black. He did not know whether to laugh or feel embarrassed. But to a man of this era, becoming a king's knight and fighting infidels was an immense blessing, so he could only thank Baldwin for his generosity.

Still, he wanted even more to know who Baldwin meant by "someone said..." Over the past few days, he had been practically inseparable from Baldwin. Only on the few occasions when Princess Sibylla—Baldwin's sister—came to visit him had Cesar withdrawn to another room.

Was it Sibylla?

Cesar had only occasionally glimpsed Princess Sibylla from afar. She was always surrounded by a crowd of maids and attendants. In the servants' mouths, she was a noble lady of extraordinary beauty and imposing dignity.

He soon put the matter aside. Cesar had never been the sort to brood over origins and bloodlines. Whether his father was truly a cook or a knight concerned him far less than that afternoon's lessons.

Since Amalric I had said that he would treat Cesar as he would the son of a duke, so long as Cesar remained respectful and loyal to Baldwin, Cesar could receive the same treatment Abigail, David, and the others had once received. One such privilege was being educated alongside Baldwin.

Baldwin's education differed from the knightly education of the time. The latter placed little importance on learning; lords who could neither read nor write were everywhere, let alone knights.

But beginning with Baldwin I, perhaps under Saracen influence—even the Church had to admit that the Saracens far surpassed the Germans, Celts, and Romance peoples in the accumulation of knowledge and the spread of education—he had not wanted his heir to be some fool unable to understand official documents or contracts, who needed a monk to write even his own signature. From the very beginning, his descendants' education had been comprehensive.

The prince's curriculum was not only thorough, but also excellently ordered. Except for Sundays, from Monday through Saturday, the mornings were for literary studies and the afternoons for martial training. Literary studies included grammar, rhetoric, dialectics, arithmetic, music, and astronomy. Martial training included spears, riding, hawking, archery, swordsmanship, and knightly studies—namely, the proper conduct, terminology, and etiquette for important occasions. It was said that when Baldwin turned fourteen, still more courses would be added, though Cesar did not know what they were.

These lessons had been suspended for a time after Baldwin contracted leprosy, only resuming after some of the teachers had been replaced.

Some of the many subjects were familiar to Cesar, such as mathematics, while others were not, such as hawking. A knight's hawking was no game; it truly concerned feeding oneself and one's attendants. Any mistake or lapse of attention during a hunt earned a blow from a scabbard or cudgel, and not even a prince was exempt.

Whether familiar or unfamiliar, Cesar approached them with eager enthusiasm. He had always been fond of learning, and he also understood that this would be the step on which he established himself. Especially in an age where education was monopolized by the upper classes, the opportunity he had received was precious, unique, and fleeting.

But today, after they had both taken up their wax tablets, Heraclius, the rhetoric teacher, arrived late. Not only was he late, but instead of bringing the textbook he normally used, he carried a Latin prayer book. Cesar was slightly disappointed.

If teachers of this era could be ranked, Heraclius would surely have been supreme among the supreme. Most teachers only needed to be able to read through and copy a book before teaching students.

Heraclius, however, was a bachelor of theology and history who had studied for many years at a university. Besides the usual hymnals, prayer books, and saints' lives, his teaching materials included many precious documents from ancient Greece and Rome: Caesar's Civil War and Gallic War, Cato the Elder's On Agriculture, the Byzantine Emperor Leo VI's Tactica, and so forth.

Previously, they had discussed Cato the Elder's Origins. It was not part of the Bible, but a historical work recounting Rome's history from its founding to the end of the Second Punic War, as well as the histories of several other city-states. The work would be lost several centuries later, yet Heraclius possessed an entire set.

"Put away your wax tablets," Heraclius said. "Children, today we will begin the most important lesson of all."

Cesar instinctively looked at Baldwin. The prince had seemed to sense something the moment Heraclius entered, and now he sat ramrod straight, his eyes shining.

Once both boys had put down their wax tablets and sat properly, Heraclius placed his hand on the prayer book. He closed his eyes and silently recited a passage of scripture before looking at them again and speaking clearly.

"In the beginning, God created heaven and earth. Everything God made was perfect. None of His creations bore the slightest stain of sin, the marks of age, or the flaw of regretful imperfection. Like God Himself, they were flawless. This was the original form of all things between heaven and earth. God saw it, was pleased, and said, 'Good.'

"But when the devils beneath the earth saw this, jealousy and malice arose in their hearts. They wished to destroy everything beautiful, and so they crawled from the abyss to the surface. They did not dare face God!

"But they could bring darkness—darkness enough to obscure spirit, morality, thought, and faith! Such darkness could make stars fall to the earth, and make mankind unable to see God's light, able only to submit beneath Satan's scepter!

