@JSB217118, thank you very much for the kind words and nomination, even if I am unsure whether batshit insane is a compliment or a request to have me tested. The two Marias are quite a pair, one tough as steel on the outside and the other an angelic saint. But one would have a less painful time crossing the Sahara without water, than insulting either one's loved ones within their hearing. Thank you for the update and the nomination.
The Crusader Queen- A Kingdom of Jerusalem AAR
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Chapter 19 Part 7
They returned to the world outside of yet another inn. Soldiers patrolled the streets of the town. Through torchlight, Jean could see they bore the insignia of Henri’s Empire. The old Queen motioned for them to follow her into the building.
The first thing Jean heard were fervent prayers. Seconds later, they were silenced by an agonized shriek, pained shriek of a woman. Ladies scrambled up and down the stairs, past two guards who bore Henri’s personal sigil. The men had a glazed over look in their eyes, and were doing their level best to stay out of the way of what was clearly women's work.
Jean dimly recalled that Agnes's lowborn stepmother would be due around now.
“Is it Henri’s child that is being born up there?”
“No, I took you to a random dwelling in Bethlehem to watch some innkeeper’s wife bear a child. Yes, of course it is Henri’s. From what little interaction you have had with the man, you know this is where he would make his wife’s confinement.”
Jean’s dread heightened. This child could very well spell his political doom. If the orphan girl bore a son he would be Henri’s heir. And worse, the Emperor might insist he betroth Isabelle to the boy. He would be stripped of his power and become nothing more than the Emperor’s disappointing son-in-law. The fact that the baby was being born now of all days seemed like a good omen for the child and its parents, and a horrible one for Jean.
A small part of him wondered what a grand thing it would be to share a birthday with Christ himself. However, another shriek from the other side quieted those thoughts. “It hurts it hurts oh God it hurts!!”
Maria Komnenos led them on, her granddaughter shrinking back. Jeans stayed with his wife. He had no desire to see whatever bloody spectacle was on the other side of that door.
Another guttural howl filled the building. It sounded like a dying animal, like a man having his arm amputated. Jean cursed.
"You think you won't cry out. You think that you have to uphold the dignity of your station. But then it comes. Oh, the agony. You just can't help yourself. I always knew I might die in the birthing bed. But I never thought I would be in so much pain, and shame, and grief."
She was visibly quivering. Jean felt the need to say something. "God created us all to wage our own battles." No that was not good enough. He thought back to the time he had taken an arrow wound in a skirmish.
"We all think things like that. Soldiers especially. We try to be brave. Yet when the pain comes, you cannot help but cry and scream. There is nothing dishonorable about doing so."
“Th-thank you for your kindness. Husband.”
That smile of hers was somehow even more ghostly. A half hearted effort to mask her own distress. Women were like another species. He did his best, but he could understand what Maria was thinking as well as he could understand distress from his horse. Why did God have to make them so bloody difficult? What do I have to do to make her stop feeling so upset?
“Henri? Stay with me, please! Oh, don’t leave me love, not like all the others! I don’t want to die alone! Oh God this is my punishment! God, why must you make me suffer so!”
The battle went on through the night. Jean found it hard to fathom that the quiet girl Henri had presented to them could make such horrifying sounds. He found it either more difficult to fathom how poor Maria could have endured such an agony.
Jean leaned over to Maria Komnenos. “Forgive me, my lady, but I have little experience in these matters. Is this how it normally goes?”
The old Greek Queen smirked. “Childbirth is rarely an enjoyable experience, but in this case you are right Jean, poor Sophia is having a rough time of it.” Poor girl. I doubt you asked to be elevated so far above your station. It wasn’t your fault that your beauty caught the eye of an Emperor. It wasn’t your fault that his seed took root within you. And it is Henri that placed you in the way of all my plans.
“Do you think there is any possibility the girl and Henri’s child could survive this?”
Komnenos’s eyes narrowed like a hawk trained to spot dark intrigue. “Why my dear Grandson by law, it is almost as if you are rooting for such an unhappy outcome.”
Before Jean could reply, Sophia let out a long wail that seemed to herald the final assault. All was quiet for a few terrifying moments. Then an infant’s cry wailed through the inn. Followed seconds later by happy chirping from the parents and associated ladies. Jean’s first thought was to thank God for the happy outcome. Then he remembered what this could mean for him.
Jean’s heart raced. He had to know right now if the situation had changed.
He flung himself at the door, and was, somehow, surprised when he faded through.
Sophia sat over a stool, panting, drenched with sweat. Henri was kneeling down, cradling her hand. Jean immediately regretted his intrusion and turned around to avoid seeing anything in proper.
A lady was cleaning the child off. “She’s a healthy daughter. And a chubby little thing at that.” Did all the excess weight go to her lungs?
Jean had already grown as sick of the infant’s haranguing wails as he had at the mother’s screams of pain. Then the reality hit him. “It’s only a girl. A second daughter.” A useless second daughter who changed nothing regarding his (Agnes’s) place in the succession. Jean wanted to cry out in joy. He still had a chance. He could still be Emperor!
“You see all this and the first thing of is your won political position?” The Greek Dowager’s words were as hard and sharp as a blade.”
He turned to her. “My lady forgive me, but you of all people would understand that for people like us, there can be no separation between family and statecraft.”
She snorted. “Often have I heard that. Often have I said that. But now oh how I regret it. And it has never had a look as venal as it does on your face, your Grace.”
“You don’t understand. If he had a son, Henri would have cut Agnes out of the succession. Worse, he might have had a means to assume control of the Kingdom. He’d have the soldiers, the rank, and a son by which to bind Isabelle in marriage. It would be the end of our independence, as well as my regency. I don’t think your son would be pleased to have our Kingdom dominated by a foreign sovereign?”
She said nothings. Her eyes fixed on him like nails. Maria, too, looked at him with something that seemed like disgust. But that wasn’t possible.
“And wasn’t it you who made me swear to have your great granddaughter reign in her own, right?”
The two women let him flail in his desperation. “Jean. I speak to you as a friend, as family, not an ally. You have indeed worked to preserve your daughter’s interests. For this I thank you. But do not pretend that you have not done so more out of dynastic pride than concern for her interests. For an ally that is fine. But for family, genuine family, it leaves something to be desired.”
“You expect too much of me”, Jean complained.
Maria narrowed her eyes.
“Do you see them discussing the future of Jerusalem?”
“No.”
“Do you see them making plans regarding your daughter’s marriage?”
“I have ears, you know, woman!”
“Answer me!”
“No, ", Jean said, in a quiet, cowed voice.
“Do you think either Sophie or Henri are as of right now sparing a single thought, positive or negative, for your or your political future?”
“Probably not.”
Henri was busy fussing over his wife and cooing over the girl. She was crying, from joy or exhaustion he did not know. This was not his place.
“The Emperor is only like this because she is only another girl. If the child were a boy, it would be different. Oh, how they would rejoice and plan or the future. For this I thank God. Perhaps this mere girl is all that is all he shall have.”
“A mere girl”, mumbled Maria, in a tone that if Jean didn’t know any better, resembled resentment.
Jean had had enough of this place. “Are we done here? Have I learned what I needed to learn?” Maria sighed and shook her head. “You have much to learn, Jean of Brienne. But we have many places to be. If you wish to leave this place, I shall grant your request.”
Finally, someone was listening to him. “Good. Take us away. I don’t want to be in the same County as Jerusalem. Take me somewhere that has little to do with my political fortunes or any machinations over the succession. Take me somewhere where I can be happy.
Maria Komnenos smiled maliciously. “Well, in that case, I know of a place that may interest you greatly.” And they were off.
The first thing Jean heard were fervent prayers. Seconds later, they were silenced by an agonized shriek, pained shriek of a woman. Ladies scrambled up and down the stairs, past two guards who bore Henri’s personal sigil. The men had a glazed over look in their eyes, and were doing their level best to stay out of the way of what was clearly women's work.
Jean dimly recalled that Agnes's lowborn stepmother would be due around now.
“Is it Henri’s child that is being born up there?”
“No, I took you to a random dwelling in Bethlehem to watch some innkeeper’s wife bear a child. Yes, of course it is Henri’s. From what little interaction you have had with the man, you know this is where he would make his wife’s confinement.”
Jean’s dread heightened. This child could very well spell his political doom. If the orphan girl bore a son he would be Henri’s heir. And worse, the Emperor might insist he betroth Isabelle to the boy. He would be stripped of his power and become nothing more than the Emperor’s disappointing son-in-law. The fact that the baby was being born now of all days seemed like a good omen for the child and its parents, and a horrible one for Jean.
