“Not more than normal,” Eschiva admitted.
“Good.” Maria Zoë turned and issued orders again, and promptly a woman was beside the tub with a large linen towel, which she held open between outstretched arms. But Maria Zoë shook her head and sent her scurrying away.
“They’re so obedient to you,” Eschiva observed, with a wan smile. “They always pretend not to understand a word I say.”
“For which I’ve promised to have them stripped naked and flogged through the streets of Nicosia,” Maria Zoë told her briskly.
Eschiva put her hand to her mouth. “You didn’t!” She was at once both horrified and delighted.
“I did, but I’ll probably be persuaded by much contriteness into commuting that sentence to throwing them all out and hiring new staff. I won’t have this—what’s that wonderful German word Mistress Shoreham always used? Schlampenwirtschaft—slut household. But first—Beatrice?” Maria Zoë looked around the room and found her own lady helping to make up the bed with clean linen sheets. “Beatrice, come help Eschiva finish her bath, while I go tell Aimery his wife is not on her deathbed.”
“No!” Eschiva caught her aunt’s arm. “No, I can’t. He—”
“Listen to me!” Maria Zoë hushed her firmly. “You’ve miscarried a child. It happens to all of us. I miscarried one of Amalric’s children, too. Your mother miscarried several times. It is God’s will, though we cannot understand it. It was His will to call this child to him early. That’s all there is to it. You’re fine. You’re not yet thirty. There’s every reason to think you can conceive again—and if not, you have two wonderful sons already. You were right to come here, Eschiva. This island needs a government, not an army of occupation. Now, I’m going to tell Aimery the good news before he suffers any longer. I’ll be back.”
Outside the birthing chamber John waited anxiously, but he relaxed at the sight of his mother’s calm face. “She’s going to be all right?”
“She’s fine. She lost the baby, that’s all. It happens. Take me back to Lord Aimery.” The birthing chamber was traditionally a room far from the royal apartments—so the screaming would not be too disruptive of government—and Maria Zoë did not yet know her way around this palace. As John led her through the apparent maze of corridors, Maria Zoë had time to note in greater detail the little signs of neglect. King Guy had obviously not been concerned with the maintenance of his principal residence, and Aimery hadn’t had time. Eschiva had her work cut out for her, Maria Zoë concluded—but that was a good thing, as it would distract her from this latest loss. They would start by replacing the entire staff, including poor Anne, who was clearly too traumatized to be of any use. Hopefully she would find peace in a convent. In her place they would hire a local girl, and they would replace the entire pack of servants. People who owed their positions to the new regime were more likely to be loyal to the House of Lusignan. Maria Zoë found the thought of turning the palace on its head invigorating.
Men’s voices, low and strained, greeted them as they entered Aimery’s private apartment. Dick de Camville was waiting anxiously by the door and, not knowing Maria Zoë, he could not read her face instantly. “Is my lady dead? Is the Lady Eschiva dead?”
“No. She’s going to be fine.”
Dick crossed himself, and his lips moved in a prayer of thanks. In the short fortnight he’d been in the service of Aimery and Eschiva, he had developed a deep affection for Eschiva. Lord Aimery was certainly no Guy, just as John had promised, but it was Lady Eschiva who had won his heart by her kindness. She had made him feel like part of the family.
Maria Zoë continued deeper into the room, where Aimery sat crumpled in a chair with his face in his hands. Balian stood opposite him, and he interrupted himself at the sight of Maria Zoë. As Balian’s voice fell silent, Aimery sat bolt upright and twisted around to look at Maria Zoë, an anguished look on his ravished face.
