Widow of Jerusalem: A Medieval Mystery (14 page)

Henry ascended to the step just below Conrad and Isabelle and knelt before them. Isabelle, her face glowing, bade him rise. He did so and held out a hand. His sergeant slapped a sealed scroll into it, and Henry held it aloft for all to see.

There was a flourish of drums, then silence as he broke the seal.

“My gracious sovereign Isabelle, Queen of Jerusalem,” he said. “What I have to read here concerns your happiness, and by extension that of your kingdom. I beg your permission to address your husband and consort.”

“We grant it,” she said.

Henry turned to address the crowd.

“By designation of the assembled lords and barons of the armies of the blessed Crusade, with the full accord of Richard, King of England, and Philip, King of France, by his representative Hugh, Duke of Burgundy, we name as King of Jerusalem and its environs Conrad, Marquis of Montferrat and husband to the Queen of Jerusalem.”

Huzzahs greeted this proclamation. Henry turned back to face Conrad.

“Seigneur Marquis, the Christian host of Ascalon, Jaffa, Acre, and Tyre have elected you the King of Jerusalem. Will you accept this great honor and greater burden?”

Conrad stepped forward to take the proclamation from him. Then he knelt before the Bishop for a quick blessing, kissed his wife’s ring, and turned to face the crowd. He looked toward Heaven and held his arms to the skies in supplication.

“Gracious God,” he cried, “who made me, and placed my soul within my body: Y)u are the true and just King of Jerusalem and of all Creation. As you know me to be the worthy governor of Yjur kingdom here, see fit to have me crowned here in Yaur Church two weeks hence. If You do not know me as such, never consent to it. I pledge my life to You, to my Queen, and to my subjects, whose servant and guardian I will be until life itself has left my body and my soul has rejoined You in Heaven.”

At this, the crowd cheered so that the echoes seemed to shake the very buildings, and flocks of pigeons and gulls shot into the air, bewildered by the onslaught. The drums boomed, the trumpets blared, and the taverns opened.

I mention this last because it was where Scarlet and I immediately repaired to for our own celebrations.

“Did he have that crowd eating out of his hand?” crowed Scarlet. “What a performance! He’s done it. He’s won the crown.”

“Yes,” I said. “It would be nice if the Queen looked happier about the whole thing. She had eyes only for Champagne.”

“Yes, well, she’ll be in the public eye from now on as never before,” said Scarlet. “She’ll keep up proper appearances. Now, we’ll be needed throughout the festivities. Could you put together a group show with the novitiates?”

“Certainly,” I said. “Too bad we have four fewer to work with.”

“Yes,” said Scarlet. “And it’s too bad that we couldn’t send all of them to the Guildhall.”

“Maybe the Queen could help with that.”

“I could never ask her for money,” he said, looking into his cup.

That afternoon, as I was returning from working with the novitiates, I was hailed from the French encampment. I looked over to see a familiar pavilion set up. King Denis, my patron, stood in front of it, waving to me.

I dashed up and knelt before him.

“My liege, I am happy to see you alive and well,” I said.

He motioned me to my feet.

“It gladdens my heart to see you, Droignon,” he said. “You were right about my not needing any distractions. My life nearly ended on so many different occasions that I have been jumpy ever since. Since my arrival, I’ve killed three mice in my tent for the petty crime of startling me.”

“I promise never to approach you from any direction but the front, sire,” I said. “What brings you to Tyre?”

“The Duke of Burgundy has summoned the remaining French here for the coronation,” he said. “I thought that I would stay for that, then we could go home.”

“A good plan,” I said, then I hesitated. “We?”

“Of course, Droignon,” he said. “I would like to have stayed and seen Jerusalem, but by the time Richard settles everything with Saladin, we will have missed the next sailing season. There’s not even enough time to make a proper pilgrimage. Pity. I dearly would have liked to behold the Holy City. However, as this may be the only real travel I ever do in my life, I thought we should visit Constantinople on the way home. They say it’s one of the marvels of the Christian world.”

“Very good, milord,” I said. “Now, with your permission, I have duties to perform for the coronation myself. I am to be part of the entertainment. If you will grant me my time until the King is crowned, then I will be your fool again afterward.”

“By all means, Droignon,” he said.

I walked back to the gates, my heart sinking within me. I had not realized how fond I had become of living in Tyre and working with Scarlet. I had been postponing in my mind the question of what I would do when Denis returned. Foolish of me, considering that I had never settled anywhere for long in my career once I had finished my training. I had been Across-the-Sea since we came with King Philip to the siege of Acre, and if the king who was my assignment was going to leave, then that was it for me.

