I Became The King Of Crusaders [EN]: Chapter 133

Became the King of the Crusaders – Episode 133

The Great Knight (3)

* * *

Eig leaned against a tree, gazing across the bustling meadow.

The vast field teemed with activity.

Over a dozen carpenters were busy erecting wooden fences and painting them white. One section of the plain was completely covered in tents, creating the illusion of a small village.

The air carried the scent of horses and the metallic tang of heated metal.

On the west side of the meadow, young Henry, old Henry, and Eleanor sat in a three-story grandstand, surrounded by lords and ladies. The atmosphere was convivial.

Eig chuckled.

‘Hard to believe they were at each other’s throats just a few weeks ago.’

Throughout the meadow, knights engaged in friendly matches and practice sessions, building anticipation for the full-scale jousting tournament.

Dozens of knights thrust their lances at wooden quintains [a rotating target used for jousting practice].

It wasn’t just the knights showcasing their skills.

Archers fired arrows at distant targets.

“Waaaah!”

Cheers erupted each time an arrow struck the black circle at the center of the target.

“Kang and his men seem likely to win easily, don’t you think?” Luark asked, approaching Eig.

“Their archery skills are impressive. Even the Turcopole horse archers [Turkish or mixed-origin light cavalry known for their archery skills] acknowledged it.”

“It’s odd to call them mere bandits. Kang was the only one who noticed the ambush last time. Doesn’t that raise any red flags?”

Eig shrugged.

“He said he worked as a craftsman before heading to the mountains….”

“He wouldn’t have been an ordinary blacksmith. Who seeking salvation isn’t a sinner?” Luark mused.

A roar of cheers echoed.

Kang lowered his bow and stepped back. Three arrows were embedded in the target, so close to the center that they appeared as one.

“I don’t particularly care,” Eig said with a smile.

“Whatever they did in the past, they are now comrades fighting together. That’s enough for me.”

“Well, if he’s got the guts to lure out mercenaries on his own, I guess there’s no reason not to trust him,” Luark said, smiling. “I should go check on my men.”

Eig nodded slightly in response.

The archery contest had concluded. Eleanor herself descended from the grandstand, carrying the prize: a golden quiver and arrows.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

‘The queen, not Henry, is giving the award.’

It was clear that her status had risen.

At that moment, Eig noticed someone: Father Pierre. He was wandering alone around the meadow.

Eig approached him.

“Have you lost your way, Father?”

“Ah, Sir Eig! I was looking for the Holy Cross. It’s almost time for prayers.”

“I’ll guide you. And you don’t have to call me ‘Sir’….”

Eig walked with Pierre across the tournament grounds, passing squires carrying spears and shields.

“There’s something I wanted to ask you, Father,” Eig began.

“Hasn’t the Roman Catholic Church been against tournaments until now? Why did they approve this one so readily?”

“That’s obviously because of Lord Baudouin,” Pierre said, brandishing his staff.

“How can humans refuse what the Lord desires?”

“But….”

“To be sure, jousting and tournaments aren’t very beneficial to the knights of Christ. Many knights lose limbs and get injured,” Pierre explained.

“Then they can’t fight against evil, heretics, and Saracens. That’s why the Roman Catholic Church opposes reckless tournaments. But this tournament is different.” He added, “A tournament for peace! What event could be more suitable for gathering the rulers of Europe in one place? It is truly the Lord’s will.”

“A symbol of harmony. Frankly, it sounds like mere rhetoric to me….” Eig shrugged.

Elixir, the Holy Land Authority, and now even a tournament.

Lord Baudouin always confronted the Church’s taboos head-on.

But Rome, instead of issuing warnings, actually accepted his words as official doctrine.

It was like a parent who always thinks their child is right. It was unimaginable for the Pope to criticize or fight against the Duke now.

“You probably know better, Father. How much would a humble man like me know?”

“The Lord’s will may seem complicated at first glance, but it’s actually simple. That’s the most confusing part,” Father Pierre said, shaking his head.

As the two approached the Holy Cross, worshippers flocked to them.

Not just commoners from England, but also knights and nobles, members of the Holy Sepulchre Order [a religious order associated with the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem]. There were even those who had traveled from distant parts of Europe.

They approached the two like birds finding food.

Pierre smiled at Eig. “And making sure people can easily understand the Duke’s will is what I do.”

“I didn’t expect members of the Holy Sepulchre Order to come and listen to your words like this.”

“They used to serve Basilius (the Emperor) in Constantinople, but that was only for money and honor,” Pierre said.

“Fighting for the Holy Land means giving up those two things. These people are realizing that fact, even if belatedly.” He added, “With love and devotion to the Lord, they have become more powerful warriors than ever before.”

Eig gazed at the towering Holy Cross before him.

The town crier’s shouts were faintly heard from the north of the plain.

* * *

“He who wields the sword of Christ and victor of the Battle of Sagrajas, Count Burakes of the Kingdom of Aragon!”

“The shining sword of Valtierra, Duke Lasez of the Kingdom of Castile!”

The heralds continued to announce the arriving dignitaries. I tried hard to stifle a yawn as I watched.

Even just listing the dukes and counts took this long.

Things are tight on the Spanish side too.

When the herald gasped for breath, another took over. He’s going to collapse, he’s going to collapse.

The knights from the Spanish kingdoms looked orderly and confident.

‘There were Muslim forces on that side too.’

The Reconquista [the historical period of Iberian Peninsula history of the Christian kingdoms driving out the Muslims] to drive out the Islamic forces that invaded the Iberian Peninsula. They were also carrying out their own crusade.

It will be difficult to get support from them.

The opponent I’m waiting for is someone else.

