As the two fair Maria’s vanished, Jean could see a third, more ominous shade form from the darkness.
Amidst the smoke and gloom shambled a Knight in a suit of broken plate. He shambled forward, armor creaking, and with a cracking sound like that of breaking bones. Jean summoned his reserves of courage.
“I suppose you too will want to taunt me for some flaw or other? Well I’m ready.” The knight turned his head-metal-screaching, and with a sound coming from within like someone twisting a rope. Jean’s confidence beat a hasty retreat.
“Forward”, it hissed. Its hatred froze on the back of his neck.
The world once again
changed.
It was night. Two sentries stood guard over the city walls. A cool wind blew in from the desert, sending the royal banner fluttering. Jean felt something sorrowful in that but could not say what. “Did you hear”, the old bastard finally kicked the bucket.”, said the first man, an old graybeard.
“Dead, I didn’t even know he was sick.”, replied the younger soldier.
“He wasn’t even that old”, rejoined another man, the youngest of all, a squire, who came crying a plate of bread and protege, what was probably the men’s dinner.
“He was older than many of who’ve died in war. The reaper cares not if a flower is withered or in bloom. And I say that from tragic experience. I say that man has lived well past his time. Best that he dies now with what little honor he has left.” The old man had a far-off look in his eye, like he was a man who had lost much in life, and through that loss learned truths about the world most men refused to grasp.
“Agreed, good riddance I say!”, chimed in the younger soldier.
“Should we attend the funeral?”, asked the squire.
The old man sighed. “Whatever he was he was a Crusader. We should honor him for that. If that is not enough look on the bright side, at least there will be good food.”
The younger man scowled. “I wish there had been good food at the Siege of Jerusalem”.
“So do I. I also wished my wife hadn’t died in the birthing bed, my son hadn’t taken an arrow at the siege, that my grandchildren were not quite so disobedient, and that my back did not torment me so. But we do not always get what we wish now do we eh?”
“Merry fucking Christmas”, the younger man replied with a world-weary shake of the head.
Jean did not like the feeling he was getting. “Who was this Crusader? The one who died? The one who they all seem to hate”, he asked. All of his commanders were in good health. The worst off was Alphonse, with his gout, and Jean found it difficult to think the men had found any fault with his conduct during the siege.
The ghost glared at him through the rusty slit in it’s helm. It trudged dutifully onwards to the city market. There, traders were hawking, gold bracelets, silk clothes, jewels, and other valuables.
In a smithy a blacksmith, a giant brick of a man with dark hair and a beard, was busy working a set of armor. His armor, Jean realized in horror.
“How did you get these? They aren’t going to send someone after us are we?”, asked a short wisp of a woman, who looked to be an Armenian or Greek.
The man chuckled. “Fear not my sweet love. After that old bastard up in the Tower died, his daughter had no choice but to auction off all his worldly possessions. You are looking at bought and paid for property. Seems like a lot of the men who came here in search of salvation and riches he got neither in the end and left his family penniless.
“This seemed to disturb the woman. “But the Queen? Is she alright? Surely she will not loose her throne over this.”
The smithy laughed. “I swear you care more about this than the Latins do.”
“I know from experience how hard it is to be an orphan girl with a stern father who misspends all her money. Not all of us can be as lucky as I was. And I saw her at the last procession. She seemed so sad. So alone.”
He shrugged those great shoulders of his. “I think you are just imagining things. There is no possible way to tell what royalty feels. As to who truly rules this kingdom, I don’t know. I don’t think anyone does. The devil does for all I care, he can still use good armor. As for the Queen, from what they say, say all her virtues, she inherited from her mother, all her vices, from the father. I don’t know how that will measure up in the end. In any case I figure more war will be good for us. Even the devil needs a suit of armor.”
He clasped the helmet in his hands. “Who knows what the man who buys this will accomplish with it. All I know is that I have met many a tourney knight. And I wouldn’t want to make any of them a king. God makes men for a reason. Step outside your place and you go against his will. Only bad things can come from rising above one’s station.”
The woman’s eyes fixed her husband. “Love.” He turned to her. “It’s Christmas?”
“Yes and?”
She walked up and clasped his hand. “You should get some rest. Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you at work, but I would prefer having you all to myself for an hour at least. Please?” He put the hammer down. “Alright alright. I swear you can be more demanding than some of my customers.” They walked out of the forge and into another room in the dwelling. Jean walked up to his discarded helm.
“Is the man they all talk about who I think he is!?”, Jean asked, desperation in his voice.
The phantom knight turned his hateful gaze towards him. “You will see.”
They silently they strolled to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.
They walked to a stone sarcophagus, bearing the likeness of a certain knight. “Look”, the ghost commanded. Jean wavered. His knees shook. His breath was caught in his throat. “I..I..I know what you are trying to do.” He breathed. “It is me!” The Knight did not move. “I know it is me! Please, by God don’t make me look upon it!”
The creature’s laugh was terrible and cruel. “It’s just like you to refuse to look horror in the face. Fine. If you will not gaze upon your own rotting cadaver, look upon this!”
