This morning Guy was in town, so the Templars took Humphrey and Ernoul directly to the Chamber of Audience.
Setting eyes on Sibylla for the first time in four years, Humphrey found her as pretty as he remembered her, and, as before, dressed for a pageant. She seemed self-possessed, almost withdrawn, but he soon realised that she was attempting regality. She nodded at him, slowly, her head tilted a little to one side, then raised her eyebrows and gazed inquiringly at Ernoul.
‘Humphrey,’ she said, ‘I had almost forgotten I had a branch of the family so far north. I take it that this young man is your squire.’
‘No, Queen, he is my friend, Ernoul, squire to Lord Balian of Ibelin.’
‘Don’t you have one of your own?’
‘No, and I’ll wait until I find one as companionable as Ernoul.’
‘It seems very strange to me,’ she said, ‘lending and borrowing squires. Surely you can tax Toron sufficiently for you to purchase your own man. Ah, well, companionship is to be treasured, I understand that.’
Humphrey said, ‘I might well inquire about the financial situation here, too. Is this the proper throne room now?’
‘We have two. My husband the king sits in the old throne room. This, the Chamber of Audience, is mine.’
The two men glanced round the room. Humphrey pulled down the corners of his mouth. Ernoul slid his tongue over his teeth. They were both exhausted, so found it easy to visualize a brocaded bed in the feminine chamber.
Sibylla did not like their expressions and queried, ‘Did you ride from Toron, or wherever you reside now, in order to inspect the furnishings of the Royal Palace?’
‘No, Queen, we are not yet so desperate for diversion. We came, at least I came to tell you that I have been proposed as king, and that Regent Raymond, with some support, would have Princess Isabella and I crowned in opposition to you and Guy of Lusignan.’
The detachment of Templars had returned to St Stephen’s Gate, so Sibylla put her head back and screamed, ‘Guards! Guards! Quickly!’
Humphrey and Ernoul stood their ground as men-at-arms invaded the chamber. The stillness of the scene surprised them, and they looked from their queen to the visitors, then to Sibylla again for guidance.
‘Find the King,’ she commanded. ‘Or the Seneschal. Or Amalric. I don’t care who. Tell them we hold Lord Humphrey of Toron here and that he is planning to—’
Humphrey clapped his hands, pleased with the loud report, and snapped, ‘Tell them nothing. The Queen is presumptuous. I have not yet finished speaking. Queen, for God’s sake, draw off your men!’
‘Search them,’ Sibylla said. ‘They are no friends of ours, these two.’
Patiently, Humphrey remarked, ‘We have been searched. Three times, as it happens.’
‘Search them again.’
The soldiers went about their work with heavy-handed zeal. Ernoul’s cloak was torn, and, at the last moment, Humphrey clutched the silver brooch that Isabella had given him, freely cursing the guard who had tried to steal it. No weapons were found and the men stood back, disappointed. Sibylla resettled herself and waved them out. ‘But be near,’ she called after them. ‘I may need you again.’
Ernoul suppressed a sudden desire to laugh. He had spent the previous day writing, or talking with Humphrey, the entire night in council with the barons, the morning on horseback, and he was now in the presence of an artless hysteric, while all the time men-at- arms pawed him in search of concealed weapons. He was as tired as a hunted buck and as hungry as the hunters. It was really very droll.
Sibylla said, ‘You have little to smile about, borrowed squire!’ Bubbling dangerously, he nodded and murmured, ‘Forgive me, Queen. My emotions are worn thin.’
‘I know how that is,’ she sweetened. ‘We are not all crass beasts. Very well then, I do forgive you. Now, Humphrey, unless I am to summon the guards again, I suggest you make a true presence of your explanation – ah, I mean, a true explanation of your presence here.’
I am going to laugh, Ernoul told himself. She will have me killed, but it can’t be helped. Look at her, preening and patting, trying this face and that. Oh, God, a true presence of his explanation…
The Lord of Toron took a deep breath and continued, ‘I was saying that there are those who would have me crowned. I would have said earlier what I say now. I do not wish to be king.’