"In such circumstances, mankind originally had no possibility of salvation. Having broken their covenant with God, even if He carried out His judgment and let all people perish forever, it would have been just!

"But God possessed grace—vast, boundless grace, grace greater than anything we mortals could imagine. He caused His Son to be born into this world and made Him redeem us. That light was the true light, illuminating all who were born into this world—this was God's mercy upon us, like the light of dawn.

"The angel told Mary, 'The Holy Spirit shall descend upon you, and the power of the Most High shall shelter you, for the one you bear is mankind's Savior.'

"What is man? Dust! Imperfect, weak, easily deceived, even prone to sin. Then why would God give us His only Son? Why let Him walk upon this earth in flesh and blood? Because we had sinned, and had to repay those sins. If God sent His Son to save us, He needed a body that could 'die' to atone for us.

"But did God's salvation end there? Christ walked among us, both God and man. The bridge between God and man had broken, and He repaired it.

"He attended a wedding feast with others, reached out and touched water, and turned all the water in the jars into fine wine. He molded little birds from dust and mud, told them, 'Fly,' and they flew. A man had been ill for thirty-eight years. He said, 'Rise,' and the man immediately stood and walked.

"People heard Him preach in the wilderness. He blessed five loaves and two fish, and five thousand people ate their fill. He stood before a tomb and said, 'Open it.' The people said that the man inside had been dead for four days, but He said, 'Open it.' So they opened it, and the dead man came forth, as though alive.

"He also told His disciples, 'Walk upon the water.' If they believed in Him, they could walk upon the water.

"Thus more people came to believe in Him. All who believed in Him could be saved, and gained the qualification to be chosen—they possessed the light of the Holy Spirit, and were blessed and empowered."

At this point, Heraclius lowered his head and looked sternly at the two boys, extending his hand to them. Baldwin placed his hand over it without hesitation, but Cesar was a step slower. Some thoughts were taking shape in his mind... He looked uncertainly at the monk, who merely clasped his hand tightly.

"You have reached the age—perhaps you are still a little short of it, but the Holy Spirit has told me that you should undergo the Choosing Rite."

Unable to contain his excitement, Baldwin turned and glanced at Cesar.

"Children who take part in the Choosing Rite are generally between ten and fourteen years old," Heraclius continued. This was before formal adulthood. Had Baldwin not contracted leprosy, he ought to have undergone the Choosing during the Feast of the Presentation the following year, together with Abigail, David, and the other attendants.

"According to unwritten customary law, if children chosen in the same place are fortunate enough to receive God's grace, then they become 'brothers joined beneath God's gaze.' Such a bond can sometimes become extraordinarily firm, stronger even than the bond between true brothers," Heraclius said. "His Majesty, Raymond, Bohemond, and I are brothers of that kind."

"In His Majesty's original plan, I was supposed to continue the deep friendship our fathers shared with them," Baldwin said with a touch of mockery. "That is no longer necessary now."

"..." Cesar said nothing.

"A friend's value lies not in their number," Heraclius said gently. "You will be with Baldwin, will you not?"

Cesar hesitated. "I will, but I do not know whether I possess that... possibility." If the chosen were all of noble character and kind disposition, or measured by courage, wisdom, or talent, Cesar might still have held some hope. But even someone like Witt could be chosen; he truly had no confidence.

"But He does not distinguish by status, bloodline, or wealth. An abandoned child—if he is fortunate enough to receive permission—may, if chosen, become a devout cleric and leap from the mire in a single bound. Yet the descendant of a king or bishop may also walk out of the church empty-handed." Heraclius said, "But often, a child is favored as his father was. Cesar, though we have yet to find your father, your father cannot possibly have been an ordinary man."

"And," Baldwin said quietly, "whether or not you are chosen, as you said, you are a messenger sent by the Holy Spirit to my side. You did not flee from me because of my leprosy, so would I drive you away merely because you were not chosen?"

Cesar had nothing more to say, and so Baldwin and Heraclius both laughed.

After a while, Baldwin continued, "What is the Choosing Rite like? Must we fight devils? Or undergo ascetic trials and repentance?"

"Each person receives a different trial." Clearly, he was asking this on Cesar's behalf, but Heraclius still answered in detail. "But broadly speaking, it means following and serving a saint until that saint is called by God. I was fortunate enough to behold Saint Blaise of Armenia, listen to his teachings, and witness his glory. Thus I could follow him and become a steadfast and compassionate man."

"Your father beheld Saint George, a valiant and devout knight," he said to Baldwin. "That is why both friends and enemies say Amalric I alone is an army. He truly is skilled in battle and presses forward with unstoppable force."

An expression of longing appeared uncontrollably on Baldwin's face. "Which saint will we behold?" he asked.

"I do not know," Heraclius said. "No one can fathom God's plan." I only hope He will not be so cruel, that He will not take you from us so soon.