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The saying that “a rumor travels a thousand miles” holds true across all times and places.
Especially in a palace where eyes are everywhere, it’s even more so.
The news that Richard and I had a conversation spread to everyone’s ears in just one day.
Naturally, my father, William Marshal, was shocked and summoned me for questioning.
“Is it true that you met with Prince Richard?”
“Yes. Is there a problem with that?”
“Didn’t the Count of Dammartin tell you? The relationship between His Majesty and the Prince is so strained that they might draw swords at any moment. If their relationship hadn’t deteriorated so much, we wouldn’t have lost territory to France so easily in the last negotiations.”
“But aren’t they still father and son? I heard His Majesty forgave the Prince for his past rebellion, so I don’t think we need to be so cautious.”
At my naive response, William sighed heavily, clutching his chest in frustration.
Being the son of William Marshal has its perks.
People tend to see me through the lens of my father’s reputation, even if I appear a bit naive or inflexible.
I showed Richard a glimpse of my true self, but since we agreed to keep our conversation secret, it shouldn’t be a problem.
“This isn’t just a simple father-son conflict. His Majesty wants to make the youngest prince his heir, not Prince Richard. He wants to pass Aquitaine to the youngest prince as proof.”
“Even though I’ve only been here a few days, it’s obvious that won’t happen.”
“That’s why the conflict is deepening. Prince Richard claims he’s the rightful Duke of Aquitaine, having inherited his mother’s lands, but officially, he’s still just a count.”
“But even the Count of Dammartin calls him Duke.”
“That’s how formidable Prince Richard’s current influence is.”
In terms of actual power, no matter how skilled Richard is, he can’t surpass the king.
The real issue is the French Capetian dynasty.
The current King of France is Philip II.
If England has Richard the Lionheart in the 12th century, France has Philip Augustus.
He was the first among French monarchs to be called a great king, earning titles like Augustus and the God-given.
While he might not match Richard in warfare, his political cunning and strategy are unparalleled.
Would such a master of intrigue miss the opportunity of a father-son feud in the neighboring country?
Though he pretends otherwise, the current English royal family’s drama owes much to King Philip.
He’s skillfully manipulating Henry II and Richard like fish on a line, using his sister as bait for a political marriage.
If Henry II were to use military force against Richard?
Philip II would find any excuse to intervene, and France would ultimately benefit.
Yet, starting a war with France is risky with an unpredictable son to worry about.
Henry II is stuck, unable to act, suffering from chronic ulcers.
“Anyway, His Majesty is holding back for now, but who knows when his patience will run out. So keep a low profile for the time being. I’ll explain things to His Majesty.”
“So, the palace is buzzing with rumors about me?”
“That’s why I’m making such a fuss. You weren’t even close to Prince Richard, so why take unnecessary risks?”
“Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”
“It’s not that simple, you fool. This isn’t Jerusalem, where faith alone can guide you!”
I nodded several times, pretending to understand, and seized the opportunity to leave.
Sorry, Father. Jerusalem wasn’t exactly a place where faith alone got you through.
And I have no intention of relying on that here either.
Finally free from my father’s nagging, I returned to my chamber and lay down.
But as if it were my fate as a popular figure, Alberic entered the room.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“I thought I was, but maybe not from others’ perspectives.”
Just as a modern person would seem odd in the Middle Ages, I might be seen as eccentric here.
I’ll try to hide it, but changing one’s mindset isn’t quick.
I might have slipped somewhere, so I can’t confidently say I’m normal.
“Didn’t you hear from the Count and His Majesty about the current state of the country?”
“Yes. But didn’t you say it was better to side with Prince Richard?”
“I did. I don’t think you’re wrong. But there’s a limit. Meeting the Prince so openly—what do you think people will say? I just got back from being summoned by His Majesty!”
“Oh, I see. I just got an earful from my father too.”
“Why are you talking about this like it’s someone else’s problem? It’s because of you!”
Alberic raised his voice in frustration.
“If you want to prepare for the future, you should have been discreet. You can’t make enemies so openly in European politics.”
“I won’t make enemies right away. And a bit of noise doesn’t matter.”
“A bit? The rumors are spreading beyond the palace to the local lords. In a few days, it’ll be all over the place.”
“I wish it had more impact.”
I wish it would spread beyond the local lords to France.
The rumor has enough momentum to spread far.
William Marshal, the greatest knight known across Europe.
And his son, who fought valiantly in the Crusades.
