“When you put it like that, Mother, who could possibly object? Well, Maria for one, Balian for another.”
She never liked it when he used that very dry tone, for it evoked sardonic echoes of Amalric. It hurt to know that her son did not fully trust her. “What can I say, Baldwin? I admitted to you that I will take pleasure in outwitting Maria and sabotaging her ambitions. But what truly matters is that we safeguard your kingship and your sister’s right of inheritance. Surely you know by now that there is nothing I would not do for your sake?”
His mouth softened. “Yes, I do know that, Mother.”
“There is another reason why I thought this marriage might be agreeable to you, quite apart from its political advantages.” She saw his eyebrow arch in a familiar mannerism; only now the eyebrows, like his lashes, had been claimed by the evil that was ravaging his body and she suddenly found herself on the brink of tears. “I remember,” she murmured, “what you told me about your deathbed vigil with the constable. You promised him that you’d look out for Humphrey, that you’d do your best for the lad. Do you not think he’d have been pleased to have his grandson marry into the royal family?”
Baldwin did not reply at once, gazing down so she could no longer see his face. “Yes,” he said after a long silence. “I think it would have pleased him very much.”
* * *
Maria and Balian welcomed Baldwin’s summons. Yet they were wary, too, for they knew their relationship with the king had been damaged by Baudouin’s unwitting involvement in the Easter plot. Now that they were a family of five, travel was more complicated and it took them a while to settle their children after their arrival at their Jerusalem town house. They sent word to the palace that they’d be there in the morning and then decided to pay a visit to William, for he could bring them up to date on happenings in the city and at the court.
* * *
Maria nodded gravely as William offered his condolences. Her great-uncle’s death was not a deep personal loss, for she’d not seen Manuel since she was thirteen. But it was a political loss for certes. Stripped of the emperor’s protection, she felt suddenly vulnerable, and was very grateful to William for having urged her to marry Balian. Not only had that marriage brought her more happiness than she’d ever expected to find in this life, it provided a shield against the de Courtenays’ malice.
They had heard, of course, of the recent death of the ailing patriarch, and were dismayed when word reached Nablus that Eraclius had been chosen over William. They did not know more than that, though, and listened indignantly as William told them how Agnes de Courtenay had taken advantage of Baldwin’s failing health to gain the patriarchate for her ally.
“That detestable woman has no conscience,” William said with a bitterness that they felt was justifiable under the circumstances. “In her own warped way, I do think she loves Baldwin. But she will never put the needs of Outremer before her own selfish ambitions. She is bound and determined to do all she can to make sure the crown passes to Sybilla, and Baldwin seems to pay her more and more heed. Now she is urging him to appoint Amaury de Lusignan as constable.”
Balian knew that would infuriate his brother, for Baudouin viewed Amaury’s move into the de Courtenay camp as a betrayal. But none could deny that Amaury was well qualified for the post, and it had been vacant far too long, since Humphrey de Toron’s tragic death last year. “Well, Amaury is a good commander,” Balian pointed out in an attempt to reconcile William to the inevitable. “Whatever their other failings, the de Lusignans seem to make fine soldiers.”
William was not impressed. “We can only pray that will prove true for Guy, too.”
* * *
Baldwin had suffered another serious nosebleed that morning, for his nasal passages were being eroded by his disease. He knew that eventually the cartilage would collapse, yet he dared not let himself think too far ahead; lepers had to learn to take one day at a time if they hoped to save their sanity. Although he was still exhausted when Maria and Balian arrived, he did his best to hide his fatigue and greeted them warmly. He was well aware that they would not welcome his plans for Bella. Whilst he had not been able to banish all his doubts about Baudouin, he had no misgivings about Balian’s loyalties and he did not want them to think the proposed plight troth was punitive in any way. If only he could make them see that this was for the good of the kingdom. They could never survive a civil war, not with Saladin awaiting his chance to strike. There were so many nights when he lay awake, fearing what could happen after he died. He was sure that Balian and Maria understood the dangers that Outremer faced. But they were likely to react as parents and how could he blame them?
