The new year brought, not word of my enemy the Beylerbey of Qinnasrin but of the death of Raymond of Tripoli. My recalcitrant vassal to the north had passed away from injuries taken fighting local bandits, and without an heir of his body his lands and title passed to his cousin, a vassal of the King of France although not the same vassal as was presently ruling over Edessa. Christ's Earthly Kingdom was being nibbled away into the hands of men, although I was pleased to hear that King Louis took his obligations as a Crusader Lord seriously; he was already conducting a holy war against the Sheikh of Tarabulus, completing my work of the previous year and joining the Kingdom to the other Catholic states northwards. From Fatimid Sinai to the shrunken remnants of Cilician Armenia in the north, the coastal Levant was in the hands of Catholic Franks. While the Fatimids fought Abyssinia in the south and Damascus and the Great Turk warred in the desert, the Kingdom enjoyed a time of peace and security. I decided it was the best time to take the penitential pilgrimage laid on me by Cardinal Guichard.
To the Eternal City!
I waited to leave while my dear Cecile swelled and one spring day gave birth to a second son as I waited without her chamber. Truly the Lord had blessed us both, and in thanks we named him after the bedrock of His Church; Pierre. I set off for the city of St Peter the next day, leaving Roubaud the Sly as my regent while my Lady recovers and sees to the care of our sons. If any of my trusted advisers have 'gone native' it is he; he has married a local woman called Khaterah. Although she has yet to see the light and convert to the true faith, she can be seen every Sunday by his side in the church. While sometimes this gives him a little too much sympathy for the local infidel, his intellect should help him to keep ahead of the machinations of any of the local nobles and he will surely avoid upsetting any of the locals or starting any new wars in my absence. My last act before taking ship from Acre was to grant the Barony of Schuf to the Knights Hospitaller, that they may ward the pilgrim roads from the north as do the Templars from their castle on our southern border.
I was travelling as anonymously as I could, for it is no pilgrimage of penitence if I travel as some pampered oriental potentate. In truth I found myself enjoying the chance to get away from my servants and hangers on as I did in the days of my youth, riding through the countryside of Boulogne with two of my friends. Once more I was simply Godefroy, Pilgrim, and I was glad of it. The first voyage took us to Piraeus and was peaceful, the gentle rock of the waves against the hull easing my cares. The Byzantine port official at the docks did not appear to recognize us, which brought a small smile to my face. Did he not expect to find the Princeps of Jerusalem travelling without a retinue - or did the arrogant Greek simply not care about any Catholic title? Josselin seemed less impressed as he doled out a handful of silver into the Greek's hand, and then we made our way to the nearest pilgrim hostel. One of the less welcome perquisites of the anonymous pilgrim's path was sharing the loft with twoscore snoring folk, each laying on a cot specially designed to be two inches too narrow for a man's shoulders. I finally managed to drift off to sleep, only for my dreams to darken. It was as though I could hear a dark infernal laughter, and a sooty smell as though Lucifer himself was mocking me. Wait - soot?
I came awake with a start, the smell of smoke coming more clearly to me now. Alerting the other pilgrims with a cry, my companions and I began to hasten them out the window and away from the blaze. Finally we were the last three in the room and I helped Gui and Josselin out to safety ahead of me. I was about to join them when I heard a frantic shouting and pounding through the floor beneath me. I did not hesitate, I turned my back on the window and charged down the smoldering stairs. The man in distress seemed to be one of the wealthier travelers and had secured a private room in the hostel; his desire for greater comfort risked proving his undoing, for a burning beam had fallen across his doorway, one he could not shift from within. Hauling it out of the way cost me a nasty burn along my sword arm, but the look of fearful relief on the plump merchant I found within rendered any pain worthwhile. I helped he and his wife out of the building without further incident, and met with my companions outside - and his worried son, who had slept in the stable with the merchant's beasts for safekeeping.
That was how I met Fortun of Navarre.
