Thinking that Raymond had chosen to check his fitness because he was the youngest and least hardy of the assembled barons, Humphrey claimed, ‘I’m bearing with it as well as anyone here, Lord Regent. Like you, I’m dried out and, like the rest, I’m fatigued, but—’
‘I am not nursing you, Toron, so don’t parade your irritation. I ask your condition because I intend to propose a scheme in which you will figure most prominently.’ He rubbed his long, ugly nose and attempted to lighten the atmosphere. As ever, he was faced with the seeming inability of others to comprehend his sense of humour. They maintained he had none, but he was sure that it was merely because they did not see events from his viewpoint.
Now he said, ‘In my scheme you will at least have cushions for your buttocks.’
Humphrey and Ernoul frowned up at him, and he hurried, ‘Yes, well, so long as you are wide awake,’ and moved away through the fire smoke.
Ernoul dared to feel pity for the Regent of the Kingdom. Raymond was such a good man, so sincere, so worthy of the crown that had been held out, then snatched back again, yet withal so unrelievedly dull. Cushions for Humphrey’s buttocks? The young squire shook his head and heard Humphrey mutter, ‘Nor I. His wit is cast in lead.’
A few moments later Balian returned. He was followed by two servants who dispensed the wine and left three full jars to cool in the window. The barons drank greedily and waited for Raymond to reopen the discussion.
Standing near the fire where they could all see him, he said, ‘This long session has confirmed the magnitude of our task. The myriad suggestions you have put forth have helped clarify the situation, though, thus far, we are faced with only two choices. For myself, I find each of these as unworkable or unpalatable as the other. Nevertheless, they are all we have, and I’ll remind you of them.’
Balian surrendered and yawned behind his hand. He felt that Raymond was being too dogged. In the Regent’s place he would have sent everybody to bed and resumed the discussion in the morning. Though, gazing red-eyed at the uncovered window, he realised that it was already morning. He yawned again and settled down in the chair, trying hard to concentrate on Raymond’s words.
‘First then, we can accept the situation as it is. Whatever the circumstances of the coronation, Guy and Sibylla are king and queen. So, if you ask me to free you from the oath of allegiance you made to the child Baldwin, you will be able to go in all honesty and bow the knee before King Guy.’
‘Not on this earth!’ Baldwin of Ramleh shouted. ‘I say here and now, I will be the first to leave the country, rather than submit to that broken pair. Mark what I say. You will not find me in the Kingdom of Cornfield Lusignan!’
‘Brother,’ Balian growled, ‘don’t be so hasty. We’ll find other ways.’
‘Oh, yes, and probably as feeble as those we have already found. It’s as our Lord Regent says, each choice is as unworkable as the other. No, brother, don’t soften me. My mind is set.’
‘You are a man of courage,’ Raymond said. ‘It would be no little thing to leave your lands at Ramleh. But defection cannot help rid us of Guy and his party. Now, if the first is too much, hear the alternative. It is for us to hold Seneschal Joscelin to his word and for you to make me king. When Sir Conrad of the Hospital came to Tiberias and told me that I, and you Balian, and you Baldwin, were all supposed to have laid a claim to the throne I was shocked that such a brazen lie could be believed. But when he further informed me that the people of Jerusalem were giving credence to the Patriarch’s story that I had begun a march on the capital I came near to losing my mind. Yet, my lords, if I am made king, we must do just that. You will all have to assemble your forces, gather with mine and march with me against Jerusalem. We are fully agreed, I think, that in such a situation brutish strength must triumph. I accepted Joscelin’s offer in good conscience, but I will not cut a bloody swathe through my own people to reach the throne. I tell you this alternative, although my heart was never in it.’ He stood silent for a moment, then drank and wiped the wine from his lips.
Walter of Caesarea said, ‘You raise and lower that second choice, as you must. And I am still in agreement with you. You should be king, yes, but you cannot take that path. Yet what have we gained from this night-long discourse? We do not wish to make submission to Guy, nor to take up arms against him, nor to follow our Lord of Ramleh into exile. We are tethered, neither palfrey, nor destrier.’
‘Not yet,’ Raymond told him. ‘I have a fresh scheme, one we passed over hours ago.’