Once they were seated and courtesies exchanged, Baldwin expressed his sympathies for the emperor’s death and they spent some time discussing the ramifications of Manuel’s demise. Chaos in the Greek empire would inevitably affect life in Outremer, adding one more worry to the many that weighed him down. One of those worries perched on his shoulder now, reminding him that he could delay this unpleasant task no longer.
“There is no way to ease into this,” he said, “for I realize that what I am about to say is bound to come as a shock to you both. That attempted coup at Easter has forced me to think about what lies ahead for us. My cousins in Antioch and Tripoli came dangerously close to succeeding and I do not think they’ve given up. Now that they can no longer use Sybilla as their pawn, I fear that they may try to use Bella. If they managed to wed her to Raymond’s stepson, we could find ourselves facing a civil war. I cannot let—”
“But I would never agree to that marriage!” It was the first time Baldwin had seen Maria’s poise crack like that, and he wondered if she realized what was coming. Remembering her manners then, she apologized for interrupting him, then continued quickly before he could respond. “My liege, I can see why you’d feel some unease after what they tried to do with Sybilla. I can put your mind at rest, though. Neither my husband nor I would ever permit Isabella to become entangled in one of their webs.”
“I do not doubt your good faith, madame. But sometimes choice does not enter into it. If she were somehow to fall into their hands—by treachery or by force—there would be little you or Lord Balian could do about it. I cannot allow our kingdom to be destroyed by internal conflict. Nor would I ever want to see Bella put at risk. To safeguard her future, to keep her from becoming a pawn, I mean to remove her as a chess piece, to take her off the board.”
Maria and Balian exchanged alarmed glances. The convent was not always a refuge; sometimes it offered a cloistered confinement for young women who’d made powerful enemies. Neither of them could envision Baldwin forcing his little sister to take holy vows. But marriage was not an option, either, because of her youth. “I do not understand,” Balian said, choosing his words with care. “If you want us to take greater measures to see to Isabella’s safety, to make sure she cannot be abducted, we would naturally be quite willing to do so . . .” His sentence did not so much end as trail off, for he sensed that Baldwin had something else in mind.
“I fear that would not be enough. We were able to thwart my cousins’ coup only because we wed Sybilla to Guy. If Bella were no longer free to wed—”
This time the protest came in unison, Maria and Balian both exclaiming, “No!” in virtually the same breath. “My daughter is only eight, far too young for marriage!” Balian at once followed Maria’s cry from the heart with the reminder that the canonical age for consent was twelve, and Baldwin found himself thinking that they functioned well as a team.
“I know that,” he said gently. “I am speaking of a plight troth now, marriage later.”
Maria had to draw upon the teachings of a lifetime to maintain her composure. “And who is the man willing to plight his troth to a child?”
“Not a man, a lad of fourteen. Humphrey de Toron.”
Maria got to her feet so abruptly that her chair rocked. “I do not want my
daughter marrying into that family!”
Baldwin frowned. Assuming she thought a Poulain was not worthy of Bella, he was about to retort that she’d willingly wed Balian, who was a Poulain and not of royal blood. But Maria’s objections lay far closer to home. “Humphrey’s mother is Agnes de Courtenay’s puppet and your mother has always detested Isabella!” Head high, she stared challengingly at Baldwin, as if daring him to deny it and he felt a reluctant twinge of admiration. It was hard to fault a woman for wanting to protect her child.
“I know,” he said, with disarming candor. “My mother has always felt irrationally threatened by Bella. But her misguided animosity is not relevant, for I am not doing this to please her. You may not believe me, Maria, when I say that I would never have chosen a husband for Bella who would make her unhappy. It is true, though. I care for my sister and not just because the same blood flows in our veins. She is a sweet, clever child who deserves the best that our world can offer. I believe this marriage will be good for Bella and Humphrey and good for our kingdom. I hope that once you’ve had time to think upon it, you will see that.”
