Guy signaled then to Reynald de Chatillon, who was enjoying the humiliation of a man he’d long disliked, both because of the influence Baudouin d’Ibelin wielded and because he’d been impossible to intimidate. “Let the Lord of Ramlah be the first to come forward and bend the knee to his king, to do homage that is long overdue.”
Guy had not wanted Baudouin’s capitulation to be a public shaming, satisfied by the submission itself, and he tried to catch Reynald’s eye. Reynald did not look in his direction, though, keeping his gaze locked challengingly on the Lord of Ramlah. Baudouin rose without haste and, ignoring Reynald altogether, gave his response to the man who would be his king.
“No, I will not do homage to you, my lord, not today, not ever.”
There was a stunned silence, for none were expecting defiance, other than the few whom Baudouin had taken into his confidence. Guy seemed more bewildered than angry, pointing out that if Baudouin would not do homage to his king and liege lord, he would forfeit his fiefs of Ramlah and Mirabel, almost as if he thought that had somehow escaped Baudouin’s attention.
“If doing homage to you is the price I must pay for holding those fiefs, it is too high. That is not an act I can live with. I am giving Ramlah and Mirabel to my heir, and I will commend those fiefs into the Crown’s keeping until my son, Thomasin, comes of legal age. At that time, he can decide for himself if he wants to do homage to you. And until Thomasin reaches his majority, I entrust him to the care of my brother, Balian, the Lord of Nablus.”
Baudouin had planned to elaborate upon the reasons why he could not accept Guy as his king, to indulge in the brutal candor of a man with nothing to lose. But as he gazed around the chapter house, he realized that there was no need for this. His dramatic repudiation spoke for itself. Looking back at the speechless king, he said calmly, “Well, I think we are done here. I will quit your kingdom within three days.” And with that, he turned and walked out.
* * *
Balian was shocked by the number of Baudouin’s knights who’d chosen to accompany him into exile. It was bad enough for the kingdom to lose a battle commander as experienced as his brother. Losing so many men, too, was a blow he’d not been expecting.
Baudouin was saying a final farewell to his younger daughter, Etiennette, her husband, and their small son while his wife fidgeted nearby, clearly eager to get on the road. Balian and Maria had wondered how Mary felt about starting life anew in Antioch, but apparently, she was fine with the move. It occurred to Balian that she shared his brother’s belief that Outremer was doomed and was glad to escape the coming conflagration.
Catching movement from the corner of his eye, Balian saw his nephew had returned to the hall. Thomasin was distressed by his father’s departure and so far, neither Baudouin nor Balian had been able to offer him much comfort. He did not understand and why should he? Balian was a man grown and he understood no better than the lad did.
Baudouin had noticed Thomasin’s reappearance, too, and beckoned to him. The boy approached slowly, keeping his head down, and when his father attempted to give him another farewell hug, he stood rigid and unresponsive in the embrace. When he was released, he spun around and headed for the door; by the time he reached it, he was in full flight.
Baudouin took several steps after him, then gave up. Seeing Balian standing a few feet away, he turned to his brother, instead. “The lad is being so stubborn about this. It is not as if I’ve sent him off to strangers. He’s been living with you and Maria for nigh on a year now.”
While it was true that highborn sons were always placed in other noble households to learn the skills their rank would require, it was disingenuous to compare a separation like that with what Thomasin was facing now. Balian said impatiently, “You of all men ought to understand his unhappiness, Baudouin. You were about his age when our father died.”
“God Almighty, I have not died! I will be seeing him again, will be seeing you all.”
Hearing his defensive tone, Baudouin managed to rein in his temper. “Let’s not quarrel, Balian. I do not want our last words to be accusations or recriminations.”
“Nor do I.” The temptation to make one final attempt to bring Baudouin to his senses was overwhelming, but Balian knew it was futile. They’d already said all there was to say.
