Chronicles of the Golden Cross

@ Kurt_Steiner and Enewald: Lol. Sexual tension sure complicates courtly intrigue by an astronomical factor, doesn't it? Makes for great stories.

Well, everybody, I'm back from England! My wife and I had a wonderful little jaunt over to the old country, though I can't say I enjoy the lengthy travel-time it takes to get there and back. I'll begin working on the next update for Chronicles after I recover from the jet-lag.

@ Murmurandus: Lol. That's part of what makes Sibylla such a strong queen.

@ Viden: Glad to have you aboard! Thanks very much for your compliment. I hope you continue to enjoy Chronicles (and Freddie).

@ canonized: Thanks, comrade!

@ stnylan: Thank you. The weather was actually quite good, mostly sunny and a little overcast with cool breezes. The only real exception was at Stonehenge, where brooding clouds and blustering winds created the perfect mood.

@ Qorten: It's good to be back. We had a great time. We even toyed with the idea of a day-trip across the Channel to Belgium, but there just wasn't enough time.

@ General_BT: That was a most enthusiastic welcome. It's good to be back among friends.

@ Kurt_Steiner: Fear not, my friend. You'll see both of them again very soon.

@ VILenin: Thanks! We went all over the south of England, really. We stayed with my grandmother in Brighton, and took day-trips to Hastings and Battle, Salisbury and Stonehenge, Portsmouth and Fishbourne, and Arundel. Then we spent the last three days in London so my wife could see all the famous sites. It was a blast.

@ all: I'm planning on writing my next update today and probably tomorrow. I hope to have it up in the next few days.

canonized said:

You know what you should have done , you should have taken pictures in england and used them in your AAR somewhere XD

Click to expand...

Hehe, who says I'm not going to?

THE REIGN OF GODFREY II (1213-?)​

“With the barons pressing for elective law, a crown princess on trial for her life, and the king slain by an unknown hand,” wrote the historian Alexander of Safed in the year 1213, “It seemed as though God himself had forsaken the crown. Many wondered if the kingship would survive much longer, and some few actively undertook to engender its dissolution. Here was a question for the philosophers: could the Kingdom of Jerusalem endure at all without its king?”


“The woman’s guilt cannot be more obvious!” bellowed Daimbert of Mainz, “Her cousin found the dead child immediately after she left the boy’s room! With him dead, she stood to inherit all her father’s lands! That is her motive! Where there is cause, there is guilt! She must be burned!”

“No!” shouted Prince Godfrey, “I will not permit such an injustice! You have not proved her guilt, only that the child was dead after Alexios found him! By that logic, Prince Alexios himself could have been the murderer, God forbid!” Godfrey felt utterly torn. He wanted to believe that Anastasia was incapable of such a horrendous deed, but he just couldn’t be sure. At the same time, there was no way in heaven or hell that he was going to let her be taken and burned at the stake by that insidious leech! That was why he had agreed to serve as her advocate in the first place.

Once again the great hall of Antioch broke into a maddened surfeit of shouting from both sides, as it had been for much of the day. The trial of Princess Anastasia had in reality devolved into an utter circus. Anastasia wasn’t very popular with the people but, by default, inquisitors were even less popular. The very presence of Daimbert of Mainz had actually galvanized the populace in support of the Princess.

“Order!” screamed Sibylla, “I will have order! Does no one listen to a Queen in her own realm?!” She wished that Anastasia had not called upon her to judge the case, but she knew the woman had done so out of desperation. She didn’t much care for her daughter-in-law, but she didn’t think her capable of murder either. More importantly, Sibylla did not want to allow a woman who knew so many state secrets to fall into the hands of the Inquisition, who would doubtless interrogate her by torture prior to executing her.


At last the hall quieted down. “My son is quite correct, Inquisitor,” said Queen Sibylla, “Despite your long-winded assertion of the Princess’ guilt, you have yet to actually provide one shred of evidence proving it to be true! Do you have any such evidence, or are you deliberately wasting our time?”

