Knight of Jerusalem

by Helena P. Schrader

  “Did he also tell you why?” Balian shot back.

  “He said there had been an unfortunate incident in which spirited young men had spoken tactlessly.”

  “And what would your lord call an insult to his first wife?” Balian wanted to know.

  The negotiator opened his hands. “None of my lord’s wives are ever seen in public! How can they provoke comment one way or another?”

  “First, my own residence is not public. Second, the Dowager Queen of Jerusalem is a public figure throughout her Kingdom. Third, a woman who carries the blood of the Roman Emperors in her veins is more noble than I—or the Kurdish upstart who has stolen the Sultanate of Cairo and then Damascus from the rightful heirs.”

  The negotiator caught his breath at Balian’s pointed reminder of who his master was, but did not object openly.

  Balian continued, “Perhaps Ishmael did not know he was speaking of the Greek Emperor’s niece—” Balian wanted there to be no mistake that the insult had not been to him alone, but to the most powerful imperial family in the world— “when he called my wife a whore, but calling any man’s wife a whore is an insult in any country and any language—and even teenage boys know that. The insult was calculated and intended, born of contempt for me, my religion, my race, and my country. It has been treated as such. No more—and no less.”

  The negotiator bowed his head in acknowledgement, then insisted, “I wish to see the prisoners.”

  “By all means.” Balian got to his feet, and the envoy followed suit. “You can go at once, while we wait for the sherbet.” Balian went to the door and was not terribly surprised to find one of his knights there. He sent the man to fetch Shoreham with the keys to the prisoners’ cells.

  By the time the envoy returned from visiting the prisoners, Daniel and Dawit had brought lime-laced sherbet, pistachios, and dates. They stood discreetly in the background as Shoreham and the envoy emerged from the bowels of the keep. The envoy took his seat again, and Shoreham retreated behind the door—only a call away.

  “I understand you are to be congratulated on the birth of a child—although Allah, praise to His name, saw fit to grant you only a daughter,” the envoy opened.

  “Did the Prophet Mohammed have a son?” Balian shot back.

  “No, but that was to prevent the kind of heresy committed by followers of Ali, who falsely allege that blood ties are more important than holiness. For a secular lord, the birth of sons is necessary, and so a sign of Allah’s favor.”

  “Did the Sultan not have a mother? Or would he get children with other men, perhaps? A world with men alone would be a sorry place—as God, in His wisdom, knew when he created the world. I do not question the will of God in creating women, nor in giving me a daughter.”

  “Allah created women for our pleasure—to serve us, not to rule us.”

  “I wonder that a man who knows the mind of God is only a slave, and not ruler of an empire,” Balian shot back.

  The envoy bowed his head to acknowledge his status. “And my Master wonders that a man marked by leprosy—which is surely a sign of Divine displeasure—can be master of any kingdom, even a Christian one.”

  “Is it not even more amazing, then,” said Balian, leaning forward onto his elbows, “that a leper youth should rout the army of the Sultan of Damascus and Cairo, and come within a lance’s length of killing or capturing the Sultan himself?”

  “A leper youth?” the envoy asked, his eyebrows cocked in disbelief. “Or the brothers of Ibelin? I understand your brother led the main forces at Montgisard.”

  Balian shook his head. “No. Not the Ibelin brothers, or the combined forces of the barons, knights, and burgesses of Jerusalem, or the Templars. Your Sultan was defeated by a leper youth with the heart of a lion and the grace of God.”

  “In that case,” the negotiator smoothly countered, “should not the ransom go to King Baldwin?”

  “My King defeated the armies of your Sultan—but your Sultan would also have been taken prisoner, if my prisoners had not come between him and me. The battle was already lost, thanks to Jerusalem and the grace of God; the Sultan’s freedom is thanks to the courage of my prisoners.”

  “It is the duty of a Sultan’s bodyguard to protect their lord—and if necessary, die for him—”

  “As many did,” Balian pointed out. “But these young men survived. Does your master blame them for it? Is gratitude alien to him? Or is he ashamed to welcome them home for fear they will cast aspersions on his own courage?”

