xymnovel Chapter 186 Isaac Angelos
Chapter 186 Isaac Angelos
Chapter 186 Isaac Angelos (Part 1)
Leaving the crossroads where they met Simeon Dukas, the Jerusalem army continued northwest, embarking on the final leg of their journey to Nicaea.
The road stretches between gentle hills and farmland, the July sun scorching the earth.
However, the closer they got to the city that was famous for the first Grand Council and was now the core of the Empire's eastern military town, the more unusual the atmosphere became.
The farmers working in the fields, who were originally bent over tending to the grapevines or wheat fields, froze when they saw this group of people carrying unfamiliar cross flags and whose armor was very different from that of the imperial army. Then they straightened up abruptly like startled birds.
Almost without hesitation, they dropped their hoes, sickles, or willow baskets and ran headlong towards the nearest village or the woods beyond the field.
In the more distant villages, wisps of smoke rose hastily from chimneys, followed by the faint clanging of wooden doors slamming shut. Children who had been playing at the village entrance were hurriedly dragged back into their houses by adults, leaving only empty paths and a few hens wandering aimlessly in the dust.
"They... seem to be avoiding us?" Henry reined in his horse, frowning in confusion. "Aren't we allies? Their flags are so obvious."
Lyon, mounted on his horse, glanced at the suddenly empty fields and tightly closed doors, understanding the situation but also feeling a complex mix of emotions.
“They are not hiding from us,” Lyon sighed. “They are hiding from the Latins, from the pilgrims and knights who once plundered and killed in this land, using the same name of the cross.”
“Almost eighty years ago,” Lyon recalled, “the armies of the First Crusade surged through the Empire. Emperor Alexius I, who was one of my ancestors, hoped they would be an asset against the Seljuk Turks. But many Crusader lords, especially those from Normandy and Flanders, saw the Empire’s wealthy towns as prey. They forcibly requisitioned supplies when they were short of them, and launched brazen attacks when they clashed with the Imperial garrison. Around the time of the Siege of Antioch, these clashes nearly escalated into a full-blown conflict between the Latins and the Imperial army.”
Henry listened intently, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper.
"Another trauma occurred less than forty years ago." Lyon's gaze drifted to the distant horizon. "That holy war, with the ultimate goal of defending Jerusalem, before even reaching the Holy Land, saw the capture and sack of Adrianople and the surrounding areas of Constantinople—the churches of Adrianople were smashed, the villages and towns around Constantinople were looted, the people were massacred and humiliated, and even their graves were not allowed to rest. Since the two crusades, the wounds inflicted by the Latin Crusaders on the Roman wolves have never healed."
He paused, his tone tinged with deep helplessness: "Therefore, not only in Asia Minor, but in the hearts of almost all the people of the Empire, the words 'Latin' and 'Crusaders' have long been inextricably linked with 'plunderers' and 'traitors.' They cannot distinguish the essential difference between the Kingdom of Jerusalem and those Western European lords, nor do they know the purpose of our expedition. They only know that when the Empire's army was completely depleted, a fully armed Latin army appeared near their homeland. This was enough to awaken their deepest fears."
Henry opened his mouth, then said knowingly, "So Branas's undisguised contempt might not just stem from his personal arrogance—"
Lyon nodded, confirming Henry's guess.
As they were talking, dust rose from a bend in the road ahead, and a cavalry unit of about thirty men galloped towards them.
They were dressed in light chainmail, covered with dark short robes, their expressions tense, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords and their riding bows at their waists.
The captain, who was leading the group, stared intently at Lyon's flags and equipment, blocking the middle of the road.
"Halt! This is Nicaea, the capital of the Imperial Opushkin Military District! What army are you from? State your name and purpose!"
The captain's tone was wary, and the soldiers behind him subtly formed an encirclement.
The Jerusalem soldiers immediately gripped their weapons, the Bohemian soldiers instinctively raised their shields, and the crossbowmen's fingers tightened on the trigger guards; the atmosphere instantly became tense.
Lyon raised his hand, signaling for his team to remain calm.
He rode forward a few steps alone and replied in clear Greek: "I am Lyon de Anjou, Crown Prince of Jerusalem, and I have come to support the eastern front by order of His Majesty Emperor Alexius and Grand Marshal Cantostefanos. We previously fought against the Turkic army on the banks of the Sangarios River and now need to proceed to Nicaea for necessary rest and resupply."
The patrol captain was skeptical, his gaze sweeping back and forth between Lyon's still-youthful face and the well-trained but disciplined and clearly battle-hardened troops behind him.
"The Crown Prince of Jerusalem? Do you have any proof? The majority of our army has already been deployed to the front lines. The governor has ordered that, in these extraordinary times, all unidentified armed groups approaching the city's defenses must be strictly investigated!"
Lyon calmly took out the parchment edict written and stamped by Simeon Ducas from his pocket and handed it over.
The captain took it and carefully examined the handwriting and the clear Ducasse family seal.
His expression changed visibly, quickly shifting from wariness and scrutiny to surprise, and finally to utmost respect, even with a hint of relief.
He returned the edict with both hands, then straightened his body on horseback and gave a standard military salute: "I was unaware of Your Highness's arrival. Please forgive my intrusion! The Governor-General has already issued orders to all departments, and we will immediately escort Your Highness!"
The soldiers in Jerusalem were somewhat surprised by the speed of the change in attitude.
The patrol immediately dispersed to both sides of the procession, serving as its respectful guards and guides.
One of his men was ordered by the captain to ride back to the city as quickly as possible to report.
With the patrol team leading the way, the rest of the journey went smoothly.
The villages along the way remained quiet, but the gazes peeking out from behind windows and cracks in doors no longer seemed so fearful. Some children even peeked out of the windowsills against their parents' wishes, curiously observing this Latin army that even government troops treated with utmost respect.
The walls of Nicaea finally came into view.
The city is situated on the eastern shore of Lake Ascanius, backed by a gentle slope, and its walls are tall and thick.
Towers lined the city walls, and imperial flags and the Dukas family's blue and white cross flags fluttered in the summer breeze.
Outside the city gate, the massive camp that originally belonged to the Branas Legion was mostly empty, leaving only some basic fences and traces of abandoned earthen stoves.
Clearly, the main force had already gone east with Simeon, and a small group of men were waiting in the open space outside the city gate leading to the main road.
The leader was about thirty-four or thirty-five years old, with a handsome face, ruddy complexion, red hair, a neatly trimmed short beard, medium height, and a strong physique.
He wore a brown Dalmatica robe with a fine linen cloak over it, and was followed by several attendants who looked like clerks, as well as a small squad of guards.
Upon seeing Lyon's group, he took a few steps forward, placed his right hand on his chest, and bowed slightly in greeting.
"Your Highness, Crown Prince of Jerusalem, Lyon, by order of Governor Simeon Dukas, I hereby welcome Your Highness to Nicaea." Unlike other imperial nobles, he took the initiative to speak Latin, and fluently at that. "I am Isaac Angelos, Governor of Nicaea. May God bless your journey, and thank you and your warriors for the good news you brought to the imperial border on the banks of the Sangarios River."