Chapter 77: Golden Ouroboros (Twenty-Five)
◎Assyrian Rain◎
wave.
Sound of rain.
The ballad of a vague woman.
Raphael endured the burning pain.
He had long been accustomed to enduring pain, whether it was broken bones or a pierced heart, he accepted the torture of fate almost like a martyr, then stood up from the pain and waited for the next torture.
He knew that he was sick, and in his brain, which was robbed by the high fever, there was still a cruel little piece of clarity. He used this little bit of rationality to think about his current situation, cut off the pain that was raging in his body, and tried his best to recall other things to divert his attention.
Florence’s municipal planning, the coup in Calais, Roman’s recent movements… and Assyria. Oh, yes, and Assyria. Is the queen of Assyria really dead?
Raphael did not quite believe this news. This was most likely a rumor released by the Pilgrimage Alliance to shake the army of the Sargon Dynasty in the south. In an army with only the queen as a backbone, this trick would undoubtedly be very useful, but as long as the queen appeared in front of everyone, the rumor would be self-defeating. The reason why it was sent to his desk as a possible guess was probably because the queen could not show up now.
It doesn't necessarily mean death, it could be injury or illness.
Raphael prefers the latter two.
He thought he was thinking seriously, but the faint singing in the dim background always disrupted his thoughts. Raphael reacted vaguely and realized that maybe he was dreaming.
He always has this dream.
The waves and the tide, everything that was drowsy and swaying, the rain hitting the glass windows, and the vague singing of a woman that never stopped.
He later learned from Sancha that the song was an Assyrian folk song, and that his mother, who was rumored to be a prostitute, might be an Assyrian.
Mother, what a distant word.
Whenever Raphael mentioned this name, he would think of the scent from Ferrante's mother, Lea. That scent did not seem very attractive to Raphael, who had smelled all kinds of expensive spices later. Cheap powder, expiring perfume, mixed with the damp smell of the downtown area, made up Lea's unique smell.
But that woman was born with maternal instincts. Her fingers were soft and warm, her cheeks were plump, her long hair was fluffy, and her eyes were sparkling with tearful tenderness. When she held little Raphael, she was like the Madonna holding her own Son.
Raphael was genuinely jealous and even hated Leah's child at the time.
But that was a long time ago. Raphael was no longer the foolish child who craved for his mother's love. He had too many things in his heart, leaving no room for himself.
Raphael pulled himself out of this not-so-pleasant dream, and drowsily heard familiar voices talking in his ears.
"...the temperature drops..."▓
"...be careful...cold water..."
His consciousness was quickly pulled back into the silence, but this time, he felt as if someone was gently holding his hand.
In April, Assyria entered the rainy season. This vast land was blessed by the gods, with abundant rainfall all year round. In April and May, when the sea breeze blew towards the mainland, it would bring abundant precipitation. In Assyrian mythology, these were the tears shed by Eternal Heaven for its dead children, and those dead souls would wash away all their sins in this heavy rain and re-enter the cycle of reincarnation.
But Amenla didn't like this story. It could even be said that she hated the rainy season very much.
The greatest pain in her life came from this heavy rain.
Maybe she was just unlucky with rain in her life. The sudden rainstorm not only disrupted her battle plan, but also allowed assassins to infiltrate her guards. Her injuries worsened and made her unable to fight again. This obviously gave the Pilgrimage Alliance an opportunity to spread rumors.
Amenra knew that the news of her death must have spread across the entire Assyrian continent like a plague, and perhaps even spread to the Syracuse Peninsula. The only thing she could do was to put on light armor with the help of Ashur and go out for a walk to prove that she was still alive.
Such a brave act would cause her wound to reopen and even cause her to fall into a coma due to high fever.
However, the queen's physical condition was very good. Years of court life had not worn away her strength that once allowed her to gallop on horseback on the grasslands. The severe illness only delayed her for two days, and then she began to recover at a speed that astonished all the doctors.
By the third day, she was able to move her injured shoulder.
In order to take care of the injured queen, the army withdrew back to the city and the queen was placed in a manor. Ashur pushed the dining cart in and saw the queen sitting on the edge of the bed again, slowly trying to move her right hand.