A small part of him wondered what a grand thing it would be to share a birthday with Christ himself. However, another shriek from the other side quieted those thoughts. “It hurts it hurts oh God it hurts!!”
Maria Komnenos led them on, her granddaughter shrinking back. Jeans stayed with his wife. He had no desire to see whatever bloody spectacle was on the other side of that door.
Another guttural howl filled the building. It sounded like a dying animal, like a man having his arm amputated. Jean cursed.
"You think you won't cry out. You think that you have to uphold the dignity of your station. But then it comes. Oh, the agony. You just can't help yourself. I always knew I might die in the birthing bed. But I never thought I would be in so much pain, and shame, and grief."
She was visibly quivering. Jean felt the need to say something. "God created us all to wage our own battles." No that was not good enough. He thought back to the time he had taken an arrow wound in a skirmish.
"We all think things like that. Soldiers especially. We try to be brave. Yet when the pain comes, you cannot help but cry and scream. There is nothing dishonorable about doing so."
“Th-thank you for your kindness. Husband.”
That smile of hers was somehow even more ghostly. A half hearted effort to mask her own distress. Women were like another species. He did his best, but he could understand what Maria was thinking as well as he could understand distress from his horse. Why did God have to make them so bloody difficult? What do I have to do to make her stop feeling so upset?
“Henri? Stay with me, please! Oh, don’t leave me love, not like all the others! I don’t want to die alone! Oh God this is my punishment! God, why must you make me suffer so!”
The battle went on through the night. Jean found it hard to fathom that the quiet girl Henri had presented to them could make such horrifying sounds. He found it either more difficult to fathom how poor Maria could have endured such an agony.
Jean leaned over to Maria Komnenos. “Forgive me, my lady, but I have little experience in these matters. Is this how it normally goes?”
The old Greek Queen smirked. “Childbirth is rarely an enjoyable experience, but in this case you are right Jean, poor Sophia is having a rough time of it.” Poor girl. I doubt you asked to be elevated so far above your station. It wasn’t your fault that your beauty caught the eye of an Emperor. It wasn’t your fault that his seed took root within you. And it is Henri that placed you in the way of all my plans.
“Do you think there is any possibility the girl and Henri’s child could survive this?”
Komnenos’s eyes narrowed like a hawk trained to spot dark intrigue. “Why my dear Grandson by law, it is almost as if you are rooting for such an unhappy outcome.”
Before Jean could reply, Sophia let out a long wail that seemed to herald the final assault. All was quiet for a few terrifying moments. Then an infant’s cry wailed through the inn. Followed seconds later by happy chirping from the parents and associated ladies. Jean’s first thought was to thank God for the happy outcome. Then he remembered what this could mean for him.
Jean’s heart raced. He had to know right now if the situation had changed.
He flung himself at the door, and was, somehow, surprised when he faded through.
Sophia sat over a stool, panting, drenched with sweat. Henri was kneeling down, cradling her hand. Jean immediately regretted his intrusion and turned around to avoid seeing anything in proper.
A lady was cleaning the child off. “She’s a healthy daughter. And a chubby little thing at that.” Did all the excess weight go to her lungs?
Jean had already grown as sick of the infant’s haranguing wails as he had at the mother’s screams of pain. Then the reality hit him. “It’s only a girl. A second daughter.” A useless second daughter who changed nothing regarding his (Agnes’s) place in the succession. Jean wanted to cry out in joy. He still had a chance. He could still be Emperor!
“You see all this and the first thing of is your won political position?” The Greek Dowager’s words were as hard and sharp as a blade.”
He turned to her. “My lady forgive me, but you of all people would understand that for people like us, there can be no separation between family and statecraft.”
She snorted. “Often have I heard that. Often have I said that. But now oh how I regret it. And it has never had a look as venal as it does on your face, your Grace.”
“You don’t understand. If he had a son, Henri would have cut Agnes out of the succession. Worse, he might have had a means to assume control of the Kingdom. He’d have the soldiers, the rank, and a son by which to bind Isabelle in marriage. It would be the end of our independence, as well as my regency. I don’t think your son would be pleased to have our Kingdom dominated by a foreign sovereign?”
She said nothings. Her eyes fixed on him like nails. Maria, too, looked at him with something that seemed like disgust. But that wasn’t possible.
“And wasn’t it you who made me swear to have your great granddaughter reign in her own, right?”
The two women let him flail in his desperation. “Jean. I speak to you as a friend, as family, not an ally. You have indeed worked to preserve your daughter’s interests. For this I thank you. But do not pretend that you have not done so more out of dynastic pride than concern for her interests. For an ally that is fine. But for family, genuine family, it leaves something to be desired.”
“You expect too much of me”, Jean complained.
Maria narrowed her eyes.
“Do you see them discussing the future of Jerusalem?”
“No.”
“Do you see them making plans regarding your daughter’s marriage?”
“I have ears, you know, woman!”
“Answer me!”
“No, ", Jean said, in a quiet, cowed voice.
“Do you think either Sophie or Henri are as of right now sparing a single thought, positive or negative, for your or your political future?”
“Probably not.”
Henri was busy fussing over his wife and cooing over the girl. She was crying, from joy or exhaustion he did not know. This was not his place.
“The Emperor is only like this because she is only another girl. If the child were a boy, it would be different. Oh, how they would rejoice and plan or the future. For this I thank God. Perhaps this mere girl is all that is all he shall have.”
“A mere girl”, mumbled Maria, in a tone that if Jean didn’t know any better, resembled resentment.
Jean had had enough of this place. “Are we done here? Have I learned what I needed to learn?” Maria sighed and shook her head. “You have much to learn, Jean of Brienne. But we have many places to be. If you wish to leave this place, I shall grant your request.”
Finally, someone was listening to him. “Good. Take us away. I don’t want to be in the same County as Jerusalem. Take me somewhere that has little to do with my political fortunes or any machinations over the succession. Take me somewhere where I can be happy.
Maria Komnenos smiled maliciously. “Well, in that case, I know of a place that may interest you greatly.” And they were off.
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I'm curious if Jean actually has a shot at becoming Emperor. I feel like he shouldn't celebrate too fast.
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The Marias know Jean so well. Scrooge McDuck would never sacrifice Huey, Dewey and Louie for his own advancement and they were nephews and not a daughter. Thank you for the update
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Ahh, and right when I was starting to love him even more, you remind me of why I started off disliking Jean. As always, a masterpiece of a chapter! Let us see now whether Jean is truly destined for Constantinople (and whether his rule there will be more fortunate than it historically was!)
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Chapter 19 Part 10!
A line of torches illuminated the regal young couple.
Count Raymond of Tripoli's beard had grown out from the mere stubble it had been when Jean saw him last. The Count also carried himself with a much more dignified, confident air, than he had before.
It would not be surprising if the girl he held on his arm was the reason why.
The followers of the House of Poltiers erupted into applause. Raymond waved back to them, calling out to individuals he recognized, and laughing at jokes. He made them feel like they too were apart of this glorious occasion.
His brother Bohemond clapped him on the back and a pack of knights grabbed the Count hoisted him up on their shoulders, to uproarious applause. Yes, this pious, by the book soldier had truly gained the love of his men.
"I wonder if my men would cheer for me like that.” Deep down Jean did not think that was possible. Any more than it was possible for his wife to feel the same affection for him that young Pernnelle felt for her husband.
Maria Komnenos shrugged. "They seemed to think very highly of you last I saw. If they didn't love you they at least respected you. And in any case, what would I know of such matters?”
"Your husband was the famed Balian of Ibelin. Did his men cheer him the way mine cheer me?"
She laughed. "I will not tell you, sir. That is another fault of yours. You need others to tell you what you already know. You bluff and bluster about your skill and wisdom yet deep down you are your own doubting Thomas. You wish to know the difference between you and the heroes of old, that is it. They did not depend on others to tell them they were great."
“I told you to take me to somewhere I could be happy”, muttered Jean.
“And so I did. You could be happy here. But you choose to wallow in your own envy.”
The younger Maria spoke up, perhaps in a bid to break the tension. “I was told that my step-father Aimery’s was well-loved by his soldiers. But he kept us, girls, well away from such things, so I have no way of knowing how he earned that love. I would guess it was for the same reasons we loved him.”
Jean grunted irritably. Such advice wouldn’t be of much use and only showed to remind him how utterly lacking he was in comparison to the great kings of the past.