‘Why not?’
‘Why should I? I am not particularly well-fitted for the post. And I am not that ambitious. I simply do not covet the throne.’
‘That’s a poor excuse, Lord Humphrey. I don’t believe you.’
‘It is no excuse, Queen. It is a good reason, and you should believe it. You enjoy sitting there, I would say. For my part, I would not.’
Sibylla was bewildered. ‘Why do you tell me this?’
‘Forgive me if I grow impatient, but I’d have thought that the news explained itself. You have my word for it that I do not intend to be made king. Therefore, should you hear the rumours that will undoubtedly fly, you may feel it safe to ignore them. I don’t like King Guy, that’s well known, and I am certain that I could not do a worse job of governing the realm than he—’
‘Insult! You talk treason!’
‘No,’ Humphrey said wearily, ‘I talk to my wife’s half-sister, and I talk about your husband, who rules because you are a Princess of Jerusalem. Well, so is Isabella. Thus I am in a comparable position with Guy. If I ruled it would be because of Princess Isabella, not because my qualifications were so exact. However, I repeat, I have no such ambition. Toron is enough. Am I clear?’
‘You really don’t want—’
‘No.’
‘You’ll have to tell the King.’
‘Willingly.’
‘Do you think I make a good Queen?’
‘What?’
Straight-faced, Ernoul said, ‘You show a rare understanding of the important issues at hand, Queen. You can see that Lord Humphrey speaks the truth. A lesser woman might doubt such modesty of ambition, but you judge the situation for what it is. Lord Humphrey seeks to prevent unnecessary bloodshed, here and in Toron and eventually throughout the Kingdom. Is that not to be commended?’
‘Well,’ Sibylla smiled, basking in the light of the tribute, ‘I see why Lord Humphrey keeps you with him. Yes, all in all, it is to be commended. Then, Humphrey, speak with my husband and I will assure your safe passage from Jerusalem.’
‘To Nablus,’ he corrected. ‘Constable Amalric’s men patrol the roads.’
‘As you say.’ She stood up and nodded graciously. ‘Lord Humphrey? Squire Ernoul? Will you wait here while I apprise the King?’
* * *
Back at Nablus, the young men paid the price of their truancy. Raymond of Tripoli made Humphrey accept the judgement of his peers. Balian spoke in his defence, but Baldwin and Walter and Reginald all agreed that the Lord of Toron was weak and selfish, and that thanks was due to God that the plan had proved abortive. It was better that they had learned his nature now, rather than on some crucial future occasion.
Humphrey insisted that, even if he had desired the throne above all things, Guy and his faction would have defended their position to the end. They would have raised an army within the Kingdom, one as good as or better than that which the Regent could recruit. They would also have appealed to the rulers of the West, who would surely have supported Sibylla’s claim. So far, King Guy had done nothing for which he could be condemned. He could not be deposed on the grounds that he was a fool; he would first have to do something foolish.
‘It was an unreal plan, Lord Regent, hatched in desperation, too late at night. It would have stood us in the wrong and stained the Kingdom with Christian blood. I am sorry I left without due warning, but I feared you would all force me to act against my own dictates.’
‘You are weak as a baby,’ Raymond said. ‘The Princess Isabella might have chosen better material.’
‘That’s an unfair observation,’ Balian told him. ‘My s
tepdaughter is well pleased with this man.’
‘Good. Then let him return with her and guide the petty fortunes of Toron.’
‘That,’ Humphrey snapped, ‘is what I said at the first. I’ll govern Toron as its rightful suzerain. But I will not snatch at Jerusalem when my claim there is somewhat less substantial than the handsome Poitevin’s. Now, my lords, if you are finished with me, I am ready to go home.’ He strode out, to find Ernoul waiting in the corridor.
They talked together for a few moments. Ernoul asked, ‘Will you wait until they have dealt with me?’
‘You know I will, my friend. Don’t worry, they cannot be so hard on you.’
‘Lord Balian can.’
‘Tell them I forced you to travel with me.’
Ernoul shook his head. ‘They won’t accept that.’