Baudouin did not think so, though, and after they’d moved into the courtyard and his stallion had been brought over, he paused in the act of swinging up into the saddle. Turning around, he reached out and put both hands on his brother’s shoulders. “Come with me, Balian. Bohemond was overjoyed that I was leaving Outremer for Antioch and he has already promised to give me lands equal in value to those I am relinquishing here. He’d welcome you just as warmly. If you settle in Antioch, you and Maria will not be the losers for it.”
Balian shook his head. “You know we cannot do that, Baudouin.”
Baudouin’s hands fell to his sides. “No, I do not suppose you can,” he conceded. “How could you abandon Bella?”
How can you abandon your homeland? The words hovered on Balian’s lips; he bit them back. Baudouin believed his act was one of principle, defying a man not worthy to be king. Balian saw it as turning his back on Outremer in its time of greatest need. But an accusation like that would cast a shadow between them for the rest of their lives.
Once he was mounted, Baudouin gave the signal to depart. Balian walked beside him as they rode out of the courtyard and into the street. Baudouin looked back once and waved. His eyes burning with unshed tears, Balian did not return the wave. But he continued to watch until the riders were no longer in sight and even the dust had begun to settle.
CHAPTER 45
February 1187
Jerusalem, Outremer
Gerard de Ridefort and Patriarch Eraclius had been expecting to be summoned to the palace, for Guy was facing the most serious crisis of his kingship since he’d been publicly repudiated by Baudouin d’Ibelin. To no one’s surprise, it had been provoked by Reynald de Chatillon. Earlier in the year, he had again attacked a rich caravan passing through Outrejourdain on its way from Egypt to Damascus, seizing all the goods, slaying its guards, and taking the merchants off into captivity. This raid shattered the truce between the Franks and the Saracens and Saladin was outraged. He insisted upon the release of the prisoners and restitution for the stolen property. When Reynald had laughed at his demand, Saladin lodged a formal protest with the king. In hopes of salvaging the truce, Guy ordered Reynald to satisfy Saladin’s claims. Since that was more than a fortnight ago, the Templar grand master and the patriarch assumed that Guy had gotten an answer from Kerak. They also assumed that they knew what the answer was.
They were ushered to the palace solar, where Guy and Sybilla awaited them. Guy’s face was flushed with anger and he immediately launched into a diatribe against Kerak’s lord. Reynald had refused to comply, as the other men had expected. But they soon learned that Reynald had done more than reject the compensation claim for the caravan’s loss.
“Not only did he defy his king,” Guy sputtered, “he dared to assert that he has the right to act as his pleases in his own lands. He said he did not make a truce with Saladin, so he was not bound by it. He even insisted that he is as sovereign in Outrejourdain as I am in Outremer!”
Gerard and Eraclius exchanged frowns at that. It served neither the interests of the Templars nor the Church if Outremer’s barons felt free to act like crowned kings. But when Guy asked them how he should punish Reynald, they both agreed that there was nothing he could do.
That was not what Guy wanted to hear. Sybilla intervened before he could rebuke them for not offering useful advice. “Surely there must be some measures we can take. Reynald’s defiance could be seen as a repudiation of my lord husband’s authority.”
Eraclius thought there was no doubt whatsoever of that. “Regrettably, madame, we have no means of compelling obedience from Lord Reynald. Even if Kera
k were not such an impregnable fortress, we could not take military action against him. We need the man to defend our southern borders from the Saracens. That is why he was allowed to wed Stephanie de Milly.”
Guy wanted to protest, but he reluctantly recognized the truth in what the patriarch had just said. “Well,” he said at last, “should I call a High Court session?”
“No!” they said in unison, for why let the entire kingdom know that he’d been defied by de Chatillon? Seeing that Guy had resigned himself to reality, Eraclius made courteous conversation until his departure would not be too abrupt, and then rose to his feet. Sybilla did, too, saying that their youngest, Mary, was still teething and she wanted to check upon her.