  “Of course not!” the envoy retorted, for the first time allowing emotion to show by the tone of his voice and his frown.

  “Then why not pay the ransoms?”

  “They are exorbitant.”

  “What do you think the Sultan’s ransom would have been?”

  “But these men are not the Sultan. They did their duty. Nothing more.”

  “And that is your Sultan’s gratitude for his freedom?” Balian asked, leaning back in his chair. They both knew the envoy wouldn’t be here at all if Salah-ad-Din had not agreed to ransom the prisoners.

  “The Sultan is prepared to pay five thousand bezants per prisoner, fifteen thousand total.”

  Balian shook his head. “No.”

  “You will receive nothing near that much on the slave market,” the envoy pointed out reasonably.

  “No, but this isn’t about money, is it? I have a rich wife.” Balian gestured to the furnishings around him, which were distinctly Byzantine, from the chests under the windows to the tapestries on the walls.

  “Then what is this about?”

  “Respect—for those who saved the Sultan from captivity, and those who nearly captured him.”

  The envoy absorbed this calmly, without any indication of surprise.

  “I am willing to accept five thousand bezants each for Rashid and Muhammed,” Balian now offered, “but I will not let Ishmael go for less than fifteen thousand bezants, because he has earned slavery through his arrogance; he would learn a great deal from it.” He let this sink in, knowing that Ishmael was the highest born of all the prisoners.

  Balian could see the envoy calculating, trying to guess what his master would be willing to accept. “The Sultan will pay five thousand for Rashid and Muhammed, but no more than ten thousand for Ishmael.”

  “Then let us settle for Rashid and Muhammed, and—if you have brought the funds—you may take them back with you.”

  “And Ishmael?”

  Balian shrugged. “He will be sold to the Bedouins.”

  The envoy drew a deep breath of displeasure; the Bedouins were notoriously treacherous and often aided the Christians. “Twelve thousand for Ishmael,” he countered.

  Balian hesitated. He thought he might actually be able to press for the full fifteen thousand—but then again, he was tired of the whole process and anxious to be free of the prisoners. Twenty-two thousand bezants was still a fortune. He nodded, and the envoy smiled for the first time.

  “We have terms,” he confirmed, and they bowed to one another.

  Then, for the first time, the envoy grinned. “My master has one more message for you: he told me to tell you that one day he hopes to meet you again on the battlefield.”

  Balian bowed his head in acknowledgment, a courteous smile on his lips, but his heart was heavy. Salah-ad-Din had declared jihad, and he had the troops and the resources to pursue it. Since he was determined to attack, and Balian had no intention of abandoning his heritage, his people, or his God, he saw little hope that he could avoid the next confrontation. “I will be waiting for him,” Balian answered simply, knowing that the chances of their roles being reversed next time were very high indeed.

  Historical Note

  BALIAN D’IBELIN WAS A HISTORICAL FIGURE, and his name and deeds are depicted in the contemporary chronicles of both Christians and Muslims. Yet while his contributions to history are part of the historical record, many facts about his personal life went unrecorded. We do not know the dates of either his b
irth or his death, and sources (or contemporary interpretations of contradictory medieval copies of lost sources) differ on other important dates, such as the year he inherited the baronies of Ibelin and Ramla, the year his brother left the Kingdom of Jerusalem, and more. It is even a point of controversy whether Balian was the second or third son of the first or second Baron d’Ibelin.

  Given these gaps and contradictions, this novel has opted for a lucid story line that is not inconsistent with key known facts and in no way violates the historical record, but condenses or simplifies some events to make the story more coherent and dramatically effective. Before focusing on the things I’ve changed, let me highlight the key events covered in this volume that—surprising as they may seem—are historical fact.

  • Balian was a younger son of the Lord d’Ibelin, with no right to inheritance at the time of his father’s death.