He creeped his hands up to his helm, rusted plates screeching out a frightening tune, and, haltingly, lifted it.
It took a few horrifying seconds before Jean realized who it was.”
“King Hughes!”
Half his face could almost be mistaken for that of a living man, save for the ghostly pale pallor it bore. The other though was a bloody, mangled ruin of churned flesh and bone. The handiwork of a Saracen mace no doubt. The horrifying ruin of churned flesh and bone lay bare and uncovered in moonlight, as if God himself was commanding Jean to look upon it.
“Yes, it is I, the man you left to die in order to chase your ambitions. Because you, in your vapid pride, could not bear the idea of someone else gaining the glory that you thought should have been yours.” He pried open the casket with one furious lifting of his arm. “Well gaze upon your glory now you envious self-absorbed cur!”
Jean stepped forward, feeling that he needed to prove he was not craven. To himself if nothing else. He looked down. It took all the self-restraint he had not to gasp in horror. The face was his, aged a few years. His hair was grayer than he remembered. His eyes were wide open, and his expression seemed to be asking something.
“You may have defeated me, yet you were unloved in life, alone on your very deathbed, as your councilors and commanders squabbled for power over your half-educated child. It’s ironic, you may have wanted to save her from the horror of wedding my son, and yet by your actions you condemn her to an even worse fate!”
“That’s a lie! A filthy lie!” Jean’s voice was nasally and shrill. Like the child he had been.
“Oh really?” Both sides of his face smiled. It was the most hideous sight Jean had ever laid eyes upon.
“Yes, Alphonse. He was always loyal. Surely he will mourn my passing.”
“Indeed? Shall I show you how our brave knight reacted to the passing of his master?”
They flew across the city to the tower of David itself, where in a window they could see Alphonse having drinks with Count Jean of Ibelin.
“You must be in quite a state, I understand you two knew each other for quite a while.” The count handed a wine cup to the common born knight.
Alphonse took a long swig. “I did. I fought by Jean’s side for years. For many years I considered myself almost a brother to him. But things changed after the crusade. Or I guess they changed before, and I only really began to notice after the Crusade. He was always keen to remind me of my inferior status. I thought he meant to move against me, but I think that part was just my paranoia.”
The Chancellor arched his eyebrows. “Advisor Alphonse, are you saying you do not mourn your benefactor’s passing.”
“Oh, I mourn it. But I accept it. No use crying over the past. If anything, I mourn the man he was far more than the person he became. In some ways you could say the crown killed him.”
“That’s...grief”, said Jean.
Hughes smirked. “When I died my friends wept.”
Jean scowled. “I am sure someone wept at my death.”
Hughes’s grisly smile widened. “Well, you could say that. Allow me to show you what this weeping really consists of.”
Agnes was in tears. Jean was heartened by this, thinking someone might actually miss him. Alas, it was not so. “You took me away from Frederick the man I loved. I tolerated all the misery you put me through in the hopes that we could make something together. Yet what do I have now? No children, no chance at the Empire, and no Frederick. You're the lucky one Jean, you get to leave this accursed world.”
“Well at least my daughter must mourn me? How old is she now? Surely, she must miss me”, he could hear the desperation in his own voice, taste it on his tongue.
Hughes looked back at him with that hideous smile of malice. “Well let's see what our sweet Queen thinks of your passing.”
It was only a short walk to the royal chapel. The lights were dim, and there was little sound.
Jean could feel the tears welling in his eyes. “She’s grown so big now.” He wondered if she would remember him. This must have been what Maria felt.
“Today has been a hard one for you little one.”, said the kindly priest.
Isabelle bristled. Jean remembered how much he had hated being called little at that age.
“Father..I know the Bible says to honor thy father and thy mother. And I will.”
“Good. It is a very good thing to hear. Jerusalem will be proud to have such a pious Queen.” Isabelle looked down and fiddled with her hands.
“But Holy Father. I fear I may be doing these things in vain. I pray to God for the sake of my poor father and mother, but the truth is, I don’t feel sad about my father dying.”
Jean felt himself grow weak. Pain flared in his chest. Tears flowed from his eyes. He had done all this for her. Why did she hate him.
“It is not a godly thing to hate one’s parents.”
“But father..I don’t hate him. I don’t love him. I don’t know what to think of him. He did so much for me. Yet he hardly seems to care for me. Whenever we speak it is to give me a command or rebuke me for some failure. Am I just a tool for him?”
“Why are you crying?” asked the priest
“Because he was my father. And I wanted to be sad for him. But now I can’t. I wanted things to be better. But now they will never be.”
Jean turned away. “This is all a lie. Some trick of the devil. I love my daughter and she adores me. True I am hardly her wet nurse, but I have played with her. I have shown concern for her. Even at her tender age she knows I love her.”
Hughes’s ruined throat let out a sound that was simultaneously a laugh and sob. “That’s the cruel joke of it all. I am here to show you your tragic future. Yet at least you have a future. You and the accursed Emir of Upper Egypt took that away from me.