Guy crossed to her side and gave her a quick kiss. “Let me know how the little lass is faring.” He was pleased to see that Gerard remained seated, welcoming the company; not introspective by nature, he had never developed a taste for solitude.
They talked for a while about the Saracens. Guy was proud that the celebrated spy Bernard was now in his service and he told Gerard what Bernard had reported: that Saladin was increasingly suspicious of his nephew’s ambitions. “So, Saladin ordered Taqī al-Dīn to join him in Syria and dispatched al-‘Ādil to take command in Egypt again.”
Gerard already knew about the shifting political sands in the sultan’s empire; the Templars had an extensive spy network of their own. But he acted as if hearing Guy’s revelations for the first time; he wanted to coax the king into better spirits before he broached his own plan. So, he flattered Guy with unwavering attention, interjecting the appropriate questions as they discussed the infidels and, then, the marital nets that Guy had been casting.
Guy was eager to share his good fortune with his kinsmen back in Poitou and he’d begun to arrange marriages for them with Outremer heiresses. This stirred up much resentment among the Poulain lords, who were furious to see royal patronage lavished on foreigners, and Gerard made sure that Guy knew of their discontent. The more isolated the king felt, the more he’d have to rely upon the few allies he had left, and Gerard intended to convince Guy that he was the most steadfast ally of them all.
Guy remained a puzzle to Gerard. He did not understand why a man so blessed by God should be so insecure, so easily wounded by what other men thought of him. Why should a king care? But whilst he scorned Guy for such weakness, he still realized that Guy was not as foolish as he sometimes sounded, and so he was careful not to overstep his bounds, always according Guy the respect and deference he seemed so desperately to crave. So far, the strategy had worked well. It was about to be truly tested now, though.
“May I ask you a question, sire? What mean you to do about the Count of Tripoli?”
The mere mention of Count Raymond was enough to sour Guy’s mood. Even though there was no accusation in Gerard’s tone or demeanor, Guy could not keep a defensive note from creeping into his own voice. “I have demanded that he account for the expenditure of Crown funds during his tenure as the boy king’s regent.”
“And I heard that he was greatly angered by that, which shows he has something to hide, for this was a reasonable request. But by not responding, he continues to defy you, just as he stubbornly refuses to do homage to you as our king. I find it passing strange, too, that he has not returned to Tripoli. By remaining in Galilee, it is almost as if he is deliberately taunting you.”
Guy thought so, too. Raymond’s continuing presence in his kingdom was like a festering sore. Feeling cornered, he resorted to sarcasm, saying testily, “What would you have me do, Gerard? Proclaim him a rebel and declare Galilee forfeit?” He was startled when Gerard said that was indeed what he was suggesting. “You cannot be serious?”
“I am very serious, my liege. The man is a rebel and deserves to be treated like one.”
“Yet you seemed untroubled by Reynald de Chatillon’s defiance. You and the patriarch insisted that his disobedience must be ignored.”
“Reynald has not denied you his homage, sire. He is troublesome, but he does not pose a threat to your throne. And we need him in the coming war against Saladin. Raymond covets your crown, convinced that he has a blood claim stronger than Sybilla’s. He cannot be trusted.”
“Of course he cannot! That does not mean I ought to take up arms against him.”
“Sire, may I speak freely? I have no doubts that Raymond de St. Gilles would usurp your throne if the opportunity presented itself. But what I fear now is the effect that his continued defiance may have upon the other lords of the realm. You know how stubborn these Poulains are, fancying themselves all to be kingmakers. Such lunacy would never be condoned back in your Poitou or my Flanders, yet in Outremer, they actually take pride in their intransigence.”
Guy nodded; he found the bizarre beliefs of the Poulains to be as irrational as they were revolutionary. Who ever heard of electing a king? A kingship was divinely ordained. “You think they might see me as weak and, therefore, vulnerable if I overlook the count’s defiance?”
