The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 74 Prince Bohemond III of Antioch

Two weeks ago, in Tripoli, the country.

It was midday, and the blazing sun made the stones on the city wall scorching hot. Count Raymond's personal guard had just reined in their horses outside the city gate when they saw a dusty troop of cavalry galloping from the northeast.

The leader was a robust man, wearing a blue and red silk cloak from the Principality of Antioch, with a short beard and reddish-brown curly hair. He was none other than Raymond's cousin, Prince Bohemond III of Antioch.

"In the name of... Saint George! Raymond, you've finally returned from Constantinople!" Bohemond spurred his horse forward, his voice booming but tinged with a long-absent pause, "Was the journey... smooth?"

Raymond smiled slightly and spurred his horse to ride alongside him: "Bohemond, my brother. The sea breeze has been kind enough not to throw this old man into the trench of the Aegean Sea."

He deliberately slowed his horses so the group could pass through the city gate at a leisurely pace: "As for you, Saladin's scouts didn't cause you any trouble coming all the way from Antioch, did they?"

"Troublesome?" Bohemond's lips twitched slightly. "Those Saracen soldiers... are just watching from a distance. As for Aleppo... Saladin has been besieging it for months."

The two rode side by side, with the guards trailing behind by a horse's length. Raymond's gaze swept over the busy vendors on both sides of the street, and he said in a low voice, "It seems the battle between Saladin and Imad al-Din of Aleppo is not over yet. We still have a chance to catch our breath."

Bohemond hummed in agreement, but his gaze was somewhat unfocused, clearly preoccupied.

They dismounted, handed the reins to their attendants, and entered the lord's hall.

When the heavy oak door closed behind him, leaving only the two of them in the study, Bohemond suddenly deflated like a punctured balloon, slumping into his armchair. He picked up his wine glass and downed it in one gulp, leaving streaks of honey-colored wine on his short beard.

"Raymond, I..." He took a deep breath, his words becoming fragmented, "I might be dragging Antioch... into the abyss."

Raymond calmly poured the drink: "Because... her?"

Bohemond abruptly looked up, his eyes filled with despair: "Raymond, listen...it sounds like you...you look down on her too?"

"Whether you look down on her or not is one thing, whether you're a good match is another. The whole Levant is buzzing that Prince Antioch has gone mad for a commoner woman." Raymond pushed his glass towards her. "But I don't believe you'd really go mad. Tell me, what are you plotting? What do you see in her?"

"Plotting? No...it's not plotting!" Bohemond hurriedly shook his head, as if the so-called "plotting" was an insult to him. "This is true love! Raymond, you absolutely cannot imagine what true love is! The moment I met her..."

"Stop, stop, stop, my old friend. After so many years in the world of fame and fortune, love and such..." Raymond paused, seemingly reminiscing, but quickly continued, "is no longer for me."

Raymond looked up, meeting Bohemond's sharp eyes: "You didn't come to me to discuss love, did you?"

Bohemond's eyes dimmed, and he muttered, "It's all because of that damned issue of succession! Raymond and Bohemond—my first two sons, born to my ex-wife, Olges. As for my third son, Manuel, his mother is Theodora Komnina. Now the Vatican has threatened to excommunicate me because of my divorce from Theodora..." He shook his head with a bitter smile, "If I choose either of them, Antioch will be in unimaginable chaos..."

Raymond pondered for a moment: "Since you know the consequences, you still favor your youngest son? A son of commoner blood, and the youngest of them all?"

Silence fell over the study, broken only by the crackling of the candlelight. Bohemond suddenly stood up and paced restlessly around the room. "Those priests… they're constantly chanting in my ear! Saying things like abolishing the eldest son in favor of the youngest is a path to ruin… what do they know!" He stopped at the window, gazing at the starry sky. "Georgia… the way she looks at me is different from those noblewomen. The child she bore for me… when she smiles… like my mother."

Raymond gently set down his glass. "Bohemond, we've known each other for over thirty years, and I'll be frank—you stuttered as a child, your father called you a 'stuttering good-for-nothing,' and your mother read poetry and prayed with you every night. So now you want to give that child the same protection, is that right?"

Bohemond's shoulders twitched slightly.

“But you are not a commoner without a title; you are the Prince of Antioch.” Raymond walked up to him. “The best way for you to protect your son is not to let him inherit your title, but to give him a chance to live, a chance to live alongside his three older brothers.”

He pointed out the window: "Saladin's army is besieging Aleppo, and the Turks could attack from the north at any moment. If you instigate internal strife now, it's like tearing Antioch apart to feed the wolves. At that time, not only your youngest son, but even the woman you love will not survive."

Bohemond slumped back into his chair, his stutter worsening: "Then... what do you suggest I do? Raymond seems rather mediocre... Young Bohemond is clever and strong, but the way he looks at me is full of hostility and hatred... Young Manuel went back to Constantinople with Theodora..."

Raymond took out a roll of parchment and unfolded it, revealing an intricate family tree: "As you said, Raymond's right to the throne is first, but his abilities are mediocre. Young Bohemond is intelligent and brave but short-tempered and easily angered, and I'm afraid he doesn't have a good relationship with his ministers and servants. Young Manuel has the support of the Komnenos, but precisely because of this, the nobles of Antioch are wary of him."

His fingertips traced the names. "Perhaps... there's no need to decide immediately."

He circled Bohemond's youngest son, who was of commoner descent: "Give him a small but not insignificant territory, such as the port of Latakia. Let his relatives in Georgia help him govern it, so that they may be protected without immediately affecting the interests of his other sons."

He then pointed to Raymond and Bohemond Jr.: "You need time to observe who is truly capable of holding Antioch, rather than letting the wolf in."

Bohemond stared blankly at the diagram, then suddenly burst out laughing: "Heh... haha! Raymond, do you remember... when we were kids playing knight games in Antioch? You always... played the strategist."

Raymond laughed too: "Because you always rush to be king, and you always make a mess of the kingdom."

As the laughter subsided, Bohemond said softly, "Sometimes... I really wish... time could have stopped at that moment."

Laughter briefly broke the stillness in the study, dispelling some of the tension.

Raymond put down his glass, lost in thought: "However... just because we two old guys can't play the knight game doesn't mean your kids can't..."

Bohemond's wine glass hovered in mid-air: "You mean...?"

Raymond raised his glass, clinked it against Bohemond's, and laughed:

"His Highness Lyon of Jerusalem sent word through a caravan a few days ago that he is about to return. When he does, you might as well bring your sons to Jerusalem as guests. Let the younger generation get to know each other and see their character in a wider world. Perhaps the answer will naturally emerge there."