Act XII: The Destruction of Sodom (Part 11)

eleven

Yubi hadn't expected the day to become so lively. He had thought that Lud City would only be welcoming one guest from the Ibelin family.

“It was Yakov who entrusted me to deliver the people and goods.” Pascal dismounted in front of the gates of Lud.

“You’re so thoughtful and generous, I should treat you to a meal!” Yubi’s robes billowed like smoke in the wind. “Shumel, your sister has arrived! Oh, she looks just like you!”

He had expected to witness a touching scene of family reunion—the "treasurer" hurried over and gently embraced his sibling, who shared the same long, brown, curly hair and amber eyes. The brother and sister, separated for years, held hands quietly and reservedly, kissing each other's foreheads and exchanging a few simple words in Hebrew, which Yubi couldn't understand. Neither of them shed tears or uttered a sound; they simply tightened their headscarves in the sandstorm, staring at each other's clothing with unfamiliarity—Yubi thought this was perhaps another form of restrained Jewish etiquette. He felt as if something was pressing on his chest, an unspeakable ache.

“Thank you, Pascal.” Schumer handed his sister over to the servants and immediately went to the carriage. “This was also sent by Yakov, wasn’t it?” he asked, touching the heavy wooden box sealed with the lead seal and bearing the insignia of the Knights Templar.

“That’s right.” Pascal crossed his arms. “We can check it now.”

A relieved smile finally appeared on Schumeer's face. He immediately called out to Nuuk, gave him a few instructions, and led the carriage into the city's main street.

“Lord Eubius, it’s so good to see you!” Eudosias was pushed by the wind to Eubius again. “Thanks to you and Naya, my business in Jerusalem is doing well. Your kindness will surely be rewarded… May God heal you soon.”

"Seeing you doing well is my way of repaying you," Yubi replied casually. "If you like, Naya can stay and help you indefinitely."

Eudosia looked up at him in surprise—the little girl had clearly not expected his prophetic words. But then, her face lit up with unparalleled gratitude and joy. “…You are so kind, sir!” she exclaimed excitedly, taking Naya’s hand behind her, and the two bowed together. “You truly understand my difficulties…You are kind and perceptive, wise and devout!”

Seeing her happy, Yubi waved his hand shyly, as if this act of kindness was nothing more than a trivial favor for him—"There's no need for you to drag your ailing body out into the sun to welcome us." Pascal looked at Yubi's tightly wrapped headscarf and veil. "Let's go into the city first."

“…Haha, I’m not here to welcome you.” Yubi smiled awkwardly under her veil, her face contorted with embarrassment. “A distinguished guest is on his way. If it’s convenient, please wait with me.”

The group set up a shed in front of the city gate and brought in fruits and drinks. They sat there from the still relatively cool morning until the blazing midday sun, until their clothes and armor were so hot they were almost burning, before they saw movement in the direction of Ramree—Yubi squinted and looked in that direction, vaguely seeing two people and two horses coming up the ancient road through the sandstorm.

"I thought they would bring more people," he muttered. "Young girls love to look pretty, shouldn't they be dragging a whole group of luggage?"

"Is the guest you're waiting for a young girl?" Eudosia looked up with delight and anticipation—but she quickly became alert again. "...Perhaps Pascal and I should excuse ourselves and not disturb you and her."

“Oh no, I was hoping you could help me out of this predicament!” Yubi turned to look at her. “You probably know this best. I’m terrible at talking to girls, and I have no interest in these matters of love and marriage…”

Eudosia's expression was complex and intriguing upon hearing this. She glanced at Yubi, then at Pascal behind her, and finally her gaze settled on the distant figure, saying nothing. But Pascal spoke up. "If you don't mind, I can teach you some tips for winning a lady's heart," the knight whispered in Yubi's ear. "You'll greatly benefit from learning these."

“But I never intended to please a lady…” Yubi sighed.

"That's right, Lord Jubius isn't interested in ladies!" Yudosia suddenly spoke angrily for some reason. "Besides, thinking you can win a lady's heart with little tricks sounds really shallow!"

“You’re saying this because you’ve believed some unpleasant rumors and are slandering Lord Eubius!” Pascal looked up in surprise—he seemed never to have imagined that Eudosia would say such a thing to him. “…The technique may be superficial, but its usefulness is very real.”

“This is the first time I’ve ever realized you have such a disrespectful side,” Eudosia retorted, pouting in disappointment.

"Regardless of whether I'm interested in ladies or whether flirting skills are useful, I don't think I need to specifically learn them yet." Yubi interrupted their argument in surprise, "You two actually argue? I can hardly tell if this is a good thing or a bad thing!"

The two respectable men beside him, mocked, fell silent in embarrassment, each lost in their own thoughts. Just then, Schumeer finally arrived from the city, wiping away sweat. Upon seeing the approaching figures of the two men and two horses, he feigned surprise. "...Which remote, impoverished girl did Ibelin send?" he angrily rolled up his wide sleeves. "Yubi, this is utterly disrespectful... We should send her back to Ramree and forbid her from entering the city."

