“Many of the citizens came to watch and to cheer Queen Sybilla. All of the Hospitaller knights stayed away, though. But the grand master of the Templars acted as if the coronation was all his doing. When the new queen placed the crown on her husband’s head, Master Gerard declared loudly that this was ‘well worth the loss of Botron.’ Most of the spectators did not know what he meant by that.”
These men did, Count Raymond more than any of them. Botron was the fief of the heiress he’d promised to Gerard de Ridefort and had then given to a wealthy Pisan merchant.
* * *
Devastated by the realization that they had lost and Guy de Lusignan was now their king, the Poulain lords could only mourn the death of their hopes. The funereal mood in the hall was contagious, soon spreading throughout the palace and into the town. The leaders of the resistance withdrew to the solar to discuss their options. Since they did not think they had any, the silence was beyond oppressive; it was smothering.
Baudouin could not keep quiet for long, though, and his outrage soon broke free. “Those fools have driven a dagger through the heart of our homeland,” he snarled. “Guy de Lusignan can no more rule the kingdom than my favorite hunting dog. It is only a question now of how long it will take ere he dooms us all. I’d rather leave Outremer than stand by helplessly and have to watch its death throes!”
That was such an extreme threat that none of them took it seriously. Balian poured his brother a cup of wine and carried it over to Baudouin. That seemed like a good idea to Denys and he did the same. His cousin Gautier, the Lord of Caesarea, was slouched on the settle, so weighed down with misery that his spine seemed to have compressed. Humphrey de Toron had found an inconspicuous corner. He was gazing off into space, his thoughts impossible to read.
Maria had moved to Balian’s side. She looked as if she needed a hug, so he obliged, slipping his arm around her waist, still slender despite six trips to the birthing chamber. “I know Guy is not evil, not a monster like Andronicus,” she said softly. “But I fear his weakness may do as much damage as Andronicus’s cruelties.”
So did Balian. “Sometimes men rise to meet a challenge, Marika. Mayhap that will be true for Guy, too.” But she knew he did not believe that any more than she did.
Raymond had not spoken since they’d entered the solar, so lost in his own thoughts that he’d seemed oblivious of the others. But now he moved to the center of the chamber. “We need not despair just yet. There is another road we can take. Rather than letting them thrust Guy de Lusignan down our throats, we refuse to accept him as our king. Whilst Sybilla has a valid blood claim, she has disqualified herself by her stubborn refusal to disavow de Lusignan. So, we make her sister our queen. We crown Isabella and Humphrey.”
There were exclamations from virtually everyone in the solar. The usually unflappable Denys spilled his wine. Hugues whirled to stare at his stepfather. Maria gasped “My God!” in Greek. Baudouin had just slumped down into a window seat, but Raymond’s words jolted him to his feet. Balian, who’d turned instinctively toward Humphrey at the count’s words, saw the young man’s head come up sharply. He was still not in time to catch the initial horror on his son-in-law’s face, for by then the lessons of a lifetime had come to Humphrey’s rescue and his expression was blank, revealing nothing of his inner turmoil.
Denys was the first to point out the obvious. “Raymond, you are talking of a civil war.”
“If need be, yes,” Raymond said, managing to sound both matter-of-fact and defiant. “If we crown Isabella, she will have the support of the members of the High Court, virtually all of the lords of the realm, the Hospitallers, my Tripoli, the Prince of Antioch, and most of the people. I doubt that Sybilla could stand fast against them. But even if they refuse to abandon their coup, we must do this. We cannot allow Guy de Lusignan to assume power.”
“Raymond is right.” Baudouin strode over to stand at the count’s side. “If we must weigh the risk of civil war against the fatal blunders Guy is sure to make, that is not a difficult decision—not when the very survival of the kingdom is at stake.”