Well, at least the kingship was settled satisfactorily, and the truce seemed finally at hand. I would never find out what had happened to that poor woman killed in the tent city, but that was not part of my mission. I could leave without too much impeding my conscience.

I walked through the inner gate in a foul mood, realizing that I was going to have to break this news to Scarlet. A pair of faces passing in the crowd drew my notice momentarily, then disappeared. It was about a block later that the jolt restored my memory. I went dashing back to see where they went, but they had vanished.

I ran up the steps to Scarlets rooftop. He was watching the sunset, gently petting one of his pigeons.

“They’re inside the city,” I said, panting.

“Who?” he asked.

“Those spies of Richard’s,” I said. “Pierre and Phillippe. I saw them walking in a crowd, but I lost them.”

“I don’t think Conrad countermanded the order to keep them out,” said Scarlet, getting to his feet. “I don’t like this. We had better go tell him.”

The king-to-be was in his chambers, standing on a footstool and being measured bp a brace of tailors.

“Greetings, my friends,” he said. “How do I look?”

He held his arms out, and purple silk swirled about him.

“Very much a king,” said Scarlet.

“Practically an emperor,” I added.

“You think so?” he said, pleased. “It’s modeled on something I saw in Constantinople. I think it looks rather grand.”

“Milord, Droignon saw those two spies inside the city walls,” said Scarlet.

Conrad stepped down from the stool, trailing silk and tailors behind him.

“I gave no order permitting them in,” he said.

“Then someone erred, or was bribed,” I said. “Either way, they are here.”

“And that concerns us,” said Scarlet.

“It is good of you to think of our safety,” said Conrad.

“Yju’re not royal yet,” said Scarlet. “We want to see you sitting on that throne almost as much as you do.”

“But do you have any reason to believe these men threaten us?” asked Conrad.

“We suspect them because they behave suspiciously,” I said. “No reason not to be careful.”

“Then I will be careful,” said Conrad. “I will keep guards about me. Maybe one of the Falconberg brothers could join me as well. If they see these two fellows come near, they’ll have free rein to cut them in half.”

“Good enough,” said Scarlet.

We went to entertain the Queen after that, only to find her entertaining Henry. He was seated next to her, nibbling on a cookie from a tray before them.

“Scarlet, Droignon, how wonderful!” exclaimed Isabelle. “I need your music to accompany the Count’s tales of his adventures.”

“The Count recounts,” I said.

“No accounting for taste,” muttered Scarlet, but he dutifully tuned his guitar and began to play.

“So, as I surmounted the hill overlooking the Holy City,” Henry continued.

“A surmounting count!” interrupted Scarlet. “Mounted on a moun-

.” ft tain.

“Hush, Scarlet,” scolded the Queen. “Pray, continue.”

“I looked across at Jerusalem,” he said, gazing into her eyes. “Never have I seen a sight more beautiful, more sacred. It seemed to be lit from within by some celestial fire, and I thought that I beheld the Kingdom of Heaven lying before me.”

“I thought that you had stopped miles from the city,” chirped Scarlet. “And that it was all rainclouds and mud. Did you have your own personal weather, Count?”

“Really, milady, this fool should know his place better,” said Henry, exasperated.

“As should you,” muttered Scarlet.

“What was that?” thundered Henry, getting to his feet, his hand at his swords hilt.

“Achoo. Forgive me, I sneezed,” said Scarlet. “Pray, continue. You were at the part about beholding the Holy City lying before you like a strumpet waiting to be taken.”

The Count was livid.

“My Queen,” he said. “I beg that you have this impudent scoundrel flogged until he knows proper behavior in your presence.”

“Please, good Henry, abate your anger,” she begged him, suppressing a smile. “In our court, Scarlet has a license to say whatever he pleases, and it generally pleases me to hear him say it.”

“Very well, milady,” he said, bowing stiffly. “But in your radiance, alas, I have lost track of the sun. I am wanted by the Duke of Burgundy for counsel. I must take my leave of you.”

He kissed her ring, turned without glancing at Scarlet, and left. “Now, Scarlet,” said Isabelle, frowning. “Why are you being so cruel to this upstanding young man?”

“I don’t like him,” said Scarlet.

“And your reason?” demanded the Queen.