“I do believe you care for Isabella.” Maria crossed the few steps separating them and then took Baldwin aback by kneeling before him. “Baldwin, I implore you. Do not do this. Isabella is too young. Look into your heart and then tell me that you truly want to end Isabella’s childhood and yoke her to a boy not old enough or strong enough to protect her.”
As he listened to her plea, his court mask crumbled. “Of course I do not want to do this,” he said softly, sounding so soul weary that she could only listen mutely, mesmerized into silence. “Any of it. I do not want to suspect men I have always thought to be my friends. I do not want to fight battles I cannot hope to win. I do not want the world to watch as my body rots and my own people shrink from me in horror. I do not want to be a crippled king, forced to cling to power when I yearn only for peace. But God gave me no choice, Maria. He placed upon my shoulders the blessed burden of Christ’s kingdom. Nothing matters more than the survival of Outremer. I vowed to safeguard it from the day I was anointed with the sacred chrism until the day I draw my last mortal breath.”
Baldwin paused then, for this was the only consolation he could offer Maria—utter honesty and the gift of his private pain. When he spoke again, it was in the quiet, controlled tones of the king. “I truly believe that this plight troth will help to keep our kingdom at peace. So there is nothing more to be said.”
* * *
Balian dismounted in the courtyard, then stepped forward to assist Maria from her mare. As she straightened up, she heard an eager cry of “Mama!” and turned as her daughter came flying from the hall. “I learned how to spin the top! I saw Pateras’s squires playing and they said it was not a game for girls but I asked them to teach me.” Isabella grinned. “And I beat them at it!”
Maria opened her mouth, but as she looked at her daughter—cheeks flushed, dark eyes sparkling with excitement, a smudge of dirt across her nose—the words caught in her throat. Unable even to fake a smile, she merely nodded and hastened toward the hall. Balian quickly followed, pausing long enough to tell the bewildered Isabella that her mama had a headache and she could show them how to spin the top after dinner.
By the time he reached the hall, Maria had already disappeared. He headed toward the stairwell that led up to their bedchamber, taking the stairs two at a time. Maria was standing in the middle of the room, as if she’d forgotten why she’d rushed abovestairs. As they’d ridden home, she’d not spoken a word, but her rigid posture, her ashen complexion, and her blank stare had communicated more eloquently than any words could have done. She did not respond when he said her name now; he was not even sure if she’d heard him.
She turned only when he reached out and touched her arm. “We cannot allow this to happen,” she said, sounding like a stranger. He did not know what to say, for he knew full well that there was no way they could stop it, and the dulled, flattened tone of her voice told him she knew it, too. All he could think to do was to embrace her, hoping she could find some comfort in sharing their pain.
That was a mistake. She pulled away from him so vehemently that she stumbled. “So you have nothing to say? You are just going to accept it? Would you be so accepting if it were Helvis?”
He was so shocked that he needed a moment to respond. When he did, it was with a flare of rare anger. “Isabella is as much my daughter as Helvis and just as greatly loved. Do you truly doubt that, Maria?”
Sudden color flamed in her pallid cheeks, making her look feverish. She closed her eyes for a moment, then shook her head. When she swayed, he caught her just in time and she crumpled against his chest, sobbing so convulsively that her entire body was trembling. He was more disturbed by her collapse than he’d been by the unfairness of her accusation, for in the three years of their marriage, not once had he seen her lose control. Never had he felt so helpless. He could only hold her as she wept, gently stroking her hair, murmuring despairing endearments, and silently cursing himself for failing her, for failing Isabella.