Baldwin snapped, ‘This is no time to remind us of our shortcomings. If you have unearthed something we overlooked, show it to us and let us pass an opinion on it.’
‘Very well, Baldwin, assess the plausibility of this. If we, who have no claim by lineage, are unable to compete with Guy, we must find someone who is. Someone – ’ pointing through the smoke ‘ – like him!’
They stared at Humphrey of Toron, who struggled to his feet. He gasped, ‘Me? You would set me against—’
‘And why not?’ Raymond demanded. ‘Like Sibylla, your wife is King Amalric’s daughter.’
‘Yes, but Sibylla takes precedence. We could not alter that fact.’
‘We will not attempt to. Sibylla was only the ladder by which ber husband reached the throne.’
‘Lord Regent, are you saying that by using my wife Isabella—’
‘I am saying that the queen has Agnes of Courtenay for a mother, and a shake-kneed Poitevin for a husband. Guy of Lusignan has no history in this land, whereas you, the fourth Humphrey of Toron and grandson of the warrior Constable, would be welcomed with open arms by all those who mistrust Guy, to my mind the majority of the people. Remember, the crowd in Jerusalem was kept in ignorance of the truth. They did not know that Guy would be crowned. Good God, he himself did not know it until the end! He was foisted upon them, and I tell you, Humphrey, they will quickly grow cool toward him.’ He turned to the other barons and remarked, ‘Why, we may even draw some support from our sternest rivals. After all, Humphrey is Stephanie of Milly’s son. To think, if we had the Lord of Kerak on our side!’
Balian was cautious of this dawn optimism and spared a thought for his stepson. He said, ‘If that’s the sum of it, let’s first hear from Lord Humphrey. The responsibilities of kingship are not to all tastes.’
‘Thank you, sire,’ Humphrey responded, ‘but I must speak my mind on this. I am totally surprised by my Lord Regent’s proposal, and Princess Isabella has yet to hear it. However, this much I can say, even before I speak with her. I would rather not be king.’
‘And I would rather be so!’ Raymond stated. ‘How else to shore up our sagging defences?’
‘Seneschal Joscelin was right in one thing. It is you, Lord Regent, who merits the throne. For me, Toron is as great an area of land as I care to encompass. I beg you, all of you, search on until you find some other plan.’
Raymond frowned, then rubbed the lines away with a wine-stained hand.
‘It is too late for us to suit ourselves,’ he said. ‘I would be king, but cannot – you say you would rather not be, but you must. I see no other way by which we can depose Guy and cleanse our condition. I suggest you sleep on this, Humphrey, then tell us on the morrow if you are still fearful of the throne. But I advise you to bow to the inevitable. You remain our only hope in this matter.’ He saw Baldwin and Walter nod uncertainly, told the barons they would continue the discussion at midday and went out, his shoulders stooped with fatigue.
Balian then made an error that he was to regret all his life. Humphrey came across to him and said, ‘Please, sire, tell me what position you hold. Can you really say that the Regent’s scheme is composed of aught but hope and ideal?’
‘In all truth,’ Balian yawned, ‘my thinking is warped for want of rest. I’ll tell you my views tomorrow. Forgive me, young Humphrey, but I think our conversation would stand better on a foundation of sleep.’ He turned his head toward a corner of the chamber and muttered, ‘Good night to you, E
rnoul. Or is it good day? Whichever, don’t stay transcribing your notes until you drop.’ He pushed himself from the chair, nodded at Reginald and Walter, then went out with his brother Baldwin.
* * *
When the barons had gone, Humphrey said, ‘Ernoul, listen to me.’ The squire had moved to a small side table and was crouched over it, writing fast before his memory failed. He gestured to Humphrey to wait a moment, then sighed as his friend insisted, ‘This cannot wait.’ Laying his pen across the parchment, so that the sheet curled and prevented it rolling, he straightened and rubbed the base of his spine.
‘Have some mercy,’ he reasoned. ‘Lord Balian has common sense on his side. We should first lay a foundation of—’
‘I could not fall asleep now, unless I was drugged. Anyway, I won’t keep you talking here. I’ve already decided what to do.’