Took me away from my kingdom, from my sisters, from my wife, from my children. Even in this life I only linger to bring you torment. Do you know how enraging it is to watch you fumble about and whine while my family is torn apart by the Venetians! But then I shouldn’t be surprised that you did this. It’s like you always do. Your victory won’t bring you joy because you are an envious arrogant prick. Conquering Jerusalem won’t change that. It wouldn’t change if you conquered more land than Alexander the Great! You will always be the same wretched creature as you are on the inside! That is why this is your fate.”
“I would not go that far”, said a familiar voice.
Hughes laughed, though the sound was more like a dog dying of thirst than something a human being would make “Even in death you’re a condescending hag!”
Maria Komninos bore a ghostly smirk upon her face.
“I apologize for my rudeness. But no fate is predetermined. God gives us the choice to walk many different paths. Not all of them need lead to ruin.”
“So, my path can be changed!” Jean cried out in relief.
Maria, ever the wise old Greek mystic smirked. “Perhaps so. Perhaps not. I have done all I can to guide you Jean of Briene. I can only hope you remember our bargain. But I am sure you don’t need you to tell me that.”
Hughes cursed. “How can you be so indifferent to your own granddaughter’s suffering?
“I lose my patience with you Hughes. Your plight is pitiable, that of poor Alix, Melisande, and your daughters more so. But let us not pretend you were a complete innocent. You sought to take the throne of Jerusalem. And you were a King. You know damn well that Kings must do cruel things in the interest of state.”
“I cannot believe this betrayal!”
“I would not call it betrayal. And believe what you will. We are both dead, and as I see it, beyond caring.”
It was comforting to see Maria Komninos be harsh against someone else for a change.
“Hughes”, a gentle voice called.
“Ah right on time as always Maria. I’d like to see how you are going to smooth this one over.”
Jean’s wife stood up straighter. “I have no choice but to apologize for my husband’s actions towards your family.”
He smirked. “So, you finally see how rotten he is.”
“Yes, I know of my husband’s flaws. I also know that he did what he did to protect our daughter.”
She tightly hugged the hideous form, holding it close as if it was a child in need of comfort. Jean could not help but feel a flash of envy. “Please Hughes. I know you are hurting. I do not blame you for anything. A crown is a terrible burden. It can make men do things they didn’t think they were capable of. Please forgive my husband and find peace.”
“Why would I do that when my family continues to suffer?”
She shook her head. “Hughes Hughes, my angry little brother. Have faith. My Jean will see to their safety.”
She turned to him, a look of surprising sternness across her ghostly face. “Won’t you Jean.”
He could have said it was none of his concern. He could have said it was all Hughes fault. He could have said the Cypriot King’s misfortune was God balancing the scales. But he remembered poor Melisande. Remembered what his heart had told him was right, before he succumbed to envy and petty vengeance. That left him with only one response.
“Yes. Yes of course. I will take all necessary measures to secure your daughter’s life and throne. Your wife and children will be welcome at Court. As will my daughter’s other aunts. You have my word as a knight.”
Hughes spat. “I can’t take the word of one such as you. But alas our time is done. God willing you will fulfill your pledge. Then I will be able to pass on in peace.” His body had already begun to dissipate. “Until we meet again Jean of Brienne.” Then he was gone.
Next it was Maria Komninos’s turn. “I must take my leave. Maria, are you sure you wish to continue on this path of yours?”
Maria looked at her with determination in her eyes. She nodded. “Yes Grandmother. Even if I had the choice I would not leave until I had what I wanted. I spent my entire life letting others tell me what to do. I think that now, I shall do what I want.”
“It will be a long time.”
She laughed. “We have all the time in the world.”
“Take care little one.” And with that Maria Komninos blurred into the dark and was gone once again.
That just left Jean with the woman he had traveled across the world to marry. The woman who had given him his throne and his daughter, at the cost of her own power and life.
“Savary implied that only sinners remained as ghosts after death.”, Jean nervously let the implication hang in the air.
Maria was unfazed. “That or you have something that ties you to the Earth. But every day we stay away from our Lord is an agony. Most do not stay around long. But a few have strong wills and can linger for millennia.”
“So, which are you?”
“Both”
Jean could not conceal his shock. “You? What could you have done to be turned away from God’s side? For that matter, what could you be lingering in the world for? Surely you know I have our daughter’s fate well in hand.”
She scowled. To Jean’s surprise, he could see tears flowing from Maria’s ghostly eyes.
“It’s ironic. My sister banged against the cages of their womanhood. Yet it was I who was elevated to the throne. But all I wanted was a family to call my own. If God had given me that I would have been content. Instead, I got an agonizing and humiliating death. Do you know they would not even let me hold our daughter? I asked for so little. And got even less. So, I cursed him. I cursed God. And this is the result. But even if that had not happened, I would still be here. They took my daughter from me, and I mean to have her back. But in the meantime, take care of her.”
She stepped back. He could see her body start to fade away. “Wait no. Please don’t go away.”
“Don’t worry Jean, I will always be watching over you.”