* * *
Isabella was wearing a special gown; it was her favorite color at the moment—lilac—and was made of silk, the first time she’d been allowed to wear such a luxurious fabric. Normally, she’d have been delighted by this new acquisition; today it seemed unimportant. She and her nurse, Emma, were sitting in a window seat of the palace great hall, trying to ignore all the curious eyes upon them. Abovestairs, her parents and Humphrey de Toron’s parents and her brother were going over the final details of her marriage contract. She was not sure what that involved, knowing only that she’d soon be summoned to plight her troth with a stranger.
She supposed that Humphrey was not truly a stranger since she’d met him before. But she did not know him. Her mama and Pateras had been trying to pretend that this plight troth was a good thing, that they wanted it for her. She knew they were lying. On the day they’d returned from the palace, she’d been shaken by the odd way her mother had acted and she’d followed them, slipping into the stairwell and trying to listen outside their door. Whilst she was unable to hear what was being said, she could hear their raised voices and she’d never heard them yelling at each other before. What happened next was even more alarming—the sound of her mother’s sobs. She could not remember ever hearing Mama cry and now she was weeping as if her heart would break.
Afraid she’d be discovered, Isabella had then crept downstairs. Later they tried to act as if nothing had happened, but she knew something was wrong and it scared her. When they finally told her about this plight troth, she understood why her mother had been crying. Mama and Pateras did not want her to marry Humphrey de Toron. She did not want that, either. She decided she’d talk to Baldwin, tell him that. She’d had no chance to do that, though, for he got sick again. When he felt better, he’d summoned them all to the palace for the plight troth, and now she could only wait with Emma to be recalled to the solar.
She was finding it hard to sit still. Emma understood why she kept squirming and patted her hand, saying it would not be much longer. That did not comfort Isabella, for she did not want to go back up to the solar. She began to chew on her thumbnail even though she’d promised Mama that she’d stop doing that; Mama said it was a bad habit. And then she sat up straight, hiding her bitten nails within the folds of her skirt, for he was coming toward them.
Humphrey greeted them both very courteously, even kissing Emma’s hand. Isabella thought he might kiss hers, too, so she kept it out of sight. He asked Emma if he could sit with them, but when he noticed how Isabella was fidgeting, he suggested instead that they walk in the gardens whilst they awaited the king’s summons. Emma hesitated. Isabella did not, for she did not like the way everyone in the hall was staring at her. Jumping to her feet, she said, “Let’s go.”
It was a warm autumn day, too warm for cloaks or mantles. Isabella’s spirits lifted a little as soon as they
escaped the hall. They began to walk along one of the garden pathways, Emma on Isabella’s left, Humphrey on her right. Isabella came to an abrupt halt, though, when she saw that woman coming toward them. It was the first time that Baldwin’s mother had ever smiled at her. Isabella did not find it reassuring and she became even more nervous when she saw that Agnes was stopping. She smiled at Humphrey, too, as if she were truly happy to see him, and offered her congratulations on their plight troth, confusing Isabella, who did not understand why that should matter to Agnes. But Agnes was beaming at them both, saying that they would have such beautiful children together. Humphrey thanked her politely and to Isabella’s relief, she then continued on toward the hall.
They resumed walking. Isabella was surprised when Humphrey said, “You do not like Agnes de Courtenay much, do you?”
“I do not like her at all,” she said emphatically, and saw him smile.
“I do not like her, either,” he confided.
She eyed him curiously. “Do you like my brother Baldwin?”
“Very much,” he said, so warmly that she found herself smiling, too. “There is no man in all of Outremer more courageous than King Baldwin.” He asked Emma then if he could show them the fish ponds, and she agreed. They walked in silence for a few moments, Isabella glancing at Humphrey from time to time. Catching her at it, he said, with another quick smile, “We do not know each other yet, but I am sure we will find that we have many things in common.”
“What things?”
“Well, we both lost our fathers when we were very young. Both of our mothers married again, so we have stepfathers. I’ve actually had two. Reynald is my mother’s third husband.”
The Land Beyond the Sea Page 48