The wedding was followed by a sumptuous feast. Jean recognized one of his wife's servants, Marajil, dancing with one of the Count's Uncles. She smiled at Raymond and he smiled back at her before each returned to their spouse.
In hindsight, I may have been unwise to underestimate the powers of intrigue possessed by those Saracen whores.
Prince Bohemond was carousing with his men. He had a cup of ale in one hand, and a woman who was not his wife in his lap. Jean was pretty sure it was the other girl who had left his wife’s service. There had been some talk of Bohemond having a mistress. It had driven a wedge between the brothers and Hughes, leading them to lean more towards the Emperor.
He leaned back a bit too far and tumbled from his chair, spilling both drink and lady onto himself.
The crowd laughed, and the two of them joined in.
Maria Komnenos looked like she wanted to flay the whole room alive. “If Hughes had the sense God gave a snail he would have wed Sybille to Raymond and sent in his troops to make sure Tripoli did not fragment.”
”Please keep Sybille in your prayers husband. Do anything you can to help her and her children. All of my sisters are strong in their own way. But I feel Sybille can only do so if she has someone at her back. I can’t bear to think how she will feel when she learns of Bohemond’s betrayal.”
Jean attempted to read his wife’s feelings. To see the anger, hate, and humiliation that would normally accompany such a declaration. But in there place was sorrow and pity.
“He truly loves this other woman. And she truly loves him. That will make the end all the more cruel.”
“Don’t you hate her? Aren’t you angry that Bohemond has put aside your own sister for a harlot?”
Maria paused for a little, sighing and putting her finger to her chin. “I don’t think I know enough about her to feel hate? As for anger, I am furious. With both of them, and with the cruel world that makes good people like my sister suffer so. But anger and hate are hurtful, to yourself more than anything. I try my best to focus on helping those I love than hurting those I hate. When I stray from that path…”. She let her words die in the vast ocean of space between them. Her pretty face bore a look of patience. “Jean. Know that I will always try to be kind to you. I want to see the good in you. I don’t want to do anything that would make anyone hurt.”
Jean smiled at her. “Whether on Earth or in heaven, you have always been an angel.” She meekly smiled back at him. “That was very kind of you. Please try and keep that kindness close to your heart. It feels much better than anger, doesn’t it?”
The wedding feast was concluded, and both brothers retired to their chambers, Raymond with his new bride, who he carried to the room like a delicate vase he was afraid of dropping. His inebriated brother was leaning on his somewhat less drunk mistress's shoulder, while she planted kisses on his cheek and whispered crude jests in his ear.
Jean thought back to Sybille. The shy frightened girl who had cried upon seeing him. Yet still, she had by all accounts conducted her responsibilities admirably in the midst of a siege. Word had reached Jean that she had even attempted to sneak through the Saracen lines with her daughter. Bravery such as that should be rewarded.
Why can't the stupid boy appreciate what he has? Jean wondered. Second, later the irony hit him.
The Candles lighting the hall went out, and once again the world Changed.
Count Raymond of Tripoli's beard had grown out from the mere stubble it had been when Jean saw him last. The Count also carried himself with a much more dignified, confident air, than he had before.
It would not be surprising if the girl he held on his arm was the reason why.
The followers of the House of Poltiers erupted into applause. Raymond waved back to them, calling out to individuals he recognized, and laughing at jokes. He made them feel like they too were apart of this glorious occasion.
His brother Bohemond clapped him on the back and a pack of knights grabbed the Count hoisted him up on their shoulders, to uproarious applause. Yes, this pious, by the book soldier had truly gained the love of his men.
"I wonder if my men would cheer for me like that.” Deep down Jean did not think that was possible. Any more than it was possible for his wife to feel the same affection for him that young Pernnelle felt for her husband.
Maria Komnenos shrugged. "They seemed to think very highly of you last I saw. If they didn't love you they at least respected you. And in any case, what would I know of such matters?”
"Your husband was the famed Balian of Ibelin. Did his men cheer him the way mine cheer me?"
She laughed. "I will not tell you, sir. That is another fault of yours. You need others to tell you what you already know. You bluff and bluster about your skill and wisdom yet deep down you are your own doubting Thomas. You wish to know the difference between you and the heroes of old, that is it. They did not depend on others to tell them they were great."
“I told you to take me to somewhere I could be happy”, muttered Jean.
“And so I did. You could be happy here. But you choose to wallow in your own envy.”
The younger Maria spoke up, perhaps in a bid to break the tension. “I was told that my step-father Aimery’s was well-loved by his soldiers. But he kept us, girls, well away from such things, so I have no way of knowing how he earned that love. I would guess it was for the same reasons we loved him.”
Jean grunted irritably. Such advice wouldn’t be of much use and only showed to remind him how utterly lacking he was in comparison to the great kings of the past.
The wedding was followed by a sumptuous feast. Jean recognized one of his wife's servants, Marajil, dancing with one of the Count's Uncles. She smiled at Raymond and he smiled back at her before each returned to their spouse.
In hindsight, I may have been unwise to underestimate the powers of intrigue possessed by those Saracen whores.
Prince Bohemond was carousing with his men. He had a cup of ale in one hand, and a woman who was not his wife in his lap. Jean was pretty sure it was the other girl who had left his wife’s service. There had been some talk of Bohemond having a mistress. It had driven a wedge between the brothers and Hughes, leading them to lean more towards the Emperor.
He leaned back a bit too far and tumbled from his chair, spilling both drink and lady onto himself.
The crowd laughed, and the two of them joined in.
Maria Komnenos looked like she wanted to flay the whole room alive. “If Hughes had the sense God gave a snail he would have wed Sybille to Raymond and sent in his troops to make sure Tripoli did not fragment.”
”Please keep Sybille in your prayers husband. Do anything you can to help her and her children. All of my sisters are strong in their own way. But I feel Sybille can only do so if she has someone at her back. I can’t bear to think how she will feel when she learns of Bohemond’s betrayal.”
Jean attempted to read his wife’s feelings. To see the anger, hate, and humiliation that would normally accompany such a declaration. But in there place was sorrow and pity.
“He truly loves this other woman. And she truly loves him. That will make the end all the more cruel.”
“Don’t you hate her? Aren’t you angry that Bohemond has put aside your own sister for a harlot?”
Maria paused for a little, sighing and putting her finger to her chin. “I don’t think I know enough about her to feel hate? As for anger, I am furious. With both of them, and with the cruel world that makes good people like my sister suffer so. But anger and hate are hurtful, to yourself more than anything. I try my best to focus on helping those I love than hurting those I hate. When I stray from that path…”. She let her words die in the vast ocean of space between them. Her pretty face bore a look of patience. “Jean. Know that I will always try to be kind to you. I want to see the good in you. I don’t want to do anything that would make anyone hurt.”
Jean smiled at her. “Whether on Earth or in heaven, you have always been an angel.” She meekly smiled back at him. “That was very kind of you. Please try and keep that kindness close to your heart. It feels much better than anger, doesn’t it?”
The wedding feast was concluded, and both brothers retired to their chambers, Raymond with his new bride, who he carried to the room like a delicate vase he was afraid of dropping. His inebriated brother was leaning on his somewhat less drunk mistress's shoulder, while she planted kisses on his cheek and whispered crude jests in his ear.
Jean thought back to Sybille. The shy frightened girl who had cried upon seeing him. Yet still, she had by all accounts conducted her responsibilities admirably in the midst of a siege. Word had reached Jean that she had even attempted to sneak through the Saracen lines with her daughter. Bravery such as that should be rewarded.
Why can't the stupid boy appreciate what he has? Jean wondered. Second, later the irony hit him.
The Candles lighting the hall went out, and once again the world Changed.
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We shall see. At this time in the game I was still angling to become Emperor. As we shall see Jean will still take actions with that in mind.
I sometimes wonder if I am being too harsh on Jean. His IRL behavior is, when you say it without all the terminology used at the time, pretty disgusting. But it was far from uncommon for medieval parents to do this. As for Scourge McDuck, he lives in a society where wealth can be created by innovation and investment and disputes resolved and alliances made through contracts instead of kin. As bad as the world of the 1930's was, the 1200's were far worse. Children, daughters especially, existed to be married off for the sake of their parent's political prospects. It was a cruel reality, and one people became accustomed to. Thank you for commenting.
We shall see. Though running the Kingdom of Jeruselum will prove challenging enough in it's own right.
Isabelle will be the main Queen featured in the series. Keep in mind we are in 1214, and I have played into 1282. We have a ways to go.
Thank you to all readers and commentators. Your support means the world to me.