“She’s fine, Aimery,” Maria Zoë assured him, coming closer and laying her hand on his shoulder. “She’s miscarried a child, but she’s fine. The bleeding has stopped; the afterbirth discharged cleanly; she has no fever. The midwife seemed quite competent, from what Eschiva said, but the household servants are a pack of slovenly hussies who should all be flogged publicly. This entire palace is filthy—as you apparently haven’t noticed—and where there’s filth, there’s corruption. They’re probably robbing you blind by selling off bits of stores, supplies, pieces of valuable furnishings, even the very substance of the palace decorations. I will demand to see an inventory shortly, but for now the important thing is that Eschiva is physically fine.” She paused and waited as Aimery caught his breath and stared at her expectantly. She had used the flood of words to give him time to get a grip on his emotions; she used the pause to make sure she had his full attention. “Eschiva’s problem is not physical, Aimery. It’s emotional. She seems to think you will not forgive her for losing this child.”
Aimery scowled. “Where does she come up with nonsense like—”
“That doesn’t matter. The point is, she thinks you will blame her for this dead child, so much so that you will set her aside—”
“That’s ridiculous! I—”
Maria Zoë held up her hands. “I’m only telling you so you know what to say to her when you go to her. Reassure her, Aimery. Tell her how much you love her. I’m going back to her now, but I’ll let you know when she’s ready to receive you.” She was gone as soon as she finished speaking.
Aimery turned his baffled eyes to Balian to ask, “How can she possibly think I would reject her after this? I’ve never once threatened to set her aside. Christ in Heaven! I have no grounds for it, and the Church wouldn’t allow it even if I wanted to.”
“It’s my brother’s fault,” Balian concluded simply. “It’s not just that he set her mother aside after twenty-odd years of marriage; Eschiva feels he abandoned her when he renounced his titles and went to Antioch, never to be heard from again. If my little girl, Helvis or Meg, had been married, say, to a prince of Armenia, who was then taken captive by the Seljuks, while the whole country was overrun and my daughter was trapped in a besieged city—”
“I know,” Aimery interrupted. “You would have ridden through hell itself to bring her home.”
“How do you know that?” Balian asked, astonished.
“Because you did, didn’t you? You went to Jerusalem to free your wife and children—something none of the rest of us would have done. Tripoli even advised against going to his wife’s rescue, remember?” He paused just long enough to suggest his respect for this action before continuing, “Fortunately, I don’t have to go to such extremes. All I have to do is cross the palace and go down on my knees before her. I’ve been thinking, Balian, ever since I came back. It’s not enough to give men “control” of one area or another. That’s not a legal or heritable status—even if dear brother Geoffrey doesn’t come back and reverse everything I’ve done!” His frustration and uncertainty over his brother’s reaction was evident in his raw tone. He added tensely, “I need to be able to make barons, and for that I need a crown.”
Balian nodded.
“Who created the Crown of Jerusalem?” Aimery asked.
“The leaders of the First Crusade.”
“Not the Pope?” Aimery sounded surprised by the answer.
“The Pope would have preferred an ecclesiastical state headed by the Patriarch, but the men who’d fought their way to Jerusalem and then extended the boundaries one bloody square mile at a time weren’t about to accept that solution. Besides, the Patriarch was helpless without armed protection. An ecclesiastical state would not have survived a decade, even against the weak and fragmented Muslim lords who controlled the surrounding territories at the start of this century. The barons made the king, Aimery, which is why the High Court still has the right to select the next monarch.”
“But how can barons create a king, if only a king can create barons?”
“A paradox, I admit. The law of conqu
est helped with the creation of the early baronies. John tells me that you had success in winning the leading men already on the island to your cause; am I right?”
“Yes, both Englishmen admitted that Richard of England is too entangled in a desperate struggle for his hereditary lands to taken an interest in ruling Cyprus. If only he’d chosen the crown of Jerusalem over that of England!” Aimery exclaimed, shaking his head. Then, drawing a breath, he returned to the subject at hand. “Your nephew Brie demanded a ridiculous price, by the way! I had to cede him one of the six royal castles on the island, Kantara, and promise to give him a free hand throughout the Karpas peninsula. That’s little short of highway robbery!” Aimery told Balian indignantly.
