Widow of Jerusalem: A Medieval Mystery (19 page)

The King stood by a washbasin, scrubbing his face vigorously, while Scarlet stood by him holding a towel. Balian d’lbelin and all three of the Falconbergs were there, along with a number of other men I didn’t recognize but who wore the colors of Champagne. Balian smiled when he saw us and came over to greet us.

“I remember you well, Monsieur Droignon,” he said as he showed us to the corner from which we were to play. “Now, this is no occasion for jesting. Stick to music, and nothing that will stir up the blood.”

“We will, milord,” I said, bowing.

We began playing softly, and Henry turned and scowled at us, snatching the towel from Scarlet.

“About time the fools got here,” he snapped. “I was wondering if they would ever arrive.” He threw on a golden breastplate that caught the sun coming in through the windows, then added a crown and a purple cape.

“A moment, sire,” said Scarlet, reaching to adjust the breastplate.

Henry slapped him.

“If I need you, I will tell you,” he said. “How many times must I remind you of that?”

“Forgive me, sire,” said Scarlet, kneeling.

I glanced over at Perrio. His jaw was clenched in anger, but he continued to play without interruption.

There was cheering from outside, and Scarlet scurried to a window and peered through the bars.

“They are here, sire!” he called. “What a glorious sight! Come and see your new army.”

The King walked toward the window, craning his head to see as Scarlet came up to him to retrieve the towel. Then, and to this day I am not sure how it happened, Henry stumbled and pitched forward toward the window. He reached for the iron bars to steady himself. And the iron bars gave way.

“My liege!” cried Scarlet as Henry fell through the window. The dwarf flung himself onto Henry, grabbing his legs and clinging with all his might. “Save the King, for God’s sake!” he yelled. But the weight of the monarch was too much and, to our horror, he disappeared from view, dragging Scarlet with him.

There were shouts from the men in the room and screams from the people outside. We all dashed down to the front of the castellum and burst out to find a small crowd already surrounding the body of the monarch, blood gushing from his head to stain the white marble steps.

Scarlet lay on his back some feet away. No one paid any attention to him. I thought him dead as I knelt by his tiny body, but his eyes opened and flickered toward me.

“Theo,” he whispered.

“Hush,” I said. “We’ll get you some help.”

“No,” he said. “No need. I can tell.”

I started to weep, I couldn’t help it.

“Don’t,” he said. “No point. I would like to have seen the Guildhall again. When you get back, make sure you buy everyone a drink, and tell them it came from me.”

“TfouTl find a good tavern in Heaven,” I said. “Someplace where they will let you be a jester again.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s my destination,” he said. “Nonsense,” I said, “”ifou’ll watch over all of us. Make sure the novitiates behave.”

“It’s good to have friends in high places, Theo,” he whispered. “Look to Jerusalem. Remember that. Tell Isabelle …”

He stopped, looking at the entry to the castellum. I turned to see the Queen standing there, looking at the scene in horror. Then I turned back to Scarlet. He smiled. I still saw a flicker of light in his eyes. Then it faded.

“The King is dead!” someone shouted.

Isabelle shrieked with anguish and collapsed, sobbing. Balian and Ralph Falconberg immediately went to her and helped carry her inside. Several of Henry’s men called for a stretcher, while a few servants came out with a blanket and started to gather up Scarlet’s body.

I was going to help them. I wanted to prepare my friend’s body for burial, but I was interrupted by Perrio pulling urgently at my sleeve.

“Come with me,” he said. “We may not have another chance.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just come with me before they come to their senses and kick us out.

He ran quickly and silently up the steps into the castellum. I followed him, and he led me back into the King’s chambers, now deserted. He went over to the window from which the pair had fallen and motioned to me to join him.

“Look,” he said, pointing at the top of the frame.

Where the bars had been inserted, the frame had been gouged out so that just a sliver of wood held them in place. I knelt carefully to examine the base. The same thing had been done there.

“Someone tampered with the window,” I said. “Someone wanted Henry dead.”

“Who brought him to that window?” said Perrio softly. “Who came up to him just before he stumbled?”