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The grass is always greener in the neighbor's yard. Thank you for the update
I read about OTL Queen Isabella. Please, please tell me that she will have a happier life.
I read about OTL Queen Isabella. Please, please tell me that she will have a happier life.
Chapter 19 part 11
Ships huddled together in the double harbor. The Church bells rang and the Franks, Maronites, Armenians, and Italians of Venice, Genoa, and Pisa and congregated in their churches. Outside their Jewish neighbors and the city’s Muslim traders rejoiced at the profits they would make catering to the celebratory congregants. Jean recognized the two infamous towers of Acre, the Accursed tower stood on the Northeast corner of the wall, and the Tower of Flies, which was the lynchpin of the city’s maritime defense.
Maria smiled at the sight. “Acre may not have been the ideal for a proper Princess to grow up, but it was always home for me.”
“I always hated the place. It smelled even worse than the typical city.”
Maria chuckled. “That’s true. Growing up in the city must have made me used to it. I suppose my daughter will have your opinion on the place. . With Jerusalem recaptured, surely she will grow up in the shadow of the Holy City, as the Kings of Jerusalem did before.”
“As it should be.”, said Maria Komnenos.
They flew over the city. Over its eighty-one churches, the quarters of the Italians, and the Bases of the Holy Orders. However, there was no question where they were headed. To the Royal castle at the nexus of the city’s walls
(
They entered through a tower window and worked their way through the castle halls to the nursery.
“It is so good to be home’, Maria whispered to herself.
They turned down the hall to the nursery.
Maria smiled, but her eyes were filled with tears, as she watched her daughter frolicking, happy as a clam, but with a replacement for a mother.
“She has forgotten me. My mother’s death left a hole in my heart that I could never fill. My daughter will fill that place with others, her stepmother, Raymonde, or both. She will hardly know I was there. I should be happy. But it still hurts so very much. Does she feel my loss in any way?”
Jean hesitated. The worlds of both women and small children had always been a mystery to him. Still, he felt he had to say something. “She knows Agnes is not the woman who gave birth to her. She asks about you. I tell her you were a Queen like her. A beautiful Queen rescued by a strong knight.”
Maria giggled and smiled. “That is one way of putting it. And the best way for a little girl her age to hear about these things. But oh how I wish I could have been the one to tell her those stories.”
Jean winced. He hadn’t the heart to tell her that he had not been the one to tell Isabelle about her mother. That had come down to Raymonde. It had been for the best. Lady Grieneier had known Maria far better than he could and could judge what she would have wanted to tell her child.
Alphonse’s son toddled happily, but close to his mother. Isabelle paid the boy no mind, preferring to focus on her dolls.
“It is such a shame that the Pisan merchants are so stingy. Their food is absolutely to die for. If I were a beggar, and they fed me on Christmas, why I would think myself fortunate. You should really try it.”
Agnes was unpersuaded. “After you live in Palermo, food from anywhere else tastes like horrid broth. The only good food on that peninsula is found in Naples. I will not diverge from that opinion nor eat anything from North of Tuscany.’
“What about the delicacies of your native Flanders?”
Agnes shook her head. “Horse crap. Worse than the in fact. horsecrap does not cling to you half as much as the stench of herring.”
“I find myself liking this new wife of yours.”
Jean couldn’t decide which was worse. His living wife acting so crudely or his idealized dead wife taking a liking to it.
Young Balian toddled after a cat, pulling at the creature’s tapering tale. It seemed remarkable nonncchelancced about it. “Now see that one of my husband’s hunting dogs would have mauled the poor little lad to death. But of course, my pets are tools of the devil. And really who is anyone in this city to talk of sin?’
“I understand your point, Agnes. On this, the day of christ’s birth, let us remember who has truly suffered for our sins.”
Agnes sighed dramatically. “I will forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
“Blasphemy”, Raymonde said, Jean had the exact same thoughts, though her words were laced with mirth rather than horror.
Isabelle however, took umbrage at the boy’s harassment of the black cat. As fast as her stubby legs could carry her, she ran over and shoved him to the ground. “Ok that’s enough”, and Raymonde went to pick up the child.
Agnes went over to scold Isabelle, who responded by complaining that Raymonde’s stupid little baby was harassing the nice cat and that she could not let such injustice stand.
“She’s grown so much”, said Maria Komnenos.
“Think of how I must feel", said the younger Maria.
Jean couldn’t help but feel mixed emotions. His child was fierce and had a keen sense of right and wrong. What a son she would have made. Why did God have to give him a daughter like this? Why did he have to make everything so complicated?
Raymonde’s son gurgled happily in her arms. “I do so wish my husband were here for Balian’s first Christmas.”
Agnes sighed. “Life in Acre just feels wrong without Marajil and Marayumah. I should be angry with them, but instead, I find myself praying that God keeps them safe, wherever they are.”
Raymonde sighed and shook her head. “My father and I have our differences, but I still wish him good fortune in whatever skullduggery your husband has him engaged in. And speaking of which, aren’t you going to wish your dear gallant knight would return to your side?” Raymonde’s smirk was wide and poorly hidden.
Agnes chuckled and waved the remark off. “He is where he needs to be. I pray for his success and safety of course, but neither of us is broken up about being separated. We are not like you and your Alphonse.”
“More’s the pity”, Raymonde said with surprising solemnity.
Little Isabelle toddled up to them. “What are you talking about?”, she asked with the big pleading eyes of a small child.
“Grown-up things”, said Agnes.
“Boring grown-up things”, added Raymonde.
“That’s not true! I heard you talking about papa! Where is he? Is he coming back? Oh, I so wish he would come back. I prayed and I prayed. But God didn’t send him back.” Jean was heartened that she missed him so much.
Agnes took the little girl into her arms. “I’ve told you. Your father is in Jerusalem, securing the Holiest city in Christendom in your name. You should be thankful. Why I can’t think of any better Christmas present for a little Queen.”
“I am I am”, she said defensively. “But if it’s a present, why can’t papa bring it back to me?”
Agnes chuckled in amusement. “A city is not the kind of present you can bring home”.
“But why not?!’
“Because that is not how things work!”, Agnes exclaimed in exasperation. Isabelle burst into tears, which made little Balian burst into tears, which made everything descend into general pandemonium.
The sound scratched at his ears. “This is why we leave this kind of work to nurses.”
Maria Komnenos chuckled. “I confess, I was never able to stand children at that age. They really are terrible little things. But there is much to love about them too. You know that as well. And they love you so much at that age. To little children, their parents truly are the world. Alas, things often change so much in the future.”
Jean caught a word of warning. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, why would you care about any of that?” Jean turned. Maria was speaking through muffled sobs.
“After all, she is only a girl.”
Jean was taken aback. He expected cutting words from the grandmother, but this, from his self, projected angle of a dead wife.
“I-I I never meant I did not love our daughter. For pity’s sake, I conquered a whole Kingdom for her. I am making sure she will rule in her own right. But we both know a son would have been better for the succession. Not having a boy meant maintaining my hold over this Kingdom considerably more difficult.”
Maria smiled. But this time it was one laced with malice. “Oh, forgive me husband. Forgive me. If I had known giving birth to a mere daughter would have caused you such hardship I would have died of shame. Oh wait…”.
She hated him. She had always hated him. His eyes met hers. Her big round kind eyes. Filled with a storm of anger and hurt and hate and pain. Her sobs were no longer muffled. She turned away.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry to grandmother, to my poor sisters, and to you. But most of all to our poor little girl. I failed them. I am unworthy of them. Why was God so cruel? Why why? I died too young to truly know the ways of the world. Husband? Grandmother? Do you know? You were supposed to be my guides in life. My protectors. I wanted so badly to be guided and protected. But I just want to know why! Please please, please? Am I too wretched for an answer?” For all her wisdom. For all the duties she took upon those comely shoulders, for all they all had to grow up fast, she had died so young.
Maria’s grandmother took her in her arms and pressed her tight. There there child. It is no use mourning what could never be. Jean tried to approach her. To hold her and apologize.
She held up a hand. “You must touch me.” He stepped back, wounded. “I didn’t mean it like that. If one touches the dead, one joins the dead. Please husband. You know why you cannot do that.” He stepped back.
“Jean. I am so sorry. I should have never given in to my anger.”
“There is nothing to apologize for my lady. I was unkind to you. This whole situation, I had forgotten how odd it is.”
“Please Jean. Spare me your pity. It can do no good now. If you must pity anyone, pity her.” She pointed to Isabelle, who was still sobbing.