“Speaking of which,” Balian interposed, “Famagusta is a pirate’s nest. The corsairs are literally anchored three deep, and they dart out to prey on merchant shipping traveling between the Levant and Europe. It’s no wonder Champagne thought your brother was behind them and believed their purpose was to destabilize his reign. They are a severe menace to the Kingdom of Jerusalem, because they threaten the Kingdom’s lines of communication and supply. You need to clean them out.”
“I know, but I’ve got more important things to do first,” Aimery answered, irritated. “Haakon Magnussen, as my admiral,” he noted sarcastically, “will have to deal with them—if he ever comes back. First I’ve got to get control of Cyprus itself, whether dear brother Geoffrey decides to turn up or not. Walter de Bethsan has taken control, in my name, of the most impregnable castle ever built—much better than Kerak or Krak des Chevaliers. I’ll have to show it to you. The Greeks call it St. Hilarion, but for some reason the Italians call it Dio d’Amore—Dieu d’Amour. Galganus de Cheneché is holding the other mountain fortress of Buffavento, and Barlais is holding the castle and port of Kyrenia—though I’m not sure whether he’s holding it for me, himself, or dear brother Geoffrey,” Aimery admitted. “The same holds for Rivet at Larnaka. The Templars still maintain a presence in Gastria and Limassol, which is the only reason the latter port is still halfway functioning, but God only knows whose side the Templars are on or for how long. If Geoffrey shows up, they’re just as likely to recognize him as me. The Hospitallers, on the other hand, have pulled out altogether—cutting their losses, they say, after their sugar mill at Kolossi was burned down. And now, for the first time, trouble has also broken out in the west part of the island. A large roundship bound for Marseilles with returning pilgrims was wrecked just north of Paphos, and apparently the locals slaughtered every single poor soul who survived the wreck—in violation of the laws of God. They certainly seized all the salvage, in violation of the laws of Comnenus! You may say that’s not so important,” Aimery hastened to counter the argument he presumed was on Balian’s tongue, “but it’s indicative of the spirit of contempt in which the people here hold me—and all Franks.”
“You need to win over the Church.” It was the voice of Maria Zoë, who had returned unnoticed by the men.
Aimery started and looked over at her. “May I go to Eschiva now?”
“Shortly. But I am serious. If you want to win the people of Cyprus, you must first convince the Greek clergy on the island that you will not try to impose Latin rites on them or their flocks, that you will not confiscate their properties or tax them, and then that you will treat their people fairly. How we define ‘fair’ may be a matter of interpretation and negotiation, but you will not have peace on this island until you have the Greek Church on your side.”
Aimery stared at her, still absorbing her message, but Balian shrugged and announced, amused, “ee vasilissa exee lalisee: the Queen has spoken.”
Aimery looked at him askance, and Maria Zoë smiled. “Come. Eschiva needs some rest, but she won’t be able to sleep until she’s been reassured you still love her and do not blame her.”
Aimery nodded and then remembered to ask, “How do I look?”
“Terrible,” Balian answered, “which is just the way you should look. She should see how distressed you have been.”
Aimery nodded absently; in his mind he was already preparing his words. Maria Zoë led him through the corridors, and as he approached the chamber containing his wife, he was pleased by the way the women all went down on their knees and bowed their heads nearly to the floor—until he realized it was for Maria Comnena, not himself. Damn it, he thought, but then he was inside a room gleaming with wet marble and smelling of roses. The sheets were so white they seemed almost to glow. There were even fresh hibiscus in a glass vase beside the bed. Eschiva was all but lost in the puffy pillows, and her huge eyes followed him as he approached the side of the bed. She reached out a hand to him tentatively: it appeared to plead more than to welcome.
Aimery fell on his knees beside the bed, took her hand and kissed it, and then held it to his cheek. “Forgive me, Eschiva,” he croaked out. “I should never have allowed you to risk your own life or that of our child by coming with me.”
“Aimery, my love,” Eschiva assured him, struggling to sit up more, and Beatrice at once came to help her. “Aimery, it’s all right as long as you aren’t angry,” she told him.