An ideal knightly family, but the father is loyal to the king, and the son to the opposing prince.
It’s a story that makes tongues wag.
Alberic looked at me as if I were crazy and asked, “You wish? What do you mean?”
“Sir Alberic, think about it. Even though we rushed here, Jerusalem is about to surrender to Saladin. The news will soon reach Europe.”
”…And?”
“Here, we’re seen as brave warriors from the Crusades, but when news from Jerusalem arrives, what will happen? We’ll be branded as apostates who abandoned the Holy Land.”
Alberic’s face turned pale.
“Apostates! We came here by God’s command! I told you we should explain everything. Even now…”
“No. Wait until the news from Jerusalem arrives. That’s when the impact will be greatest.”
Why do you think I’ve been drawing attention everywhere?
It’s all for the impending judgment day.
“Sir Alberic, think about it. If we were nobodies, being branded as apostates wouldn’t draw much attention. People would just say, ‘Oh, the son of the greatest knight, William Marshal, is a coward,’ and move on.”
”…Wouldn’t being famous make it worse? We’d get even more criticism.”
“Yes, it would escalate. But the more attention we get, the greater the impact when we explain ourselves. I’ve already entrusted the prophecy I wrote in front of you to Prince Richard.”
The more dramatic the stage, the harder it is to deny that I’m a prophet delivering God’s word.
Especially with the King and Prince of England as witnesses.
And if anyone doubts?
We’ll kindly tell them, ‘Doubt us, and you’re an enemy of England, you heretic.’ That’ll shut them up.
“Did you plan all this from the start?”
“To bring repentance across Europe, our words must reach the ends of the earth. I simply chose the best method for that.”
I’m not setting the stage for my own advancement, no way.
Seeing my devout expression, Alberic finally nodded, bewildered.
Who would have thought Edward Marshal, known only for his fighting skills, could devise such a grand plan?
“Indeed, the Bible is right when it says to seek wisdom from God…”
“Exactly.”
I humored Alberic’s awe with a nod and let out a long yawn.
And exactly a week later.
News that would shock all of Europe reached the imperial palace.
The Christian Holy Land of Jerusalem, so arduously reclaimed, had fallen back into Islamic hands.
Henry II listened with unprecedented caution to the bishop sent from the Vatican.
“My God… Are you saying Pope Urban III has passed away?”
“Yes, the news that the Holy Land has fallen back into the hands of the Muslims was such a shock that… well, Pope Gregory VIII, who served as the papal chancellor, has now taken the papal seat.”
“Considering how the recovery of the Holy Land was the fervent wish of all Christians, I can only imagine how devastated he must have been…”
“It’s not over yet. His Holiness is already preparing for a new crusade.”
In other words, “Get ready to cough up money and troops.”
If there were ever true bandits, it would be these people.
It’s just like them to claim even the wind needed to turn the windmills belongs to the Church.
Henry II frowned, thinking that at this rate, they might actually start taxing the wind one day.
“If it’s God’s will, then we must do it, I suppose…”
“Oh, and I’ve heard there are two men here who fled from the Knights Templar. Is that true?”
”…Yes, they are currently staying in our country. They served in the Holy War, so we’re treating them with due respect.”
“How shameless! Cowards who fled from the enemy now living comfortably here, pretending to be heroes?”
What kind of nonsense is this?
Who supposedly fled from where?
“Perhaps there’s been a mistake. As far as I know, these two were reputable members of the Templar Knights with strong faith.”
“Initially, our informants didn’t consider the possibility of desertion either. But the Patriarch of Jerusalem himself saw them. By retracing the timeline, it seems they deserted before the Battle of Hattin even began.”
“So, they ran away in fear at the sight of the Muslim army.”
“Exactly. They valued their lives so much that they didn’t even participate in the defense of Jerusalem and fled here instead. It’s because of people like them! They tainted the sacred order, and that’s why God allowed Jerusalem to fall to the infidels! Surely, Your Majesty won’t defend such people?”
Edward Marshall and Alberic are indeed deserters.
Not only that, but they’ve been hiding their identities and lying all along.
Hearing this shocking news, Henry II quietly retreated into his thoughts, ignoring the bishop’s anger.
He felt a pang of guilt towards his loyal William, but if he could somehow tie this to Richard, it might just be the key to turning the current situation around.
Even the annoyingly meddlesome King of France wouldn’t be able to interfere this time.
As the bishop continued his lengthy speech, an unmistakable smile crept onto the king’s lips.