She did, too. “Last night, when I could not get to sleep, I found myself trying to decide who deserves the most blame for this . . . this calamity we are now facing. There was no lack of candidates. Sybilla and Guy, obviously. Even more so, the men who hope to be kingmakers.”
“The unholy trinity,” he said, sounding too bitter for sarcasm. “Our unpriestly patriarch, that Templar hothead, and Reynald, of course; whenever there is trouble, he is in the midst of it.”
She nodded. “Let’s not forget the patriarch’s puppet, Joscelin de Courtenay. But there is another kingmaker who ought to be mentioned, too. Raymond also bears some of the guilt; had he not colluded with his cousin to stage a coup, Baldwin would never have agreed to let Sybilla wed Guy.” Shifting so she could see his face, she said, “Somewhere Lucifer must be laughing, Balian. Baldwin sacrificed so much to protect his kingdom. Yet he made two great blunders that contributed to our present peril. He married both of his sisters to men unfit to rule.”
Balian could not judge Baldwin so dispassionately; he’d loved the leper king, and he hoped that Baldwin had never reached that same unsparing conclusion. Before he could respond, there was a knock on the door. When he heard Isabella’s voice, he told her to wait and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Tossing Maria her bed robe, he grabbed a shirt off a wall hook, pulling it over his head and hips as he padded barefoot toward the door.
Isabella was very pale and she seemed to have dressed in haste, for her hair was not braided and her veil was slightly askew. When Balian hugged her, he could feel her trembling and shot Maria a silent message that something was gravely amiss. Maria had already deduced this. Patting the bed beside her, she invited her daughter to sit, prepared to be patient until Isabella was ready to reveal what had brought her to their bedchamber at such an early hour.
Isabella stayed on her feet. “Humphrey . . .” She swallowed before starting again. “He is missing.” Seeing that they did not yet understand, she took a few steps closer to the bed. “When I awoke this morning, I saw that he’d never been to bed. I asked Sir Fulcher to look for him, but he is nowhere to be found.”
Neither Balian nor Maria knew what to make of this. After exchanging glances with his wife, Balian said, choosing his words with care, “Bella, what do you think has happened?”
Isabella had been gazing down at her feet as she’d spoken. She looked up at that and he saw that her dark eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I think that he has gone to Jerusalem to make peace with Sybilla and Guy,” she confessed, and only then did her composure crack and the tears begin to flow, a slow, silent testimony to a heart badly bruised even if not broken.
* * *
None of the lords knew why they’d been summoned to Balian and Maria’s bedchamber with such urgency. Few of them had slept well and they were already on edge as they entered the room. Isabella was standing as far from the door as she could get, flanked by her parents. She started to speak, but so softly that they could not catch all of her words, and Balian put a reassuring hand on her shoulder before telling them what she could not bring herself to do, that Humphrey de Toron had thwarted their plan to crown Isabella.
Their first reaction was disbelief, an unwillingness to accept that they’d been outmaneuvered yet again, followed by despairing rage. Isabella stood her ground even though she was unnerved by their shouting and tried to answer the barrage of questions as best she could. When the interrogation began to sound accusatory, Balian and Maria both intervened, she saying sharply that this was not Isabella’s fault and Balian stepping protectively in front of his stepdaughter, making it clear by his body language that the cross-examination was over.
Baudouin had been one of the worst offenders, for he was prone to expressing himself loudly even in ordinary conversation. But as appalled as he was by Humphrey’s flight, Isabella was his niece and family always came first. Moving to stand beside his brother, he said, “We are done here” in a tone that conveyed both a warning and a threat.
Raymond was still reeling from the blow Humphrey had delivered to his hopes and his family’s future. He managed a grudging almost apology, muttering that they did not “blame the lass for de Toron’s treason,” then spun on his heel and left the chamber. After some uncertainty, the other men followed, only Denys and Baudouin remaining behind.
“We know none of this is your doing,” Denys assured Isabella before addressing himself to the adults. “We must hold a court session, but it might be best to give them some time to come to terms with this. When a wound is so fresh, the pain is likely to overwhelm common sense.”