  • The repudiation of Agnes de Courtney was a condition of King Amalric’s ascension to the throne of Jerusalem. While the technical grounds for divorce were consanguinity, this was the standard excuse used by kings to depose of unwanted wives in the period (see Louis VII and Eleanor of Aquitaine) and can be viewed as a pretext, not a cause. The real reason must lie elsewhere and, significantly, it was not dissatisfaction on the part of King Amalric, but objections from the High Court. Some sources suggest his marriage to her was bigamous, because she had been married (or betrothed) to Hugh d’Ibelin before marrying Amalric—but if this were the objection, then her children by Amalric would have been deemed illegitimate, which they were not. One key chronicle imputes immorality, claiming Agnes had affairs with Heraclius, later the Patriarch of Jerusalem, and Aimery de Lusignan, but modern historians question whether she could have had a scandalous reputation at the time of the divorce. So while the reason remains obscure, the fact is indisputable: the High Court of Jerusalem made up of the bishops and barons of the Kingdom deemed Agnes de Courtney, despite her impeccable pedigree, unsuitable to be the queen of the Holy City. That is a significant condemnation, which, I believe, justifies a negative portrayal of her in the novel, and is supported by her generally negative influence on political events later in her son’s reign.

  • Baldwin IV really was a leper. He was diagnosed as a child, and he had already lost the use of his hands when he succeeded to the throne. Nevertheless, he was reputedly a superb horseman. For more information about leprosy in this historical period, see “Note on Leprosy” following this Historical Note.

  • Baldwin IV really did bring a relief force of roughly 375 knights to Ascalon in 1177. He then broke out of the encirclement with these knights to rendezvous with the Templars from Gaza. He then led his army to a stunning victory over Saladin (Salah-ad-Din) at Montgisard on November 25, 1177.

  • According to Arab sources, both Balian d’Ibelin and his elder brother played a prominent role at the Battle of Montgisard.

  • Despite being a landless younger son, Balian married the Byzantine princess and Dowager Queen of Jerusalem, Maria Comnena—either before or at the same time as he became a peer of the realm. Since she was independently wealthy and mature and could not have been compelled into a new marriage, this is about as close to a love match as it comes among the nobility in the late twelfth century—at least on her part. Balian’s motives may indeed have been more venal. The marriage was, however, explicitly sanctioned by King Baldwin IV.

  • Baldwin d’Ibelin (called Barisan/Barry in the novel to avoid confusion with King Baldwin) did cede the paternal Barony of Ibelin to Balian in the late 1170s, while retaining for himself the more lucrative Baronies of Ramla and Mirabel. There is nothing in the historical record to explain why. However, he repudiated his first wife of many years to marry an heiress, for which he would have needed the King’s permission—hence my interpretation that the former was a condition of the latter.

  Let me now turn to the features of the novel for which more literary license was necessary:

  • All sources agree that the first Baron d’Ibelin had three sons who lived long enough to be considered male heirs: Hugh, Baldwin, and Balian. A Hugh d’Ibelin, apparently the second Baron d’Ibelin, furthermore played a significant role in the Kingdom of Jerusalem between 1153 and 1169 (at the siege of Ascalon, the Battle of Banias, and the expedition to Egypt of 1167), before dying in 1171. What is not clear is whether this Hugh d’Ibelin was the older brother of the Baldwin/Barisan and Balian d’Ibelin of this novel, or—as some historians postulate—their father. The latter sources, however, suggest that the second Baron d’Ibelin also had three sons with the same names as the first, which while possible, is not entirely plausible. Alternatively, the Hugh d’Ibelin who was active between 1153 and 1169 could have been a younger brother of the first Baron d’Ibelin (since all males of the family at this time called themselves “Ibelins” without necessarily holding the barony), who was only acting as guardian for his nephews. Or—the variant I find most plausible and have made the basis of this novel—Hugh was the son of the first Baron d’Ibelin by an earlier marriage. This would explain why he was significantly older than his brothers Baldwin and Balian and was active at a time when they were still minors—and, more important, would explain why he was only Baron of Ibelin, whereas Baldwin was Baron of Ramla/Mirabel even during Hugh’s lifetime, only taking the title of Lord of Ibelin after Hugh died in 1171. In other words, Hugh inherited the paternal title of Ibelin, while Baldwin (Barry), as the oldest son of the first Baron’s second wife, the heiress of Ramla/Mirabel, inherited the latter titles from his (but not Hugh’s) mother.