I looked at the boy, not wanting to believe what had become all too evident.

“I think Scarlet did this,” he said, fighting back his tears. “I think Scarlet killed the King.”

“
C
ome on
,” I said. “Let’s get out of here. We don’t want to draw any attention to this.”

We ran back down as silently as we could. No one marked us. When we reached the ground floor, I looked until I saw the steps leading down to the cellars.

“This way,” I said.

“Where are we going?” asked Perrio.

“I want to find Scarlet’s belongings,” I said. “Maybe there’s some clue there as to why this happened.”

The castellum’s stables were in the cellars along with the kitchens and storerooms. We were directed to a corner at the end of the stalls where the stench from the mucking out was strongest. There, we found a tiny pallet. On top of it, Scarlet’s motley was laid out, freshly laundered and pressed.

“He knew he was going to die,” said Perrio. “He has his burial clothes ready.”

“Why?” I muttered. “Why would he do this?”

“””tou saw how the King treated him,” said Perrio, the tears streaking his whiteface.

“But the King’s been treating him like that for years,” I said. “Why now?”

“Even the strongest men can snap after constant torture,” said Perrio. “That’s what it must have been like.”

“Not Scarlet,” I said. “He wouldn’t kill a man for something like that. He wouldn’t kill—“ But I stopped there.

Something small and white caught my eye. It was a tiny piece of paper, shoved into a crack in the wall. I pulled it out and unrolled it.

“T,” I read aloud. “I sent my instruments to Perrio. Look to Jerusalem.”

I heard people approaching and quickly shoved the note into my pouch. Some of the castellum’s servants came up.

“Oh, good, you got it out already,” said one of them, gathering up the motley. “We thought he’d want to be buried in this. We’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you,” I said. “The least I could do for a brother fool. Come, Perrio.”

We went back up to the entryway.

“It must have been something recent that caused this,” I said.

“Maybe something to do with the arrival of the fleet,” guessed Perrio.

“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe it had something to do with the arrival of a pair of fools.”

“Us?” exclaimed Perrio. “We caused this? How?”

“Something we said that meant something to Scarlet, if not to us,” I said. “Somewhere in the information that Mary provided.”

“I can’t think of anything,” he said.

“Go back to our room,” I told him. “I want to check something out. If you hear that I’m in prison, try and get me out. If you can’t, you’ve just become the Chief Fool of Jerusalem.”

“But—“

“Just do it, boy,” I snapped. He looked stricken, but he turned and left.

I had a hunch, based on Scarlet’s last words and what I knew of him. I found the steps leading to the central tower and started climbing. I paused for a moment as I passed the room where Blondel and the Lionhearted had passed some tumultuous nights, but it was guards” quarters now. I kept climbing until I emerged into the bright afternoon sun.

The tower gave a bird’s-eye view of Acre and its surroundings for several miles. I had never been up here before, and the scenery took my breath away for a moment.

“Takes everyone that way the first time,” said a voice, and I turned to see a solitary guard sitting on a stool, munching on some bread. His skin had been burnished to a deep bronze tone, and his beard was grizzled. He had only One arm and a wicked scar running across his hairless scalp, yet he seemed amiable for all that. He waved me over to another stool, put the bread down, wiped his hand on his breeches and held it out to me.

“Name’s Aldo,” he said as I took it.

“Droignon,” I replied. “I’m a fool.”

“I can see that,” he said. “Thought you might show up one of these days.”

“Really?” I said. “How so?”

“Friend of mine,” he said. “Scarlet, the King’s lackey. Asked me to give you the tour if you had a mind to.”

“You know what happened today?” I asked him. He nodded mournfully. “I’m sorry. He was a friend of mine as well. Was he up here much?”

“Whenever he had a free moment,” he replied. “Said he spent too much of his life with his view of the world blocked out. I didn’t mind it at all. He was good company.”

“He was that,” I agreed. “He told me that it’s good to have friends in high places. I realized that he must have meant you. Are you the only watchman here?”

“From sunup to sundown,” he said. “Only use they have for a one-armed soldier in peacetime. My job is to look at the world and make sure there’s nothing ugly on the horizon.”

