So the policy was changed, and the outer wall remained in the quarries. He increased the size of the garrison, not so much to strengthen his military standing, as to give employment to the young men of the area. Fifteen of the most intelligent received the buffet of knighthood and were sent as the knight’s fee to the capital. With them went sixty men-at-arms, being the quota demanded by the Assizes of Jerusalem. They joined the royal army and drew their pay from the king.
In the castle court – held in the Hall of the Constable – Humphrey had judged his first cases of theft, arson and murder. Although his people were friendly they were also human, poor and fallible. In the first murder trial, Humphrey found the allegations proven, but could not bring himself to pass sentence of death. He announced that he would give his verdict later in the day and adjourned the court. The friendly townsfolk, anxious to ease their young lord’s conscience, took the murderer away from his guards, carried him a decent distance from the castle, then tore him to pieces.
They were stunned and impressed when Humphrey ordered four of them to be flogged, back and chest, sentenced the guard sergeant to a lifetime’s servitude in the fly-blown outpost of Raheb and fined every member of the guard detail six months pay…
Now it was May and he stood on the battlements above the barbican gate, waiting for his friend to arrive from Nablus. He had begun his vigil soon after dawn, armed with a volume of William of Tyre’s Historia Rerum in Partibus Transmarinis Gestarum. William of Tyre, one-time Chancellor of the Kingdom and later Archbishop of Tyre, was the man who had unsuccessfully challenged Heraclius for the post of Patriarch. Having gained the position with the help of Agnes of Courtenay, Reynald of Chatillon and the Lusignan brothers, Heraclius had promptly excommunicated his popular rival. William left Palestine for Rome to plead his case before the Pope. Time and again a decision was deferred and, so far as Humphrey knew, William was still there, writing his history and awaiting the papal decree. He had already completed some twenty volumes of the Historia, and various copies found their way back into the kingdom. Humphrey wondered if Ernoul had read them; they were the sort of thing he would enjoy.
He glanced along the road that twisted up from the town, saw no one and continued reading. He learned that the castle of Toron had been built between 1103 and 1105 by the French knight, Hugh Falconberg of Saint-Omer, but that the Prince of Galilee did not live to enjoy it. Within a few months of the completion of the fortress he was killed by a force from Damascus, and the fief passed to another Frenchman, Gervase of Basoches. According to William, Gervase fared no better, for three years later he was captured by Toghetin of Homs, atabeg of Damascus. With such an important Frankish prisoner in his cells, Toghetin demanded that the king, Baldwin I, surrender the citadels of Acre, Haifa and Tiberias. Not unnaturally, the king refused and, not unnaturally, Toghetin directed his wrath at his captives. Gervase of Basoches was killed and scalped, and his pale hair woven into a Moslem banner.
Humphrey touched a hand to his head and looked up from the book. Two figures on horseback were rounding the final bend in the road. It was difficult to tell, but – yes, surely it was them. He waved, and the taller of the two waved back. Ha! It was! He called to one of the men-at-arms, gave him the book and told him to return it to the library. Descending the steps inside the gate he yelled, ‘Sergeant of the guard! Turn out your men! Good friends arrive!’ and started out to meet them. Then he remembered that his wife had intended to take a bath, ran back and said, ‘Tell Princess Isabella that the scribbler is here.’
The sergeant frowned and repeated, ‘The scribbler.’
‘Yes! The writer, the poet, the chronicler. He’s my friend, it’s a term of affection.’
Measuring his words the sergeant intoned, ‘Oh, very well, my lord. I’ll tell our Lady Isabella that the scribbler is here.’ Both men turned away and both raised their eyes to heaven. Then Humphrey plunged through the gate again and hurried along the road. He did not mind if the soldiers thought him a little mad today, for though he had settled well at Toron, he missed his few old friends, and in particular Ernoul. He hoped that the girl Idela would enjoy herself and get along with Isabella. He acknowledged that she must have something, to be Ernoul’s companion, but prayed that she was not prone to fits of giggling. He had eradicated that nervous vice in Isabella; with luck Ernoul had done the same for Idela.
