The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 39 Morning Hunt

At dawn in February 1181 in the Julian calendar, the outskirts of Ibelin, south of Jaffa, were just awakened by the morning light.

The sky was just beginning to lighten, and the damp air still carried the chill of the night. Dewdrops clung to the palm leaves of the oasis, and the normally hard, dry sand was now soft, clearly marked with the footprints of wild animals.

Lyon, riding an Andalusian pony, raised a small bow, held his breath, aimed, and fired an arrow that struck a hare hiding in a patch of weeds.

Balian stepped forward, watching Leon walk back with the rabbit ears in his hand, and praised, "Leon, you've truly exceeded my expectations! Not only is your swordsmanship exceptionally talented, but your archery skills have also improved by leaps and bounds!"

"It's all thanks to your excellent teaching!" Leon proudly hung the dead rabbit on the saddle, remounted, and continued searching for prey.

"Leon, look there!" Barian exclaimed in a low voice, pointing to a depression in the distance. "It's a gazelle!"

Lyon followed Balian's finger and saw a creature resembling a small deer grazing on sparse wild grass on the sand not far away. At the edge of the grass was a shallow depression, glistening with moisture in the morning light.

Lyon smiled wryly, "My little bow is no match for this big guy. Looks like I'll have to go back to camp and get that crossbow."

Barian observed the gazelle's movements and confidently waved his hand: "Then hurry back. This gazelle has food and water, so it won't go far for a while. I'll keep an eye on it too."

Lyon nodded, pulled on the reins, turned his horse around, and rode towards the camp.

In front of the tent at the camp, Raymond leaned against a shield adorned with his family's Toulous coat of arms, his longsword casually resting at his feet. He was intently examining a strangely shaped crossbow in his arms, his fingers lingering over its various parts, his expression as tender as if he were holding a newborn infant.

Lyon dismounted and walked up to Raymond. Watching him handle the crossbow, he felt a little embarrassed to interrupt, but couldn't help himself and hesitantly asked, "Count?"

Raymond looked up abruptly, a hint of embarrassment flashing across his face: "Your Highness? You're back because... the hunt ended so quickly?"

Leon shook his head: "Not that fast. We found a gazelle, and my little bow couldn't shoot it, so..." He pointed to the crossbow in Raymond's arms, "I came back to get the crossbow."

Raymond reluctantly handed over the crossbow, then asked, trying to make conversation, "This crossbow... what's it called again?"

"Divine Arm Crossbow"

"A strange name." The count stroked his beard, his gaze shifting between Lyon and Nu. "Your Highness is truly... well-informed."

Lyon frowned, scanning his surroundings warily before fixing his gaze on Raymond's face: "Count, what exactly are you trying to say? You don't need to address me as Your Highness; I have never publicly identified myself as the Prince of Jerusalem."

Raymond laughed: "What kind of person does Your Highness take me for? I was merely offering sincere praise, so why do you—and Guy, Gerald, and the others—always treat me like a two-faced schemer?"

Lyon gazed deeply into those eyes that seemed sincere yet couldn't hide their shrewdness, and said calmly, "I never said that."

"Oh, look at you, so serious..." Raymond winked mischievously. "Although I don't know why Guy and the others have been as quiet as hibernating bears these past few months, I can assure you that I have never expressed any opinion about your status to the nobles of the kingdom, including Guy and the others, nor have I ever done anything disrespectful to you... or even thought of it."

"Oh? So why did you shamelessly follow me when I went hunting with Balian on his fiefdom?"

Raymond straightened his back and said confidently, "You are preparing food for the kingdom's banquet. As the kingdom's regent and the king's teacher, I naturally have the right to supervise this matter."

Leon sighed silently, picked up his crossbow, and turned to leave.

"Wait, Your Highness," Raymond called out to him, his voice turning serious. "We exchange sincerity for sincerity."

"I don't know why you all imagine me as a hypocrite full of schemes." His gaze became distant, as if piercing through time. "When I was twelve, my father was assassinated by the Assassins in the street, just as I told you in Alexandria. It was Baldwin III, the late king's brother, who brought me back to the court in Jerusalem and personally taught me. It can be said that the royal family gave me a second life."

"Later, as regent for the current king, I taught him alongside Bishop William of Tyre, and I believe I did my utmost. If I truly intended to seize power, why would I wait until now to secretly sabotage you, little fellow?"

"Besides," he sighed heavily, "although I have three sons, each with a title, none of them are my biological children. If I were to be crowned king, wouldn't that only add to the chaos of this already fragile kingdom?"

Lyon looked at him quietly, lost in thought, and then said, "Count, I can understand. I have never regarded you as... an enemy, or as you say, a schemer. I am just a child who has survived a calamity and returned home by chance. All my estrangement is just driven by a sense of security."

This answer seemed to surprise Raymond. He smiled. "Then you can rest assured. The King doesn't care about your bloodline, and neither do I. I love the King deeply, not because he wears a crown, but because I watched him grow up; I am his guardian. As for whose head the crown rests on..."

His gaze was fixed on the rising sun in the distance, his voice firm and sincere:

"That doesn't matter. I just want to be Godfrey, and I don't care who's king."

Godfrey? The Crusader King hailed as the true protector of the Holy City? The Zhou Gongdan of Jerusalem?

Lyon turned around, as if seeing the count before him clearly for the first time.

"I understand, Count." Lyon gazed in the distance in the direction where Balian was waiting, his voice soft yet firm. "Would you like to come with me?"

"What?"

Lyon extended his hand to Raymond, a smile beyond his years spreading across his face: "Of course, we're going hunting!"

Raymond paused for a moment, then a completely relieved smile spread across his eyes, dispelling all the complicated gloom. He firmly grasped the hand, grabbed the longsword from the ground, nimbly mounted his horse, and rode off beside Lyon's foal toward Balian.

Balian remained where he was, reining in his horse. In the distance, a gazelle had already crossed the grass and was now drinking from a hollow, its moist nose lightly touching the water's surface. Seeing Raymond had come along, a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, but he asked no further questions, simply nodding to the Earl.

Leon raised his crossbow, held his breath, and aimed.

Raymond stared at the figure in the distance, which was almost a tiny dot, and couldn't help but mutter a doubtful question: "That beast is at least three hundred paces away. How could he possibly hit it from here?"

Lyon did not answer.

The next second, the trigger was pulled. Before the echo of the bowstring had even faded, the gazelle in the distance knelt down silently by the puddle.

All three men's eyes fell on the sandy ground at the same time—the gazelle's still body stood out starkly in the morning light.

At that moment, the fallen life seemed to foreshadow another scene in their eyes: countless infidel soldiers would fall in the same way beneath the kingdom's impregnable fortress.