“I’m not some nobleman, I don’t have a title, and I’m sick… I think it’s only right that they send a girl like this!” Yubi quickly stopped him. “Besides, how do you know that just because this girl looks shabby, she must be of lowly status? Even if she is of lowly status, does that mean she’s morally inferior?”

“You are so kind and benevolent,” Schumacher said.

“You are absolutely right,” Pascal and Eudosia couldn’t help but agree. “You are a noble person.”

As they spoke, the girl reached their awning. Yubi noticed her strange attire—her long skirt was Frankish in style, yet made of Syrian cotton and linen; her headscarf was adorned with Saracen patterns, but her jewelry was made of Western cloisonné enamel and gemstones, adorned with a cross shape. The young lord approached her, politely extending his hand to personally help her down from her horse. His slaves held up umbrellas, and precious shade spread to the stirrups of their distinguished guest, where musicians began to play. At first glance, it even evoked images of romantic love poems.

“You must be the noble Lord Jubius,” the girl said in soft, gentle French. She dismounted and stared unabashedly at his veil and headscarf. “Just as I’ve heard, you suffer from a strange illness that prevents you from seeing the sun. I’m really curious about your face.”

Yubi was a little uneasy—his French wasn't good enough, and he struggled even with listening. "That's right. I'll have to ask you to come inside so I can be frank with you." The city lord waved his hand, signaling the slaves to help the maidservant behind the girl dismount. "I still don't know your name..."

"My name is Margarita!" The girl removed her veil, revealing a lively and sweet oval face—"Everyone calls me Margot, Margot of Ibelin!"

All the visitors were settled in and allowed to rest. That night, Ubi changed into a lighter, more elegant Frankish robe and led them to visit the newly built hall in the south of the city. The hall, smelling of lime and sawdust, wasn't particularly pleasant. But it was the only place in Ludwig that the young lord could think of to entertain people—he really didn't want to go to the church again and listen to Bishop Domenico tell the story of St. George over and over.

“The main hall was the first part to be completed; the hot springs and bedrooms will have to wait a few more months.” Yubi had the slaves light all the candles. “In my opinion, the floor here is inlaid with bricks, the walls are covered with glazed tiles, and the ceiling is decorated with limestone murals—we had Greek, Saracen, and Frankish craftsmen do the work. In a few days, when the large vases we ordered arrive, I plan to fill them with olive branches and rosemary, mixed with the finest peacock feathers. Then this place won’t feel so empty.”

He scanned the faces of all the guests one by one—Shumer's sister, upon seeing this lavish scene, inexplicably wore a tense expression, appearing wary and wooden; while Margot of Ibelin and Eudosia became acquainted after only a few words. The two girls, of similar age, though speaking different mother tongues, were already walking hand in hand. They would occasionally glance in his direction, letting out soft, rustling laughter; only Pascal looked up, feigning admiration.

“…What a beautiful hall!” the knight said, frowning.

“This is perfect for dancing!” Margot suddenly suggested. “Lord Eubius, can you dance?”

"Dancing?" Yubi opened her mouth in surprise. "If you... if you'd like to see a dance, I can send someone to invite dancers tomorrow..."

“I’m not wearing my prettiest dress today…” Eudosia whispered, “but I’ve been wanting to try dancing for a while now.”

“Look at you, even Eudoxia isn’t as pedantic as you.” Margot stepped forward and boldly took his hand. “The Greeks from Constantinople think dancing is undignified, but that’s not the case at all. Dancing is an elegant and pleasant thing, and all nobles should know how to dance—good heavens, your hands are as cold as ice, you should warm them up!”

"Nonsense?" Yubi was startled and tried to hide his hand behind his back. But the girl bravely grabbed his fingers. Margot then pulled the hesitant Pascal and placed his hand in Eudosia's—it seemed that this was what they had been planning all day. The four of them held hands, forming a circle, their faces flushed. Yubi noticed that the musicians accompanying them had already changed to a more upbeat tune.

“Follow my movements, everyone.” Margot took a graceful step, lifting her skirt in a beautiful arc. Being the center of attention made her happy and proud.

"One step to the left, one step to the right. Then raise your hands, clap three times to the rhythm, and spin around!"

It didn't seem that difficult, Yubi thought; he could enjoy the activity—provided he could overcome the constraints of shame and propriety. His gaze swept across the faces of all his dance partners. Pascal was clearly familiar with these hometown dances and needed no instruction, quickly becoming comfortable; Eudosia was curious and excited, lost in the ambiguous atmosphere; and Margot was intently observing his every reaction. Her gaze, like a fiery serpent, ensnared Yubi.

“It’s simple, isn’t it?” she said with a smile.

The group circled around the center of the tile pattern, their steps quickening and their clothes billowing higher and higher.