“Something somewhere about coveting another man’s wife,” said Scarlet. “Seems to be wrong, somehow. Especially when her true husband is worthy of her trust.”

“We’ve discussed that overmuch,” sighed the Queen.

“Don’t talk, Isabelle,” said Scarlet, producing a letter from his pouch. “Read.”

She took it from him uncertainly, then unfolded it and read it quickly, her eyes widening. Then she read it again, more slowly.

“Who wrote this?” she asked.

“I’m sorry it took so long to get the information,” said Scarlet. “It was a while before I could find a sympathetic courier to Constantinople. But my correspondent is the Emperor’s Fool there, a fellow called Chalivoures. He’s a supreme gossip, knows everything that there is to know about everyone worth knowing. He confirmed that your husband left that city a widower, Isabelle. Conrad has been telling the truth.” She crumpled the letter and let it fall.

“It’s too late for the truth,” she said.

T
hat did not go
as well as I had hoped,” said Scarlet as we left her chambers.

“Give her some time,” I urged him. “Remember, she’s been living with that false information for months. She can’t just switch moods in an instant, no matter how good your source is.”

“I just want her to be happy,” said Scarlet. “I thought this might help.”

“It will,” I said. “Now, while we’re on the subject of news, I have some for you. King Denis has arrived to reclaim me.”

Scarlet stopped and looked at me in dismay.

“You’re not going home, are you?” he asked.

“Not immediately,” I said. “But soon after the coronation. I was hoping to be around for the truce, but looks like I’ll miss out.”

“By David’s lyre, I shall miss you,” he said. “I haven’t even taught you how to play the guitar decently yet.”

“Well, don’t say good-bye,” I said. “Plenty of fooling to do before I go.”

We passed the Duke of Burgundy, who was heading toward the great hall, and Henry of Champagne, who was talking to William Falconberg.

“All these soldiers with no battles to fight,” observed Scarlet. “I hope they can handle peacetime.”

T
he next morning
, after leading the novitiates through exercises and rehearsal, I paid a visit to King Denis. To my surprise, Henry of Champagne was sharing a morning meal with him. I bowed to them both.

“Good morning, Droignon,” called my king.

“Good morning, sire and milord,” I said. “Some music to ease the digestion?”

“This was one of the fools who caused me indigestion yesterday,” said Henry.

“Actually, sir, that was my brother fool who did all the talking,” I said. “I apologize if you think that I shared his sentiments. All I did was play my lute.”

“That was well said, Droignon,” said Denis. “Will you forgive him for me, Henry?”

“For you, cousin Denis,” said Henry. “And you are right, Fool. It was that barnacle who clings to the Queen who aroused my ire.”

“He does that to everyone,” I said. “Even to me. But his heart is good underneath it all, and he is devoted to his lady.”

“I have yet to see this Queen,” said Denis. “They say she is a rare beauty.”

“She is, my liege,” I said. “With child, now, which adds to her charms, in my opinion. So, Count Henry, I hope that you have earned the right to indulge at last. When we spoke in Acre last summer, you felt that you did not deserve to partake of the splendors of this world.”

“I spoke as a child would,” said Henry. “One who was feeling sorry for himself because he lay abed while the others were playing in the sun. Now that I have tasted battle and survived, I truly appreciate what life has in store for those who would partake of it.”

“A good lesson to take home with you,” I said. “Will you be departing with the French after the coronation?”

“Actually, I must return to Richard today,” he said. “My path is with him until the truce is signed. Cousin Denis, I thank you for your hospitality. I hope that we will meet again this side of Heaven.”

“My hope as well,” said Denis fervently as he clasped Henry’s hand. “But if not, we have the assurance of Heaven awaiting us, and shall certainly meet there.”

Henry’s men were waiting nearby. He mounted his horse, and they rode south.

“Where is Richard these days?” I asked.

“Still in Ascalon, I think,” said Denis. “He didn’t want to come to the coronation after backing Guy de Lusignan all this time. I think he was angered by the council’s selection. I’m not surprised that Henry isn’t staying. I hear Conrad treated him pretty roughly when he was here.”

“If the boy can face battle, he should be able to take a few angry words well enough,” I said.

“Sometimes those can be worse,” said Denis.

I
n the afternoon
two days later, Scarlet and I were in our usual corner of the great hall. I was playing my flute just for the change of pace when I noticed that Scarlet had stopped playing. I looked up to see Isabelle standing in the entryway, watching her husband with an expression of… well, I’m not sure what it was. My thought was regret or sorrow, but I could not see below the surface.