Fortun of Navarre, his wife, son and Juba (R to L)
On the road the next day Fortun insisted that his rescuer and his friends travel with his family, "For protection, you know!" It seemed that he was a successful merchant in Christian Spain, who having just come into a substantial inheritance felt that it was time to properly thank God for his blessings by completing a pilgrim's circuit. He was freshly come from Jerusalem having seen all the wonders of the Holy Land and was due to make a last stop at Rome on his way home. He introduced me to his wife and son, and also to his semi-tame cat Juba, who seemed to be utterly convinced that he was a fearsome leopard or lion. We did battle a number of times for my signet before he reluctantly conceded my prior claim. We followed a bright pilgrim's star across Byzantine Greece, enjoying the cultivation of this declining Empire until at last we reached Epirus - but recently reclaimed from the Queen of Sicily. We were able to book passage on a ship of the Knights Templar, insisting that our new friends be given safe passage as well. Fortun looked a bit askance at this, but I managed to keep my identity from him under the guise of the anglicized Godfrey and indicating that I had a place in service to the King at the Tower of David; all true, if not as he understood it. Josselin and Gui took great amusement in sharing tales of 'our' service there, and the King's strange habits. I allowed them to twit me about 'his' insistence on being known only as Princeps, for in truth I knew they were far from the first.
Arriving in Rome, I was struck by the presence that remains there even now. Though it may be much depopulated from its days of yore, the city remains immense and still boasts an impressive population concentrated around the Tiber. We visited the twin basilicas of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, early churches of the faith and the site of more than one martyrdom. The city was even more stuffed with visitors than I could have imagined, as it seemed Pope Urban had been taken unto God and there was an election to be held. While we stood in the square before the great structure, we saw the puff of smoke that confirmed the choice of the Preferati, now Pope Marcellus II. Born a dwarf, His Holiness had risen above the challenges that God laid before him to command the forces of the Papal State. He was ordained after grievous battlefield injuries made it impossible for him to stride the battlefield once more, yet the zealous fire of a true champion of Christ continued to blaze within him; a godly man indeed.
Once again I was struck by the babble of different tongues mingling with one another in the packed streets of the Eternal City, and I was able to make myself understood in at least two tongues I had scarce heard of by the time we left; my parting with Fortun was hard, for he had grown strangely dear to me in our brief time travelling together. We pledged that if I were ever in Navarre, or he were ever in Jerusalem again, we would seek out the other to catch up on the time in between. I would introduce him to my wife, he to his daughters. With this promise made, we turned to our respective journeys and left. They say a thousand roads lead to Rome; what they do not say is that just as many lead away from it. I knew I would never see him again.
Arriving back in Jerusalem, I was a happier man. The burdens of the Kingdom, the guilt for my brother's demise, it was all lifted from me and when I saw my dear Cecile waiting above the gateway into the newly expanded keep of the Tower of David I knew that the poison of vengeance no longer dwelt in my chest. We shared a heartfelt reacquaintment, and the next morn I visited with my sons. I had been away for so much of their young lives, and I vowed that I would find a way to spend more time with them than the pressures of rulership had as yet allowed. The remainder of the day was spent with my erstwhile regent and council, finding out that overall the situation had not changed. The French had completed their conquest to the north and our borders now touched. The Fatimids were still embroiled with their own affairs, and the great hosts of Damascus and Seljuk were still tearing at one another somewhere out in the sandy wastes east of the Holy City. With the levies refreshed I sent a missive to the Beylerbey of Damascus the next day and led all the hosts of the Kingdom to the north and east; it was time to complete the liberation of Galilee.
Filling in the gaps
As ever I rode with the lead elements of our massing armies, my household knights around me. Arriving at Chastelet we laid out the siege lines for our gathering host to fill as they arrived and then called on Bey Yahya to yield the castle to us. Unsurprisingly he refused us and send a band of messengers off rapidly in the other direction before we had the numbers to complete his encirclement. From that point onward a sergeant could have directed the siege and it was mostly a matter of waiting. Without the necessary wood in the area to complete proper siege towers all we could do was wait to starve them out and send occasional patrols out to ensure no infidel host could surprise us. As the last band of our host trickled in I came down with a chills and a fever that struck me to the core. I spent the next week tossing and turning in my tent in a blood-red haze, my vision filled with images of savage unending battle, swordplay that drove me beyond exhaustion until at the very long last I stood alone without friend or companion in the midst of a great field of corpses. My horror had just long enough to sink in when I looked up and saw a great enemy host charging toward me, their faces twisted as the sunlight shone off raise Damascus steel, and I... and I alone. I awoke in a cold sweat as my fever broke at last.