Yubi felt inexplicably dizzy, as if spiraling upwards along a non-existent tower, warm and floating. He saw everyone laughing, so he laughed too, feeling that having his corpse-cold hands touched wasn't such a big deal—but no one knew what he was really like. Yubi stared at their faces, watching the veins throb beneath them. Each person's flesh was like a crimson shadow.

He suddenly felt both base and noble, uniquely lonely. If only Yakov were here. Yubi's longing and guilt surged within him. If only he were holding Yakov's hand. Yakov knew all his secrets. They were almost one. In Yakov's presence, he never hesitated or hid anything, as naked and natural as in his mother's arms.

Thinking of this, Yubi turned his head away, wanting to find Schumacher to help him out of this predicament—but found that the Jew had already taken his sister away and disappeared without a trace.

"You're distracted, sir! You're even taking the wrong steps!" Margot forcefully pulled his hand back to remind him. "What are you thinking about?"

“I…I’m so sorry, I wanted to ask you…” Yubi turned his head and said softly. His voice was drowned out by the drumbeats. “Before you came, did you hear any…rumors about me?”

Margot looked at him in surprise. “There are many rumors about you, sir,” she said with a polite smile. “You are very popular here, and everyone is extremely curious about your family and lineage.”

“I don’t mean that… Have you…have you heard any unseemly things?” Yubi asked, steeling her resolve. “Like, like what happened between me and my knight…”

He wished the girl would show a vulnerable, wounded expression. But Margo just blinked. “Oh, that doesn’t matter at all. The girls care more about your title, your fiefdom, and your fertility than these things. You know, the stepson of the lord of Transjordan has similar interests, but no one says he’s disrespectful, just not very devout.”

The answer was not surprising. "...Anything else?" Yubi asked disappointedly. "Aren't you afraid of my illness?"

“Your illness is utterly mysterious. Some say it’s a compensation for your beauty, a trial by asceticism; others say it’s a manifestation of a curse, a symbol of evil.” Margot suddenly stared at his face with great interest, as if admiring it.

"...Why are you asking me these questions, sir? Do you think I'm inviting you to propose to me?" she asked.

Yubi's hand trembled, and he released the two girls. The spinning circle broke. He stopped dancing in surprise and embarrassment, and the music also stopped intermittently. Pascal and Eudosia stood opposite them, staring blankly.

“…Miss Margot, I’m so sorry…” he stammered. “I, I thought… I’m so sorry, I was so selfish, I beg you to be as selfish as I am… I love you, your passion is wonderful, but I have no ulterior motives towards you…”

“But I have no ulterior motives toward you!” Margot laughed. “My lord, I have only been asked to come here to teach you some Frankish etiquette, so that you will not be constrained in social situations!”

Yubi felt a burning sensation on his face and ears, and felt so embarrassed that he wanted to burrow into the ground; but then he thought with relief, "Great, so dancing can just be dancing, and guests can just be guests; so what I was worried about wasn't the case at all."

“I…I’m so sorry…” He smiled shyly. “I…I’m not used to this. It’s completely different from Constantinople. I thought…”

“I see. Greeks often make this kind of joke.” Pascal patted him on the shoulder. “At least you’re not like many of them, who would call someone a barbarian just because they see a different custom.”

“Savagery can also be considered a kind of freedom,” Eudosia laughed heartily.

"In that case, let's dance until dawn tonight!"

"Until dawn?"

“Until the moon sets and the sun rises.” Margot pointed to the crescent moon in the night sky. “Play at night and sleep during the day. This is a more suitable, enjoyable life for you!”

Yubi smiled. The music resumed, and the four men joined hands again, their shoes shuffling and treading across the new, inlaid floor tiles. Just then, an armored man entered the hall, stood before a pillar, and bowed to him. Yubi looked closely and recognized him as Daoud.

"What brings you here?" The city lord asked without stopping his dance. "Is it something important?"

“It’s alright, sir,” Daoud said, bowing his head. “...I just want to ask you for a few days of leave.”

Yubi rolled his eyes and thought for a moment, "Oh, today is your 18th birthday!" His voice rose and fell with the movement of his dance steps, "It's not that I don't want to give you a holiday, it's just that without you, there's no one to take care of the soldiers in the city! Maybe I'll grant it after Yakov returns!"

Daoud said nothing, only sullenly taking a few steps back. "Since I'm here, I can help keep an eye on those few dozen soldiers for a few days," Pascal said, offering himself to Yubi. "Let this poor servant have a proper birthday celebration!"

Yubi was weaving through Margot's arms, experimenting with his newly learned graceful dance moves—he was quick to learn and delighted by the girl's compliments. "You're lucky, Daoud!" he laughed heartily. "In that case, a week's vacation should be enough, right?"

Daoud knelt on the ground and bowed to Yubi. The inconspicuous figure of the servant was hidden by the cheerful music and bright candlelight, and no one noticed when he left.