“Come now, my queen,” sneered the Inquisitor, “Let’s just end this charade, shall we? We both know this was never really about that foolish little murderess. This is about whether or not you will obey a direct order from Pope Innocent III! Now will you comply with Rome’s commands, or will I be forced to inform the Holy Father of your defiance?”

So now it was a direct papal command? Sibylla doubted that very much. Well, he would not catch her off her guard. “If you cannot prove the girl’s guilt,” she said, masking her rising fury, “Then I shall be compelled to declare her innocent of her brother’s murder!” Let the viper chew on that!

“Very well,” hissed Inquisitor Daimbert, “Then you leave me no recourse. Sibylla, false Queen of Jerusalem, I declare your dynasty unfit to rule by virtue of heretical corruption, and place this entire kingdom under interdict, and I say this with the full authority of the Pope!”

That declaration had caught Queen Sibylla off guard. Completely shocked, she could only lift her hand to cover her gaping mouth.

In an instant, Godfrey was on his feet, seething with righteous fury. “And I say this with the full authority from God, who has called me to be his Defender of the Holy Sepulchre, when I tell you that any action you take against the holy Kingdom of Jerusalem will be paid back upon your head, a hundred fold!”

“Do you dare--” began Daimbert, but Godfrey moved far too swiftly for him.

No sooner had the words passed the Inquisitor’s lips, than Godfrey had placed his sword point to the so-called Grey Eminence’s breast. “Get out of my kingdom,” said Godfrey, his teeth clenched.

At that, Daimbert pulled away from the Prince, heading for the exit with a flourish of his trademark grey cloak. “You’ll live to regret this,” he spat over his shoulder at Godfrey.

“Jesus Christ damn you!” retorted Godfrey, contemptuously.


The court murmured their surprise and fear, but Sibylla was content. She had had her doubts in the past, but now she knew for certain that her son was going to be an excellent king. “It is time to return to Jerusalem,” she announced, “My son’s coronation has been too long delayed by this… theatricality.”


The long procession on the road from Antioch moved very slowly, deliberately. Elegant banners fluttered gently in the desert wind. Knights rode their stallions at a leisurely trot, matching the slower pace of their fair ladies’ palfreys. Pious monks bearing wooden crosses walked alongside battle-hardened men-at-arms and lowly serfs. Those observers who managed to glimpse the splendid parade as it passed through the sparse countryside found themselves utterly amazed, not just because the grand spectacle was so utterly fantastic, but because the vast throng of people was as silent as a host of specters. Most curious of all, the leader at the head of the magnificent procession was but a simple-looking man astride a humble donkey.


Once the royal procession passed through the gates of Jerusalem, the stillness was broken instantly as a numberless cacophony of voices let loose a unanimous cry of exultation, young and old, male and female, every man in his own tongue. “Vive le Roi!” “Es lebe der König!” “Long live the King!” As Godfrey rode along the Royal Road on his donkey, the entire city seemed to erupt into a massive tumult of praise-shouting, psalm-singing, palm branches waving and rose petals fluttering to the earth. To Godfrey, the whole affair was very surreal. His mind was focused elsewhere; all he could think about was Jesus Christ riding along that self-same path so many centuries prior. Thus did Godfrey de Lusignan return to the Holy City for his coronation in triumph and glory.


The brilliant morning light shone down upon the sepulchre of the dead king as a solitary mourner stood to pay her respects. The public displays of grief had been but a sham -- the royal funeral had been rushed and the ceremony had been a solemn mockery. Now, weeks after all the false pomp had ended, only one person was left to grieve for the unloved king.

Princess Alix ran her fingers over the hastily-carved effigy. It did not really resemble her father; the sculptor had been unskilled. Nevertheless, it was all that remained of King Guy, the only thing by which she could remember him. He had been a terrible king, but he had been her father nonetheless, and she mourned his sudden death. Now he was already forgotten by everyone, all except her. She raised a hand to her eyes as the tears began to fall freely.