“Do I have to be there?” Yet when they all assured Isabella that there was no need for her to attend the session, their support strengthened her resolve and she decided she did need to be present. It was a matter of pride and, she now realized, loyalty to Humphrey.
* * *
It turned out to be less of an ordeal than Isabella had expected. Fury had given way to fatalism and the men seemed unable to summon the energy for outrage, not when their defeat was so total. Balian spoke for Isabella again, tersely relating what they knew of Humphrey’s disappearance, even summoning the stable groom, who told them of renting a horse to a young lord who’d taken the road toward Jerusalem. That was proof enough of Humphrey’s treachery to his former allies. While some of them aimed threats and curses at his absent head, their hearts were not really in it, for all that mattered now was mending fences with the new king and queen.
Raymond and Baudouin made a last-ditch attempt to stave off surrender, arguing that Isabella could still be crowned. But no woman could rule without a man at her side and very few would be willing to follow a fourteen-year-old girl with a husband in the enemy camp. Many would decide that Guy no longer looked so bad if confronted with such a choice.
The session ended in disarray, for they all knew it was now every man for himself. Raymond remained rebellious, declaring that he would never do homage to Guy de Lusignan. The other barons were not impressed by his bravado, for he could better afford a grand gesture of defiance; even if he were rash enough to put Galilee at risk, he was still the Count of Tripoli. One by one, they thanked Balian and Maria for their hospitality, took care to bid a respectful farewell to Isabella, for she might still become their queen one day if Fortune’s wheel took an unexpected spin, and returned to their own homes to lay plans for surviving this debacle.
* * *
Stephanie and Reynald had a town house in Jerusalem and Humphrey had been staying there since his arrival in the city. For once, he was in Reynald’s favor; his stepfather had even congratulated him for “throwing the last shovel of dirt onto Raymond’s coffin.” His mother seemed more ambivalent. As Reynald’s wife, she’d naturally given public support to the queen and king he’d done so much to make. She made a few ambiguous comments, though, that caused Humphrey to wonder if she entertained any regrets that her son had spurned a crown. He did not ask, doubting that she’d tell him the truth and not really caring if she did.
He’d written to Isabella, had yet to receive a response, and each day of silence inflicted another heart’s wound. The rebel barons had begun to arrive in Jerusalem, seeking pardons from their new rulers. Humphrey watched a few of these submissions and was disgusted by the attempts to blame everything on Raymond, as if these lords had been forced at sword-point to repudiate their rightful king and queen. Much to his surprise, Guy and Sybilla had proven to be gracious winners. Apparently, they’d either realized or had been persuaded that they needed to unite the kingdom’s rival factions, and Humphrey took what small comfort he could from that.
He’d still not heard from Isabella and as September ebbed away, he decided he had no choice but to return to Nablus and try to reclaim his wife. He’d been avoiding his mother and Reynald, so he was taken by surprise when Stephanie came to his bedchamber one evening and told him that Balian d’Ibelin and that Greek woman had appeared at the palace that af
ternoon, where they’d done homage to Sybilla and Guy and were received with more warmth and forgiveness than either of them deserved. She saw the question in his eyes and nodded.
“Yes, they brought your wife with them. I am pleased to report that Sybilla was very generous, making it clear that she does not blame Isabella for being led astray by bad counsel.” Vexed by Humphrey’s lack of response, she turned to go. She paused at the door, though, to try to prod him into action. “Do you plan to retrieve your wife yourself? Or should I ask Reynald to fetch her home for you?” This time her departure was real, so she was gone by the time he grabbed the closest item at hand, a book, and flung it at that closing door.
* * *
Humphrey was kept waiting for so long in the great hall of his in-laws’ town house that he wondered if he’d be turned away, denied even a glimpse of his wife. But then Balian entered the hall. “I am here to see Isabella,” Humphrey said, seeing the futility of offering courtesy to a man who was making no attempt to camouflage his contempt. Humphrey was accustomed to Maria’s coldness; it stung more now, coming from Balian, who’d always treated him amicably.