They trotted nearer. Humphrey stood beside the road, one hand raised in welcome. He recognized the slim young squire and hummed approval at Idela’s appearance. She did indeed have something, and would still have it even if she was deaf or dumb. A wave of black hair under her travelling hood, dark eyes and a clear, pale complexion. He glanced unashamedly at her legs, what he could see of them between boots and kirtle, and at her breasts, laced within a lemon coloured bodice. Hmmm, he thought.
Ernoul called, ‘Good day, my Lord Humphrey. We seek permission to enter your castle.’
Humphrey thought he was making fun of him, then saw he was not. He was confused by the courtesy, waited a moment, then replied in kind.
‘You are welcome here, dear Ernoul. You and your fine Idela. Give me your bridles.’ He went forward between the horses and treated the gate guards to a sight they had never seen; the Lord of Toron leading animals like a common ostler. The men-at-arms exchanged glances. This Ernoul fellow, and his lady Idela, they’d need special treatment. Lord Humphrey was making that quite clear.
The guard of honour was drawn up for inspection. Humphrey stopped the horses short of the double line and, while Ernoul dismounted, he helped Idela to the ground. The girl was tongue-tied. Ernoul had told her that Toron did not compare in size with Kerak yet the castle seemed to stretch away to infinity, tower after tower, wall beyond wall.
Humphrey grinned at her, enjoying his work, then set her lightly on her feet. She stammered, ‘I thank you, sire, my lord,’ and glanced round desperately for Ernoul. Humphrey clapped his hands together and laughed up at the gate arch. All would be well. His friend was here and the girl was a delight. Now all he wanted was Isabella, to make his happiness complete.
The horses were led away. With Ernoul at one side and Humphrey at the other, Idela walked between the double line.
Humphrey asked, ‘Do you approve of them?’
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted, ‘they look so stern. But as soldiers they seem well set.’
‘That’s a fair view. Ernoul?’
‘You could teach your stepfather a thing or two about discipline.’
‘Well said. Mine are a deal better than his slovens, aren’t they? And I pay them more, with less in the coffers.’
‘It shows, though you wouldn’t get them to stand so just for the money.’
‘You’re right again. They have pride in themselves and, I like to think, in Toron.’ He glanced at Idela. She was clearly over-awed and he chatted to her, to put her at her ease. They reached the end of the lines and entered the main bailey. ‘There,’ Humphrey said, ‘that terminates all ceremony. Now, if you will excuse me for a moment—’
He strode back toward the gate, then turned out of sight behind a high, wooden hawk house. Ernoul and Idela held hands and moved to one side of the bailey.
He asked, ‘Is this how you imagined a castle to be?’
‘Not so large.’ She gripped his hand more tightly. ‘Ernoul, what am I to do when I meet Princess Isabella? Lord Humphrey makes it easy for me, but his wife’
‘His wife, as you know full well, is twelve years old. You will curtsy to her and I will bow, and then she will probably want to know if you play jeu des dames or knuckle bones. Don’t worry, sweet, she will be as easy as Humphrey. She – now what?’ They stood watching as the young Lord of Toron reappeared, this time leading a sleek Arab stallion. The proud, high-stepping horse wore a decorated saddle and bridle. Its mane and tail shone like Sicilian silk; its hooves had been stained and polished.
Humphrey brought the horse across to them and said, ‘Ernoul, with your permission.’
Not quite knowing what he was supposed to permit, the squire responded, ‘Well, yes, of course.’
‘Thank you. Then, Idela, I offer you this token of welcome.’ He paused, saw the pleasure and confusion in her face, and spoke on to save her stammering a reply. ‘I knew that Ernoul would one day find a young lady with both wit and beauty, and when I heard that you would visit us here I sensed – no, I knew that his day had come. He is undeserving, though I don’t expect you to agree.’
‘No,’ she smiled, ‘I don’t.’
‘Quite. Then I will say that his patience has been fully rewarded. Now, will you reward me and accept this animal?’
Idela turned to Ernoul, and Humphrey gave the reins an imperceptible tug so that the horse moved, pulling him round. Ernoul nodded, yes, accept the gift.
‘My Lord Humphrey—’
He stilled the horse and turned back to her. ‘Dear Idela, don’t think of a speech for me. Just say “I will take it”.’
