* * *
Raymond and Bohemond rode through Jerusalem’s St. Stephen’s Gate before dusk on Good Friday. Bohemond had wanted to reveal their intentions before the High Court, but Raymond did not think it would be fair to ambush Baldwin like that. He deserved to be told first, he’d argued. Moreover, that would give the lad time to accept the inevitable. Bohemond grudgingly agreed and they headed for the palace.
There, they were told that the king had already retired for the night and could not see them. They’d not heard that Baldwin was ailing again, but their cousin’s illness would work to their advantage, proving the precarious state of his health. All seemed to be going their way when they learned that there would be a High Court session on the morrow. That fit perfectly into their plans, and this delay would give them time to let Baudouin d’Ibelin know that his future was about to include a queen and a crown. In good spirits, they returned to Raymond’s town house to prepare for the coming confrontation with Baldwin and the de Courtenays.
* * *
Balian and Maria and Baudouin had traveled together from Nablus for the Easter court, separating to their respective town houses upon their arrival in the city. Although Balian was rather surprised that a High Court session had been called for Holy Saturday, he did not expect it to last long and promised Maria that he’d soon be back. He’d tried to coax her into accompanying him, reminding her how much her presence would vex Agnes, but she preferred to visit the public baths with her ladies, assuring him there would be other opportunities to irritate Agnes.
* * *
The High Court was meeting in the upper chamber of the citadel keep, and it was already crowded when Balian entered. While Baldwin had not yet arrived, Count Raymond was present and—to the surprise of many—so was Prince Bohemond of Antioch. So was the aged patriarch, who looked as if he were living on borrowed time. Baudouin was the center of attention, for most of the men had not heard that he’d regained his freedom and they were giving him a noisy welcome. But as soon as he spotted Balian, Baudouin disengaged himself and propelled his brother toward the stairwell that led up to the battlements, saying they must talk.
The sun was so bright that it seemed to be bathing the Holy City in waves of white-gold light. But Baudouin gave Balian no chance to admire the dazzling view. “Few know what I am about to tell you. I am not even sure if Baldwin knows yet. If he does, that is why he has summoned the High Court on such short notice. I met last night with Prince Bohemond and Raymond and they told me the Duke of Burgundy will not be coming to Outremer to marry Sybilla.”
“God help us. . . .” Balian felt as if he’d taken a physical blow. “Are they sure of that? Why did he change his mind?”
“That is not important. What does matter is that Bohemond and Raymond believe no more time can be wasted chasing after a foreign prince. They intend to tell Baldwin that Sybilla must wed one of us, a Poulain lord—me!” Baudouin burst out laughing then. “You look as if you’ve been poleaxed, lad. Are you not happy for me?”
“Of course I am! Nothing would give me greater joy than to see you wed to Sybilla. But will Baldwin agree to the marriage?”
“Raymond and Bohemond are confident that he will see this is for the good of the kingdom. Once Sybilla and I are wed, the lad can finally find some peace, mayhap retreat to a monastery.”
“Is that what they think he should do?” The pieces were beginning to fall into place and Balian did not like the pattern they were forming. “Do they mean to force him to abdicate?”
“No! I would never have agreed to that. I owe Baldwin. He was willing to free ‘Īsā al-Hakkari and a goodly number of Muslim prisoners for me. He has done his best to rule, has more courage than any man I know. But his body has become his enemy, Balian. Soon he’ll not be able to ride or even to walk—and we know what that accursed disease does to its victims, the disfiguring ulcers and misshapen limbs. . . .” Baudouin gave an involuntary shudder. “You think Baldwin wants us all to watch as that happens to him?”
They’d deliberately propped the door open and the noise now coming from the stairwell alerted them to Baldwin’s arrival. Baudouin hastened down the stairs with Balian following, hoping that all would go as his brother expected, for Baldwin’s sake as well as for Baudouin’s.