‘God, my back aches. Well, what have you decided?’
‘Do you have the strength to stay on a horse?’
‘To stay on – What in heaven’s name for? You mean now?’
‘Yes, now.’
‘Dog’s vomit, Humphrey, what riddle—’
‘Yes or no? Are you too infirm, or will you ride with me?’ Ernoul clicked his tongue and glanced through the window at the flesh-coloured sky. ‘Where would we go? Do you merely need the air, or is this tied to your decision?’
‘Questions, questions!’
‘Yes, questions.’
‘It should not matter where! You are supposed to be my friend – ’
‘So I am, and that’s why it matters. Whatever you say, you are pallid with fatigue. I, likewise, and if I’m to go charging out with you at this hour of the morning—’
‘Jerusalem.’
‘then I have the right to know how far – Jerusalem?’
‘Where else? After what was said in here tonight, where else would I ride? For once, your master and my stepfather has denied us his advice, so I must act on my own accord.’
‘But of all places, why Jerusalem?’
‘Let me finish. I don’t know how seriously you take Count Raymond’s suggestion, but I’m certain that when he wakes later it will have hardened into a command. You heard him say what he would and would not do to become king. He limits himself on his own behalf, because he has no claim by lineage. But I have!’
‘No. It’s Princess Isabella—’
‘Ah, don’t be such a pedant. Isabella or Humphrey, what difference when we both must occupy the throne? And don’t think I speak only for myself. I told Lord Raymond that Isabella has yet to hear of it, but I can answer for her now.’ Pleading with Ernoul as though the chronicler held the power of yea and nay over him, Humphrey continued, ‘We do not want the throne! I say it now and will repeat it every day of my life. I do not seek to be king; Isabella has no desire to be queen. We have discussed such things – not this present threat, but similar ones – and we are clear in our minds. We will serve the Kingdom as long as we may, but we will not lead it. That is the truth.’
Very gently, Ernoul asked, ‘Why do you shun the crown?’ Humphrey took a slow, deep breath and moved across to the window. He gave some thought to the question, then said, ‘For the first seventeen years of my life I remained at Kerak. I saw power wielded there, absolute power, sometimes used well, more often employed corruptly. Do you know, Ernoul, there is a dreadful satisfaction to be derived from the misuse of power? I’m confused about it, but I see it as a release, a breaking of the bonds of sense and responsibility, an opportunity to advance beyond all borders of restraint, yet ever in the knowledge that one’s decisions cannot be gainsaid, nor one’s actions thwarted.’ He turned abruptly from the window. ‘Am I clear to you, my friend?’
‘If we speak of Reynald—’
‘Yes, yes, we do! I have seen him acting the honest man, and as such he is so – ordinary. But when he is the true Reynald, using himself, then he is like a god.’
‘More like a demon.’
‘Of course a demon, but with such unrestricted power, razing this, murdering those, placing as little value on his words as he would on a string of wooden beads! Don’t you see where I lead?’
‘You think that if you became king you would also become corrupt?’
‘I don’t know. That’s the truth, Ernoul. I don’t know. But because I have seen such corruption employed, because I have lived with it, and learned that there is no man strong enough to defeat it, not one anywhere in the Kingdom, I will not risk following such an uncurbed path.’ He sighed again, then smiled quizzically at the young chronicler. ‘Do I sound too pious to be believed?’
‘You sound deeply disturbed,’ Ernoul answered, ‘yet it is one of the most honest things I have ever heard a man say. You fear that power may use you, rather than you controlling it.’
‘Not as master of Toron, but as King of Jerusalem, yes, I do fear it.’
‘And with the mention of that city, you clearly do not think yourself strong enough to resist Raymond and the others.’
‘That’s so. That’s why I must leave here before the council reassembles.’
‘Then why do you not return straightway to Toron? The barons won’t ride that far north to pester you.’
‘Perhaps not, but I must first see my unreal sister-in-law and tell her that whatever she hears to the contrary, I have no wish to act in conflict with her.’
Ernoul frowned. ‘You know, this might not be interpreted in your favour. For example, what will the Regent say when he hears that you have treated with his rivals? Also, there’s a good chance you’ll be killed.’