‘Oh, yes, my lord, yes, I will take it!’
‘Good. His name is Zerbino. He was the gallant son of—’
‘the King of Scotland,’ she concluded excitably. ‘Yes, I know. He married Isabella, daughter of— ’
‘the King of Galicia.’ Humphrey grinned. ‘So you are conversant with the legends of Charlemagne?’
‘Tolerably, though I admit I have now thrown them over for the writings of one Ernoul.’
While Ernoul indulged in a coughing bout, Humphrey reappraised the herbalist’s daughter. If she read, then she probably wrote. These attributes, together with her undeniable good looks, made her a catch to be prized. He bowed with admiration, then called his horsemaster.
‘Zerbino now belongs to our lady Idela. I return him to your charge, master, until our lady requires him.’
‘Does she ride?’ the horsemaster inquired rudely, ‘or am I to give her lessons?’
‘She rides as prettily as you’ll ever see,’ Humphrey said. ‘As for lessons, you could do with a few in common politeness. Take the animal.’
Idela asked, ‘Are you responsible for his appearance, master?’
‘Yes, lady, that’s so. What’s wrong with it?’
‘Nothing whatsoever. He’s been kept with some great care, I d say. You must be well thought of in your work.
‘I am,’ he said. ‘I am the best in Toron.’ He sucked his teeth and went off without waiting to be dismissed.
Ernoul remarked, ‘The man is an artist, eh, Humphrey?
‘I’m surrounded by them. By artistic men and clever women. I feel like a clod.’ With malicious innocence he said, ‘By the way, have you ever chanced to read William of Tyre’s Historia Rerum in Partibus—’
‘Transmarinis Gestarum? Some eight or nine volumes, yes. Have you read them all?’
‘Am I not allowed to finish a phrase these days? No, I haven’t read them all, damn your spinning brain. But I should have known better than to try and trick you.’ He sighed melodramatically and gestured toward the walls. ‘I’ll catch you out yet. Do you know when this place was built, and at whose command?’
‘Wasn’t it by Hugh Falconer of Saint-Omer?’
‘Ha, no, it wasn’t. It was Falconberg. The year?’ He had already decided to dodge one way or the other within the three year span, forcing Ernoul to be wrong, whatever he said. He was so keen to spring his trap that when Ernoul admitted, ‘I’m ignorant of the year,’ he retorted, ‘No, wrong.’
‘What?’
‘You’re – didn’t you give a date?’
‘No, I told you, I don’t know.’
Humphrey sighed again. ‘Oh, no matter. Come on. Isabella will be waiting for us.’ They walked toward the octagonal tower that soared up behind the Hall of the Constable, their voices fading into muted question and answer.
‘In what year did we fight the battle of Dorylaeum?… In July, 1097 … What is so memorable about it?… It was the first time we engaged the Saracens in pitched battle… Good. When was the year of the great Syrian earthquake?… Easy. 1170. And the month was June … Yes, that’ll do… And the date was the 28th or 29th… Yes, yes. What do you need to make Greek Fire?… I have no idea… So! I’ve found a chink at last. I’ll tell you. You take sulphur, wine dregs, oil, pitch, gum of Persia, salt that has been baked hard…’
* * *
Isabella was terrified of meeting Idela. She knew how dearly Humphrey valued his friendship with Ernoul, and she was determined to make the girl welcome, whatever her private feelings toward her. In fact, there were very few people, men or women, whom Isabella disliked outright. Her half-sister Sibylla was one, and, of course, Sibylla’s mother, Agnes of Courtenay. She hated Reynald of Chatillon for what he had done to Humphrey, and she despised Patriarch Heraclius for himself. Otherwise, apart from the odd childhood pique, she had mixed naturally with both the high and low orders, and was thought of as a spirited young woman, whom only a fool would take for a fool.
When she saw Idela for the first time she sensed instinctively that things would go well between them. For one thing, they each owned the same type of travelling cloak. For another, Idela seemed, if anything, even more apprehensive. Isabella thought, she’s uncommonly pretty, withal. That’s good, she can show me how to use cosmetics.