“Unfortunately, sire, it is not just one lord refusing to heed you. Baudouin d’Ibelin left the kingdom rather than do homage to you. Raymond challenges your authority by remaining in Galilee. And it will not be long ere people learn that Reynald de Chatillon has also dared to defy you. My liege, it grieves me to speak so bluntly, but I do not believe you can permit three of your greatest lords to balk at obeying your commands. No king could allow that.”
“Reynald de Chatillon defied Baldwin. For that matter, so did I. Yet his authority was not undermined.”
“Baldwin saved the kingdom with his victory at Montgisard. Men respected him deeply for that miraculous triumph and for the courage he showed in fighting that loathsome disease.”
“What are you saying? That they do not respect me?”
Gerard looked unutterably sad. “Respect is not a gift to be bestowed, my liege. It must be earned. I am not speaking for myself. You know how I fought to make you king. But Outremer has its share of fools, men who only understand glory won on the battlefield.”
For a fleeting moment, Guy’s guard dropped and he looked stricken. The Templar grand master said nothing, letting the silence speak for him.
* * *
Hugues of Galilee and his brothers had been shocked when a spy in Raymond’s pay warned them that the king planned to muster the army of Outremer at Saforie and the target of their campaign was Tiberias. Even Raymond was deeply shaken. He’d been highly insulted by the demand for a financial accounting, but he’d never expected Guy to attack Galilee, to be willing to fight a civil war. He’d endured several days and sleepless nights weighing his options, and then announced that he would be gone for a time. Telling his family no more than that, he rode off with a handful of his most trusted knights, those who’d served him the longest in Tripoli.
He was gone over a week, returning after dark on the second Sunday in Lent. He’d offered no explanations for his absence, going straight to bed, and his family had to wait until the morrow for answers. Hugues and his brothers had talked it over, concluding that Raymond must return to Tripoli. But what were they to do? If Hugues made peace with Guy, that would be a betrayal of the man who’d acted as his father for more than twelve years. How could he abandon Raymond? Yet how could he abandon his family’s principality of Galilee?
It was midmorning before they were summoned to Raymond and Eschiva’s bedchamber. Raymond looked exhausted despite a full night’s sleep; there was a gauntness to his face, evidence of a loss both of appetite and weight, and he even seemed to have gone greyer since they’d seen him last. Gesturing for them to sit, he remained on his feet, pacing restlessly about the chamber, and that, too, was unlike the man they thought they’d known so well.
“I will not yield,” he said abruptly. “I will not surrender Tiberias. And I will never do homage to a man so unfit to rule.”
Eschiva found herself in an impossible position, torn
between her husband and her sons. “I will gladly go back with you to Tripoli, Raymond. But Galilee is Hugues’s birthright and—”
Raymond swung around to face her. “I would never ask you to go into exile, Eschiva. This is your land, watered with the blood of past princes, and one day it will be Hugues’s. When we wed, I swore to protect your principality and I will never break that vow.”
His stepsons traded glances, impressed by Raymond’s resolve but knowing they did not have enough men to defeat the king’s army. They’d wondered if he had gone to talk with the Hospitallers; he was a good friend of their grand master, Roger de Moulins. Yet they knew the Hospitallers would not take up arms on Raymond’s behalf. His cousin seemed a more likely ally. But he’d not been gone long enough to have sought out Bohemond in Antioch.
Hugues still asked, though. “Will Bohemond send men to fight for you, sir?”
“No.” Raymond turned from his wife to face the young men he’d helped raise to manhood. “Bohemond is dealing with a threat of his own. Roving bands of Turkmen have been raiding Cilicia and were bold enough to cross into Antioch, too.”
Raymond was dreading what came next, knowing how they were likely to react. It would be up to him to make them understand. Drawing a deep breath, he told them what he meant to do, what Guy de Lusignan had forced him to do. There was a frozen silence when he stopped speaking. He’d expected that, though. And so he set about convincing them that this was the only way to safeguard Galilee, relying upon their faith in him to overcome their resistance.
The Land Beyond the Sea Page 71