‘We,’ Humphrey corrected. ‘If there’s any killing, we’ll both meet God. You don’t imagine the queen would save your scrawny carcass, do you?’
‘I am sure she would not, though I have still to say I will come with you. If the truth is told, I doubt the wisdom of this move.’ He reached out a hand, said, ‘Humphrey’ then let the hand fall. ‘Hell’s sting, I may as well ride alongside. And hope you break your neck on the way.’
* * *
They approached St Gilles, fifteen miles south of Nablus. They had kept silent most of the way, but now, terrified of what Lord Balian would do to him for having deserted – and there was no other way of describing their hasty exit from the castle – Ernoul said, ‘Hold up a minute, Humphrey. We cannot risk our lives without saying farewell to our women.’
Humphrey reined in his horse and glanced scornfully at the scribbler. ‘In truth, is that your fear?’
‘What else?’
‘Lord Balian, for something else. You’re more scared of him than of Sibylla’s brutal guards. That’s why you want to go back.’
‘You insult me,’ Ernoul protested. ‘I just want to bid farewell to Idela, is that so much? This way she will wake, find us gone—’
‘And learn why. While you were arranging for the horses I dug old Fostus from his sleep. He knows what we’re about and he’ll tell Isabella and Idela when he sees them.’
‘Oh. Well, that’s set right then. Was he angry at being awakened?’
‘He was rabid. He must be aging, because it was after dawn. Now, is your mind at ease?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Then spur your mount, or we’ll never get there.’
* * *
They rode on, passed the tiny roadside stronghold called Baldwin’s Tower and, farther south, the small lay fortress of Bethel. Then they could see Ramallah, perched high on its hill, a reminder that they were less than ten miles from the capital.
Humphrey said, ‘Let’s take a rest here. We’re not so pressed for time.’
‘I’m not weary,’ Ernoul told him. ‘I thought you wanted to reach Jerusalem with all speed.’
‘So I do, so I do. But I’ve been thinking. Once inside the walls, Sibylla, or more likely Joscelin or Amalric, might be loath to let us free.’
‘Well, you’ve climbed down a step or two. In the castle you were busy promising me an audience with God. Now you’re worried that we’ll
be held captive, a much better fate than a blade in the belly.’
Humphrey winced at the thought. ‘You’re too descriptive. And you faltered long enough back at St Gilles.’
‘I admit it. But I’m not wavering now. You were right before; we must get there and see what happens.’
‘I know that. I don’t need you to tell me. I’m the one at risk!’
‘We,’ Ernoul murmured maliciously. ‘You don’t imagine the queen would protect my scrawny carcass, do you?’
They rode on again. Before they had halved the distance to Jerusalem they were halted by a road patrol. Humphrey recognized the riders as Constable Amalric’s men, and they recognized him. Unceremoniously, they took his sword from him and escorted the pair as far as the city, handing them over to the Templars who manned the Gate of the Column of St Stephen.
* * *
Sibylla had decided to change her personality, as befitted her change in station. The rigours of monarchy required a more serious turn of mind, she decided, a more precise use of words, a more impressive demean. She was tired of being regarded as a frivolous child – she was twenty-eight years old, had been twice married and was now queen – and she was determined to bring credit to her position as first lady of the Kingdom.
But for all her resolution she remained a shallow ingenue, who attempted a part for which she was badly miscast. The result was embarrassing, but, like the poor actress she was, Sibylla was the last to condemn her own performance.
She waited in the Royal Palace beside the El Aqsa Mosque, in a room that was near, but not too near the throne room. In this room, named by Agnes of Courtenay the Queen’s Chamber of Audience, a special throne had been installed, carpets laid and the walls painted in Sibylla’s favourite colour, water blue. Together, Agnes, Joscelin and Amalric of Lusignan had managed to separate Sibylla from the decisive events of government, yet convince her that her Chamber of Audience was in every way as important as the throne room where King Guy presided. From time to time she was encouraged to wrestle with a problem of minimal consequence, and she was showered with inordinate praise, no matter what solution she reached.
The Knights of Dark Renown Page 22