They were soon all talking at once, their voices agitated and then excited as they began to give serious consideration to Raymond’s proposal. Humphrey watched in frozen silence as their fear and hatred of Guy’s kingship overcame their caution, even their common sense—for that was how he saw it. He did not doubt their sincerity, nor did he disagree with their scathing assessment of their new king’s abilities. But it was too late. Guy was their king now. This was a war they’d already lost.
Humphrey made no attempt to protest, knowing how futile that would be. Raymond and Baudouin had the persuasive passion of the newly converted, embracing Isabella’s queenship as the salvation of the kingdom. They soon won over Gautier and Hugues and then Maria. Humphrey did not like his mother by marriage, believing her to be too quick to meddle in matters better left to men, too like his own mother in that regard, but also too Greek. He thought she took overweening pride in her royal blood and very much wanted her daughter to become a queen, too. So, he felt no surprise when she accepted the argument that a civil war was actually the lesser of evils. He lost all hope, though, when Denys and Balian eventually accepted it, too. They were greatly respected by the other Poulains, believed to be fair and reasonable men. If they argued for this, many of the lords would be influenced by them.
The events unfolded as he feared they would. Maria went to fetch Isabella, who understandably seemed somewhat dazed to have her life turned upside down like this. Humphrey was given no opportunity to speak privately to his young wife, although he did not think such a conversation would have changed anything. When the other lords were summoned back to the great hall, Raymond and Baudouin made a convincing case for crowning Isabella and her husband. The discussion that followed was loud and animated. To Humphrey, the outcome was inevitable, for he knew they desperately wanted a way to deny the kingship to Guy de Lusignan. Despite living seven years in their midst, he’d failed to win them over. They neither liked nor trusted him, some because they doubted his leadership abilities, others because he’d already begun to bring his own countrymen to Outremer to share in his good fortune and would lavish royal favors upon even more Poitevins at the expense of the native-born, the Poulains.
Humphrey did not care if their reasons were purely patriotic or utterly personal and petty, if they were moved by idealism or revenge, or if their motives were mixed. All that mattered to him was that they voted that afternoon to make Isabella their queen, for he dreaded what that would mean for him and for Bella, for their marriage, and for their homeland.
* * *
Isabella was lying on their bed, but she sat up when Humphrey entered. “Here I’ve been offered a crown and it gave me a throbbing headache.”
He knew she was vulnerable to headaches in times of stress. Dipping a washcloth into a basin of water, he brought it to the bed. “Put this on your forehead. That sometimes helps.”
She did as he bade and let him adjust pillows behind her back. “Ought we to have seen this coming, Humphrey? After Count Raymond was so badly outwitted by Sybilla’s allies, I just assumed she’d be crowned and that would be that. I truly did not expect this. . . .” She gestured with her hand to encompass all of the day’s remarkable happenings.
Reaching for that hand, he held it for a moment against his cheek. “We did not think they would be willing to fight a war to put you on the throne.” Looking intently into the fair face upturned to his, he searched it for clues. What did she really think about this? “And there will be war, Bella. They are deluding themselves if they say otherwise. There will be a blood price for your crown. Can you accept that?”
“I hope it will not come to that,” she said, although her words sounded hollow even to her ears. “I had not given a great deal of thought to becoming queen, since it seemed unlikely. For years, I expected Sybilla to reign after Baldwin and then her son or the ch
ildren she had with Guy. I’ve not had enough time to adjust to this strange new world and I admit I find it rather overwhelming. But I think they are right about Guy. Not even his allies believe he is fit to be king. At least we know that your stepfather does not. It is Reynald’s hatred of Count Raymond that has brought him to Jerusalem, not confidence in Guy’s abilities.”
She paused to give him time to respond. When he did not, she said softly, “All of the members of the High Court are in rare agreement on this. And my mother, my stepfather, and his brother . . . they want me to be queen. Baudouin can be reckless, but not Balian. He is the most levelheaded man I’ve ever known and if he believes this will be best for Outremer, I must believe it, too.”
Humphrey had clung to a faint, foolish hope that she would share his sense of horror. He ought to have known better. How could he expect her to refuse a crown? To reject her own family’s guidance? She was only fourteen.
