The Land Beyond the Sea

by Sharon Kay Penman

  On Sunday, the twentieth of November in the tenth regnal year of the king, Sybilla and Guillaume of Montferrat’s small son was crowned as the fifth King Baldwin in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The citizens of Jerusalem turned out to watch the procession to the church, but the crowd was subdued, their cheering muted. While many were overjoyed that Guy had been barred from the succession, they found it difficult to celebrate the prospect of a long minority. Even those who were illiterate and unfamiliar with Scriptures had still heard that ominous biblical prophecy: “Woe unto thee, O land, when thy king is a child.”

  * * *

  Night had fallen when Balian and Baudouin mounted the stairs to the roof of David’s Tower. As they watched, the huge bonfire was lit, the first in a series of warning beacons, a fiery promise to the besieged of Kerak that relief would soon be on the way. Baudouin moved closer to the crackling warmth, for a winter chill had set in, then tried again to console his brother. “You need not worry, lad. Reynald would never let himself fall into Saladin’s hands. He’ll hold that castle until Judgment Day.” Balian did not answer and they stood together in silence as the white-gold flames soared up into the black, cloud-smothered sky.

  CHAPTER 36

  November 1183

  Kerak Castle, Outrejourdain

  On the morning of her wedding, Isabella awoke to the sound of screaming. Sitting up, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, not sure if she’d been dreaming. Her mother was up and dressed already; so were Alicia and Emma. Isabella was very grateful that Emma had been willing to accompany her to Kerak. At least she’d not feel utterly alone after her mother departed. She knew Humphrey, of course, and liked him very much, but she was not sure she could confide in him the way she could talk with Emma. Her mother saw she was awake and was turning toward the bed when the shouting began again.

  “Mama, what is wrong?” After a brief hesitation, her mother told her that Saladin’s army had arrived. That was not a total surprise, for they’d known for days that Saladin was encamped at al-Rabba, just six miles from the castle. Isabella had not expected that the siege would start today of all days, though.

  Maria sat beside her on the bed and did her best to sound reassuring, reminding Isabella that Kerak was one of the most formidable strongholds in the entire kingdom, on a high ridge bordered on three sides by steep slopes that led down to the ravines known as wadis. It could easily hold out until Baldwin arrived with their army.

  “Why are people screaming, then, Mama?”

  “Reynald has chosen to defend the entire ridge, so he is refusing to let the townspeople bring their goods and livestock into the castle, insisting that they remain in their homes.”

  Despite the neutrality of the words, Isabella sensed that her mother did not approve of Reynald’s decision. From all the noise, it was obvious that the townspeople were unhappy with it, too, and she felt pity for them, denied the safety of Kerak’s stone walls. But then she saw her wedding clothes laid out on a nearby coffer and her own reality blotted out all else. Her life was about to change dramatically, even though neither she nor her parents wanted that to happen.

  * * *

  The inner bailey of the castle was so crowded that one of the knights had to clear a path for the women, which he did none too gently, for he was dealing with the lowborn peasants who’d fled from the countryside with their meager belongings. Their goats and sheep had been lowered on ropes into the deep, dry moat that separated the town from the citadel, and their mournful bleating had become so familiar that Isabella no longer noticed it. The refugees looked miserable even though they’d been allowed into the stronghold, fearing that they’d return to their villages to find them burned to the ground.

  Other knights came to escort them toward the keep at the south end of the bailey. The great hall occupied the entire first story and was already decorated for the wedding feast, with carpets spread upon the floor and white linen cloths covering the trestle tables; many Poulains had adopted the local practice of eating at low tables while seated on cushions, but Reynald scorned any custom associated with the Saracens.

  As soon as they entered the hall, Archbishop Guerricus of Petra came forward to greet them, as did Isabella’s aunt by marriage. Mary d’Ibelin had insisted upon accompanying them to Kerak, feeling it was her duty to offer her sister-in-law moral support at such a difficult time. Her good intentions notwithstanding, her presence was no comfort to Maria or Isabella, for neither one liked her all that much.