Conrad saw her about the same time and stopped speaking to Balian d’lbelin, who had returned from his latest diplomatic mission. The Marquis stepped down from the throne and stood in the center of the room. She came to a decision and walked slowly to him. Then she put her arms around him and kissed him long and hard as the men in the room applauded and cheered.

He wept, to my astonishment. This aging warrior wept before all, and held onto her for dear life.

“Careful, milord,” called Hugh Falconberg. “Don’t crowd the heir.”

“Forgive me,” said Isabelle.

“There is nothing to forgive,” replied Conrad. “My dear, I am so happy to see you this way. Please, come with me to dinner tonight. I have been invited to the Bishop’s table.”

“Yes, do join us,” called Beauvais. “Yxi would grace our simple repast beyond measure.”

“I must ask your indulgence and refuse,” said Isabelle. “With all of this excitement, I must save my strength so that I will be a fitting queen at your coronation. I am going to bathe tonight in preparation.”

“So be it, my love,” said Conrad. “I will look in on you upon my return.”

She kissed him again, gently this time, and left.

“You were right,” said Scarlet. “Time healed the marriage.”

“It does look that way,” I said. Yet there was something staged about the whole scene, I felt, much as it had appeared at Balthazar’s christening.

The Bishop of Beauvais stood and stretched, then adjusted his miter. “Milord, I will go on ahead and prepare the table,” he said. “I will see you at sunset.”

“With all my heart,” said Conrad. “Since you are providing the meal, I shall provide the music. Scarlet, though you are my wife’s fool, will you do me the courtesy?”

“Milord, this is the first time that you’ve ever bothered to ask,” said Scarlet. “Don’t lose your command just when you have gained the throne.”

“Quite right,” said Conrad. “Scarlet, you and Droignon come to the Bishop’s with me for dinner. I command it.”

“And we obey,” said Scarlet, smiling.

T
he Marquis
of Montferrat rode a magnificent white stallion captured from the Saracens, while his escort, including Hugh Falconberg, rode lesser beasts. We walked ahead of them, playing and singing all the way from the castellum to the Bishops house near the cathedral.

The Bishop himself opened the doors.

“Welcome,” he cried. “Our humble house is honored beyond all worth by your presence. Come join us for dinner.”

The humble house was nearly the size of the cathedral, and the simple repast was a seven-course feast, of which the poor working jesters could only sample three.

“Is the ceremony prepared for the coronation?” asked Conrad as they brought in the pastries for dessert.

“It is, milord,” replied the Bishop. “I have drawn upon a number of different ceremonies, including those used for David and Solomon. I thought it fit for the King of Jerusalem.”

“Not in Hebrew, I hope,” said Conrad.

“Oh, no, milord,” said the Bishop. “Done in the appropriate Latin, certainly. The Church requires no less.”

“Good,” said Conrad.

“Speaking of the Church,” began the Bishop.

“Are you asking more money of me again?” interrupted Conrad.

“After all I have done to bring you to this point, I don’t think it unreasonable,” said the Bishop.

“If you had done as much as you had promised, I would have been king months ago,” said Conrad. “It was Burgundy who clinched it for me. My first duty is to him. We’ll get to the Church when the money starts coming in from the pilgrims.”

The Bishop looked as if he had swallowed something that didn’t agree with him.

“Very well,” he said curtly. “Just remember that charity is good for the soul.”

“My soul is fine, thank you,” said Conrad. “And my belly is full, which is even better. Don’t worry, my friend. W>u will get yours.”

The meal ended on this unpleasant note. The horses were brought around, and Conrad mounted with Hugh on his right.

“Can you believe that bastard?” exclaimed Conrad as soon as we were out of earshot of the Bishop.

“Humor him, Conrad,” said Hugh. “He’s still… who’s that?”

Two men were walking out of the shadows. Hugh clapped a hand to his sword, and Scarlet and I tensed. We had been seeing Pierre and Phillippe in every doorway both coming and going.

“It’s all right,” said Conrad. “It’s Balthazar and Leo.”

And so it was. We relaxed as the two came up on either side of Conrad, Balthazar with a scroll in his hand.

“Milord, we apologize for disturbing you,” he said. “But it’s a message from Balian. He said it was urgent.”

“Not at all,” said Conrad. “Give it over.”