“I do not know if she wants to see you.” Gesturing to the youthful squire who was glaring at Humphrey, Balian told Ernoul to deliver that message to his daughter. He was delivering a message of his own by stressing the word “daughter” and Humphrey understood; Bella would always be Balian and Maria’s daughter, but she’d remain his wife only if that were her choice. He was not treated as a guest, offered neither wine nor a seat, and the very silence in the hall seemed hostile. When he could endure it no longer, he took several steps toward Balian, pitching his voice for the other man’s ears alone. “I never meant to cause Bella any pain—”
“Do not say it.” Balian’s voice was low, too, yet it conveyed more menace than shouting could have done. Humphrey suddenly felt as if he were looking at a stranger, one whose anger was measured, deliberate, and dangerous. “If it were up to me, de Toron, you’d never lay eyes on my daughter again. But that is not my judgment to make. It is Bella’s and we shall respect whatever she decides. So will you.”
“I will,” Humphrey said quickly. It was suddenly very important that he convince Balian he would never coerce Bella into doing anything she did not want to do. “I know you are not likely to believe me now that I’ve pledged my support to Sybilla and Guy, but I love Bella very much, enough to set her free if that be her wish.”
“The reason I do not believe you is because you are a coward. You ran away and abandoned Bella to a storm of your making. If you truly loved my daughter, you’d have been honest with her, with us all. You’d have stood up and told us your reasons why you would not accept the crown. You’d have given Bella the chance either to agree with you or to decide she still wanted to be queen. Instead, you fled like a thief in the night, leaving her behind to face the fury that was meant for you.”
Humphrey had no words, no defense, for only now did he truly understand just what he’d done to his wife. He’d feared that she would resent him for denying her the right to be queen. But that was just one of the wounds he’d inflicted and his shame and remorse were all the greater because he’d needed to have her stepfather point them out to him.
It was then that Ernoul returned. “I am sorry, my lord,” he told Balian, sounding as if it were somehow his fault. “But Lady Isabella has agreed to see him.”
* * *
Emma opened the bedchamber door. Humphrey knew she’d blamed him, as Maria had done, for not protesting when Bella was forbidden to see her family, but she’d become less judgmental once Bella had confided that she loved him. He saw now that he’d lost all the ground he’d gained and he was once more in enemy territory. “Just call if you need me, my lady,” Emma said, and brushed by Humphrey without a word or glance.
He and Isabella regarded each other in silence for several moments. “Did you get my letters?” he asked at last, and her eyebrows shot upward in disbelief.
“Of course I did. What . . . you think my parents would have kept them from me? They would never do that.”
“You answered none of the letters, though.”
“Because we needed to talk, Humphrey.”
“You did read them?” he persisted, for he’d poured out his heart in those letters, and he sighed in relief when she nodded. “Then you know how sorry I am for causing you any grief. . . .”
“I was hurt at first, but that soon passed. I am still angry with you, though.” When he did not speak, some of that anger crept into her voice. “You do know why?”
“I cost you a crown. If not for what I did, you’d have been the queen.”
She slowly shook her head. “No, Humphrey. I admit I was dazzled a bit at first; crowns seem to have that affect on people. But once I had time to think it over, I did not feel bereft that I would not be queen. I may even have felt some relief, for I would never want to go to war with my sister and that may well have happened. You were right about that.”
During the weeks they’d been apart, he’d seen that crown as an insurmountable barrier between them, and he ought to have been very thankful to learn it was not so. But Balian’s bitter words were still ringing in his ears. “Your stepfather called me a coward, Bella . . . and he was right. I was afraid to defy the Count of Tripoli and the High Court, so I took the easy way out. I ran away and left you to answer for my treachery, for that was how they would have seen it . . . as the worst sort of betrayal.”