“I thought I would find you here.” Alix looked up. It was her little brother, Godfrey. “We need to talk,” he said.

“Is that the only reason why you’ve come here?” wept Alix, “To speak of the glorious future while our Father molders in his grave?”

“No, actually,” said Godfrey, sliding a gentle arm around his sister’s shaking shoulders. “I came to talk to Father.”

“Father’s dead,” sobbed Alix.

“I know this,” said Godfrey, “But I wanted to ask him a question all the same. I wanted to ask him how to rule -- how to feel adequate enough to rule.”

“You wanted to ask him that?” Alix scoffed through her tears, “Even in life he wouldn’t have had an answer for you.”

“You are right, he probably wouldn’t,” said Godfrey, “But I think maybe you might have the answer.”

“And what could you possibly mean by that, Godfrey de Lusignan?” Alix folded her arms and pursed her lips expectantly. The tears had ended abruptly.

“You are the wisest of Father’s children, perhaps as some say the wisest woman in all of the East. You were Father’s chancellor, and you made the kingdom prosper despite its King’s many shortcomings.”

“I never pegged you as a shameless flatterer, brother,” said Alix, giving him a look of reproach.

“You know,” said Godfrey, apparently trying to change the subject, “In another place and time, you would be the one that was waiting to be crowned on the morrow. You are the eldest.”

“Yes, the firstborn child,” said Alix, “And infuriatingly female.” She gave Godfrey the hint of a smile. “That’s why you’re the one who’s going to be stuck with the heavy golden paperweight on his head.”

“Help me rule, dear sister,” Godfrey pleaded suddenly, “You are innovative, brilliant and clever. Jerusalem needs you. This is too much for me alone.”

Alix burst out laughing. “What will people say? Godfrey needs his big sister to rule for him? You can do this, brother, trust me. You are wise enough.”

“Wise? I’m just wise enough to know that I’m a fool. Or were you asleep for the past ten years of my life?” Godfrey raised both of his eyebrows in emphasis.

“Touché,” said Alix, “Alright. I’ll help you, but on this one condition.”

“Name it.”

“You take all the credit.”

“What?” said Godfrey, his objection obvious on his face, “I wouldn’t dream of doing something so selfish. That’s completely unfair!”

“Fair?” said Alix, “Being fair is the problem, don’t you see? Alix the Fair, that’s what people call me. All they see is a pretty face. It’s a man’s world, and most men cannot see past a fair face and a shapely leg. You’ll lose respect if you credit your success to me, and if men stop respecting you, they won’t respect your kingdom either.”

“And that is dangerous,” said Godfrey, beginning to understand, “I see your point, I just can’t imagine reigning without your help. Do this for me, for Jerusalem’s sake, and for mine. I want to be a better king than Father was.”

“You haven’t even been crowned and you’re already a better king than Father was,” laughed Alix.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because you’re already listening to my advice, silly! How often do you think Father really did that?”

“You always were my favorite sister,” said Godfrey, grinning, “Now I think it’s high time Alix the Fair became Alix the Prodigy again, don’t you?”


The Ark of the Covenant cast a glittering sheen around the great enclosure as the light of a hundred torches reflected off its golden façade. The sacred relic was at home at last in the Templum Domini, and it had rested untouched on the Rock for several weeks now, exactly where the Templars had left it.

Balian of Ibelin crossed himself and murmured a silent prayer. He felt out of place in the holy shrine, but one did not lightly dismiss a royal summons. Still, the Dome of the Rock seemed a very odd location to hold a clandestine nocturnal meeting, despite the privacy such a place offered.

Reverently walking behind the Rock and the Ark, Balian reached the worn staircase that led underneath the holy place to the Well of Souls. He had always been a brave man, but the fear of desecration now loomed over him like a dark storm cloud. Crossing himself again, Balian descended the stairs. At the bottom, the Well of Souls greeted him with pitch blackness, and he was forced to feel around in the shadows until he found the hidden corridor.

