Chapter 7: The Regent
February 1213
“You know they used to castrate men for things like that.” Jean looked up from the map.
“Forgive me my Count of Sidon, but if marrying a Maronite is grounds for castration, then I’d have to castrate my own physician.
I know you good men have acquired local customs, but I have no desire to be treated by a eunuch. And last I checked it was considered unknightly to bring up castration in front of a lady, especially if that lady is the mother of the intended castrati.”
“I assure you, men have said worse in front of me, the Count of Sidon knows this. You must not take offense on my account my Lord of Jerusalem. After all, it might do my son good to have only one head to think with,”, said Maria Komnenos, who was filling in on the council for her absent son.
“In any case, I did not mean the Count of Beirut, I was referring to our other befuddled bridegrooms”
“The sheer imprudence of it floors me more than anything else. Almost every highborn in the kingdom has a pretty serving girl to warm his bed when his wife grows frigid, but do these fools not understand the difference between a mistress and a wife? I dread to think of the world my children and grandchildren will inherit.” The spymaster knew enough about the Count of Sidon to know he was thinking of his eldest daughter, Alphonse’s wife, Raymonde.
“Hopefully it will be a world where the cross rules over Jerusalem.”
“I never would have taken the marshal for a heretic lover”, said Gurien.”
Guillaume muttered something in agreement. The stress of his work had been wearing on the young man, and he spoke rarely.
(picture.)
The priest took the situation the best. “Mayhaps it is a blessing in disguise. The good Constable is strong in his faith. He must be trying to bring his lady wife into the faith, adding yet another ewe to god’s flock.”
For all their bloviating and bellowing the council intended to do nothing to the Constable. The Baron had invested in equipping the men of Beirut and Sidon, as well as giving the Holy Orders great deference. They were furious, but Yves of Monsinguard was far too valuable to punish. And Jean couldn't do anything either. Both of the Barons held lands in Jaffa-Askelon, and were thus far too important to alienate. All Jean could do was pray that God would understand his predicament.
“I will talk to my son. Now can we get back to the topic of killing Saracens instead of bedding them?” Maria Komnenos slapped her palms on the table. If she were a man she might have pounded them. Still, the point was conveyed.
“The death of Bohemond has left the north of Outermreier in a delicate position. The Prince’s will had split his dominions between his sons.”
“The second youngest, Bohemond, has returned to Antioch with the Wasilid Emir as his captive.
He believes the war is over and has made peace with the Armenians, ceding his brother Phillipe’s county of Iskardon. He claims piety, the need to prepare his realm for the Crusade. However I have heard he wishes to consolidate his position in Antioch. The Prince rightly or wrongly fears some of his enemies in the Principality will launch a coup in the name of his brother, Henri the Count of Salone.
Either way the Prince has been reaching out for allies. King Hughes has wed his sister Sybille, my granddaughter, to the Prince. According to Alix she is very happy with her husband and glad to live in such a Holy City.”
That brought a faint smile to Maria Komnenos’s old wrinkled lips.
“However, his brother Raimond is determined to fight his father’s wars to the end. He ravages the County of Beqa, hoping to avenge his father and end the threat to his lands. Phillipe, has sworn allegiance to the one brother who might help him keep his lands.”
“All this leaves Tripoli open for Raimond Roupen. Especially since the Prince’s Uncle, another Bohemond, it gets confusing with that blasted family, has taken young Raimond, also his nephew, under his wing”, explained the Spymaster.
“Has King Levon shown any signs of pressing the boy’s claim to Tripoli, he is after all the boy’s grand uncle on his mother’s side.”
“None that we’ve seen, Lord Regent. The King mostly seems focused on getting in one last conquest, and stabilizing the Kingdom’s frontiers. His only heir is after all a daughter, and he no doubt wishes to leave her a stable realm with hegemony in the north.”
Maria Komnenos spoke next. “Hopefully the Crusade will ease tensions. Roupen is the heir to poor Honfroy de Toron. We could offer to give him a part or all of Outerjordan and Galilee in exchange for dropping his claim to Tripoli. Count Raimond would be most grateful.” And Maria Komnenos’s own soul would be put at ease.
Jean needed to give this matter more consideration. He had a rough idea of what he wanted the Kingdom to look like at the end of the Crusade. Alphonse would be Duke of Outerjordan, the second most powerful man in the realm. That would elevate the Count of Sidon’s line, securing his continued loyalty, as well as giving Jean and Isabelle a stalwar ally. He supposed the boy Roupen could be Alphonse’s vassal. Nablus would go back to the Ibelin’s, obviously. The remaining lands would be doled out to a mix of claimants whose ancestors had lost them after Hatin, and friends and relatives of Jean’s. King Levon was not the only one who wished to leave his daughter a stable realm. Though if Jean was perfectly honest this was also for his own benefit. If he was ever to claim the Latin Empire he needed a stable power base with a loyal and pliant nobility.
“The war between Emperor Henri and Epirus is over. The Emperor is victorious, though he has been forced to give up hope of adding Epirus to his dominions, and rush back to defend Constantinople. The Empire faces threats from both peasant revolts and nomad raiders. Nicea is also expanding, and surely will try to launch a campaign of reconquest soon.”