“What if there is?”

“If 1 see a signal from the outlying guard towers, I ring this,” he said, holding up a large cowbell. “If I see a large fleet approaching, I sound this horn.”

“I heard it yesterday,” I said. “You have a fine set of lungs.”

He chuckled. “Scarlet used to say the very same thing,” he said. “We used to watch the world together and chat. He knew a wondrous amount about it.”

“Did he ever talk about the King?” I asked hopefully.

“No,” he said. “He talked about birds, and music, and all the people he’s met. He told me a little about you. He liked you, Droignon.”

“Thanks for that,” I said. I looked out to the east. “Is that the way to Jerusalem?”

“More to the southeast,” he said, pointing.

I walked over to that corner and traced my fingers idly along the surface of the sandstone blocks. Sure enough, I came across a piece of thread, much the same color as the stone to which it was fastened. I pulled it carefully toward me, and a tiny, rolled up piece of paper rose into view. I slipped it into my pouch and gazed out over where the armies of the Third Crusade had once laid siege to this beautiful city. “Have you been to Jerusalem?” I asked Aldo.

“No,” he said. “Don’t really see the point. It’s just another place.”

“I heard that you can see the Holy City from up here.”

“Nonsense,” he scoffed. “It’s a week’s journey from Acre, fiou can’t even see Tyre from here, and that’s only two days away. Now, there’s an interesting city, “feu should go visit.”

“I’ve seen it,” I said. “It was interesting indeed. But thanks for the thought. Friend Aldo, it has been a pleasure meeting you. I hope to come up to visit again soon.”

“The pleasure was mine,” he said. “Maybe I will see you at Scarlet’s funeral if they let me have the day off.”

We shook hands, and I began the long descent to the ground. When I passed the guards” room, I took the note out. It was too dark to read in the staircase, so I stepped inside the empty room and sat on the windowsill.

T
,
the note read.
You were right. Sometimes there is no other way. Henry was going to launch a new Crusade to retake Jerusalem using the Pisans and Germans. I overheard him planning it with the Falconbergs. Thousands would have perished. I could not live with that. Maybe the Assassins have the right approach—remove the head, and the body can no longer function. Forgive me. S.

T
here it was
. The explanation. Logical, sensible, even justifiable. After all, peace was the primary objective of our guild. Every word in the note rang completely true.

And I didn’t believe it for a moment.

I cannot say why. Perhaps it was the timing. Henry hadn’t even reconciled with the Pisans yet, though his desire to do so may very well have been motivated by his plan to retake Jerusalem.

But if Scarlet killed him for another reason, then where in Mary’s story was that reason?

I stuck the note back in my pouch and ransacked my brain, trying to figure it out. The window overlooked the area north of the city wall, and I realized with a start that this was the very window from which Blondel lowered King Richard’s locked box. I peered down, trying to remember where Scarlet had waited in the sapper’s trench, but the ground had been filled in. I could see Perrio in the distance trudging disconsolately toward our boarding house. So strange to see a neighborhood growing where armies had once waged war. It seemed like another lifetime since I rode to Tyre in borrowed armor with a dwarf by my side and a stolen supply convoy driven by children.

Tyre.

It was two days” journey to Tyre.

I stood up with a jolt.

I paced the room, adding things up, testing the theory for flaws, but I kept coming back to the same conclusion.

The information that sent Scarlet and Henry out that window didn’t come from Mary.

It came from me.

I rushed down the stairs, then found my way to the Queen’s chambers. I knocked respectfully on the door. Her maid opened it, expecting somebody, but was surprised and distressed to see a fool standing before her.

“Go away,” she whispered.

“I would like to pay my respects to the Queen,” I said quickly.

“This is not the time,” she snapped.

“Please,” I said. “Tell her it’s Droignon. Tell her I have a message for her from Scarlet.”

She was puzzled, but she turned without telling me to go away. I waited, and a short time later, she opened the door and reluctantly bade me enter.

Isabelle lay upon her bed, sobbing. Only the one maid was attending her, and the children were nowhere in evidence.

“Monsieur Droignon is here, milady,” whispered the maid.