Still stumbling around in the dark, Balian followed a faint glimmer of light that he saw in the distance until he reached a heavy wooden door. The room beyond it was only barely illumined by some old embers smoldering in a brazier. It was a simple prayer chamber, with various carpets adorning the floor, a few stools scattered in one corner, and not much else.

“Welcome, my dear Balian,” breathed a voice. So, she was here already, even if he couldn’t see her properly in the gloom. He felt a soft hand caress his cheek.

“My queen,” he answered, “Surely of all places this is not the setting for such things?”

“Indeed,” she answered, and moving swiftly, she lit a candle at the brazier. The tiny flame revealed the elegant face of Queen Sibylla. “Another time then,” she whispered, the candlelight dancing in her eyes. Her expression was inscrutable.

“How did you manage to procure the Well of Souls for such a meeting as this? No one would ever suspect this place,” said Balian, “But still.”

“This may be the most sacred site in the world,” said Sibylla, “And perhaps for some it would be difficult indeed to gain admittance. But if the Queen of Jerusalem wishes to obtain a modicum of peace in some private prayer and meditation, who is to stop her?”

Balian nodded. Not even he knew how far the Queen’s influence extended.


“On to business then?” she asked, “What have you learned?”

“Little,” answered Balian. Though few others knew of it, he had been the Queen’s premier agent in the Holy Land ever since she had bewitched him in his late teenage years. “I did learn that it was not the Hashishin that slew your husband, as claimed by the note.”

“And how did you discern this?” asked the Queen.

“My contact among their number said that the King was beneath their Master’s contempt, that if they wanted to kill him, they would have done so years ago. He suggested that the culprit might be among our own ranks.”

“Treason is never to be treated lightly,” Sibylla said coldly, “Even if the results are favorable.”

Balian cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “What more do you desire of me, your Majesty?”

“Keep your eyes and ears open tomorrow at my son’s coronation. Meet me again tomorrow night to inform me of whatever you discover.”

“Here?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable with the prospect.

“No,” she answered, “My quarters will suffice. There will be more matters of the night than one for us to attend to.”

Balian rose to his feet, and with a wry smile, Sibylla sent him on his way.


The Church of the Holy Sepulchre had always echoed with the monks’ chanting, but today Godfrey noticed that their hymns were different. It was not God whose praises they were singing today, and it made him feel uncomfortable.

It seemed the ravings of Daimbert of Mainz were already forgotten, or at least, none of the multitude gathered for his coronation seemed the least bit affected. He moved slowly past the cheering crowds along the nave of the church, his servants clutching the train of his long golden mantle as if their lives depended on it. His mother was there, as were his wife and children, all waiting for him at the throne adroitly positioned on the dais. The Patriarch of Jerusalem was there too, and in his hands he held a golden crown -- his father’s.

Feeling the crush of fallen rose petals underfoot, and watching more fall to the floor as they were thrown by his eager subjects, Godfrey made himself a promise. Never would he debase his people with villainy or cruelty as had so many of his predecessors. Never would he shame them with his ill conduct. He reigned by the grace of Christ, and by God his was going to prove that he was worthy of it!

Godfrey seated himself on the throne with aplomb, and the Patriarch, after handing the crown to a nearby page, began his coronation sermon. “Thank heavens I insisted that the ceremony be brief,” thought Godfrey. For all his virtues, Patriarch Abbas could be terribly long-winded. Finally the old clergyman approached him with his spoon and gilded horn and ceremoniously anointed him, letting the oil drip onto his head somewhat more copiously than Godfrey would have preferred.

When the Patriarch at last reached to retrieve the royal crown from his page, Sibylla intervened. “I am still Queen-Regnant by virtue of my ancestry” she announced loudly to the congregation, “Lest that fact be forgotten. It is my right to choose a co-ruler. I crowned my husband, Guy, by my own will and choice. And now I do the same when I crown my only son, Godfrey, as King of Jerusalem!”

Godfrey closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as his mother placed the crown upon his head. “Long live the King,” she whispered quietly in his ear.