. ‘You have spent all this time prioritizing a son that may never be born over the little girl who loves you so much. Can you not see the irony in that? Your heart longs for me now that I am gone. Yet when you had me I was but a means to an end. Please if you learn one thing from tonight, learn to value what you have over what you think you deserve.”
Jean had always envied those who had more than him. Often those he envied had less than him in one area and more in another. He would, like some mad doctor, grab bits and pieces from many lives and combine them into a harlequin abomination that had everything, and focus his hate on that. And of course, deep down he felt he deserved it all. Why wouldn’t he? Deep down Jean of Brienne knew that if he took an honest look at his own soul, he would come away disgusted.
“I believe I see your point. I will try to be better. But can a man truly change the nature of his own soul?”
Maria smiled at him. “Take heart love, you have but one more trial to face.”
That of the future.
She vanished before she could say anything more. “No!”, Jean cried and ran to her.
“Calm yourself, Sir Knight. Sometimes when the heart of a shade is in turmoil they scatter and wander for a time.’ Like when she witnessed her mother’s death.
“You two will meet again. For now, let me be the guide to the rest of the night. There is still much you need to see”
*I regret not doing my research before writing Acre the first time because by God that city is intresting. Shout out to Accursed Tower, by Roger Crowley, and to the Kings and Generals Youtube series on the Fourth crusade. There are moments in the second series that will influence how I write certain characters going forward. I might also go back and edit the earlier chapters, since I will be taking a break to outline future story events once this current arc finally wraps up.
Maria smiled at the sight. “Acre may not have been the ideal for a proper Princess to grow up, but it was always home for me.”
“I always hated the place. It smelled even worse than the typical city.”
Maria chuckled. “That’s true. Growing up in the city must have made me used to it. I suppose my daughter will have your opinion on the place. . With Jerusalem recaptured, surely she will grow up in the shadow of the Holy City, as the Kings of Jerusalem did before.”
“As it should be.”, said Maria Komnenos.
They flew over the city. Over its eighty-one churches, the quarters of the Italians, and the Bases of the Holy Orders. However, there was no question where they were headed. To the Royal castle at the nexus of the city’s walls
(
They entered through a tower window and worked their way through the castle halls to the nursery.
“It is so good to be home’, Maria whispered to herself.
They turned down the hall to the nursery.
Maria smiled, but her eyes were filled with tears, as she watched her daughter frolicking, happy as a clam, but with a replacement for a mother.
“She has forgotten me. My mother’s death left a hole in my heart that I could never fill. My daughter will fill that place with others, her stepmother, Raymonde, or both. She will hardly know I was there. I should be happy. But it still hurts so very much. Does she feel my loss in any way?”
Jean hesitated. The worlds of both women and small children had always been a mystery to him. Still, he felt he had to say something. “She knows Agnes is not the woman who gave birth to her. She asks about you. I tell her you were a Queen like her. A beautiful Queen rescued by a strong knight.”
Maria giggled and smiled. “That is one way of putting it. And the best way for a little girl her age to hear about these things. But oh how I wish I could have been the one to tell her those stories.”
Jean winced. He hadn’t the heart to tell her that he had not been the one to tell Isabelle about her mother. That had come down to Raymonde. It had been for the best. Lady Grieneier had known Maria far better than he could and could judge what she would have wanted to tell her child.
Alphonse’s son toddled happily, but close to his mother. Isabelle paid the boy no mind, preferring to focus on her dolls.
“It is such a shame that the Pisan merchants are so stingy. Their food is absolutely to die for. If I were a beggar, and they fed me on Christmas, why I would think myself fortunate. You should really try it.”
Agnes was unpersuaded. “After you live in Palermo, food from anywhere else tastes like horrid broth. The only good food on that peninsula is found in Naples. I will not diverge from that opinion nor eat anything from North of Tuscany.’
“What about the delicacies of your native Flanders?”
Agnes shook her head. “Horse crap. Worse than the in fact. horsecrap does not cling to you half as much as the stench of herring.”
“I find myself liking this new wife of yours.”
Jean couldn’t decide which was worse. His living wife acting so crudely or his idealized dead wife taking a liking to it.
Young Balian toddled after a cat, pulling at the creature’s tapering tale. It seemed remarkable nonncchelancced about it. “Now see that one of my husband’s hunting dogs would have mauled the poor little lad to death. But of course, my pets are tools of the devil. And really who is anyone in this city to talk of sin?’
“I understand your point, Agnes. On this, the day of christ’s birth, let us remember who has truly suffered for our sins.”
Agnes sighed dramatically. “I will forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
“Blasphemy”, Raymonde said, Jean had the exact same thoughts, though her words were laced with mirth rather than horror.
Isabelle however, took umbrage at the boy’s harassment of the black cat. As fast as her stubby legs could carry her, she ran over and shoved him to the ground. “Ok that’s enough”, and Raymonde went to pick up the child.
Agnes went over to scold Isabelle, who responded by complaining that Raymonde’s stupid little baby was harassing the nice cat and that she could not let such injustice stand.
“She’s grown so much”, said Maria Komnenos.
“Think of how I must feel", said the younger Maria.
Jean couldn’t help but feel mixed emotions. His child was fierce and had a keen sense of right and wrong. What a son she would have made. Why did God have to give him a daughter like this? Why did he have to make everything so complicated?
Raymonde’s son gurgled happily in her arms. “I do so wish my husband were here for Balian’s first Christmas.”
Agnes sighed. “Life in Acre just feels wrong without Marajil and Marayumah. I should be angry with them, but instead, I find myself praying that God keeps them safe, wherever they are.”
Raymonde sighed and shook her head. “My father and I have our differences, but I still wish him good fortune in whatever skullduggery your husband has him engaged in. And speaking of which, aren’t you going to wish your dear gallant knight would return to your side?” Raymonde’s smirk was wide and poorly hidden.
Agnes chuckled and waved the remark off. “He is where he needs to be. I pray for his success and safety of course, but neither of us is broken up about being separated. We are not like you and your Alphonse.”
“More’s the pity”, Raymonde said with surprising solemnity.
Little Isabelle toddled up to them. “What are you talking about?”, she asked with the big pleading eyes of a small child.
“Grown-up things”, said Agnes.
“Boring grown-up things”, added Raymonde.
“That’s not true! I heard you talking about papa! Where is he? Is he coming back? Oh, I so wish he would come back. I prayed and I prayed. But God didn’t send him back.” Jean was heartened that she missed him so much.
Agnes took the little girl into her arms. “I’ve told you. Your father is in Jerusalem, securing the Holiest city in Christendom in your name. You should be thankful. Why I can’t think of any better Christmas present for a little Queen.”
“I am I am”, she said defensively. “But if it’s a present, why can’t papa bring it back to me?”
Agnes chuckled in amusement. “A city is not the kind of present you can bring home”.
“But why not?!’
“Because that is not how things work!”, Agnes exclaimed in exasperation. Isabelle burst into tears, which made little Balian burst into tears, which made everything descend into general pandemonium.
The sound scratched at his ears. “This is why we leave this kind of work to nurses.”
Maria Komnenos chuckled. “I confess, I was never able to stand children at that age. They really are terrible little things. But there is much to love about them too. You know that as well. And they love you so much at that age. To little children, their parents truly are the world. Alas, things often change so much in the future.”
Jean caught a word of warning. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, why would you care about any of that?” Jean turned. Maria was speaking through muffled sobs.
“After all, she is only a girl.”
Jean was taken aback. He expected cutting words from the grandmother, but this, from his self, projected angle of a dead wife.
“I-I I never meant I did not love our daughter. For pity’s sake, I conquered a whole Kingdom for her. I am making sure she will rule in her own right. But we both know a son would have been better for the succession. Not having a boy meant maintaining my hold over this Kingdom considerably more difficult.”
Maria smiled. But this time it was one laced with malice. “Oh, forgive me husband. Forgive me. If I had known giving birth to a mere daughter would have caused you such hardship I would have died of shame. Oh wait…”.
She hated him. She had always hated him. His eyes met hers. Her big round kind eyes. Filled with a storm of anger and hurt and hate and pain. Her sobs were no longer muffled. She turned away.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry to grandmother, to my poor sisters, and to you. But most of all to our poor little girl. I failed them. I am unworthy of them. Why was God so cruel? Why why? I died too young to truly know the ways of the world. Husband? Grandmother? Do you know? You were supposed to be my guides in life. My protectors. I wanted so badly to be guided and protected. But I just want to know why! Please please, please? Am I too wretched for an answer?” For all her wisdom. For all the duties she took upon those comely shoulders, for all they all had to grow up fast, she had died so young.