  Isabella politely submitted to Mary’s kiss on her cheek. Archbishop Guerricus was assuring her mother that they were in no danger, making the siege sound like a minor inconvenience. Smiling at Isabella, he said that they’d had to change their plans and she and Lord Humphrey were now to be wed in the castle chapel instead of in the cathedral church in town. When he admitted that he was not sure all the wedding guests could fit into the chapel, Isabella thought there were not that many guests. She did not say that aloud, for she knew Humphrey’s mother was angry that so many of their expected guests had sent their regrets.

  All of the kingdom’s highborn lords except Reynald and Humphrey were in Jerusalem attending Baldwin’s great council, and most of their wives had chosen not to come without their husbands, not after rumors spread of a Saracen assault upon Kerak. Joscelin’s wife, Agneta, was naturally present, as Stephanie’s cousin. A modest, unassuming woman quite unlike the flamboyant Stephanie, Agneta did not look happy to be there. She’d been friendly to Isabella, who found herself wishing now that Agneta and not Stephanie was to be her mother by marriage.

  The others on hand were Reynald and Stephanie’s vassals and their wives. There were numerous knights, some from Reynald’s household, others ordered by Baldwin to accompany him when they’d first heard the rumors of a Saracen attack. Then there was the garrison, castle servants, the wretched refugees from nearby villages, and the entertainers. They’d begun arriving weeks ago—musicians and jugglers and minstrels, even a man with trained dogs; Isabella was looking forward to seeing them perform. But they were in low spirits, fearing both for their lives and the loss of all the money they’d expected to make; weddings of the highborn were usually very profitable.

  Humphrey soon appeared and headed in their direction. He amused Isabella by gallantly kissing her hand and was very respectful to Maria, as always, but she still showed no signs of thawing and accorded him no more than cool courtesy. He took solace, though, in the warmth of Isabella’s smile. She thought he looked quite handsome in a red and gold tunic and opened her mantle to show him her wedding gown, a brocaded silk the color of ripe plums, and her slippers of green felt, pleased when he praised them extravagantly.

  When Humphrey said that Reynald was up on the battlements, Isabella wished she could also do that, for she wanted to see what was happening. She’d never been in a castle with so few windows. Those in her bedchamber were very small and faced the inner bailey, while the only other sources of light were the arrow slits in the outer wall, and the great hall lacked the customary window alcoves; the keep was constructed for war, not comfort.

  Isabella had been too young to remember life in her father’s Jerusalem palace. She’d been told it was much more elegant than their palace at Nablus. But she’d learned to love their Nablus home. Built around a garden courtyard that was the heart of the household, the house was spacious and sunlit, so different from the bleak frontier fortress at Kerak. And as she stood there in the great hall, just hours away from becoming Humphrey’s wife, she knew she did not want to spend the rest of her days in this secluded stronghold, perched high on a mountain within sight of the barren Salt Sea.

  * * *

  Wedding vows were normally exchanged before the bridal couple entered the church so there would be as many witnesses as possible. But Stephanie herded them all into the chapel, for it had begun to rain, unusual in November at Kerak, and Isabella hoped that was not a bad omen.

  Isabella w
ould remember only fragments of the ceremony or the nuptial Mass that followed. Her most vivid memory was of kneeling with Humphrey before the altar, dutifully pledging her troth after he did, then holding out her hand to him. When he slid the ring onto her third finger, he said, “With this ring, I thee wed,” and Isabella became his wife.

  * * *

  Reynald had missed the ceremony. He put in an appearance at the wedding feast in the great hall, although he was obviously distracted, his thoughts on the Saracen army that had now taken up position around the castle to the south and north; the east and west slopes were so steep that an approach was impossible. Isabella and Humphrey had the seats of honor on the dais, with Stephanie sitting next to her son and Reynald next to the bride.