“The great builder and protector of Christianity, His Majesty King Philip II of the Holy Kingdom of France!”

A long procession of carriages followed, piled high with gold and silverware, escorted by knights and squires. There were even monkeys performing tricks on horseback.

It’s like a circus troupe.

But the people around me seemed to think the opposite. They all gasped as they watched the king’s procession.

Medieval sensibilities… were they vulgar or extravagant?

King Philip was at the very back of the procession, dressed in silk clothes and a cloak over chainmail. The yellow lilies, the symbol of France, were visible everywhere.

A youthful and slender face.

‘Come to think of it, he was about the same age as me.’

Approaching young Henry, he dismounted and embraced the King of England. Neither of them seemed to feel any emotion.

‘I knew it.’

For Philip, young Henry was nothing more than a pawn to manipulate England, not a friend. Young Henry used France in the same way. That’s why there’s no particular emotion felt.

Philip greeted Henry II and Richard in turn. Then it was my turn.

He walked towards me and knelt.

“No, Your Majesty kneels….”

The surroundings fell silent. Emotions of embarrassment and shock swept through the crowd like a wave.

“Your Majesty doesn’t need to kneel before me.” I looked at Philip.

This is interesting.

“I have heard that the Duke has received heavenly revelations and performed many miracles,” he said, looking at me. “So how can I not kneel before the Duke?”

“…”

I looked at him. I still didn’t feel any particular emotion. Just coldness, like the winter wind.

‘This is all a show too.’

It was clearly a ploy to reassure me, and a performance to show his support for Baudouin and Jerusalem.

“I am not someone who deserves such treatment from Your Majesty.” I reached out and helped the King of France to his feet.

He said with a soft smile, “I have been planning a crusade since before the Duke came to Europe. Now that the opportunity to prove that will has come, what could be better?”

“I also knew that Your Majesty was planning an expedition.”

We both smiled at each other.

Could there be a more hypocritical situation than this?

I shook my head.

‘Sorry, but I already know how you’re going to act.’

There was no way Philip would just stand by and watch the power vacuum in England and Aquitaine. He would pretend to join the expedition now, but later he would make various excuses. And there was no way I could force him to go if he did.

Philip said, “Young Henry is participating in this tournament himself. Are you also thinking of participating, Duke?”

“Of course.”

“Then I would like to propose the composition of the tournament. Of course, you don’t have to accept it.”

At his words, I smiled again. Looks like he’s planning something.

‘I can guess roughly.’

Philip was a cunning fox. To catch a fox, you have to pretend to fall for the trick first.

“If you have something in mind, please feel free to tell me.”

* * *

That night, inside King Philip of France’s tent, two figures spoke in the dim light of a candle.

“I don’t believe Baudouin is a prophet, let alone a saint. If he had such abilities, he wouldn’t have fought so hard against Emperor Frederick,” Geoffrey said.

“He could have just caused an earthquake. Why would he have risked his life fighting in Italy?”

“Predicting the movement of comets or stars is something that astrologers do all the time, but earthquakes are different,” Philip said, shaking his head. He looked at Geoffrey with his arms crossed. “If Duke Baudouin really received heavenly blessings….”

“But Your Majesty probably doesn’t want to go on a crusade either, right?” Geoffrey asked with a smile. “Isn’t that why you called me separately like this?”

“Geoffrey, you are my closest friend and companion. It is only natural to meet a friend in need,” Philip replied. “How many knights have you gathered so far?”

“I have gathered hundreds of the best knights in Europe, mainly those who are short on money,” Geoffrey said, leaning back in his chair.

“If they can receive spoils and money, they won’t care who they wield their spears against.” He continued, “Isn’t the outcome of a jousting match like a war? The side chosen by the Lord wins! I believe Your Majesty knows this too.”

“If the Duke safely completes the tournament as it is, I will have no choice but to go on a crusade,” Philip said. “To prevent such a situation, the Duke must lose.”

“A prophet who loses pathetically is no longer a prophet,” Geoffrey said with a smile. “My knights will crush Duke Baudouin’s barbarian army like they’re eating breakfast.”

“But there’s the Holy Sepulchre Guard. I heard it’s a unit made up only of Northmen [Vikings or people of Scandinavian descent],” Philip said, leaning forward. “Aren’t you underestimating them too much?”

“Northmen are born warriors, but they don’t play a big role in tournaments,” Geoffrey said.

“Those guys always step forward to get more honor and spoils than their comrades. They don’t fight well in these tournaments.” He added, “From what I’ve heard, the Holy Sepulchre Guard’s formation was the first to collapse in Italy. Baudouin almost lost his life too. We’re just creating the same situation.”

“Maintaining formation is the most important thing in a tournament. If one or two people leave to pick up spoils, the entire line will collapse,” Philip nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“But if Baudouin wins, it could end up giving him wings.”

“That’s why I offered to step in myself. Your Majesty only needs to deal with young Henry and Richard,” Geoffrey said. “Even if I lose, Your Majesty will not suffer any damage.”

“A dice game without betting money. I just have to push Baudouin’s army towards you, right?”

“That’s right. To do that, my brothers and I must be on one side, and Your Majesty and Duke Baudouin must be on the same side.”

“The Duke probably won’t refuse my offer,” Philip said with a smile. “Young Henry, Richard, Geoffrey… there’s no better excuse than brothers being on the same side and reconciling. But….” He stammered.

The look in Baudouin’s eyes that he saw during the day came to his mind. A gaze as if he knew everything.

Philip shook his head. He was the one who brought the most knights and donations. The Duke Baudouin’s suspicion must have subsided. No one knew his true intentions, not even Geoffrey.

“It’s nothing. Then let’s discuss the details.”