Maria’s grandmother took her in her arms and pressed her tight. There there child. It is no use mourning what could never be. Jean tried to approach her. To hold her and apologize.
She held up a hand. “You must touch me.” He stepped back, wounded. “I didn’t mean it like that. If one touches the dead, one joins the dead. Please husband. You know why you cannot do that.” He stepped back.
“Jean. I am so sorry. I should have never given in to my anger.”
“There is nothing to apologize for my lady. I was unkind to you. This whole situation, I had forgotten how odd it is.”
“Please Jean. Spare me your pity. It can do no good now. If you must pity anyone, pity her.” She pointed to Isabelle, who was still sobbing.
. ‘You have spent all this time prioritizing a son that may never be born over the little girl who loves you so much. Can you not see the irony in that? Your heart longs for me now that I am gone. Yet when you had me I was but a means to an end. Please if you learn one thing from tonight, learn to value what you have over what you think you deserve.”
Jean had always envied those who had more than him. Often those he envied had less than him in one area and more in another. He would, like some mad doctor, grab bits and pieces from many lives and combine them into a harlequin abomination that had everything, and focus his hate on that. And of course, deep down he felt he deserved it all. Why wouldn’t he? Deep down Jean of Brienne knew that if he took an honest look at his own soul, he would come away disgusted.
“I believe I see your point. I will try to be better. But can a man truly change the nature of his own soul?”
Maria smiled at him. “Take heart love, you have but one more trial to face.”
That of the future.
She vanished before she could say anything more. “No!”, Jean cried and ran to her.
“Calm yourself, Sir Knight. Sometimes when the heart of a shade is in turmoil they scatter and wander for a time.’ Like when she witnessed her mother’s death.
“You two will meet again. For now, let me be the guide to the rest of the night. There is still much you need to see”
*I regret not doing my research before writing Acre the first time because by God that city is intresting. Shout out to Accursed Tower, by Roger Crowley, and to the Kings and Generals Youtube series on the Fourth crusade. There are moments in the second series that will influence how I write certain characters going forward. I might also go back and edit the earlier chapters, since I will be taking a break to outline future story events once this current arc finally wraps up.
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I tried my best. But the success of this Crusade means that whatever else happens, a marriage to Frederick is unlikely. The high court assented to the match out of desperation following the failure of the historical Fifth Crusade. Besides, Jean's agreement with Maria Komnenos means he must try to set up Isabelle to rule in her own right.
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Jean was envious of everyone no matter how insignificant if they had one thing that he thought that he should have. In one generation QoJ goes from marrying a minor French lord to marrying HR Emperor. Thank you for updating
Let’s hope Scrooge McBrienne learns his lesson here! Also, love the shoutout to Kings and Generals. I adore their material
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Chapter 19 Part 8
The world was rolled out before them like a tapestry. Across the sea they flew.
To the French Court where amidst fine music, food and dresses, the nobles of the Court plotted and schemed. Where young Phillipa wowed with a vibrant gown of Eastern silk, drawing a disdainful glare from Blanche of Champaign, and an approving kiss on the cheek form her young husband. Blanche was now wed to the heir of Lusignan, and with a son by him. That stung Jean as much as he expected it would.
A certain young boy nervously asked Phillipa about her homeland and family.
They move on. Traveling south they crossed the Alps. To the tip of the Italian boot, where Jean’s young nephew Garuntheir spent Christmas with his parents two younger siblings. Then across the sea to Greece, to the base of the hills and lakes of Epirus. To the city of Arta, capital of the Epiran state.
Jean’s sister in law Alix sat by a hearth fire, watching, with an expression that seemed to say a thousand words and none, out the window as the snow fell.
The door creeped open. In stepped a cheerful young Greek with a trim beard and two wine glasses.
“I come bearing gifts”, he said with a big grin.
Alix smiled something was burdening her heart. Making her smile appear bittersweet. “I thank you for your kindness husband.”
He handed her the cup. She clasped it but paid it no mind. As if she was lost in some mental maze.
“Your not worried it is poisoned? Are you?”, asked the Greek.
“In this court who knows”, she said with nonchalance.
“Love, do you honestly think me the type to resort to poison?”
She said nothing. He chuckled and gently placed his hand in hers.
“Let me rephrase that. Do you really think I am the type of man who would poison his wife. A woman as elegant and sagacious as yourself?”
She looked him in the eyes. Gave a faint shimmer of a smile. “Flatterer.” Then she drank.
Alix put the cup to the side. “I thought your people were not as keen on celebrating Christmas as us Latins.”
“We prefer other holidays. Still, I know it is important to you, and I seek to make you happy in my own small way.” She nodded and went back to sipping the wine.
Jean had no love for Greeks, but he felt some obligation to be irritated on the man’s behalf. He was after all trying his best. It wasn’t his fault his wife was being so dammed difficult.
As she finished, the Epiran Prince moved over, reaching the fingers of his hand out to brush her cheek, carefully like he was clearing dust from a delicate treasure, and planted a kiss upon her lips. “My lady. It is our first Christmas together. Don’t you think we ought celebrate it?”
She sighed. “God willing there will be many more.”
“Yes but surely this one should be extra special.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps.”
“My lady, I find myself in desperate need of your company tonight.” He kissed her again, running his hands along her sides and rising them up to cup her breasts.
She pushed him off. “I am sure any of my sister’s ladies would be able to satisfy your urges my lord.”
“No, I will have no other. You are by far the most”, he held his hands to his lips like a chef savoring a dish.. ”delectable Lady in all the Latin World.”
She smirked. “And just how many Latin dishes have you sampled my lord husband?” She tapped a finger against his chin. “Perhaps you’ve stolen some from your dear brother’s table now hmm.”
The Greek man grew flushed. “How do you know about that…It was….The past is the past. I have you now. Is it so wrong for a husband to expect his wife to cook for him? He taped her back, mischievously on the chin. I know you have found me a delightful chef.”
Alix leaned forward to kiss him. She stared into his eyes, searching, for what Jean did not know, and he felt more than a little abashed observing such an intimate moment. Releasing a breath, Alix backed away. “I have been unfair to you Constantine. Ever since we said our vows, all you have done is try to make me happy. Alas, my heart is too fridged to be warmed even by the warmest of embraces , but you still try, and for that I will always be thankful. But this place. It’s a nest of vipers, you know that better than anyone. And there are things even you do not understand.”
“If you tell me, I can protect you.”
“Oh my dear sweet silly Greek. I am not worried for myself.”
“I see.” He became sullen. No matter what he did, his wife would have at least half her heart in Cyprus.
“I need time to pray. I think communing with God will do some good. I just need to feel like I am doing something for them.”
He smiled. “I understand I am married to a lady as beautiful as she is caring. What more could I need.”
“Thank you husband.”
She kissed him, allowing him to pull her in close, with his hand around the small of her back, as she held his cheek once more. Please wait for me.”
——————
In the chapel, the formidable Alix collapsed on her knees and wept. “Please God. Please oh lord I beseech you. Show mercy on my family in these desperate times. My daughters have been taken from me and I find myself in a strange country amidst strangers and their schemes. Forgive me my wickedness. In a pit of vipers, one has no choice but to play the part.”
“And now I hear the Prince of this land, my own brother in law, the man who holds me in his power, is out to kill my daughters.”
”He would not have done so except at the invitation of the Venetians. They mean to kill my children and take their Kingdom for themselves. Please. I beg your mercy. If not for myself than for them.”
Maria turned to glare at Jean, who was watching the lady’s lamentations with a troubled expression. He looked back at her. “What? Am I supposed to be at fault for what happens to every widow from this Crusade?”
“You she is more than some widow and you know it.”
Cast the blame on me will you? “Oh so you think Hughes conducted himself as a saint. Your think he would not have done the same to me if given half the chance?
“I said no such thing”, she spoke through gritted, angry, teeth.
“Well then what should I have done? The man was plotting to steal Jerusalem from the House of Brienne. Should I have let him do it? Give away the greatest prize ever obtained by my dynasty? A gift from God entrusted to Brienes of future generations? I may be a Crusader, but I am no Saint!”
“Would you please think for the sake of…”.
But there was no putting the plug back in that wine cask. “You would probably have it that I had done so. Lost everything. Just laid down and taken it like some beaten dog! But it wouldn’t have been enough. Oh no, you would still have called me selfish or envious. Or some other minor fault! All you women ever do is whine and complain and ask me to do things I am not capable of. What in the name of God makes you think you have the right to ask so much of me! You know what, fuck our past friendship you can go straight to….”