  • I have dated Balian’s own birth at 1149 rather than 1143, as some modern historians postulate, because the evidence for the earlier date is based on the very weak fact that he was a witness at his brother’s wedding in 1158. This fact has led historians to postulate he must have been of legal age (fifteen) at the time. However, the Church viewed children over the age of seven as capable of giving consent to holy vows, including matrimony. It seems to me that if an eight-year-old could marry, he or she could also witness a wedding. The fact that Balian first plays a significant role in 1177, fighting at Montgisard and marrying Maria Zoë Comnena in an age when “adulthood” started at fifteen, makes a later date of birth than 1143 more plausible; a birth year of 1149 suited my literary purposes.

  • The character of Henri d’Ibelin is completely fictional. He was invented because the Ibelin family was one of the most powerful families in the Latin Kingdom of Cyprus by the end of the twelfth century—and this under the Lusignan kings, whom Baldwin (Barry) and Balian had opposed consistently and vehemently in the Kingdom of Jerusalem. By inventing a younger brother who allies himself with the Lusignans and benefits from their move to Cyprus, I created a means to give the reader insight into events in the “other camp.” He also plays a key (if posthumous) role in my three-part novel, The Lion of Karpas, set in early thirteenth-century Cyprus.

  • On the other hand, Baldwin (Barry) d’Ibelin had two daughters who lived to adulthood, Eschiva and Stephanie. I “killed” Stephanie off early just to help keep down the number of characters in an already complex novel.

  • I have condensed the events at the time of Amalric’s death from several months to a couple of weeks for dramatic effect. Historically, Oultrejourdain was appointed Seneschal and Humphrey of Toron (the elder) was appointed Constable, and they were supposed to rule jointly for Baldwin IV. Oultrejourdain either overstepped his bounds or at any rate made powerful enemies, and Tripoli was appointed Regent either just before or just after Oultrejourdain was mysteriously murdered.

  • There is no evidence that Balian was Constable of Ascalon before his marriage and before his brother turned over the barony of Ibelin to him. The real Constable of Ascalon at this time was the aging Humphrey de Toron, who held a number of other titles and was not present when the town was invested. However, Balian’s father had been Constable of Jaffa before being given a barony, and this was the normal means of testing an up-and-coming man’s military and
administrative ability. By inventing Balian’s appointment to Constable of Ascalon, I created an opportunity to tell the reader a little more about the demographics of the Kingdom, provided a means to describe the dramatic (and historical) relief force that King Baldwin brought to Ascalon during Salah-ad-Din’s first invations, and positioned Balian to take part in the Battle of Montgisard, which historically he did.

  • After bypassing Ascalon in 1177, Salah-ad-Din’s troops sacked Ramla and Lydda, and it was in Lydda that the population sought refuge in the fortress-like cathedral of St. George. I condensed these events and moved the venue to Ibelin, for dramatic effect and because Ibelin was more important to Balian. In the novel, Ibelin is a microcosm of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. The fact remains that one of the Ibelin towns was sacked, people did take refuge in a basilica, and both Ibelin brothers played a prominent role in the Battle of Montgisard.

  • There is no historical reference to Balian’s close relationship with King Baldwin IV, but there is circumstantial evidence—namely, 1) the fact that the King expressly approved his exceptionally (almost scandalously) advantageous marriage to the Byzantine princess and Dowager Queen Maria Comnena in 1177, and 2) the King chose Balian to carry his heir Baldwin V to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in 1185. These two marks of favor are extreme, considering the fact that Ibelin was a small and comparatively insignificant barony, which owed only ten knights to the Crown. (Major baronies owed five to ten times as many knights.) Furthermore, the Prince of Antioch and the Counts of Tripoli and Edessa were all close relations of the King. While Balian’s marriage might have been the result of maneuvering on the part of his brother, in a highly hierarchical society it would have been normal for any of the more senior barons or relatives of the King to be selected to carry the future King to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The fact that Balian was “exceptionally” tall does not explain Balian being given such an honor ahead of literally dozens of his peers; being a close friend of the King does.