Isabella was studying his face as closely as he’d been studying hers. “I know why you feel such unease. You hold yourself too cheaply, my love. You always have. Your mother and Reynald have made you doubt your own abilities, so much so that you fear you’d not make a good king. But you are wrong. I have no doubts at all and no one knows you better than I do.” Leaning over, she kissed him, trying to convey her love and her faith in him.
They sat there for a time, holding on to each other as if that embrace could somehow keep the world at bay. Humphrey was the one to end it. “I will fetch Emma, tell her you need an herbal potion and a sleeping draught. Then you ought to go to bed, darling lass. I am not sleepy yet, so I think I’ll take a walk.”
Isabella promised that she would, surprised to realize how exhausted she was. “Tell Emma to hurry,” she murmured, lying back against the pillows with a drowsy smile. He stood by the door for a while, looking at the bed and his girl wife, as if trying to burn the image and the moment into his memory, so deeply that it would never be forgotten.
CHAPTER 44
September 1186
Nablus, Outremer
Normally the streets of Nablus were empty once darkness fell. Tonight, people were still out, for the town was filled with the High Court lords and their retinues. Humphrey soon noticed that passersby were turning to stare at him and he realized that word of the afternoon’s dramatic developments had begun to circulate. How long ere it reached Sybilla and Guy?
When he got to the town stables, he was relieved to find a groom still on duty. The groom was openly puzzled why a lord—as his clothing, sword, and demeanor proclaimed him to be—would want to hire one of their nags. Humphrey could hardly explain that he dared not take his own stallion from the palace stables. Paying the man generously curbed his curiosity, and he even saddled the gelding for Humphrey, a courtesy not usually accorded their customers.
Humphrey had rarely traveled at night and never without squires or knights riding beside him. It was an odd feeling to be so alone in the dark like this, like being adrift on a vast, shadowy sea. He did not worry about encountering either outlaws or Saracen raiders on the watershed road, but he still checked to be sure his sword could slide smoothly from its scabbard if need be. A September harvest moon silvered the road ahead. The horse had no interest in setting a fast pace, and Humphrey did not push him, for he was in no hurry to reach his destination.
As the miles and the hours slipped by, he tried not to think of Bella’s reaction once she learned of his disappearance. Instead, he focused upon the reasons he was so opposed to Count Raymond’s plot to make Bella queen. He’d spoken the truth when he’d warned her that it would lead to civil war. Whilst the patriarch and even Joscelin might back off if it came to bloodshed, he doubted that Sybilla and Guy would. More to the point, he knew his stepfather and Gerard de Ridefort would hold fast even if it led to catastrophe for their kingdom.
Yet Bella had spoken the truth, too, when she’d said he feared being king. He had no illusions about his ability to exercise mastery over other men. He’d been taught how to fight and had fended off a Saracen ambush as he led reinforcements from Kerak to join the army at Saforie. Yet he had never learned how to command respect and he knew he would find it even harder than Guy to win the trust of his lords. He was one of them, not an outsider like Guy. But no one had cast aspersions on Guy’s manhood, called him a coward or worse.
The unfairness of it forced him to face his third fear. Once he’d been judged and found wanting, the lords of the High Court would want to find a more worthy husband for Bella, a more worthy king for Outremer. If that happened, he was sure Maria and Balian would not speak up for him or defend the marriage. His only allies would be his own mother and Bella herself. But how could he expect a young girl to stand alone against so many highborn lords? How could she not be swayed by the mother and stepfather she loved? Again and again he went over these dark thoughts, yet by the time the sky had lightened and the walls of Jerusalem came into view, he still did not know which of these fears was the strongest, the one that had driven him to an act of such desperation.