Jean could not help but notice that he had gotten no response. In fact the candles seem to have gone out. He tried to peer through the darkness. Alix was gone.
Jean could not help but notice that he had gotten no response. In fact, both Maria and Alix, and the candlelight that had illuminated the room were gone. In their place, the room was illuminated by slivers of moonlight coming through the barred window.
The walls were dirty and unadorned. Not a dungeon by any means but spartan accommodations for certain. The inhabitant had been provided only a dirty cot and chamber pot. The prisoner, for who else would call such a place home, lay on the cot huddled under the blankets to form a conspicuous lump.
A wrapping knock came at the door. The blankets jolted and then returned to stillness. The wraps grew louder. Still no answer. “Open up you little bitch or I will break this fucking door down!”
“Perhaps the lady is not in residence”, the voice held an Italian accent. “In that case, we shan’t pry. Though I can’t help but remember that our Serene Republic only needs one twin to fulfill its plans for this island.”
Princess Melesinde haltingly lifted her blankets and shuffled to the door. She was far gaunter than when Jean had last seen her, clothed in dirty rags. Clearly, she had not been eating well and had not washed for some time. Yet she did not show any disgust at her garb or surroundings. In fact, she did not look like she felt anything at all.
The door opened on two men. One was wearing mail and was built like a boulder. The other wore a formal garb and was thin like a reed.
“There was that so hard your Grace?”
“Lazy bitch”, the big man muttered under his breath. While he wore the crest of Venice on his armor, he was clearly not of that extraction. A mercenary no doubt.
“You are hungry yes?”, he motioned to the big man. The soldier wordlessly offered up a bowl of disgusting gruel. “We tried offering you our chef’s most delectable delicacies, but you rejected them.”
“And then you made a rope from your bedsheets, climbed out the window, and tried to hike your way across the island and stowaway on a ship.”
“It was quite a feat for one so young. I would find it admirable. Were it not so irritating. Your defiance merry prolongs the inevitable, and you know this. Causing me hassle with no hope of victory, just for the sake of it. That has not made me favorably disposed towards you young lady.”
Melesinde gave no reply. She wordlessly grabbed the bowl “You needn’t worry about poison.” Melesidne gave no sign that she had ever worried about being poisoned. Or if she had then it was not something she cared about anymore. The thin man took this silence as an invitation to continue.
“If we wanted you dead you would already be disposed of.”
Melisende looked down at her bowl. She looked back up at the man and stared at him. As if she was thinking of saying something.
“What of my nieces?”
“What of them?”, said the Frank.
“Do they still live?”
“That is an answer for a less troublesome young Princess”, the Venetian said with a cruel smirk.
The girl was trying to remain stoic, but her face scrunched, and her eyes welled with tears.
The thin man’s cruel smile grew toothy and wide, far too wide for his thin face, like a butcher’s cleaver. “Do you want to know what happened to them?”
Melisende seemed so small. So young. So afraid. She bowed her head. “Yes.”
“Yes?” The thin man was clearly enjoying himself.
“Yes please.”
“I need you to be a bit more specific. Forgive me but I am but a simple merchant. Unused to the sophisticated ways of a Royal Court.” You could taste the sarcasm in his voice.
All defiance was exiled from Melesinde’s visage. “Please Noble Patrician of the Most Serene Venetian Republic, could I have some news of my family. Are they alive? Are they all right?”
The Venetian clasped his hands tougher. “Much better. The Queen and her sister Sophie live. Your sister Alix has remarried and your other niece, Isabelle, is still Queen of Jerusalem. Sadly Jean of Brienne remains regent.”
“Thank you.”
And the door closed. Melisende ate her meal sitting by her bedside with the haste and despair of a starving animal. Tears slicked down her eyes. Jean wanted to weep for this bird and her broken wings.
He remembered back when he had Melesidne in his custody. The girl had thought he was planning to marry her in place of her dead sister. She had shown such spirit such defiance. It was a tragic sight to see her broken like this. And she was so young. One so young should not have eyes that seemed so old and full of sorrow. Although Melesende lacked Maria’s Lombard features you could still see her sister in her. They did, after all, have a mother in common. Their grandmother as well. Maria would weep to see her sister like this. Jean could not bear the idea of causing her any more tears.
And, in spite of himself, Jean couldn’t help but feel pity for the poor girl. At that moment he forgot his anger at Hughes. Forgot his bitterness at his unfair treatment. Complaining about anything suddenly felt laughable when confronted with a noble lady under imprisonment, worrying every night if her family was alive or dead. All he wanted to do was break into that tower and rescue the poor child.
Suddenly the world shifted again and they were back on the streets of Jerusalem.
Both Maria’s were now before him. His wife’s smile was a warm beam of sunlight. Her grandmother's was a knowing smirk. “I think you have finally gotten it. Now there is but one last trial for you to conquer.”
To the French Court where amidst fine music, food and dresses, the nobles of the Court plotted and schemed. Where young Phillipa wowed with a vibrant gown of Eastern silk, drawing a disdainful glare from Blanche of Champaign, and an approving kiss on the cheek form her young husband. Blanche was now wed to the heir of Lusignan, and with a son by him. That stung Jean as much as he expected it would.
A certain young boy nervously asked Phillipa about her homeland and family.
They move on. Traveling south they crossed the Alps. To the tip of the Italian boot, where Jean’s young nephew Garuntheir spent Christmas with his parents two younger siblings. Then across the sea to Greece, to the base of the hills and lakes of Epirus. To the city of Arta, capital of the Epiran state.
Jean’s sister in law Alix sat by a hearth fire, watching, with an expression that seemed to say a thousand words and none, out the window as the snow fell.
The door creeped open. In stepped a cheerful young Greek with a trim beard and two wine glasses.
“I come bearing gifts”, he said with a big grin.
Alix smiled something was burdening her heart. Making her smile appear bittersweet. “I thank you for your kindness husband.”
He handed her the cup. She clasped it but paid it no mind. As if she was lost in some mental maze.
“Your not worried it is poisoned? Are you?”, asked the Greek.
“In this court who knows”, she said with nonchalance.
“Love, do you honestly think me the type to resort to poison?”
She said nothing. He chuckled and gently placed his hand in hers.
“Let me rephrase that. Do you really think I am the type of man who would poison his wife. A woman as elegant and sagacious as yourself?”
She looked him in the eyes. Gave a faint shimmer of a smile. “Flatterer.” Then she drank.
Alix put the cup to the side. “I thought your people were not as keen on celebrating Christmas as us Latins.”
“We prefer other holidays. Still, I know it is important to you, and I seek to make you happy in my own small way.” She nodded and went back to sipping the wine.
Jean had no love for Greeks, but he felt some obligation to be irritated on the man’s behalf. He was after all trying his best. It wasn’t his fault his wife was being so dammed difficult.
As she finished, the Epiran Prince moved over, reaching the fingers of his hand out to brush her cheek, carefully like he was clearing dust from a delicate treasure, and planted a kiss upon her lips. “My lady. It is our first Christmas together. Don’t you think we ought celebrate it?”
She sighed. “God willing there will be many more.”
“Yes but surely this one should be extra special.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps.”
“My lady, I find myself in desperate need of your company tonight.” He kissed her again, running his hands along her sides and rising them up to cup her breasts.
She pushed him off. “I am sure any of my sister’s ladies would be able to satisfy your urges my lord.”
“No, I will have no other. You are by far the most”, he held his hands to his lips like a chef savoring a dish.. ”delectable Lady in all the Latin World.”
She smirked. “And just how many Latin dishes have you sampled my lord husband?” She tapped a finger against his chin. “Perhaps you’ve stolen some from your dear brother’s table now hmm.”
The Greek man grew flushed. “How do you know about that…It was….The past is the past. I have you now. Is it so wrong for a husband to expect his wife to cook for him? He taped her back, mischievously on the chin. I know you have found me a delightful chef.”
Alix leaned forward to kiss him. She stared into his eyes, searching, for what Jean did not know, and he felt more than a little abashed observing such an intimate moment. Releasing a breath, Alix backed away. “I have been unfair to you Constantine. Ever since we said our vows, all you have done is try to make me happy. Alas, my heart is too fridged to be warmed even by the warmest of embraces , but you still try, and for that I will always be thankful. But this place. It’s a nest of vipers, you know that better than anyone. And there are things even you do not understand.”
“If you tell me, I can protect you.”