‘Then say you went along to keep a rein on me.’
‘Well, in a way I did.’
‘Shall I go back and speak for you? I could tell them how you softened Sibylla—’
‘No, you’ve had your turn. Stay out of it now. They will only start on you again.’ He jumped as Raymond called, ‘Squire, you are wanted here.’
Humphrey touched him on the arm, waited until he had entered the Council Chamber, then pressed his ear against the closed door.
Inside, Raymond said, ‘You are of no concern to us, Ernoul, but we will hear how Lord Balian regards your desertion.’
‘With some severity,’ Balian commented. ‘Though I would make it clear that, in your state, I, too, would have kept Lord Humphrey company. However, I would not have sneaked away to tell my rivals what my allies were still propounding. I know what you did, and why, but the manner of it was deceitful. Have you anything to say?’
‘No, sire. Under the circumstances I did what I believed was right, that’s all.’
‘You look grey in the face. You have been awake too long. I suggest you get some rest and then be punished.’
Ernoul trembled with fear and fatigue. He mumbled, ‘Sire, with your permission, I will take the punishment now. I won’t sleep if it’s unresolved.’
Balian looked round at the barons. God, he thought, what stony countenances. One would think my skinny squire had sold us into slavery at Damascus. Faced by these men, I wouldn’t sleep either.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘You’ll be beaten in your rooms. Twenty stick strokes. And to ensure that the lesson is learned, Constable Fostus will lay on. Go up and wait for him.’
Ernoul swallowed hard, nodded and shuffled out. He heard Reginald of Sidon say, ‘It should be witnessed,’ and Raymond retort, ‘If it’s Fostus, I’m satisfied.’ Then he closed the door and stared at Humphrey.
‘You heard?’
‘Yes. I’m sorry. It’s so unjust. I dragged you into it. It should be my back.’
Ernoul wholeheartedly agreed with him, but said, ‘I’ll join you as soon as possible.’
Humphrey made a vague gesture of sympathy and watched his friend move, diminished by fear, to the stairway.
Ten minutes later Fostus entered the bedchamber, carrying a broken spear shaft.
‘For a clever young man you’re a fool,’ he growled. ‘If Lord Humphrey had not jerked me awake, babbled about the women, then hurried away again, I would have told him he was heaping trouble for you. He had nothing to fear, a baron of the realm, but you gain no such privileges.’
‘Forgive me, Fostus. I did not think Lord Balian would give you this job.’
‘Well, he has.’ Speaking slowly, he continued, ‘His orders were quite clear. I am to lay on twenty strokes and not stay my arm. Bare your back. Lean forward and place your hands on the wall.’
‘Fostus—’
‘Keep silent. Lord Reginald has sent a man to stand in the corridor. Listen to me now, foolish Ernoul. Whatever you do, do not make a sound. Do not cry out at the first cut, you hear me?’
‘The stupid old bully,’ Ernoul whimpered. ‘How can I not make a sound when he thrashes me with that stinking pole? What does he think I am, stone?’
He pulled off his tunic and leaned shivering against the wall.
Fostus hit him with the stick. The force of the blow sent him reeling. He could feel the pain streaming left and right across his back. His tongue bled where he had bitten it, but he had forgotten to cry out. He stared at Fostus and was shocked to see the squat warrior grinning happily.
‘You bastard!’
Fostus lashed out again and again. The bed shook repeatedly. Two chair legs snapped on impact. The planks on the floor were pitted in five places. Ernoul stood against the wall wide-eyed, his skin throbbing from the single blow.
As the sound of the twentieth crack died away, Fostus grated, ‘There, you’ve been beaten. Nobody told me where to lay on the strokes. Now get some rest, while I send Reginald’s spy away content.’
Ernoul’s jaw hung slack and he moved like a dream-walker toward the well-thrashed bed. He managed, ‘Fostus, you’re the noblest man I ever… ’ and then he sank down on his side, deep in sleep.
