kingdom of nations

Chapter 101 Funerals and Weddings (Part 1)
Saladin was right; Amalric I's death made him a hero, not a clown.

His first campaign against Egypt ended in failure. Although he paid all the knights' commissions with his own money, he was still criticized for being too gullible or too cowardly. But for his second campaign, he was determined. He borrowed money from nobles, borrowed from merchants, and misappropriated the dowry of a Byzantine princess.

He had gambled everything, and he was just one step away from success. If he were still alive, this expedition would be an even more indelible stain than the previous one—if the first expedition could be attributed to a lack of experience, then the failure of the second expedition would have permanently nailed him to the pillar of shame.

But he died.

A knight who dies on an expedition is essentially pre-ordained as a saint—the dark palanquin had barely left Gasarafa when it was met by throngs of pilgrims who had come upon hearing the news. They, along with the knights who were supposed to sail back to their homeland from Gasarafa, followed the king's coffin all the way to Arrasa.

The people of Arrasa Road had already crowded every street and alley, eager to shed tears and pray for their king, and lit countless candles and torches.

On the day of his official burial, all you could see was a dark, gloomy landscape.

Not everyone could afford mourning clothes, but as soon as the sad news was heard, people began to donate dye and black cloth. Poor residents and pilgrims might only have one piece of cloth, which they would drape over their heads, put their hands together, and watch as six black-clad pallbearers carried the king's coffin on their shoulders, slowly making their way to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, surrounded by monks, priests, and nobles.

The dark brown coffin was covered with two layers of shrouds: one of purple silk and the other of gold velvet. The gold belonged to the Christ King, while the purple came from the last garment a Byzantine princess had sewn for her husband.

When people heard that in the king's will, the two shrouds would be donated to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre—which all the dead who were buried there could use—they couldn't help but shed tears.

To them, Amalric I was a king who was neither particularly good nor particularly bad. He was neither tyrannical nor cowardly. But this bland impression changed completely after Amalric I died on a campaign.

People in this era had very peculiar expectations of their kings. They did not expect him to be particularly benevolent or wise, because benevolence could be found in the clergy, and wisdom should be reserved for ministers and judges. A king should lead his knights across the battlefield. If he could fight for a secular crown and territory, that would be a good thing, but true glory lay in fighting for God's authority, punishing those despicable heretics, and ensuring the safety of the believers.

Therefore, whether it was the knights who came in droves to mourn the king, or these ordinary residents and pilgrims, their grief and pain were genuine and not much of a pretense.

"Will His Majesty be canonized?" A pilgrim asked, making the sign of the cross as he watched the coffin disappear into the distance, a question that seemed to be both a murmur and a prayer.

“Probably,” his companion replied. Although they had failed to seize the Saracen territory this time, Amalric I had indeed conquered Biles and Mestath. They drove out the Saracens, converted their temples into churches, and held Mass there. In fact, if Arazarus were a theocratic state now, Amalric I might have already been hailed as a “saint,” just waiting for the formalities to be completed.

But Amalric I clearly had no intention of leaving Arazarus to the Church, whether Arazarus or Rome.

The people of Arazarus recognized the two leading pallbearers as the young Prince Baldwin, who would soon become the new King of Arazarus, and the one beside him as Cesar. Most people might not think much of this, but those who knew a little about power struggles couldn't help but change color slightly.

Because coffin bearers generally only have two identities: the deceased's friends or the deceased's colleagues. Even if a son who loves his father very much and is already an adult is willing to carry the coffin, there will still be some disputes. Moreover, in terms of age, Baldwin has only just left childhood, not to mention his companions.

Although Cesar was already a knight of Bethlehem, Prince Baldwin had not yet participated in any political affairs, let alone Cesar.

Both Bohemond and Raymond felt that this honor was far too much.

At that time, with no close relatives or nephews on the battlefield to attend to Amalric I's appearance, it was understandable that Baldwin had Cesare do it. But now they were already on Arrassa Road, and according to any tradition and law, Cesare should not be among the pallbearers. However, Baldwin insisted, and Patriarch Heraclius, the Countess of Jaffa, and the Queen also expressed their support. In the end, the ministers had no choice but to give in.

After all, the deceased's family members have the most say in a funeral.

Almost all those who came to see the king off were blocked at the foot of the steps in the Passion Square. Heraclius sent hundreds of priests, carrying candles and holy water, through the crowd to guide them to gradually disperse, lest, as Cesare had warned, someone, whether unintentionally or intentionally, cause chaos and lead to terrible accidents such as stampedes.

Gerard's parents also found the former stewards. Interestingly, these stewards were the ones who stood up to maintain order when César was doing his penance in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Later, some of them went back, and some stayed. They all had a skill, and because of César's care, they had become the leaders of the workers among the pilgrims.