"You are too impatient." The female official sighed helplessly.
She took the food from the dining car one by one and placed it on the table by the window. She heard the queen say, "No one will wait for me to recover. This war has reached a critical point. Bring me the map. Where are we now?"
Hearing this question, Ashur's back stiffened.
Her hesitation puzzled the queen, so Amenla raised her voice slightly: "Ashur?"
The queen wondered, is this question difficult to answer?
When she heard the place name uttered by her cousin, the familiar yet unfamiliar name was like a flash of lightning, splitting through all her defenses with ease.
"Saint-Santin Manor," Ashur said in a tone that was inexplicably cautious and sad, "We are at Saint-Santin Manor, Your Majesty. This is the only place nearby where you can rest."
Saint Sandin Estate.
This was the estate her father had gifted her, but she had last been seen here twenty-five years earlier.
"It seemed like it was raining so hard outside that day," Yamenla said softly, "I was in so much pain. I had never experienced such torture in my life before. I thought Delacroix's departure was the most painful thing for me, but then I found that it was just the most insignificant hurdle."
Ashur put a glass of Merada on the table and asked softly, "Do you regret it?"
Yamanra
As if laughing, she denied it resolutely: "No, I have never regretted it. Even now, I have to say that giving birth to Raphael is one of the things I am most proud of in my life."
As these words came out, a loud thunder exploded outside the window, as if the gods were angry.
This sentence is enough to make the hair of everyone who hears it stand on end and fill them with fear beyond words.
No one knew that Princess Sancha was not Queen Amenra's only child. Before her, Amenra, who was still a princess, had given birth to a child in Assyria.
And this child has now become the monarch of Florence, controlling the faith of hundreds of millions of people across the entire continent.
This is something that even Raphael himself didn't know.
His mother was not a lowly prostitute; on the contrary, she had the most noble birth and the most glorious crown in the world. She was a princess, a queen, and a sapphire that shone throughout Assyria.
As the heavy rain poured down, Amenla felt as if she had returned to more than 20 years ago. The decadent past came back to her again. She thought she had forgotten it all long ago, but when Ashur mentioned the name of Saint Sandin Manor, she realized belatedly that she had never forgotten it.
This house was completely different from what it was twenty-five years ago. The wallpaper, paintings and curtains on the four-poster bed had all been replaced with new ones. This was why she had not recognized it at first glance. But if she looked closely, there was an inconspicuous scratch on the ceiling. Even a new chandelier could not cover up the scratch. No one would have noticed it, but she had given birth on this bed and groaned in pain. During the long, unkillable time, she had been staring at the scratch, thinking about her unborn child. The great pain and sweetness overwhelmed her like a tide.
Oh my god, this is undoubtedly the cruelest thing in the world.
As a mother, she knew her child's fate clearly before she even saw him.
Amenla was only eighteen years old that year.
When she was fourteen years old, Archbishop Delacroix of Valencia was hired as the princess's religious teacher to teach her all religious knowledge. The people of Syracuse did not believe in Eternal Heaven, they believed in the Supreme Lord, and the Assyrian princess had never been exposed to this religion before.
At that time, Delacroix was young, handsome and intelligent, so it was not difficult for him to fall in love with him. They became lovers when Amenra was seventeen years old, even though they both knew that Amenra was already Roman's queen.
They galloped on horseback in the wilderness, hugged and kissed in meadows and streams, expressing their love for each other frankly and passionately. Unlike the Syracuse court which was full of rules and constraints, the wind and rain in Assyria were free, and their love grew unbridled, spreading wildly in the moonlight and tides. This prairie fire burned the future pope and queen. They cast aside all their identities and shackles, and finally burned each other into one.
They were calmer and more sober than anyone else. Even when they were most infatuated, they never asked each other for a future. They knew clearly that they could not have more, and this love was destined to become a secret buried in the dust, unknown to anyone.
The following year, the Portia family wrote to say that they hoped to marry the Claudius family, and Delacroix, one of the best candidates, left Assyria.
A month after he left, Amenra discovered she was pregnant.
The young princess decided to give birth to the child without any hesitation.