* * *
Guy was King. It was done and could not be undone, nor made over. As good as his word, Baldwin of Ramleh refused to remain within the Kingdom. He left his lands in trust for his son and settled in Antioch, viewing developments from afar. Raymond of Tripoli also declined to submit to Guy and went home to Tiberias. Humphrey returned to Toron. Balian stayed in Nablus. The other local barons kept to their own fiefs, waiting to see what the King would do, or what Raymond could do to usurp him.
Even those nobles who had helped Guy and Sibylla left them to govern as best they could. Seneschal Joscelin rode north to Acre, while Reynald of Chatillon resumed his place in Kerak. November came and went. The treaty with Saladin held firm and, little by little, Guy mastered the ways of monarchy. He was lonely, more so, perhaps, since his only powerful friends in Jerusalem were Agnes of Courtenay, his brother Amalric, Patriarch Heraclius and Grand Master Gerard of Ridefort. These four watched his every move, assessed his development, criticized his decisions and kept up a constant barrage of comparative advice. If Reynald were king, he would not have done it this way. If joscelin were on the throne he would have phrased it differently. Guy made the appropriate responses, while Sibylla continued to play the queen in her Chamber of Audience.
Then the worm in Reynald’s brain that had instructed him to carry out his infamous Red Sea raid moved again. Captain Azo reported that a Moslem caravan was passing through Moab on its way from Cairo to Damascus. It was the largest train any of the patrol had ever seen, boasting several hundred camels, fully laden, and strings of fine Arab horses. Reynald did not hesitate. He ambushed the caravan north of Shaubak, killed every armed Moslem, plus some unfortunate merchants, rounded up the livestock and, with prisoners and booty, returned in triumph to Kerak.
As after the Red Sea expedition three and a half years earlier, Sultan Saladin demanded to know why the truce had been broken, and whether or not the King of Jerusalem could obtain compensation and a full and abject apology from the one called the Red Wolf of the Desert.
As in 1183, Reynald told his king to get on with the business of the Kingdom, whilst he settled the affairs of Oultrejourdain.
But since the sinking of the pilgrim ship Saladin had grown strong. He had become master of Syria and Egypt, and was Commander-in-Chief of the armies of Aleppo, Damascus, Emesa, Edessa, Mosul, Baalbek and Mardin. He called now, not for an attack on Kerak, nor for the lightning raids that had marked the extent of his previous displeasure, but for a concerted move by Islam against the Kingdom of Jerusalem. He called for a Holy War, the Jihad.
There were border raids, of course, emanating from east of the Jordan. Some of these flying columns penetrated deep into the Christian territories, into the seigneuries of Nablus and Beisan, and the Principality of Galilee.
During one of these raids Raymond of Tripoli was forced to hide under a fish stall to elude capture.
In another, three Templars were caught and dissected ali
ve beneath the walls of their fortress at Safed.
In a raid farther south the Saracens came sweeping through the outskirts of Nablus. They fired hundreds of their deadly, black-tipped arrows and slashed indiscriminately with their curved and decorated scimitars. Eight of Lord Balian’s soldiers and more than sixty civilians were killed within the space of ten or fifteen minutes. Among the dead was Ernoul’s woman, Idela, who had been to the market to shop for herbs.
Chapter Fifteen
Jerusalem, Tiberias, Galilee
January, May 1187
It took time for Saladin to assemble his forces.
Within the Kingdom, Guy appealed to his suzerains for unity and reconciliation. Some of the minor barons responded, and his hopes were raised when Balian of Ibelin made curt submission to him. Both men understood that there was no personal unison involved, but Guy was pleased that he had added to his list one of his most powerful erstwhile adversaries.
Having secured Balian, he next went after Raymond of Tripoli. But for once the long-nosed Regent had placed his own aspirations before those of the Kingdom.
Not long after he had been crowned, Guy had insisted that Raymond give a full account of his financial expenditure from the time he had replaced the Poitevin as Regent, some four years earlier. Raymond had refused to account for a single dinar, and, as Guy had formerly barricaded himself within the city of Ascalon, so now Raymond remained inside the borders of his own County of Tripoli and his wife’s Principality of Galilee.
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