“I also believe the Despots wife, Helvis of Lusingion has been released from captivity”, added the Count of Sidon.
“That is very good to hear.”
Maria Komennos had often spoken of how close she was with her former sister in law, old Aimery de Lusingion’s first wife, Eschive de Ibelin. It was only natural that she wished the best for her children, even if they were not related by blood.”
“Will the Sultan not muster to defend his own vassal? Surely now would be the perfect time to strike us. Land a killing blow before the armies of the Crusade can muster.” Guilame of the Templars rubbed his temples and furrowed his brow.
In contrast the Hospitaller Grand Master remained unflappable. “If they do so, my order stands ready to defend the Holy Land. That said we have been given no indication the Sultan wishes to assist Damascus. Most likely this is because he is tied down countering the Armenian revolt.”
(pictures)
“Surely Damascus is much more important”, said the Count of Sidon.
“He needs to crush the Armenians while Levon is distracted. Or else he may move to aid his co-religionists. For now, the Sultan is content to let Armenia and Tripoli fight each other, and leave the Emir to his fate.”
Five men were arrayed before the regent in the practice yard. Savary, who was pummeling his boot on the ground as if he was stomping yet another puppy to death.
Alphonse was at his attention in his armor, glaring at his father in law, the Spymaster, Count Balian of Sidon, who was glaring right back with murder in his eyes.
The Court Physician, Arnol of Haifa, who though rumored to be a craven, possessed an undeniable genius for all things, warfare included.
The Mayor of Acre, Amedee, though Jean had turned down Alphonse’s request to make him spymaster, the regent had found him to be a skilled commander.
These were the men Jean would take Jeruslum besides, or else fall into shame and ruin.
“I assume you men know whey I’ve called you together. You are the men who will lead this Kingdom to Glory or destruction. You are my commanders, my brothers of battle, and I thought it fitting to spar together.”
“Why? Are we planing on killing one another? If so I call the craven”, Savary said, pointing his blade at the Baron of Haifa.
“What was that you fucking low born cutthroat. Say it again you dammed cow brained fuck! Go on I dare you!”
“Enough!”, Jean yelled. “We are here to respectfully spar so we know one another’s strengths and weaknesses and develop a warrior’s respect for one another. Like King Arthur and his Knights of the Round table.”
The Count of Sidon coughed and then spoke. “My Lord Regent forgive me, but you do know how King Arthur ended right?”
Jean sighed and reminded the Count was far too politically important to backhand. “We will be like the knights of the round table except for the part where Lancelot beds Arthur’s wife. And the part where Arthur’s bastard kills him, or the part where the Kingdom falls to ruin. Am I understood?’
“Aye my lord”, The Count of Sidon said in a tone that indicated only understanding, and not respect.
Jean divided the men into two groups. The first was led by Balian of Sidon, as befit his rank. It included Savary and Amede of Acre. The second group consisted of himself, Alphonse, and Arnol of Haifa.
“Give them hell my love!”, a voice called from the battlements overlooking the yard. Raymonde stood, waving at her husband, with Agnes in tow, little Isabelle dangling in her arms.
Alphonse called out to his wife. “You should be resting in bed not climbing the battlements. What if you get hurt?”
“And I also noticed you didn’t cheer me, daughter”, added Balian of Sidon.
“Raymonde is a lady of the court. When both Queens wish to entertain themselves, it is their duty to follow. Isn’t that right your grace?”
“Gumma Gumma”, Isabelle replied in a child’s mimicry of the word grandmother.
Arnol of Haifa sighed. “Just because your wife is carrying a child doesn’t mean she’s made of glass. I should know, my own wife just birthed a son. I spent almost her entire term away at court serving the Crown. Did I worry and moan about her and the child? No, and now God has blessed me with a healthy son.
So quite your fretting and draw your steel, Sir!”
With that, the battle commenced.
Jean steeled himself. If he lost badly he would be humiliated in front of his commanders, his wife, and his daughter. In hindsight, this may not have been his most brilliant idea.
The two groups moved forward, eyeing each other warily. Jean was facing Amedee of Acre. The mayor held a defensive stance.
Alphonse and his father in law immediately came to blows. Savary came for Haifa like a dog that had flushed a hare.
“Time to batter a craven!”, Savary yelled.
“Oh, I’ve been waiting for this!” The Baron called back.
Jean’s blood rushed. He couldn’t wait. The song of battle called. He threw himself at the Amedee. The steel clashed with steel in a glorious song. The mayor kept his stance defensive, clearly hoping to exhaust Jean. He kept pressing forward hoping to make Amadee make a mistake. Jean would not lose a commoner. Before he realized it he had reached too far and left himself open. Yet the mayor did not go for the blow. Jean drove in for the “kill”, hitting his commander in the chest and driving him to the ground.
The sparing around him had died down. Alphonse had bested his father in law whilst Savary stood victorious over Arnol of Haifa, who lay on the ground cursing.
Jean heard the Queen call out “Papa! Papa! Papa!” as loud as her little lungs would allow.
“Are you crying, my lord?” asked Mayor Amedee.
“The dust got in my eyes good sirs, and don’t any of you dare say otherwise.”
"As you wish my lord, I am at your command."