  Reynald made no effort to engage Isabella in conversation, but she was fine with that. Knowing that Humphrey feared him and her mother and Balian distrusted him, she felt very uncomfortable in his presence. She wished her mother had not been seated so far down the table; she was a queen, after all. Stephanie had spared no expense and the menu was a lavish one. The guests were served a soup of almond milk and onions, quail stuffed with herbs and grapes, rice, lentils, roasted wild boar, a cream custard, carobs, and fruit-filled wafers. Isabella was accustomed to Syrian and Greek cuisine, and she thought many of the dishes were rather bland; Humphrey had confided that Reynald would rather starve than eat any food with Saracen seasoning.

  Kegs of wine had been brought in from vineyards around Bethlehem and barley beer brewed by alewives in the town. Fruit juices were also provided; Humphrey made sure that Isabella’s cup was kept filled with almond milk. He drank very little himself. Male guests were expected to drink themselves into oblivion at wedding revelries, but wine was not flowing as freely as was usual. Isabella guessed many of the men were wisely pacing themselves under the circumstances. She found it passing strange to be celebrating whilst an infidel army surrounded the castle and she thought that surely others must feel that way, too.

  Reynald had disappeared in midmeal, rising quickly when one of his knights entered the hall and signaled to him. Stephanie was obviously annoyed that he’d left without saying anything to her, as she was not one for concealing her emotions. A handsome woman with red hair and green eyes, she bore no resemblance to her son; Isabella assumed Humphrey took after his late father, who’d died when he was seven. Humphrey did not talk much about him, or about his mother, either. He had told Isabella a lot about his grandfather, the constable, though. It had been four years since he’d died defending Baldwin in that Saracen ambush, but it seemed clear to her that Humphrey still missed him very much.

  The dishes in the last course had been served and the musicians were performing when there was a sudden loud crash and the building seemed to shake. People jumped to their feet with a hastiness that revealed the state of their nerves. Sir Yvein, one of Reynald’s knights, soon entered and strode toward the dais. “You need not worry, my lords and ladies. The Saracens set up two mangonels on the south side of the castle and they are testing them, trying to find the right range.” He grinned then, saying that they were wasting their time. “Only one stone cleared the wall and struck the keep. All the others splashed down into the berquilla.”

  “What is a berquilla?” Isabella asked Humphrey, who explained that was the name for the outside cistern, which functioned as a moat in wartime and a water source in peacetime. He started to elaborate on that answer, to tell her that the castle’s greatest vulnerability was at the southern end of the ridge and the cistern had been dug there to keep attackers from tunneling under the walls. But his mother was calling for silence.

  Stephanie had gone over to the sideboard and selected a covered silver dish, which she then handed to a servant. “I am sending this out to Saladin,” she announced. “I’d not want anyone to go hungry on the day of my son’s wedding.”

  The guests at once began to cheer and clap. Isabella noticed that even her mother smiled. The only one who did not seem impressed by Stephanie’s bravura gesture was the servant who would have to venture from the town out to the Saracen camp under a flag of truce.

  The tables were quickly cleared away and Isabella participated in her first dance; Emma and Maria had taught her the steps and she was soon enjoying herself. Whenever she caught her mother’s eye, Maria smiled, but it was the saddest smile Isabella had ever seen.

  It was not long before the servant returned. The dancing stopped, all eyes upon him as he approached the dais and bowed before Stephanie. “I did as you bade, my lady, delivered the dish and your message to the sultan. He thanked you and then he asked in which tower the bridal couple are being lodged. When I told him, he said that he would refrain from aiming his siege engines at that tower.”

  A silence fell and as Isabella looked around at the guests, she saw that she was not the only one thinking that Saladin had gotten the better of her mother-in-law in that exchange.

  It was then that an inebriated male guest asked loudly if it was time to escort the bride and groom to their marriage bed. Isabella blushed, but her mother was already saying, in a clear, carrying voice that was colder than ice, “There will be no bedding-down revelries.”

  Some of the guests looked disappointed. Archbishop Guerricus quickly agreed with Maria, reminding them that such raucous revelries would be most unseemly since the bride was just eleven. And with that, Isabella’s wedding festivities came to an abrupt end.

