kingdom of nations

This is hell.

The air was scorching, sand and dust were flying, and the stench of blood and excrement poured into the nostrils. Thirty white-skinned, brown-skinned and black-skinned boys were taken to a flat-topped hill on the right side of the Judea Mountains. They would be castrated here. If they were lucky enough to survive, they would be sold to the courts of Byzantium, Egypt or Syria.

He is the thirty-first.

He gasped in pain, and the breath he exhaled was hotter than the sand beneath him. Two strong black slaves brought him to the slave merchant. There was a trace of hesitation in the merchant's eyes. The goods were sick and weak, and the castration method they used was extremely crude - after being deprived of their male rights like pigs and horses, the wailing semi-finished product was directly stuffed into the hole dug earlier, with only the upper body exposed. High temperature and sand were the only means to stop the bleeding.

The castrated slaves will stay here all night. The merchants will come to check before Venus rises. Usually three out of ten can survive.

But he certainly won't be one of those three.

After a moment of hesitation, the slave merchant shook his head regretfully.

His thoughts were still confused by the high fever, and he could only try his best to remember this doubt. The businessman was obviously reluctant.

A slave gave him a little drink out of pity, which had a lot of residue but was extremely sweet. The alcohol and sugar were like sparks that ignited charcoal, and the ability to think and act returned to him - and now he is still there Under the tent with only the ceiling, but only three feet away from the shadow at his feet was a dazzling white light. After adapting to the strong light, he could see the yellow-brown sand dunes, a winding path between the dunes, and then the sky and the large lake distorted by the steaming heat.

Perhaps because he was already dying, those people did not waste shackles and ropes on him. After all, those stronger children would only cry and beg, but if he could escape with this...

He touched his arm to confirm that this was not his original body. This body belonged to a boy of no more than seven or eight years old, unarmed and ***. In addition to the few slaves who were his slaves, the slave merchant also had four or five guards wandering outside the tent. Their eyes hardly fell on the child. It seemed that they were just to guard against external invasion, but if someone wanted to escape, they would not stand by and watch.

He was taken outside the tent, and the businessman looked at him. He held a curved castration knife in his hand. Even if it was polished to a crisp, it still had the lingering smell of blood.

At this time, they heard the sound of horse hooves coming from not far away. There were many people in the group, and the merchants and guards immediately became vigilant. Although the Judah Mountains were only a few dozen miles away from the holy city of Alassah, bandits were still unavoidable. They wanted everything, including money, slaves, or people who could pay for their ransoms.

As if in an instant, two ponies with nimble steps appeared in their field of vision. The riders of the ponies were two attendants wearing stand-up collared robes with vertical quilting lines on them. There was a leather armed belt across the chest, and a one-handed sword hung on the belt. As soon as they saw the people on the hills, they immediately raised the horn hanging on the saddle and blew a few times, and a series of loud, short, crisp and sharp sounds rushed into the air.

The sound of the horn was still echoing in the air, and several knights in chainmail chased after them. Their mounts were all tall armed horses. The slave merchant and his guards saw the red Jerusalem cross embroidered on the front of the white sleeveless robe of the visitor. They quickly knelt down and buried their heads deeply in their hands.

The slave merchant looked out from between his fingers. More servants and knights appeared with flags. Some of them led a pack horse, and the back of the pack horse was loaded with prey. Some of them were taller than others. Falcons with fur hats were raised on the high ground. Dogs were coiled between the hooves of their horses, barking constantly. Some people were carrying multiple sets of crossbows, throwing spears and spears. At a glance, they knew they were attendants responsible for providing weapons to their masters.

In the middle and behind them were ministers and lords who were more ornately dressed. Their chainmails were covered with colorful velvets and satins, their horses were also covered with gorgeous horse clothes, and the shields hung on their saddles were decorated with exquisite heraldry; surrounded by them, a middle-aged man wearing a crown frowned because he smelled the unexpected smell of blood - he was King Amalric I of Alasalu.

"Who are those on the hills?" Amalric I asked.

The friend, vassal, and brother around him, Raymond, Count of Tripoli, who was witnessed by God, only raised his head and glanced, and showed a look of disgust: "A castrated craftsman of Isaac."

Amalric I heard Bohemond, the Archduke of Antioch behind him, sigh, and his originally not-so-bright mood became even heavier. He did not speak, but lightly patted the horse's neck, and the mount under him immediately wisely quickened its pace.