Baldwin was seated in a cushioned high-backed chair, his cane within reach. Baudouin had not seen the king in nigh on ten months and so the changes in Baldwin’s appearance were more noticeable to him than to men who’d observed them over a period of time. As always, the sight of such old eyes in a young face jarred, and he felt a sharp jab of pity when he saw that Baldwin had tried to comb his hair to cover welts and lesions on his neck and forehead. He wanted to make sure Baldwin understood how grateful he was for assisting with his ransom, but Baldwin interrupted him, saying the court session was about to start.
Chairs were positioned by the window for Agnes and Sybilla. There was a third guest, a stranger to Baudouin. He nudged Balian and his brother whispered that this was Guy de Lusignan, Amaury’s brother, shrugging when Baudouin asked why he’d been included since he held no lands in Outremer. Baudouin was furious with his son-in-law, for Balian had warned him of Amaury’s shift into the de Courtenay camp, and as he watched Amaury’s brother being treated as an honored guest by Sybilla and Agnes, Baudouin decided he did not much like this de Lusignan, either—another crusader from the West whose woeful ignorance of Outremer would be matched only by his disdain for the men who actually called it home.
Archbishop Eraclius offered the benediction. As soon as he had retaken his seat, Raymond rose, saying he and the Prince of Antioch had an urgent matter to bring before the court.
“You will have to wait, Cousin, for I need to address the court first,” Baldwin said, and Raymond had no choice but to sit down again. Baldwin seemed in no hurry, though, his eyes sweeping the chamber, lingering for a moment upon the faces of his cousins. Only when puzzled murmurs began to rustle through the audience did he raise his hand for silence.
“Several days ago I received a letter from the Archbishop of Tyre in Constantinople. He’d heard very disturbing news from the Emperor Manuel regarding the ongoing unrest in France. The Duke of Burgundy fears that it might lead to civil war and so he has decided to repudiate his betrothal with my sister. He will not be sailing for Outremer as promised.”
Knowing how the men would react to that, Baldwin allowed them time to express their shock and outrage and dismay before continuing. “It is well-known that I hoped to make a marital alliance for my sister with a highborn lord from the West, the vassal of a powerful king. But we no longer have the time to negotiate such a marriage. Every lord in Outremer knows that my health is failing. So I am sure you all will agree that nothing matters more than marrying my sister to a man able to defend our kingdom, to govern when I am no longer able to do so.”
Baldwin paused again, shifting his gaze back to his cousins. Bohemond had a smile playing about his mouth, but Raymond’s brows had drawn together, as if wondering if all was going too well; Baldwin knew he thought Fortune was a fickle bitch, always on the lookout for new conquests. Well, for once you are right, Cousin. She has moved on.
Baldwin glanced then toward his sister and her new husband. They were practically glowing, he thought, and he felt a sorrowful stirring of envy for all that he’d never get to experience when a man took a woman into his bed. Turning back to the audience, he said, “We still face a formidable enemy in Saladin and the years ahead will not be easy. But we need no longer fear that upon my death, my sister must rule on her own. She will have a husband by her side to share her burdens and to do what she cannot—lead our army to war. Two days ago she was wed in the palace chapel to Sir Guy de Lusignan, brother to Lord Amaury de Lusignan, a vassal of the English king, and now the new Count of Jaffa.”
He’d expected chaos to erupt. Instead, his revelation was met with a stunned silence. All eyes turned toward the newly
weds, who smiled and reached over to clasp hands. For what seemed like forever to those in the chamber, no one moved and nothing was said. Archbishop Eraclius finally broke the spell by saying impatiently, “What . . . are none of you going to offer your congratulations to the happy couple?”
The High Court members shifted uncomfortably, waiting for one of the highborn lords to take the lead. But the Prince of Antioch and the Count of Tripoli seemed frozen in their seats. The Lord of Ramlah appeared even less capable of speech and while his brother, the Lord of Nablus, did not look as shocked, he did look unutterably sad. When the silence dragged on, the Bishop of Bethlehem rose reluctantly to his feet. “Of course we wish them well,” he said firmly. “We were just taken by surprise. I am sure that God will look with favor upon their marriage.”