St. Stephen’s Gate was closed, manned by guards who were abusing their authority by smirking at the angry protests of people who wanted to enter. Humphrey supposed he could get in as their serjeant spy had done, through that church postern gate. But first he tried the easiest way, demanding entry as an impatient highborn lord would have done, with enough arrogance to do his stepfather proud. To his surprise, it worked, and he was allowed to ride his placid, swaybacked gelding into the city. It was soon obvious that a few of the men knew who he was, and when he said he wanted to see Queen Sybilla, they were delighted that they could deliver their prize catch without any awkwardness or resistance.
Not sure if Humphrey should be treated as a prisoner or an honored guest, his guards hovered nearby once they reached the palace. It was not long before Sybilla entered the great hall. Taking her seat on the dais, she beckoned for Humphrey to approach. She was scowling, making it clear that she saw him as the enemy, that she now saw her sister as a rival, not family.
When Humphrey knelt, even that did not appear to mollify her. He was puzzled by the level of her hostility, which seemed excessive since he was being deferential and had come of his own volition. That mystery was solved with her first words. “Have your traitorous friends set the date yet for Isabella’s coronation?”
Humphrey was astonished that she already knew of their plans. Not only did she and Guy have a spy at Nablus, he’d gotten to Jerusalem first, must have raced along the same road Humphrey had followed hours later. Humphrey had often heard his mother and Reynald complain that Outremer was honeycombed with spies; now he believed it.
“Isabella and I had no part in that,” he said firmly. “That I am here surely proves our innocence. We do not want blood to be spilled on our account and are quite willing to acknowledge you as our queen.” He could see that Sybilla was conflicted, torn between her suspicions and her desire to believe that her sister had not conspired against her. “Isabella is just fourteen, Madame. We were pawns, not plotters.”
Sybilla wanted to believe him and decided that she did. He was right; his presence here was indeed proof of innocence. Signaling for him to rise, she asked if he was willing to do homage to her and to her lord husband. When he assured her that he was, she favored him with a smile of sudden charm. “Then you and my sister will be very welcome at our court.”
He thanked her, recognizing the irony in her words, for he doubted that he’d be welcomed again at Nablus, not after what he’d done, what the barons would see as an unforgivable betrayal. He could only pray that Bella would not agree with them.
* * *
When she awakened and saw that Humphrey’s side of the bed was empty, Isabella felt an instinctive throb of alarm, for there were no signs that he’d ever returned to their bedchamber last night. Sitting alone in their bed, she had to admit that her husband may have been far more distraught than she’d realized.
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br /> She did not summon any of Humphrey’s knights, for she trusted them no more than he did, knowing that his mother still maintained a stranglehold upon the life of her only son. She turned instead to Sir Fulcher de Hebron, who’d served her stepfather loyally for years. He rewarded her faith by asking no questions, merely listening as if it were part of his household duties to track down errant husbands, and some of Isabella’s unease began to lessen. She’d almost convinced herself that she was overreacting by the time Sir Fulcher returned and reported that whilst Humphrey’s stallion was still in the stables, no one had seen him since the night before.
* * *
Maria and Balian were still abed, for they’d begun their day by making love. They lay entangled in the sheets, perspiration drying on their bodies as their breathing slowed. “Have we really been married for nigh on nine years?” he murmured, leaning over to nuzzle her throat.
She opened an eye. “Are you saying the hearth fires ought to have cooled by now?”
“No. . . . I am much too good a lover for that.”
“Modest, too.”
He laughed softly. “I was actually marveling that I could have been so lucky for so long . . . my queen.”
Propping herself on her elbow, she abandoned their banter for a question that was deadly serious. “Balian, are we making a great mistake in seeking to crown Isabella?”
“Christ Jesus, I hope not,” he said, with such intensity that she felt a sudden chill. She’d not slept well, lying awake for hours as she found herself assailed by belated qualms, and it dismayed her now to realize he had misgivings of his own.
Reaching over, he brushed a raven strand of her hair away from her face. “If you are asking whether I have doubts, Marika, of course I do. I am sure that Isabella and Humphrey will be better rulers than Sybilla and Guy. What I fear is having to fight to put them on the throne.”
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