Although she knew very well what the best choice was, perhaps it was that little bit of warmth that made her abandon that cruel option. She wrote to Delacroix, and he was willing to take the child away after he was born. As his nephew or niece, it was not a big problem.
Illegitimate children are common in every aristocratic family, and it is even more normal for a man to have an illegitimate child. If Amenra was not about to become the Queen of Roman, she would not even mind keeping the child with her.
Two months later, Amenla secretly went to Saint-Santin Manor to give birth.
The newly married Delacroix sent a letter from the Papal States, in which he hoped that the child would be named Raphael, the archangel who served the Holy Lord and was in charge of light and justice. According to legend, this archangel was beautiful and gentle, and wherever he passed by was spring. The Holy Lord loved him as much as he loved his own Son, and let the morning star in the sky always illuminate the way ahead for him.
Five months later, Princess Amenra gave birth to a boy at Saint-Santin Estate.
"If nothing unexpected happens, he will never know who his mother is in his life," the young princess held the newborn baby, put her cheek against the baby's pink skin, and murmured, "He has the most noble birth in the world, but is destined to accept the most painful torture."
The princess gazed at her eldest son. The baby huddled in his mother's arms with his eyes closed, babbling meaningless words, his hair stuck to his head. His tiny fingers lovingly grasped his mother's fingers, which were much bigger than his own. He stayed safely and trustingly in the arms of the person in this world who loved him unconditionally.
He was still so small, with a round and soft face, delicate features and rosy skin, and was cuter than the most expensive doll.
The little baby doesn't know that his life has already been filled with thorns.
He will be abandoned, tortured, hurt, used, and betrayed until he reaches eternal peace in life.
Amenra held her newborn baby in her arms. Outside the window, there was heavy rain, thunder and lightning, as if the gods were denouncing the birth of this fruit of sinful love.
The princess pricked her finger and bright red blood gushed out. She put her finger close to the baby's mouth, which was murmuring for food. The warm blood rolled into the child's mouth and became his first bite of food after he came into the world.
"You will have a rough life," Amenla looked at his ignorant eldest son with pity, "I can't give you flowers and honey, I can only give you the cruelest weapon."
"The first mouthful you drink in this life is your mother's blood. It protects you from being harmed by sharp blades and poisons, and keeps the shadow of death away from you."
She began to hum a nursery rhyme, which every Assyrian mother sang to her child, and which her mother had sung to her, and which she would sing to her own children.
"My little angel," Amenra whispered. "My little angel."
She reverently pressed a mother's kiss on her child's forehead. For many years afterwards, every time she kissed her little daughter, she would think of this unique kiss she had given to her lost child.
"Goodnight, my little angel."
She handed the child to Ashur, who had been waiting by her bed for a long time.
Delacroix's knights were waiting downstairs and they would take the child to his father.
However, things did not go as smoothly as they imagined. The baby disappeared shortly after leaving the manor. The bodies of the knights were found in the meadow. Someone who was well prepared kidnapped the sensitive child.
The pain gnawed at the young mother's heart day and night, and she was almost crazy trying to find her missing child. But half a year later, news came from Roman that the throne had been replaced. The young monarch put on the crown and came to marry his queen as promised.
Assyria lost their princess, Roman had a new queen, and as for the missing child -
It took a long time for Amenla to finally figure it all out.
The author has something to say:
This chapter contains a lot of information hahahaha...The reason why Amenla hates rain is finally revealed! Raphael also hates rain. The mother and son have a strange tacit understanding... But Raphael hates rainy days because his leg was broken on a rainy day, and Amenra hates rainy days because she lost her child on a rainy day.
Regarding Raphael's life experience, there was a very obscure mention in the previous article. I carefully considered every meeting between him and Amenla, and there are many small details. Amenla said that Delacroix was a scumbag without teacher ethics, which was really appropriate... You can go back to Chapter 39 to see. Amenla mentioned it when he was getting along with Sangxia. The name "little angel" was obviously referring to Raphael. Sangxia is the little sun. I wonder if anyone has noticed it, hahahahahaha
Sanxia and Raphael have such a good relationship because of their blood connection~
After knowing this, many of the previous foreshadowing clues can be retrieved!
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