Gilbert de Flory, the Viscount of Acre, was the next to rise. “As the bishop says, we were not expecting such momentous news—first that the Duke of Burgundy had reneged upon his promise and then that the king’s sister was hastily wed to a man few of us know, and during Holy Week when marriages are not performed. We simply need time to comprehend it all.”
Men began to nod, relieved that someone had dared to point out how unorthodox this sounded. Joscelin glared at Gilbert for implying there was something furtive and therefore suspect about the wedding. Before he could lash out at the viscount, Baldwin said, with a razor-sharp smile that few had seen before, “Under the circumstances, we had little choice. The sooner my sister could be wed, the better for the kingdom. Would you not agree, my lord cousins?”
Neither Bohemond nor Raymond replied, and their continuing silence only added to the growing unease. Few of the men understood what had happened, but they sensed that there were undercurrents in this chamber deep enough to drown in. It was Denys who eased some of the tension by crossing the chamber to offer his congratulations to Sybilla and Guy. Others followed then, wanting to learn more about this stranger who’d wedded and bedded the king’s sister and become a king in the making, all in the span of days.
Baldwin reached for his cane and lurched to his feet. He did not bother to call the session to order, for he’d accomplished what needed to be done. Halting in front of his cousins, he said, startling them by how much he suddenly sounded like his father, “I assume you both will be attending the Easter vigil tonight at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. You are welcome to do so. I would suggest, though, that you make ready to return to Antioch and Tripoli on Monday. You brought so many men with you that there is simply no room to lodge them in the city.”
By now a large crowd had gathered around Sybilla and Guy. As the shock receded, most were avidly curious to learn more about Guy, for he’d not attracted much attention since his arrival in Outremer as a landless young knight. Not long after Baldwin departed, his royal cousins did, too, ignoring all the questions flung their way by men hoping they could shed some light on this astonishing turn of events.
Watching them go, Balian felt anger catching fire, scorching the boundaries of his self-control. He could understand why they’d felt the need to meddle in the matter of Sybilla’s marriage, for the stakes could not be higher. But they’d made a fatal mistake. They’d only thought of Baldwin as a leper. He was a king, too, and kings did not surrender power willingly. Whilst Baldwin had often said that he would abdicate when he could no longer rule, it would be on his terms, not terms forced upon him.
Balian’s anger, though, was not for their miscalculation. It was for involving his brother in their scheme. They’d infected Baudouin with the insidious disease of hope, making him believe that he could have it all—the woman, the queen, the kingdom. And when Baldwin struck back at his cousins, the blood spilled was Baudouin’s.
After a time, Baudouin rose and left the chamber, not even glancing at Sybilla and Guy, surrounded by well-wishers. Balian caught up with him as they emerged into the tower bailey, and they headed for the stables to retrieve their horses. It was only then that Baudouin broke his silence. Standing beside his stallion, he said in a low voice, “Who is this Guy de Lusignan?”
Balian did not make the obvious response—younger brother of Amaury—for he knew what Baudouin was really asking. What sort of king will this man make? And no one knew the answer to that, he thought, not Baldwin, not Sybilla, mayhap not even Guy himself.
CHAPTER 27
May 1180
City of Antioch
After seven months at the Greek emperor’s court in Constantinople, William, the Archbishop of Tyre, was coming home. He was honored by Manuel with an escort of four imperial galleys and, accompanied by several Greek envoys, he landed at the port of St. Simeon in the principality of Antioch on the twelfth day of May. Their ships then rowed up the Orontes River to the city of Antioch, where he was welcomed by Bohemond and his Greek wife, Theodora.
Antioch had an impressive citadel, Antakya Kalesi, but Bohemond preferred the greater luxury of the palace, a splendid residence with gardens, pools, balconies, and dazzling columns of red and white marble. After their long sea journey, William was not loath to spend some days as Bohemond’s guest. He soon confided to Bohemond and Theodora the reason for his visit. The emperor was very ill and did not expect to recover, he reported with regret, for he had a genuine respect for Manuel, who’d ruled in Constantinople for almost four decades.
