kingdom of nations

Chapter 103 Funerals and Weddings (Part 2)
Bohemond rushed over.

He, along with Count Raymond of Tripoli and several other lords, were not always in Arrassa. Although they were vassals and ministers of Amalric I, they also had their own territories to govern.

Unless Amalric I mustered his army and summoned them to fight together against the Saracens, the enemies of the Christians, they would not bring their knights to join his ranks to fulfill their birthright and exercise their right to fight to the death.

Or perhaps something major has happened in Arazarus, such as the previous prince's misfortune, the current king's death, and this marriage that connects the Principality of Antioch with the Kingdom of Arazarus.

Bohemond had become accustomed to being disappointed in his son.

Sometimes he felt that his son had neither inherited his bloodline nor the bloodline that belonged to his mother. After all, his mother was a Byzantine princess—"Byzantine intrigue" had long been a common phrase among the nobles of the Holy Land.

He also knew all too well how much trouble and crisis a fool could cause. So when Count Etienne got into trouble and it was proven that he was connected to Abigail, he did not hesitate to beat Abigail up and send him back to the duchy.

In those years, even though Amalric I had pardoned Abigail and allowed him to enter the Church of the Holy Sepulchre to complete his election ceremony, Bohemond did not budge. Abigail's election ceremony was held in the Church of St. Paul in Antioch, which was certainly far less sacred and orthodox than the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, or even the Church of the Nativity or the Temple Church, but so what?

If Bohemond had a second child, even if it were a daughter, he might have gotten rid of Abigail, that useless little bastard, who disappointed him time and time again, especially now that several teenagers his age were becoming increasingly outstanding.

This feeling became even more pronounced when the Grand Duke entered the hall.

For he saw Cesar, who was seated to the right of the throne—a position of utmost trust and second only to the king. As people approached to pay their respects to Baldwin, it was as if they were also showing their devotion to the Knight of Bethlehem.

Although Bohemond only needed to nod slightly, when he saw that dazzling young man, an indescribable emotion still welled up inside him.

He still clearly remembered that when this little Isaac slave first took Baldwin's place to receive communion, he aroused Abigail's jealousy because he was able to stand next to Princess Hiberna.

At the time, he only found it funny, and his anger stemmed from his son's short-sightedness.

What good is standing next to Princess Hibil when receiving communion? He is nothing more than a small gift from Amalric I to comfort Baldwin, like a piece of candy parents take from a jar to appease a crying child.

No matter how much Baldwin liked him, could he be accepted by the other squires and knights in the castle? Could he follow his father or elders and learn from them the lessons and experiences required of knights and ministers?

Could he appear openly in Amalric I's entourage, carrying his flag or cloak?
By the time they grow up, this dark-haired little fellow might still be a servant, at best a page. Abigail, David, and others, on the other hand, might have become true knights, even serving Amalric I on the battlefield and in the court. Why would he care about such a minor character?

Looking back now, Bohemond felt a slight pang of regret—yes, very slight. Even now, he didn't believe that the chronically ill Baldwin could accomplish anything remarkable; as Amalric I had hoped, he was merely a transitional figure.

If he persists for ten or fifteen years until Abigail and Heberl's child comes of age, he can then rightfully obey the call of God or Death and relinquish the throne of King Arazarus for the latter.

During these fifteen years, he, Raymond, and the others would not allow the young king to act too recklessly or perversely, granting an Isaac slave too many rights. Bohemond believed he could do it.

He was the Grand Duke of Antioch, the maternal grandfather of the future King of Arrassal. If he could persuade Raymond, Baldwin's regent, and if that bull was willing to follow his orders, he could guarantee that Arrassal would belong to them for a long time to come.

However, at this moment, the cunning old fox did not show any unusual expression. He even bowed respectfully to Baldwin before turning to his son.

His face grew even more somber when he saw Abigail dressed in a crimson velvet coat, dark blue tights, and a silver belt—less than a week after Amalric I's death, the priests of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre were still holding Expiatory Masses for him every night, the mourning ceremonies in the city would last for fifty days, and his children would observe a four-month mourning period for him.

At this time, there were no strict requirements for mourning for people outside of blood relatives, but everyone who appeared in front of Baldwin wisely changed into black or dark coats and dressed very simply, wearing almost no jewelry except for rings, in order to avoid hurting Baldwin's feelings.

Baldwin was dressed in a simple linen robe and wool cloak, with only a brown leather belt around his waist. His collar and hem were devoid of any embroidery or embellishment. Beside him stood Cesar, dressed in all black, looking solemn as if he were about to embark on a period of penance.

He knew, of course, that Abi was dressed like this in order to see Hibil.

Bohemond felt a surge of relief, thinking he should thank the two knights who had beaten his son black and blue—if Abigail had returned to Holy Cross Castle and instead of offering condolences to Baldwin or the Queen, but instead went straight to Princess Hibil—perhaps even exchanging witty remarks and giving gifts, that would have been both deadly and ridiculous.

“Now that you’re here,” Baldwin said with a sigh, “tell us what happened.”

The two knights were tall and strong, with scars on their faces from the mourning for Amalric I. They eagerly recounted what had happened. To be honest, Abigail wasn't so foolish as to do something as stupid as wantonly slandering Amalric I and Baldwin during such a depressing and painful time.

He's not crazy.

Just as the two knights were waiting for the guards to examine the documents, he came in from outside. His overly flamboyant and extravagant attire caught the attention of the two knights. They then heard him say that although he also regretted the passing of Amalric I, he had to admit that if the king had not been about to die, he might not have decided on the princess's marriage so quickly.

He added that although he had received many rewards from the king before, there was nothing better than this.