Is this a warning, Lord?
Was God warning me against my campaigns into Damascus? Still weak as a kitten I lay prostate in my tent as the siege wore on, searching the darkest corners of my heart. Was I here out of vengeance, out of hatred for the infidel? Surely it was merely out of a desire to secure the borders of the Holy Land, but as the Lord said, "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone." Perhaps I should not be so sure that my journey of remittance had cleansed all hatred from my heart. My companions covered for my illness, telling the men that I was merely occupied in planning each day's strategy but I knew that should the expected infidel host arrive from the east I would not be able to avoid taking my place in the line of battle. However, the infidels never came. Chastelet fell, and with it the territory along the northern bank of the Sea of Galilee. I gave the order to march deeper into Damascene territory, seek out the infidel army and force the Beylerbik's surrender; and lo, as we left the siege lines and headed south the illness lifted from me as though it had never been. By the time we were five miles down the road I sat straight in my saddle with all the vigor of a man half my age.
Word reached us before we gained the next city that the Beylerbey acknowledged our conquest and would yield us Bey Yahya as our new vassal. We had a newly recalcitrant lord to replace Raymond of Tripoli, although one without the same ties to the Kingdom of France! All that was needed was to convince him to see the true faith, and our priests were already hard at work among his court doing just that. Peace descended once more across the Kingdom in a time of healing, of building and laying the foundations for the future. Olives grew once more on the mount overlooking Jerusalem, and the pilgrim roads grew ever more used. We even had immigrants, Franks, Normans and Lombards alike seeking a new life over the seas and away from the internecine warfare that gripped the south of Europe. It was then that I first heard the name our countrymen back home gave to these new lands restored to Christ's hand; "Outremer", the lands over the sea. Jerusalem replaced all its lost citizens and more, and the tongues of Europe mingled with those of the Levant all o'er the court in a way that reminded me irresistibly of my time in Rome. I wondered how my friend Fortun was faring, and if he would ever suspect his travelling companion's true role in the Kingdom.
Around that time the Damascene court moved from Monreal in Outrejordain to Hauran - the last of his territories that with coast on the Sea of Galilee, as though a touchstone for what the Mohammedan had lost in the Holy Land since the return of Christ's servants. Mayor Onfroy sent word from the Beylerbey's court that he had accustomed the Sunni to our conquests and that he was content to let them be while affairs in the east occupied his attention, but pleaded that I leave some time before I sought war with them again. Mindful of the God-given warning I had received and the visions of the bloody field, I said as much to my council and settled in for as many glorious years of peace as God would give us. That is not to say that our time was without tragedy, for as I broke my fast with my Lady one morn in our nightshifts good Gui burst into the room with a look of horror on his face that made me forgive his breach of a treasured private spell.
I have my eye on you, Munawwar!
My boon companion Josselin had been found that morn fallen from the high window of his quarters on the east side of the Tower of David. Since our return from Rome he had put his mind to his succession and wed a local maiden, the daughter of a swordsmith. As the wife of Roubaud, she had not yet taken the True Faith but over the scant months of their marriage she had shown a regular observance that was pleasing both to her husband and the clergy fresh come to this land. However she was also the only one known to have access to the room that none who saw might question, as well as an unwholesome fascination with blades unbefitting her sex. I had also caught her glances my way, oft as sharp as daggers, yet said nothing for my friend truly seemed to care for her. Now he was dead, and my heart cried out for me to see her punished for her foul murder and yet... there was no proof, and she truly seemed grief-stricken. I asked Roubaud to keep one of his eyes on her and stayed my hand - for now.
Soon therafter war erupted once more in the godless lands to our east, as another of the Beylerbey's brothers rose up for his claim to the Damascene throne. With our north and southern borders secure (the Fatimids enjoying another of their annual revolts in Sinai) this seemed an opportunity handed us by God. Mindful of his earlier warning I declared war instead on the Beylerbey's avaricious rival and saw to breaking one of his larger armies and securing a hold on Monreal on the east bank of the Dead Sea. This time we were less fortunate and while we were able to face down any force save the mightiest on either side without a fight, with our entry to the war scores of infidel bands spilled out across the Kingdom, raiding and harrying any of the pilgrims or travelers who ventured out from their fortified castles. The Templars and Hospitallers did what they could, but in time I was forced to lead my household knights out as well in an ugly series of little battles scarce worthy of mention. That time became known as the Harrowing of the East, and it ended with a double blessing as we took stock of our losses after the only true battle of the war, in which we trapped the main Rebel army against the shores of the Dead Sea and conducted them appropriately for the locale. When I slid off my horse at my tent and handed my blood-flecked gauntlets to my squire for cleaning, he handed me two missives in return.