“Oh my dear sweet silly Greek. I am not worried for myself.”
“I see.” He became sullen. No matter what he did, his wife would have at least half her heart in Cyprus.
“I need time to pray. I think communing with God will do some good. I just need to feel like I am doing something for them.”
He smiled. “I understand I am married to a lady as beautiful as she is caring. What more could I need.”
“Thank you husband.”
She kissed him, allowing him to pull her in close, with his hand around the small of her back, as she held his cheek once more. Please wait for me.”
——————
In the chapel, the formidable Alix collapsed on her knees and wept. “Please God. Please oh lord I beseech you. Show mercy on my family in these desperate times. My daughters have been taken from me and I find myself in a strange country amidst strangers and their schemes. Forgive me my wickedness. In a pit of vipers, one has no choice but to play the part.”
“And now I hear the Prince of this land, my own brother in law, the man who holds me in his power, is out to kill my daughters.”
”He would not have done so except at the invitation of the Venetians. They mean to kill my children and take their Kingdom for themselves. Please. I beg your mercy. If not for myself than for them.”
Maria turned to glare at Jean, who was watching the lady’s lamentations with a troubled expression. He looked back at her. “What? Am I supposed to be at fault for what happens to every widow from this Crusade?”
“You she is more than some widow and you know it.”
Cast the blame on me will you? “Oh so you think Hughes conducted himself as a saint. Your think he would not have done the same to me if given half the chance?
“I said no such thing”, she spoke through gritted, angry, teeth.
“Well then what should I have done? The man was plotting to steal Jerusalem from the House of Brienne. Should I have let him do it? Give away the greatest prize ever obtained by my dynasty? A gift from God entrusted to Brienes of future generations? I may be a Crusader, but I am no Saint!”
“Would you please think for the sake of…”.
But there was no putting the plug back in that wine cask. “You would probably have it that I had done so. Lost everything. Just laid down and taken it like some beaten dog! But it wouldn’t have been enough. Oh no, you would still have called me selfish or envious. Or some other minor fault! All you women ever do is whine and complain and ask me to do things I am not capable of. What in the name of God makes you think you have the right to ask so much of me! You know what, fuck our past friendship you can go straight to….”
Jean could not help but notice that he had gotten no response. In fact the candles seem to have gone out. He tried to peer through the darkness. Alix was gone.
Jean could not help but notice that he had gotten no response. In fact, both Maria and Alix, and the candlelight that had illuminated the room were gone. In their place, the room was illuminated by slivers of moonlight coming through the barred window.
The walls were dirty and unadorned. Not a dungeon by any means but spartan accommodations for certain. The inhabitant had been provided only a dirty cot and chamber pot. The prisoner, for who else would call such a place home, lay on the cot huddled under the blankets to form a conspicuous lump.
A wrapping knock came at the door. The blankets jolted and then returned to stillness. The wraps grew louder. Still no answer. “Open up you little bitch or I will break this fucking door down!”
“Perhaps the lady is not in residence”, the voice held an Italian accent. “In that case, we shan’t pry. Though I can’t help but remember that our Serene Republic only needs one twin to fulfill its plans for this island.”
Princess Melesinde haltingly lifted her blankets and shuffled to the door. She was far gaunter than when Jean had last seen her, clothed in dirty rags. Clearly, she had not been eating well and had not washed for some time. Yet she did not show any disgust at her garb or surroundings. In fact, she did not look like she felt anything at all.
The door opened on two men. One was wearing mail and was built like a boulder. The other wore a formal garb and was thin like a reed.
“There was that so hard your Grace?”
“Lazy bitch”, the big man muttered under his breath. While he wore the crest of Venice on his armor, he was clearly not of that extraction. A mercenary no doubt.
“You are hungry yes?”, he motioned to the big man. The soldier wordlessly offered up a bowl of disgusting gruel. “We tried offering you our chef’s most delectable delicacies, but you rejected them.”
“And then you made a rope from your bedsheets, climbed out the window, and tried to hike your way across the island and stowaway on a ship.”
“It was quite a feat for one so young. I would find it admirable. Were it not so irritating. Your defiance merry prolongs the inevitable, and you know this. Causing me hassle with no hope of victory, just for the sake of it. That has not made me favorably disposed towards you young lady.”
Melesinde gave no reply. She wordlessly grabbed the bowl “You needn’t worry about poison.” Melesidne gave no sign that she had ever worried about being poisoned. Or if she had then it was not something she cared about anymore. The thin man took this silence as an invitation to continue.
“If we wanted you dead you would already be disposed of.”
Melisende looked down at her bowl. She looked back up at the man and stared at him. As if she was thinking of saying something.
“What of my nieces?”
“What of them?”, said the Frank.
“Do they still live?”
“That is an answer for a less troublesome young Princess”, the Venetian said with a cruel smirk.
The girl was trying to remain stoic, but her face scrunched, and her eyes welled with tears.
The thin man’s cruel smile grew toothy and wide, far too wide for his thin face, like a butcher’s cleaver. “Do you want to know what happened to them?”
Melisende seemed so small. So young. So afraid. She bowed her head. “Yes.”
“Yes?” The thin man was clearly enjoying himself.
“Yes please.”
“I need you to be a bit more specific. Forgive me but I am but a simple merchant. Unused to the sophisticated ways of a Royal Court.” You could taste the sarcasm in his voice.
All defiance was exiled from Melesinde’s visage. “Please Noble Patrician of the Most Serene Venetian Republic, could I have some news of my family. Are they alive? Are they all right?”
The Venetian clasped his hands tougher. “Much better. The Queen and her sister Sophie live. Your sister Alix has remarried and your other niece, Isabelle, is still Queen of Jerusalem. Sadly Jean of Brienne remains regent.”
“Thank you.”
And the door closed. Melisende ate her meal sitting by her bedside with the haste and despair of a starving animal. Tears slicked down her eyes. Jean wanted to weep for this bird and her broken wings.
He remembered back when he had Melesidne in his custody. The girl had thought he was planning to marry her in place of her dead sister. She had shown such spirit such defiance. It was a tragic sight to see her broken like this. And she was so young. One so young should not have eyes that seemed so old and full of sorrow. Although Melesende lacked Maria’s Lombard features you could still see her sister in her. They did, after all, have a mother in common. Their grandmother as well. Maria would weep to see her sister like this. Jean could not bear the idea of causing her any more tears.
And, in spite of himself, Jean couldn’t help but feel pity for the poor girl. At that moment he forgot his anger at Hughes. Forgot his bitterness at his unfair treatment. Complaining about anything suddenly felt laughable when confronted with a noble lady under imprisonment, worrying every night if her family was alive or dead. All he wanted to do was break into that tower and rescue the poor child.
Suddenly the world shifted again and they were back on the streets of Jerusalem.
Both Maria’s were now before him. His wife’s smile was a warm beam of sunlight. Her grandmother's was a knowing smirk. “I think you have finally gotten it. Now there is but one last trial for you to conquer.”
- 1
- 1
Yeah. Jean really is the envious type. Having something he does not and being happy about it is like a personal insult to him. Put that way he is something of a saint for tolerating so many people. In fairness Philip had no spare sons to marry to the Maria of Monferato. His mother was from Champaign, and the Briene's were one of the most prominent families in the county. So it made sense to use Jean as a French Proxy. Isabelle was wed to Frederick as part of an effort by the Pope to get him to go on Crusade and by Fred to gain a foothold in the Holy Land. I would say it worked out for nobody. Obviously it was horrible for Isabelle. But in the end Frederick failed to fulfill his strategic goals, he was famously excommunicated for regaining Jerusalem, and the Kingdom revolted against him.
Thanks. Yeah, I will be re watching the series on 1204 a lot. I really wish I had seen it before I started this AAR. Ah well. I have seen real published historical fiction less accurate than what I am doing.
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Jean turns a new leaf? Thank you for the update
Komnenos-Doukas in Epirus is a nice cross over with Avon.
Komnenos-Doukas in Epirus is a nice cross over with Avon.
Chapter 19 Part 9: Ghosts of Christmas Future
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.”
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.”
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We will see. Thank you. I confess, I forgot the role that family played in Avon.
Hopefully I can get the next post out by Christmas day. I must be the first AAR that took a whole year to get through 24 hours.
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Thank you for the excellent update! Will Jean finally see his flaws and stop using his daughter for his own advancement? In Avon, the Komnenos-Doukas were Jelena's father and siblings, the Dukes and Duchesses of Epirus.
A moving finale to the three ghosts. Let us hope that christmas present will bring a tad of joy
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