Knowing that his earthly days were dwindling, Manuel was determined to assure the succession of his eleven-year-old son, and he wanted Prince Bohemond to recognize the boy’s right to the imperial throne. William had not been impressed with the lad during his stay in Constantinople, for he’d shown none of Baldwin’s precocity and maturity. But if he was given good counsel, William hoped that he’d learn how to rule by the time he reached manhood—and that he’d share his father’s goodwill toward the Kingdom of Jerusalem.
Bohemond assured William that he would offer his support to the emperor’s young son. Pleased and a bit surprised that Bohemond was being so cooperative, William gladly retired to his guest chamber to rest after a very tiring trip.
* * *
After the evening meal, Bohemond suggested to William that they take a stroll in the gardens. Realizing that the prince was seeking a private conversation, William was both curious and uneasy, for Bohemond’s earlier responses to his queries about Baldwin’s health had seemed evasive. As they followed a paved path into the gardens, the sun was setting in a blaze of fiery color. William was too nervous to enjoy the scenic splendor, though, fearing that Bohemond was going to tell him Baldwin was grievously ill again.
The prince paused by a marble fountain and they sat on a nearby bench. Bohemond finally broke the taut silence by asking if William knew what had happened in Outremer at Easter. When William shook his head, the younger man seemed to sigh.
“As I feared. You’d left Constantinople by the time the news would have reached the Greek court. I regret that I must be the one to tell you—”
“Baldwin . . . he is not dying!”
“Calm yourself, my lord archbishop. He is not on his deathbed. But his accursed malady may have begun to affect his wits. I do not know how else to explain what he did at Easter. Without even consulting the High Court, he suddenly married his sister to a French newcomer to Outremer, a man little known to the rest of us—Amaury de Lusignan’s younger brother, Guy.”
William sucked in his breath, for the de Lusignans were known to him. “How . . . how could this happen?”
Bohemond shook his head sadly. “The young king is listening to the wrong people these days and they have poisoned his mind against my cousin, the Count of Tripoli. From what we later learned, they convinced Baldwin that an Easter visit by Raymond and me was cover for a coup attempt, that we intended to depose him and marry Lady Sybilla to a man of our choosing. You know Raymond to be a man of honor. Can you believe that of him?”
“No, I cannot! These ‘wrong people’ you accuse—the king’s mother and uncle? The Arch
bishop of Caesarea?”
“Who else? As the king’s health has deteriorated, their baneful influence has expanded. Baldwin heeds no one else these days. Raymond and I were indeed concerned about arranging a new marriage for Sybilla. We’d learned by then that the Duke of Burgundy had reneged on his promise to wed her. We intended to discuss the matter with Baldwin and the High Court, hoping to persuade them that Baudouin d’Ibelin ought to be chosen. What could be more reasonable than that? But we never got the chance, were met with the news of this sudden, secret marriage—performed during Holy Week! Just as troubling was Baldwin’s hostility. He clearly does not trust us any longer, even though the same blood flows in our veins.”
William was horrified both by the choice of a de Lusignan as their next king and by this dangerous breach between Baldwin and two of the most powerful lords in the Levant, his own kindred. “God help us all if Agnes and Joscelin de Courtney and Eraclius are the ones with their hands on the royal reins,” he said bitterly. He refused to believe that he could not get through to Baldwin. But there was no undoing what had been done. For better or worse, after Baldwin’s death their kingdom would be given over to a man unworthy to rule.
* * *
After leaving Antioch, William intended to sail down the coast to Tyre and then to escort the Greek envoys inland to Jerusalem to meet Baldwin. These plans were abruptly changed as they approached Beirut and saw the royal banner flying above the castle, for that meant the king was in residence. William hastily told the ship’s master that they would go ashore in Beirut.
The Land Beyond the Sea Page 44