For a brief moment all was still, until Patriarch Abbas raised his voice to everyone in attendance: “Vivat rex in æternum!”

Not even Godfrey could have silenced the cheers that followed. Jerusalem had a new King at last.


After exiting the Church, a fanfare of trumpets announced Godfrey II's desire to make his first official speech to his people as their King.

“I am, by the grace of God, a Frankish King,” said Godfrey, “And thus I will speak frankly to you all.”

The knights and other Europeans present applauded loudly, while the Armenians, Saracens, and others looked more uncertain.

“This ancient land has passed through the hands of many kings,” Godfrey continued, “Before my ancestors liberated it, Jerusalem was a royal city for Jews, pagans, Greek Christians, and Muslims, each desiring above all else for it to be theirs alone. For one hundred years under my family’s rule it has been the same. Now, in my first act as your King, I declare that Jerusalem, which is held holy by all religions, shall forever be open to all religions! Let all come and worship freely here, and let no man hinder another from worshiping the Lord God as he sees fit!”

This time it was the eastern Jerusalemites who cheered loudly, and it was the Franks’ turn to look apprehensive. What kind of man was this King Godfrey?


The baby’s incessant cries gave Queen Frederica a dreadful headache, despite the fact that the infant had already been handed over to the nursemaids. A servant brought her a goblet of wine on a silver platter, which she took eagerly.

Her children brought her power -- the assurance of a strong new dynasty borne of her own womb. Frederica was a queen to be reckoned with, now not only because of her own striking attributes but because of the certainty of great deeds to be done in future by her offspring.

Augustin, her first bastard, had already grown into a strapping young lad of eleven. He had shown great aptitude in his knightly training, and would doubtless prove an excellent war leader in a few scant years. The boy was nothing like the incompetent Henri de Champagne, but then, Frederica had made certain of that by choosing to breed with one of her most talented “pets.” Of course Henri suspected nothing. Her chosen Prince-Consort was as perfectly oblivious as ever.

Henri had not fathered their two daughters either. The girls were receiving special instruction under their mother’s hand in the arts of courtly love, or more specifically, how to use their feminine wiles to beguile unwitting males. The trouble with Fatima and Cassima was that the two princesses behaved like spoiled, selfish little brats. Frederica massaged her temples with her long-nailed fingers, willing the pain to go away.

“I thay, Freddie!” called her dim-witted spouse from the antechamber, “Thith pain ith truly awful! Can’t they make it thtop?!” Frederica groaned. She had sent the fool away on campaign to keep him busy, only for him to come moping back almost immediately with something the physicians called a hernia. Frederica had to constantly keep reminding herself that the imbecile had his uses, even if they very rarely lay in the bedroom.


Frederica grimaced as she thought of her fourth child, Konrad. The lad was the only product of her union with Henri, and it showed. Still, she had needed at least one child whose legitimacy was verifiable. The four-year-old was an insufferable whiner, and she was sure he would grow up to be just like his doting father. Perhaps the boy would succeed her as ruler of Egypt, though that thought was not the most pleasing she had entertained.

And then there was the baby. This young child was going to be her Wunderkind. He would grow up unspoiled by her husband’s folly, away from the machinations of scheming barons. She had engineered his birth with the greatest artifice, mating with the best paternal candidate she could find. Her newborn son would be her legacy to the world, her one perfect creation. Her ambitions for the boy were limitless. Yes, someday her little Godfrey Caesarion would rule the entire world!


Thus did the Kingdom of Jerusalem begin to prosper again at the accession of King Godfrey, though faced with the combined dangers of scheming barons at home, foreign plots abroad, and the threat of papal interdiction looming overhead. How long will the Kingdom continue to survive against the odds? The answer to that question rests largely in the hands of King Godfrey II.

Okay, the update is live!

I hope you like it. This particular update has given me more than a little difficulty, taking much longer than I would have liked in order to complete it.

Also, I spent an immeasurable amount of time tinkering and modifying the soundtrack, so I hope it synchs up correctly with the story for you.

Let me know what you think.