The horses are like this, and the people who accompany the king are even more keen. Raymond, the Earl of Tripoli, raised his hand and waved it forward vigorously. The knights responded with thunderous shouts. The sound of horse hooves was like drums, from slow to fast, the dust was rolling, and the people were crowded. As long as a cup of tea was not available, they could leave the hills filled with the smell of blood behind them.

But just before the king's Perch horse galloped, a small riot suddenly broke out less than a hundred feet away from him - the hounds barked, the hawks flapped their wings, the horses bounced and twisted under the control of the knight, their huge hooves left deep depressions in the sand, and gravel flew everywhere.

Amalric I was a knight king. His eyesight was so sharp that he could see what caused the commotion at a glance.

A slave escaped from the tent of the Isaacs. While the merchants and guards were lying on the ground, he leaped over the low backs and heads with incredible speed and courage, rolled down the hill, and wedged himself into their team with a bang like a nail being hit hard by a giant hammer.

At this point, it does not mean that his life can be saved. All war horses are trained to trample anything that falls under their hooves (especially strangers). Even the strongest knight, fully armored, will fall off his horse on the battlefield. Sometimes it is inevitable to be trampled by the enemy's horse hooves into blood and mud wrapped in iron sheets.

The dogs regarded him as prey like a small beast, each roaring ferociously. A child without any protection relied entirely on his slender body and quick reactions to fight for his own way among the horses' hooves, iron boots, and the claws and teeth of the dogs.

What's more, some of the servants have already raised their crossbows and drawn their swords.

He would have died if a monk hadn't suddenly jumped between him and the others. Everyone recognized this monk as Heraclius, a friend of the king, minister of religion to the king, and resident priest of the Castle of Holy Cross.

"Stop!" the monk shouted: "The king wants to take a look at him."

The people moved out of the way, and the king drove his horse over. This majestic Perch horse was no less than six feet tall at the shoulders. The equally tall Amalric I looked down at the escaped slave with a cold expression.

The slave was covered in dust, but his skin could still be seen to be fair, and his short black hair was messy. One of his hands was hanging limply by his side. It might have been twisted or broken. He gasped hard and tried to stand up. Someone shouted "Kneel down!", so he knelt down, but stubbornly lowered only one knee. This posture was more strenuous than touching both knees to the ground, especially when the person who made this move was at the end of his strength.

When the king looked at him, he slowly raised his head. What a pair of beautiful eyes, Amalric I thought, a pair of emeralds without any impurities. What will he do? How can he ask me to save him? What if he was indeed a Christian and came to seek a Christian king?

The slave is also thinking, he has nothing but this strange body, no one can testify or defend him, and Amalric I will not give him much patience or time.

He raised his arm and sucked a mouthful of blood from the wound under the watchful eyes of everyone. A small amount of liquid moistened his throat so that he could speak smoothly.

"I will sing to the Lord..." Then he raised his head, looked at the strange crowd, and slowly, slowly said, "For he has overcome so much that he has cast the horse and its rider into the sea..."

This is a language that Amalric I and the people around him will never ignore - Vulgar Latin. Although it is a bit hoarse, slow, and some words are mispronounced, it is indeed a language familiar to Christians and a poem familiar to Christians, just like the syllables and words engraved in their souls.

Everyone could not help but sing loudly, almost drowning out the voice of the little slave: "...The Lord is my strength, my song, and has also become my salvation... This is my God, I will praise Him, the God of my father, I will honor Him..."

The king even lowered his eyes and raised a hand on his chest: "...The Lord is a warrior, and his name is Jehovah...O Lord, your right hand exerts power and shows glory, O Lord, your right hand crushes the enemy."

He chanted in a low voice, "The Lord brought his people out of the land of slavery with a mighty hand and said, Because they are my servants, whom I brought out of the land of Egypt, they must not be sold into slavery - therefore, children , you are a Christian. You come to me to save you, just as the people of Isaac asked the Lord for help."

"Then I should save you. "The king said, "Take him with you, Heraclius. This may be the greatest harvest I can get in this hunt."

The monk named Heraclius leaned forward and obeyed. He jumped from the horse. He jumped down and wrapped his cloak around the *** boy. As soon as it touched his skin, he was startled, "He's having a fever!"

"Is it a disease?" Amalric I asked.

"I will take him to the Church of St. John the Baptist first." Heraclius said.