She stayed where she was in the doorway of the octagonal tower until Humphrey and his guests were a few feet from the steps, then ran down to them.
Ernoul coughed quietly and bowed. ‘Princess Isabella.’
Idela dropped a curtsy and murmured, ‘Princess.’
Isabella glanced at Humphrey. ‘There’s no need for this. Didn’t you tell them?’
‘God’s truth, I forgot,’ he said. ‘Anyway, it’s done now; be honoured.’
In some confusion the young guests drew erect, while Humphrey came between them. ‘It’s my fault,’ he said. ‘I should have learned from your courtesies at the gate. Idela, take my wife’s hand. Go with her. We’ll follow in a moment.’ He nodded encouragement and Isabella extended a hand. ‘Yes, keep me company. Are you hungry, or shall I first show you around?’
‘As you wish, Princess.’
‘Oh, less formal, I beg you. You must have seen four or five more years of life than I. Let it be Isabella, or any other name you can make up. I’m sure I’ll find an eke-name for you within a few days. She smiled and led Idela into the tower. The men remained below, watching their women.
* * *
They ate before the sun was too high, and then the women retired to Isabella’s solarium to discuss the merits of paint and powder, song and superstition, Humphrey and Ernoul.
The men left the tower to play handball in the yard, hurling the tough, sewn skin at each other and grinning as the dust covered them. After a while Humphrey said, ‘Enough. You’ll never out-point me now. The cooks keep water boiling, so we can bathe at any time.’
Ernoul choked with indignation. ‘Out-pointed? I’m not! You’re the one. How many times did you drop it, or miss it?’
‘Five by my count. And eight for you.’
‘Dog’s vomit! Power has turned your head. I made five errors, whereas you – you spent more time prostrate than on your feet. I win, it’s beyond dispute.’
‘Your eyes must be blocked with dust. Still, as you’re the guest’ He shrugged, then slapped his clothes.
Ernoul did not realize that he was being teased. ‘No charity!’ he fumed. ‘I won, fair and clean. Start again, and I’ll win again. I’ll even give you two points, because I’m better.’
‘No, no, it’s done with now.’ He picked up the skin and, as Ernoul made ready to catch it, kicked it out of the yard.
‘But that’s not fair!’
‘Come and bathe.’
Ernoul tetched and glared balefully at his friend. Then Humphrey laughed and said, ‘You did win, five against eleven, but you’re not very humble, are you?’
‘No, not when I’m good at something. Fostus told me that—’
‘Ah, that iron man. I could do with a F
ostus here.’
‘He’s pledged to Lord Balian. I don’t think he would go with any man on earth, save Balian.’
‘Don’t worry, dear friend, I wouldn’t try to take him. God made them to ride together, anyone can see that. Now, if you’ve regained your composure, I’d like to wash away the dust of my defeat.’ On the way back to the tower he asked, ‘How do you find Isabella?’
‘Well, Humphrey, since I first met the princess I have thought her—’
‘Ernoul, Ernoul. We will have a stiff time if you are so formal. I liked you better when you were disputing the score. We stand on few ceremonies here, that’s the marvel of it. I am free to say what I want, to be what I want. To be – Humphrey IV of Toron, and now not only in name. I’ve already extended you the same freedom. So, how do you find her?’
‘She’s more than you deserve.’
‘Ha! You’re right, and I am aware of it every day. She and Idela seem well suited. She’s a beauty, your Idela.’
‘She was much in awe—’
‘And Isabella. It’s wonderful, you know. The four of us. As I promised at Kerak, we’ll have a fine time. It was good of Lord Balian to release you. When are you due to return?’
‘At your pleasure.’
‘Then never! I’ll give you half the tower, or anywhere you like. And I’ll knight you – I can do that now – and your girl will be our lady Idela. That has a ring, doesn’t it? Say yes.’
‘It would be a way, though Lord Balian still finds things for me to do.’
‘So you do have some humility, after all. Things to do. He relies heavily on you, and, trusts you more than most. You’ll go back there, because, like Fostus, you belong with him. But promise me. Stay as long as you can, this time. I—’ He opened his hands and Ernoul encouraged, ‘Say on, lord.’
The Knights of Dark Renown Page 18