Under the call and control of the priests and stewards, the crowd departed amidst sighs and sobs—but they didn't simply leave. According to custom, after the funeral, there would be a large-scale distribution of alms, including money and food, possibly in different locations, but ensuring everyone received something. Baldwin and Cesar's group continued deeper into the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where the kings of Allazarus were buried—no, "buried" isn't quite accurate, as people at this time still used burial pits with lead sarcophagi, quite similar to the Romans, except the bodies weren't cremated.

The oak coffin was moved into the sarcophagus—in the case of an ordinary person's funeral, the sarcophagus lid would need to be closed with a carrying pole and a crowbar, but here the six pallbearers were all knights of "Mercy," and together they gently lifted and silently pushed the lid up—"Wait," Baldwin said, "let me see again... Father."

Raymond sighed, and Baldwin bent down and kissed his father on the cheek, while taking a reliquary and placing it in Amalric I's clasped hands. The reliquary contained hair cut from him, his sister Hibil, and his sister Isabella.

“That’s enough,” Baldwin said. Before the coffin lid was completely closed, he took one last look at the king, who was surrounded by fragrant dried flowers, his face serene, with only his lips slightly upturned because an ancient Roman gold coin was pressed against them.

"Bless us, Father," he prayed silently in his heart, "just as you have done before."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Upon their return to Holy Cross Castle, Baldwin's first act after a quick wash was to visit the women.

What later generations could not have imagined was that women, especially noblewomen, were not allowed in the funeral procession at this time. Some women were allowed to walk at the back of the procession, but they were basically "funeral women" of dishonorable birth, that is, professional mourners. In some families with few children, their presence was only to create atmosphere.

In the Queen's living quarters—a large room belonging to the Byzantine Princess Maria—the Queen, dressed in white, sat by the window, surrounded by other noble ladies in black. The eldest princess, Hibern, sat subtly opposite her in an exquisite chair carved with grapes, while her and Baldwin's little sister, Isabella, was held in the arms of the Countess of Jaffa. She seemed quite comfortable in the Countess's embrace, neither crying nor fussing.

The Countess of Jaffa looked at Baldwin with concern. If Baldwin were still a prince, she would certainly have gone up and held him in her arms, but he was about to become a king! Kings at fourteen were not unheard of, but she couldn't help but worry whether this heavy burden would worsen her child's already frail body.

Upon seeing Baldwin, the Queen immediately rose, took his hands, and had her stepson sit beside her. She had only given birth to a daughter before the King's expedition, which had already disappointed many. Now that Amalric I was dead, her hopes of producing another heir had vanished. However, on the other hand, it was unlikely that Baldwin would have an heir of his own.

This means that if Princess Hibil were to give birth to a son, he would naturally become king after Baldwin, but... who knows what the future holds? If her daughter Isabella were to give birth to a son, that son would also have the right to inherit Alassa's throne! No, it should be said that if Hibil were to die before Baldwin and unfortunately have no children, then her daughter Isabella would be queen!

Even if this queen must share the throne of Arazarus with her husband, so what? Her blood will forever flow in this sacred land!
The queen told herself that there was plenty of time. Isabella was too young, but being young had its advantages. For example, she would certainly not choose a fool like Abigail of Antioch as her daughter's husband.

On the surface, however, the Queen's performance was impeccable. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face was sorrowful, and she listened attentively to every word Baldwin said. She would also ask about the details of the funeral ceremony from time to time, especially whether Baldwin had placed the reliquary containing the hair of each of the King's children in the King's coffin.

“Although I know this is somewhat presumptuous,” the Queen asked, “would it be permissible to have one of your Bethlehem knights paint a portrait of the King?”

She was referring to César, of course. César was skilled in painting; he had been discovered by the priests back in the monastery and was even recruited to repair murals and woodblock prints. However, after arriving at the castle, he had been busy and only recently revealed his talent when copying maps. After all, his painting skills at that time were still quite clumsy and immature. Even if he had only learned a little out of interest and need, it was enough to amaze people today.

“My Isabella has not yet met her father,” the Queen said.

Baldwin's heart immediately softened. Amalric I did not care about this daughter. In fact, he did not care much about any of his daughters. He even disliked them, especially after Baldwin fell ill. Seeing them reminded the king that his country and army would be handed over to a complete stranger... which was almost a curse for an ambitious man.

“Of course,” Baldwin immediately beckoned Cesar over. Cesar bowed to the Queen and then, at her prompting, sat at her feet—a rather intimate position. Upon seeing him, Princess Isabella immediately abandoned Countess Jaffa and swayed toward Cesar. Cesar embraced her and skillfully turned her around, letting her sit against him.

The noble ladies couldn't help but laugh, but at this moment, loud laughter was obviously inappropriate. The Queen's smile was like a ray of sunshine through thick clouds, fleeting. She pointed at Baldwin and said, "This is your brother," and then she hesitated slightly, "This one can also be said to be your brother."

All eyes were on Prince Baldwin, who gave only a gentle, melancholy smile. “Yes, Isabella,” he whispered, “he is Cesar, and he will love you and protect you forever.”

(End of this chapter)