A retinue took a purse containing dozens of silver coins from the Count of Tripoli - an Isaac slave trader was not even qualified to talk face to face with the knight. He casually threw the money bag in front of the businessman, turned his horse around, and caught up with the team, so he didn't see the businessman's expression that was too ugly, which was far more than losing a valuable commodity.

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As soon as Heraclius saw the child, he guessed that he was likely to be saved. This is related to his amazing courage and determination, as well as his skin color and beliefs, but the most important point is that Amalric I's only son, Little Baldwin, was also at this age.

In the past, this similarity would not have been enough to make Amalric I feel compassionate, but just a few days ago, little Baldwin was confirmed to be infected with leprosy.

Leprosy is a severe infectious disease. People who suffer from this disease will lose their hair, have red rashes, plaques, swollen lymph nodes all over the body, numbness, atrophy and deformity of their limbs, making their faces and bodies as terrifying as the devil,

In Byzantium, Frankia, and Britain, lepers were isolated from normal society (this was even written into law). They were not allowed to live in cities, were not allowed to enter churches (and could not perform sacraments), and were not allowed to appear in any crowded places (such as markets). They could not be inherited or inherited, nor could they file complaints or defend others.

The church holds two views on them: one is that these people are regarded as unclean, and they believe that they must have made unknown mistakes before they will be condemned and punished by God; the other is that they believe that this is a test, although it is also given by God, at least in name... it can better comfort lepers.

Little Baldwin got leprosy. Whether he was considered guilty of a crime or was tested, it meant that the current situation on Alazar Road would undergo earth-shaking changes. And the most fortunate thing was that A Malik I and the kings of Arazar before him had not yet had time to enact laws regarding lepers. He could leave Baldwin in Arazar and his Holy Cross Castle and continue to fight for various political and legal powers for his only son.

All kinds of doubts, accusations and pressures came like a tidal wave. Amalric I had not been happy for many days, so he had today's hunting. His friends and ministers all agreed that he should go out for a walk - although hundreds of prey failed to make the king feel happier, until this little accident happened.

Perhaps for Amalric I, buying the life of a Christian from the devilish slave trader Isaac was like adding a precious chip to the balance that hung the fate of his only son. Perhaps it was this chip that could prevent poor little Baldwin from falling into purgatory too quickly.

Therefore, Heraclius did not despise this work because the child in his arms was once a slave. He galloped on his horse and arrived at the shelter opened by the Church of St. John the Baptist in less than half an hour. The shelter was the prototype of a hospital. It was originally established for the knights and pilgrims who were injured and sick in the First Crusade. Now it is responsible for the entire Alassah Road and even the surrounding Christian countries and territories.

As soon as they heard that there was a patient with fever, John, the abbot of the monastery, rushed over with several monks. They wanted to confirm whether the patient was carrying the disease. After some examination, they confirmed that he was only suffering from fainting and hot blood due to hunger, weakness and panic, and they felt relieved.

"Hey," John said in surprise after hearing what Heraclius said: "He doesn't look like the son of a serf or a craftsman."

"Well," Heraclius said, "He may have a good background and receive an orthodox education."

What they said was not without purpose. In addition to the child being able to recite complete and correct scriptures, after wiping his body with water and light wine, there was no old scar on his body. All the wounds were fresh - he used them to exchange for the lost freedom.

This situation is rare among ordinary poor children.

They sleep on straw piles with the livestock, and bedbugs and fleas feast on them. They will be beaten with sticks by their parents or masters, whipped by overseers and guards, scalded with torches, doused with boiling water, bitten by dogs, and kicked by horses.

From infants to young adults, only dry peas, acorns and wheat porridge provide nutrition. The result is that they are generally thin, short, and stooped; hard work will make their joints thicker, fingertips rough, and nails thicker just like their family members. ; They are often ***, barefoot or wrapped in a few pieces of broken cloth, so that the soles of their feet have a thick layer of dirty calluses; their teeth are loose and brittle due to the need to chew rough and hard food for a long time, and sometimes their permanent teeth begin to fall out just after they grow in.

But none of these conditions were found in this strange patient. One monk jokingly said, "The soles of his feet are more tender than the palms of my hands."

"The more so," Heraclius said, "the more unlucky he is." If they hadn't happened to pass by, the best outcome for this child would have been to become a Byzantine emperor or a eunuch in the harem of Fatima Khalifa.

After hearing this, the monks could not help but show expressions of shame and pity. The joking monk even crossed himself several times on his chest to express repentance.

"Take good care of him," said Heraclius. "The king may come to see him again."