The war is over! Home to my Lady!
It seemed that in the seizure of the castle of Sela to our north the main Kingdom army had secured the entire extended family of the would-be Beylerbey including all four wives and his primary heir. Combined with the destruction of his largest army, he saw the merits of suing for peace; a peace I was all too willing to grant given the inducements to return to Jerusalem. The ride home was a wonderful release of all the pent up pressures from the war, each town we rode through singing our praises for delivering them from the raiders so recently seeded through our land. It seemed at every by-way and crossroads a small band of men would split off on their way home. God had not chosen to warn me again, for my health had remained strong. Surely this meant that I had not been mistaken and the opportunity had indeed been God's gift to us, to strengthen His servants in this arid land.
When at last we passed through the Golden Gate and into Jerusalem I was relieved to hear that at long last the local dignitaries had ceased to call me King in a bid to flatter me. I was less impressed to hear the clergy hail me as the Sword of God, an honour I hardly felt worthy to claim. The Patriarch was so emollient in his speeches that I grew swiftly uncomfortable and excused myself, making my way through the halls of the Tower toward my family quarters where my Lady and children surely awaited. There I could be simply Godefroy again, and not this 'Sword of God' monstrosity they were trying to hang about my neck. Unfortunately they do not call Reybaud the Sly for nothing - he knew me well and ambushed me two corners shy of my door and drew me into a side chamber. It seemed that his eyes had smelt out a foul-smelling fruit indeed, and one that reeked of treachery. A light had been seen flashing from Josselin's quarters three days of the week, just past noon and an answering light flickering back from the desert beyond Jerusalem's walls. After the first two times they had confirmed Munawwar was the only person in the room at the time, although the code was not something they could decipher. Reybaud sought my blessing to bring her in for questioning to determine what she was saying and to whom, but suddenly I felt thoroughly sick with the business of rulership and slapped my hand against the wall, cutting him short. "No. I don't care what reasons she felt she had, and I don't want to know how it happened. She was Josselin's wife and I believe he loved her, and I will not see her tortured for that. Hang her from the walls and be done with it. Oh, and take Mirabel for your excellent work in this matter." With that I stepped away and made my way to the sanctuary of my wife and sons, vowing that whatever the Kingdom's armies were required to do in defense of the land, I would take God's warning to heart and would not go to war again unless He willed it of me.
One month later a messenger was conveyed through the Tower to where I was working through an endless list of tasks awaiting my attention with my scribe in a sunlit chamber overlooking the Temple Mount. He bore the crossed keys of the Papal regalia, and so I looked up attentively as he held out a scroll, waving it to my scribe while I arched a bushy brow in question. "His Holiness has decided to answer the cries of the poor oppressed Christians in the land of Misr, and calls upon all men of might and valour across Europe to take up arms to secure them from the clutches of the infidel servants of Mahommet! Your valour against the enemies of Jesus being well-known all across the courts of Europe, he hopes that you will agree to lead a powerful force in the service of the Lord!"
"Of course I shall," I barked, coming up out of my seat. Could there be a clearer sign of God's Will in this endeavour? "You may tell His Holiness that I will bring as many men as I can without neglecting the security of the Kingdom. Marcel, write down something formal that the lad can give the Papal Legate." We sat and watched as my scribe wrote a lengthy missive encompassing most of a page and sealed it. Then the young man raced out of the tower, apparently imagining he could run all the way back to Acre before his ship left. I smiled in amusement, then set to considering some of the logistics of the move.
"Ah, Marcel?"
"Yes, my Lord?"
"Where
is the Kingdom of Misr?"
He goggled at me for a moment, looked down at his feet and then back up with an earnest expression. "It... it is the name the local Arabs give the Kingdom of Egypt, my Lord."
"The Fatimids."
"Yes, my Lord."
"Oh."
God, it seems, is not without a sense of irony
). 