He reached down toward Balthazar, who was on his left, and in that moment a poignard appeared in Leo’s hand and then buried itself in Conrad’s side.

Conrad bellowed in pain, straightening on his horse, and Balthazar stabbed him from the other side.

“Conrad!” cried Scarlet, racing toward the Marquis as he fell from his horse.

“Traitor!” screamed Hugh Falconberg, and he drew his sword and charged at Leo. Balthazar looked on in shock as his companion was cut down before him. Then he took to his heels.

“Get him!” cried Hugh to his men.

“Wait!” shouted Scarlet. “Conrad still lives.”

Hugh hesitated, unsure as to how he should divide his men. But I wasn’t one of his men. I took off after Balthazar, knife in hand.

He cut down an alleyway that would have proved too narrow for pursuit on horseback. I proceeded cautiously, not knowing the terrain and not wanting to be the second man to be on the receiving end of that poignard. There was no moon, and the little starlight that was available was obscured by the buildings around me. I heard footsteps a distance ahead of me, and I followed as silently as I could. Behind me, the alarum was being sounded.

Then I heard a door open and shut ahead to my right. I edged up to it and eased it open, knife at the ready.

It was a side door to the cathedral. The central apse was the only part lit, a pair of torches burning. I feared a cat-and-mouse game among the pillars and pews, but my prey was unconcealed and most conspicuous.

He was kneeling before the cross, hands folded, praying for all he was worth, which was not much in my consideration. The poignard, still stained with blood that was two days short of being royal, lay by his side.

I stepped into the center aisle directly behind him.

“If you think that this place is a sanctuary, then you are wrong,” I said.

He neither turned nor reached for his weapon. He simply maintained his supplicant posture.

“They would have no compunction about staining the altar with your blood,” I said. “Neither, for that matter, would I.”

“I know that,” he said softly. “I am a dead man. Let me finish my prayers.”

“Who do you work for?” I shouted.

“I don’t know,” he whispered.

“They’ll tear it out of you,” I said. “It will be a slow death.”

“You have to save her,” he said, turning to face me for the first time. “Who? The Queen? Is she in danger?”

He shook his head. “My wife. You have to get her out of Tyre.”

“Why the hell should I?”

He smiled sadly. “As an act of Christian charity.”

“I should let her be torn to pieces by the mob,” I said. “Tell me what you know. It may be your last chance.”

“I can’t tell you anything,” he said. “My only salvation is in silence now. Please, I beg you. Save her.”

The doors burst open behind me, and Ralph Falconberg strode into the cathedral, sword drawn, ten soldiers fanning out behind him. “Balthazar!” he shouted.

Balthazar stood, his knife still on the ground.

“I arrest you in the name of…” barked Ralph, then he hesitated. “In the name of the Queen.”

Balthazar looked at me, his face drawn, then held his hands out, crossed at the wrists, and walked past me to the waiting soldiers. Ralph suddenly lashed out, and Balthazar fell to the floor moaning, blood gushing from his forehead.

“Bind him,” commanded Ralph. “Take him to the castellum.” Balthazar was trussed up and carried away. Ralph noticed me standing there, my knife still in my hand.

“Well done, Fool,” he said, then he turned on his heel and walked away.

I walked over to the cross and retrieved the bloody poignard from where Balthazar had let it fall, then I ran back to where the Marquis had fallen.

They were no longer there. I heard shouts and cries coming from every direction. I didn’t know if it was still the search party, or if this assassination was the prelude to some armed insurrection within the city. I decided to take my chances at the castellum. It seemed the mostly likely destination for the Marquis.

The normal pair of guards at the entrance had been reinforced by an entire squadron, many sleepy and some still wrestling on their armor.

I was admitted and ran up the steps to the great hall. More guards were posted outside this doorway, and I was barred from entry. Scarlet came out while I was arguing with them.

“Come on,” he said to me.

“Conrad?” I asked.

“Dead,” he said tersely. “The Bishop was rushed over to give extreme unction, and Isabelle was told to come down and see him before he died, but it was too late. Hugh Falconberg told her that Conrad’s last words were to her.”

“Were they?”

“I couldn’t tell,” said Scarlet. “It was a kindness of Hugh to say so. I must go up to be with her now.”

“I’ll go with you,” I said.

“What can you do?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

The Queen sat by her favorite window, a single candle on the table beside her. She was so still that she might have been a statue carved from pure alabaster. Her hands rested on her swollen belly.