“Why, my love, should I be angry with you? You have done nothing wrong. You risked your life and that of our child to support me, and any setbacks we have are my fault—but, believe me, Eschiva.” Aimery’s voice was getting stronger as he spoke, reassured by how serene, self-possessed, and loving Eschiva looked. “I swear to you, Eschiva,” Aimery declared, “I will make you a queen. They will recognize you as their queen. And, so help me God, our children and our children’s children will rule this island kingdom for the next three hundred years!”
St. Hilarion, Late October 1194
The boys had never seen anything like it. From a distance the castle blended in so well with the crags and rugged contours of the landscape that they thought the towers were outcroppings. As they came closer, they realized that cascading down the steep slope of the mountain face was a wall that enclosed a partially overgrown area with a slope of 45 degrees or more. At the top of this a series of towers nestled against the back of a sheer limestone cliff. But they soon discovered that even these towers were only the outer line of defense. On the very top of the cliffs that reared up in jagged peaks and teeth of stone, there were more towers still. One crowned the top of a spike of rock with a skirt of pine trees all around it. The boys could only gape in wonder.
At the lower barbican, the party of Franks led by Lusignan and Ibelin dismounted, and the squires stayed there to see to the stabling and feeding of the horses, while Lusignan and Ibelin continued. They proceeded on foot up a steep, winding path punctuated with shallow steps to the wall against the cliff. The knights of their escort trailed them, with the three boys forming the tail of the formation. The towers built against the side of the cliff were solid, crenelated, and well-fortified with gates, portcullis, murder holes, and more. Furthermore, they were dog-legged, sometimes twice, so that after entering, one faced a blank wall of stone and had to turn to continue. Only after emerging from the far side did it become evident that the second chamber was carved out of bedrock. Beyond that they exited onto a narrow spine of land that faced north rather than south.
This was like no castle the boys from Palestine had ever seen. The buildings were strung along the corniche of the mountain and connected by narrow footpaths that wound amid the outcroppings and the undergrowth, and—following the rugged contours of the mountain crags—dipped down steeply or scaled to new heights in a series of steps.
Almost as amazing as the structures themselves were the large gnarled trees that grew wherever the surface was too steep for either a path or a building. If the south slope by which they had gained the castle had seemed steep, the drop-off to the north was dizzying. The mountain dropped straight down for hundreds of feet before the forest resumed, clinging to the side of the mountain as it fell to the coastal plain. The latter was cultivated with patches of orchards, vineyards, pastures, and fields. A little por
t with a double harbor inside a breakwater and a powerful castle could be seen to the northeast—but mostly it was the lushness of the countryside that amazed the boys raised in the Holy Land.
Until they started exploring, that is. The “middle” castle, as they came to think of it, lay just behind the cliff they had passed through, and it had what seemed like endless storerooms, pantries, wine cellars (chock-full of wine!), a curing room for meat with a fireplace, a bakery, a brewery, an oil press and a winepress, even a stall for goats and a henhouse and pigeon cote. There were barracks here as well, only sparsely furnished and partially occupied, and an impressive basilica constructed of limestone interrupted by thin layers of brick to create a horizontally striped wall. The three apses of the church faced due east from the tip of the mountain crest. Unless one went to the window to look down, they offered views only of the sky—as if the building were suspended in the air.
Heading west through the maze of buildings, some connected underground, the boys eventually came to a narrow path that led beside the rocky face of the mountain upwards by means of narrow, steep steps toward a cluster of buildings crowning the top of the highest point on this ridge. The elder Lusignan and Ibelin and their knights had taken this route immediately, while the boys had been distracted by exploring the middle castle.
Now the boys followed, discovering that the “upper castle” was more cohesive, with a paved courtyard, and a number of impressive buildings with batteries of arched doors and double-light windows offering spectacular views in all directions. The ground floors of these buildings were often at least partially carved out of bedrock and usually windowless, but well stocked with grain, oil, wine, and weapons. The second floors of the buildings, in contrast, were paved with either tiles or marble. There were window seats in the windows, hooded fireplaces, and other signs of the luxury accommodations conspicuously lacking in the barracks of the middle castle.
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