  * * *

  Isabella and Humphrey knelt in his bedchamber as Nicolas, the chaplain, blessed their marriage bed. He and Humphrey were then ushered out by the women. In the usual wedding, many of the women guests would have been involved in making the bride ready for her groom; on Isabella’s wedding night, she was attended only by her mother, Emma, and Mary. It did not take long. As she sat on a stool, her mother brushed her long black hair and Emma turned back the covers. Since people normally slept naked, Isabella was surprised when Maria stopped her as she started to remove her chemise.

  Isabella was already giving promise of the beauty she would one day become. Her flux had not begun, though, and her body was still slim and childish, not yet showing any womanly curves. But Balian had told Maria that lads of seventeen were in a constant state of arousal, so she worried that the sight of Isabella’s bare skin might tempt Humphrey into forgetting his good intentions.

  At a soft knock on the door, Mary crossed the chamber to admit Humphrey. Maria leaned over the bed and hugged Isabella tightly, whispering, “O Theos na sas kratisei asfali,” for there was nothing more she could do for her daughter except entreat God to keep her safe. When Isabella murmured, “Kalinikta, Mitera,” Maria’s throat tightened. It was not just that she’d said “Good night” in Greek, but that for the first time she’d said “Mother,” not “Mama.”

  Humphrey was standing by the bed, politely waiting for them to leave. Taking his sleeve, Maria drew him aside, pitching her voice for him alone. “Remember what you promised my husband and me—that you will not consummate the marriage until Isabella is old enough.”

  Humphrey was insulted that she’d felt the need to remind him of that promise. Why would she not believe that he’d never hurt Bella? “I gave you and Lord Balian my word, madame,” he said, with a flash of rare resentment, and Maria had to be content with that.

  As soon as the women departed, Humphrey closed the door and slid the bolt into place. It occurred to Isabella for the first time that he had the right to do that, to shut out the rest of the world, for she belonged to him now, and she felt a prickle of unease.

  “I have your bridal gift, Bella,” he said, and was surprised by her look of dismay.

  “I have nothing for you, Humphrey! I am sorry, I did not know. . . .”

  “That is not customary,” he assured her. “The bride’s gift to her husband is herself.”

  Opening a coffer by the bed, he pulled out a cushioned wicker basket. “For your dog . . . Jordan,
right? I know you’ve missed him, but once the wedding and siege are over, he need not stay in the kennels and he can sleep with you in your bedchamber.”

  Isabella gave him a radiant smile, pleased with the gift and delighted by his revelation. “Thank you! I will have my own bedchamber, then?” When he confirmed that she and Emma would have a private chamber until she was old enough to share his bed, she lay back against the pillows, feeling some of her tension ebbing away.

  Moving to the brazier, Humphrey checked to make sure the coals were still smoldering, for November nights could be quite chilly at such an altitude. He crossed next to the table, where he extinguished the candles, all but one in case either of them had to use the chamber pot before morning. Returning to the bed, he undressed quickly, tossing his wedding finery onto a chair. Isabella watched through her lashes, saw him start to pull his braies down his hips, stop, glance in her direction, and keep them on. Realizing that he’d done that for her sake, she smiled again. Her new husband had a kind heart and, as young as she was, she still understood the value of that. Getting into bed, he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, as her mother and Pateras so often did. She suddenly felt very tired and soon afterward, he saw that she was sleeping. He watched her for a time and eventually fell asleep with a smile on his face.

  * * *

  Their first night of marriage was surprisingly peaceful, given the circumstances, but Isabella and Humphrey’s awakening the next morning was not. They were jolted back to reality by screaming, shouting, cursing, the sounds of running feet on the tower roof, and the crashing of mangonel stones against the south wall. Humphrey dived from the bed, opened a coffer, and snatched up the first clothing at hand. “I must see what is happening,” he explained as he headed for the door. “I’ll send Emma in to help you dress, Bella.” And then he was gone.