I sat by her bed and took her hand in mine as the maid gasped in shock.

“Good lady, you weep,” I said.

“Yes,” she cried.

“Why do you mourn?” I asked.

Her maid looked at me in horror. The Queen sat up, clutching a silk handkerchief which she used ineffectually to dab at her tears.

“Fool, I mourn my husbands death,” she said bitterly.

“I see you weep, and I believe that you mourn,” I said. “But not, I think, for your husband.”

Isabelle looked at me in shock.

“Milady, I apologize for this rude intrusion,” said her maid, rising to her feet and heading for the door to summon a guard.

“Stultorum numerus,”
I said quickly.

“What?” said Isabelle.

“You heard me,” I said.

She looked at me, then nodded slowly.

“Bess, leave us,” she called suddenly.

Well, of all the shocks this maid experienced during her short exposure to me, this was the greatest. She started to protest, then saw the steely look on her mistress’s face. She curtsied quickly and backed out of the room, closing the door behind her. I turned back to the Queen, who had stopped crying.

“Well?” I said.

“Infinitus est,”
she whispered.

“I thought that was the case,” I said. “When did Scarlet recruit you?

“When I was twelve,” she said. “I was so lonely. He was my only real companion. I had learned enough to know that I was in a sham marriage put together for political reasons, and I thought I would be trapped in it forever. Nobody else understood my misery. I asked him to teach me things, and he did. Then, one day, I saw him talking to another jester, and I asked about it. He became secretive, which was not at all like him. I kept at him, and eventually, he told me about the Guild. It sounded grand and noble and fun, and I wanted to be a part of it.”

“Juggle,” I commanded her, reaching into my bag for my clubs. Before I could hand them to her, she reached into a drawer in a table by her bed and took out three of her own. She sent them expertly into the air for a minute.

“Enough, milady,” I said. “You pass.”

“You mentioned a message from him,” she said.

“His last words were of you,” I said. “

“Tell Isabelle…” he began, but then he saw you. He died with a smile on his lips and your loveliness in his eyes. I think that he meant to say that he loved you.”

“I know,” she whispered, the tears rolling down her cheeks again. “And I loved him.”

“Too bad about those rules forbidding marriage between the nobility and the serving class,” I said, a bit harshly.

She looked up, stung.

“I had no choice!” she cried.

“Neither did he,” I said. “Here. Read this.”

I tossed her the note he had left on the tower. She read it, and I watched her face carefully. Her expression was an attempt to look shocked, but there was a palpable sense of relief underlying it.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said. “I cannot believe it.”

“Neither can I, unfortunately,” I said.

“But Henry was planning the Crusade,” said Isabelle, looking at me. “He told me so himself.”

“Oh, that may be true enough,” I replied. “But it’s not why Scarlet killed him.”

“Why, then?” asked the Queen.

“He did it for you,” I said.

“What?” she cried in outrage. “How dare you!”

“Please, hear me out, milady,” I said, holding up my hand. “He may very well have had good reason to do this. I now believe that Henry was the man who instigated the murder of Conrad.”

The outrage vanished. “Whence comes this belief?” she asked me carefully.

“From nothing that would hang a man in court,” I said. “But from a small handful of circumstances that all point in that direction, “Your husband, your previous husband, I should say, was killed by a pair of men named Leo and Balthazar. They were recruited, or perhaps threatened, into becoming the henchmen of one of the Falconberg brothers. We learned this from Balthazar’s widow, Mary. Her sister, who was killed near the tent city outside Tyre, had lived in Tiberias. I suspect that she learned of Leo’s connection to the brother, and possibly of the connection to Henry later on, but we’ll never know for certain.”

“Which of the brothers?” asked Isabelle.

“Which did Scarlet pick?” I responded. She refused to take the bait. “Very well, milady. I believe that it was William. When Henry arrived in Tyre to speak with your husband, William Falconberg made a public display of introducing himself to Henry and greeting him as if for the first time. But I had seen William speaking to Henry on quite familiar terms before that, right here in Acre. William is not a smart man. He felt it necessary to establish that he had no connection to Henry when in fact he did. And that is suspicious.