“Yes, they did. But I care more about the wrong you did me. You lied to me, Humphrey.” Holding up her hand before he could protest. “Oh, yes, you did. A lie of omission is still a lie. You owed me better than that, should have told me the truth about how you felt. Had you only been honest with me that night, you’d have saved us both so much grief. Whether we’d run away to Jerusalem or stayed to confront them together the next day—”
“You would have done that? If I’d asked you, you’d have fled to Jerusalem with me?”
“Only if I’d not been able to talk you out of it. Of course, I’d have left a note for my parents if we had run away. That was another of your mistakes, Humphrey, riding off without a word. You must promise never to do that again.”
He was not sure which of them was the one to take those first steps, but suddenly she was in his arms and his world was filled again with blazing sunlight, dazzling after so many weeks of darkness. After a time, he heard himself ask if she forgave him and she said she did, with a smile so bewitching it quite literally took his breath away.
“In many ways, my sister and I are as different as day and night. But Sybilla and I have one important quality in common. We are both very loyal to the men we married,” she said, and laughed as he swept her up and carried her to the bed.
* * *
Eventually, the barons of the kingdom had made their peace with Guy, all but the Count of Tripoli and Baudouin d’Ibelin. In October, Guy summoned the lords of Outremer to attend a general assembly at Acre. To no one’s surprise, Count Raymond ignored the summons. There was much more suspense as to whether or not Baudouin would appear, and when he was spotted riding into the city in the company of his brother and sister-in-law, people flocked to the cathedral of the Holy Cross, where the session was to be held, eager to witness the reckoning between the new king and one of the most powerful of his vassals.
As they entered the cathedral close, the d’Ibelins were greeted by the new bishop of Acre, Rufinus, for Joscius had recently been elevated to the archbishopric of Tyre, vacant since William’s death. The king had chosen to hold the general assembly in their chapter house, he explained, and he would be pleased to escort them there, adding that he hoped they would be able to attend the feast that he was giving on the morrow, one of reconciliation. That was such a heavy hint that Baudouin chuckled. If he was amused by the bishop’s overt curiosity, Balian was not, for he was one of the few who knew what Baudouin intended to do
. He’d been hoping that Baudouin would change his mind at the eleventh hour, but there was no sign of that so far.
Isabella had been waiting in the cathedral cloisters and hastened toward them, trailed by Humphrey. Balian and Maria’s meeting with their son-in-law was awkward for all three of them, but they’d resolved to be civil to him for Isabella’s sake. Baudouin could only manage a grudging nod. He was very pleased, though, to see his eldest daughter, Esquiva, standing nearby. He greeted her affectionately, wishing he’d been able to warn her in advance, yet how could he confide in her when she was sleeping with the enemy? As he hugged his daughter, Balian and Maria exchanged the sort of mute message common in good marriages, one that communicated the same thought—sympathy for Esquiva, born a d’Ibelin and wed to a de Lusignan, and a determination to spare Isabella such torn loyalties if at all possible.
Upon their entrance into the chapter house, Baudouin was at once the focus of all eyes. Balian felt as if he were watching a rogue wave about to crash upon an unprotected beach, and anger began to stir, for he well knew Baudouin was relishing the attention, the speculation, and the coming confrontation with Guy de Lusignan.
The d’Ibelin women were not the only highborn wives present; so was Stephanie de Milly; her cousin Agneta; and, of course, Sybilla, who looked as if queenship agreed with her. Guy was in good spirits, too, for Baudouin’s presence signified his surrender. While that had not really been in doubt, Guy was still pleased to have it finally over with.
After Bishop Rufinus opened the session by asking God’s blessing upon their kingdom, Guy rose from the dais and approached the lectern. His speech was brief and to the point. He thanked the Almighty for showing him such favor and bestowing so great an honor upon him and he promised to prove worthy of it. He concluded by asking the assembled barons to again offer him the homage and fealty that vassals owed their liege lord. There was a smattering of polite applause when the audience saw that he was done, for most of the men were willing to acknowledge he could sound like a king when need be. He looked like a king, too, handsome and still in his prime. Whether he could act like a king remained to be proven.
The Land Beyond the Sea Page 70