These words might not seem wrong at first glance. But to the two knights who had just bid farewell to Baldwin and witnessed the sickly prince's profound and sincere remembrance and sorrow for his father and monarch, and were completely affected by such heavy emotions, they sounded extremely jarring.

So they immediately rode forward and questioned the young man about how he could utter such despicable words.

How could Abigail possibly be interested in these two foreign knights? He had seen countless such knights in the Holy Land, not to mention that he was there to marry Princess Hibernath, and perhaps in a few years, he would share the crown of Arazarus with her, becoming its king. These men should be prostrating themselves before him, begging for his forgiveness, and hoping to offer him their loyalty. He didn't think he had said anything wrong; in fact, he felt extremely wronged, yet also somewhat emboldened. Even if Baldwin wanted to punish him unjustly, he was going to marry Hibernath in a few months. Could they really throw the princess's husband into prison?

“I am willing to apologize,” Abigail said dryly, “but not for my words—I spoke them from the heart. I meant no disrespect to the king.”

He argued, “His Majesty is practically my father. I grew up under his care, and he often stroked my head, praised me, and encouraged me. I am about to marry his daughter, and I swear, I have come with a heavy heart and deep sorrow.”

"Perhaps these two gentlemen were too eager for credit—they had sworn an oath to His Highness, which led to this misunderstanding..."

He spoke with ill intent, and everyone present could tell that he didn't think he was wrong. He even intended to shift the blame onto the two knights, deliberately leading people to believe that they had intentionally provoked trouble to impress Baldwin and wanted to pin a false accusation on an innocent person.

Baldwin didn't look at him; he felt nauseous just looking at Abigail. He only looked at Bohemond, and from those blue eyes shone the same light as Amalric I—so cold and so hard. "Thirty lashes."

Bohemond silently accepted the order, while Abigail didn't even realize for a moment that the punishment was for him. The impatient knights immediately stepped forward and grabbed his arms, and only then did he understand and begin to shout.

The knights were furious, and even their mortal enemies, the Saracens, would suspend negotiations and war upon Amalric I's death and allow them to see him off, so that the king could peacefully embark on his journey to heaven.

But this very man, a Christian, a man under the protection of Amalric I, who was even Amalric I's future son-in-law, and whose child might become the king of Arazarus.

Instead of showing the appropriate pain and sorrow, he was even overjoyed, behaving even worse than their enemies.

The maid rushed up the tower to report the matter to Princess Hibil. She thought the princess would plead for leniency, but Hibil simply placed her hands on her knees and said, "You may all leave."

The maids dared not speak and quickly stood up and left the room. Once only Hibil was left in the room, she got up and walked to the window, which was their small room for needlework. It was well-lit and overlooked the square.

The knights dragged Abigail directly to the dusty center of the square, where people curiously gathered around. After all, his attire indicated that he was a person of high status. However, it was not long before someone recognized him, even though he had been away from Holy Cross Castle for several years.

"Isn't this Abigail, the only son of Grand Duke Antioch?"

"How could he—didn't he know that the king had died?"

"He and the princess are engaged, a marriage promised by the king... but... ha!"

Hibler stood at the window, coldly looking down at the scene below.

The knights treated Abigail like a sinner or a pig. They stripped him of his luxurious crimson velvet coat and creamy white silk shirt, tied him to a rough frame, and then, as Baldwin had ordered, gave him thirty lashes without fail.

This flogging was certainly not as haphazard as people whipping animals. A knight served as the executioner. His arms were thick and strong, and he wielded the whip with the skill of a priest reciting scriptures, unhurried and deliberate, only cracking the whip on Abigail's bare back every now and then.

Abigail was also one of the chosen ones, but he clearly hadn't experienced much hardship and couldn't endure it at all. Moreover, his saint didn't seem to care much about him. By the third lash, he was already howling loudly, begging for the saint's protection, but to no avail.

Ironically, the knight acting as the executioner raised his head, looked around for a while, and only after confirming that there was nothing amiss did he grin and continue the beating.

Another knight standing to the side meticulously counted the blows for Abigail, who fainted on the seventeenth or eighteenth lash.

The knight seemed to want to consult Baldwin—whether to continue the lashing? But Bohemond, who stood by with his arms crossed and watched coldly, stopped him. The Grand Duke seemed eager to carry out the next dozen or so lashes himself, but he simply ordered the knight to finish the job.

Hibern watched as Abigail was taken down from the shelf like a pile of messy rubbish, and two servants came out to carry him away, filled with anger and despair.

She knew all along that she would inevitably marry, not with Abigail, but with someone else—like David, or a nobleman who had come from afar from Frankish.

The princess had never fantasized about her marriage like other noble ladies. She was prepared and didn't even care if her future husband was old, rough, or ambitious. But she simply couldn't stand that her future husband was such a useless coward.

She sat back down in her chair, bewildered. The sky outside the window was darkening rapidly. Without her permission, the maids dared not come in to light candles for her. She sat there for a while until the cold night wind pierced through her thin clothes. She bent over and coughed violently, almost not hearing the noise outside the door.

The maids gasped and bowed, a rare occurrence in the castle, but she guessed it must be Baldwin, who had come to comfort her, after all, he had just reprimanded her future husband.

"elder sister?"

Hibler grabbed his water glass and took a big gulp of the cold water before saying in the gentlest voice, "Come in, little brother."

The door opened and Baldwin walked in. Hibyl stood up, intending to bow to him, but because she had been in a stiff position ever since, her knees were already numb. She was fine when she stood up, but when she bent her knees to Baldwin, the princess suddenly felt a sharp pain and fell forward uncontrollably.

Amid the maids' gasps, someone grabbed her firmly.

(End of this chapter)