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Well, that's concerning. Perhaps it's not unexpected for one of Jean's political rivals to escalate matters to murder plots, but to be doing so when matters are so delicate sounds almost like a move of desperation...
 
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Count Balian seems not have burnt his letter...
 
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I can't defend the plotters but Jean is a petulant regent who may or may not be the best choice to be leading things. Not that any of them have the qualities necessary, though. Or competence, given the lack of actual letter burning. ;)

The best hope for the future of the realm is probably the queen herself, if she or her kingdom make it that long.
 
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Well, that's concerning. Perhaps it's not unexpected for one of Jean's political rivals to escalate matters to murder plots, but to be doing so when matters are so delicate sounds almost like a move of desperation...
Well they both don't intend to do anything about it unless Jean really fucks up. I'm treating it as more of a contingency plan than an actual plot.

Count Balian seems not have burnt his letter...
LOL no. You'll notice the introduction says Jean of Beirut kept Sidon's letter. No doubt each of them intended to use the incriminating documents as blackmail against the other.

I can't defend the plotters but Jean is a petulant regent who may or may not be the best choice to be leading things. Not that any of them have the qualities necessary, though. Or competence, given the lack of actual letter burning. ;)

The best hope for the future of the realm is probably the queen herself, if she or her kingdom make it that long.
Yeah, I have more sympathy for both of them than you do. At least they are plotting to kill an adult. I think Jean of Beirut recognizes, however reluctantly, that he is not qualified to rule, hence his caution about creating a power vacuum.

I don't have the next chapter ready, so releases will resume on their usual schedule. Thank you all for your support. Your comments mean so much to me.
 
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Excellent chapters, sorry that I'm commenting rather late but I didn't get the notifications about postings... It's interesting to see the chaos in Antioch, though it can either be an advantage or disadvantage. It could be advantageous if Jean could find some sort of reason to attack them after the crusade, yet it may be disadvantagous as Antioch may provide fewer troops to the crusade. It's also nice to see that Agnes seens to be a good stepmother to little Isabelle, though it's probably easier to do so with a child that has never known their mother... It would also be great for all parties involved if Jean and Agnes have children because: A:Isabelle will have half-siblings to serve as childhood companions B: The marriages of her half siblings could benefit Jerusalem through alliances and C: Having children can make Agnes a good prospect to be Latin Empress, for they would bring stability.. Again, excellent chapters, I truly enjoyed them!
 
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Excellent chapters, sorry that I'm commenting rather late but I didn't get the notifications about postings... It's interesting to see the chaos in Antioch, though it can either be an advantage or disadvantage. It could be advantageous if Jean could find some sort of reason to attack them after the crusade, yet it may be disadvantagous as Antioch may provide fewer troops to the crusade. It's also nice to see that Agnes seens to be a good stepmother to little Isabelle, though it's probably easier to do so with a child that has never known their mother... It would also be great for all parties involved if Jean and Agnes have children because: A:Isabelle will have half-siblings to serve as childhood companions B: The marriages of her half siblings could benefit Jerusalem through alliances and C: Having children can make Agnes a good prospect to be Latin Empress, for they would bring stability.. Again, excellent chapters, I truly enjoyed them!

It's ok, I've been late with the chapters, you've been late with the comments, it all evens out ;)

I think the Antioch and Tripoli will provide the same number of troops as they previously did, they'll just be split. Isabelle and Agnes will have a complicated relationship, as we will see in upcoming chapters. As for half-siblings, well it's complicated. Agnes and Jean would certainly benefit. But remember, this is a patriarchal culture. Isabelle is her father's number one priority right now because she is his only child and his key to retaining the crown of Jerusalem. A son would change that, and he'd probably focus his energies on claiming the Latin Empire, something both Isabelle and her Kingdom would have little interest in.

Thank you for commenting. I've had some trouble with the next chapter, mostly due to negligence and distractions on my part. I'll try to get it out on Sunday or Monday, but I might disappoint. For the long term, I'm thinking of pausing weekly updates, write the next few chapters, outline far ahead, and then edit them between weekly updates.
 
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Chapter 8: June 1213
The Latin Princess
June 1213




Little Isabelle crawled and toddled after Agnes’s cats, Basil the Black and Griffon the Grey. Agnes herself was sitting in her chair, at the small table close to the window, by the sun, having hardly touched her meal. Raymonde was lying on the bed, her back propped up by pillows, her plate on a table at the side. The juices from the heaps of fruits and meat she was devouring overflowing onto her dress and bulging belly, and dirtying the sheets. It was impossible not to marvel at her single minded devotion to gluttony.


“Are you going to finish that”, she asked greedily, pointing to Agnes’s food.


21st of April Raymonde is in her final months..jpg


She shrugged. “Probably not”.


Raymonde eagerly snatched up the plate of figs and juicy meat and got to work. “Mmh this is so good. Are you sure you don’t want some?”


Agnes focused on the table wood, absorbed in melancholia. Isabelle darted out from under the bed, the cats plodding after her. Agnes was dimly aware of a question being asked her, but paid it no attention, her mind was elsewhere..


“No Isabelle, you don’t get a baby in your belly by eating too much food”, said Raymonde


The war had been going so well. Freideirch had won battle after battle. Otto Welf had been loosing support by the day and distracted by a war with the Magreb Emirate. Even the Pope revoking his excommunication could not salvage the war. It seemed as if nothing was blocking her old friend from the Imperial throne. But then fate had taken a turn for the worse.




13th of May Imperial and Sicilian troops clash in central Italy while Frederick's family langu...jpg


20200711093543_1.jpg






“No Isabelle, I can’t tell you exactly where babies come from.”


Agnes didn’t want to think of what the Emperor’s barbaric Swiss Mercenaries had done to Sicily, or how they would misrule the beautiful isle if the Emperor gave it to them as a fief, as per his promise.


26th of November Frederick gets the Swiss Sicked on him..jpg


20200221143029_1.jpg


20200221143441_1.jpg

“Well when your married, and if you ask god really nicely, then you’ll get a baby.”


Or what those monsters might do to, the Queen and Crown Prince.


Prince Captive.jpg

20200711100733_1.jpg


Agnes could not forgive herself for the brief joy she had felt upon hearing of their misfortune. Constanca had been good to Agnes, for the brief time they had shared the King’s company. And knowing Frederich, he would cherish his first true born son. Why did she have to be so lovesick and envious? Am I truly as horrible as they are saying in the streets?


Basil, the black cat, brushed against her leg, and she smiled in spite of herself. People said cats didn’t care for people, that they held them in contempt, but Agnes just thought they were shy, like her. Shy, stubborn and proud. They would treat you with respect if you treated them with respect. Perhaps that was why she found them so easy to get along with.


Agnes’s servant, Marayumah, came to carry Isabelle off for her afternoon nap.


“Agnes, can the cats come and cuddle with me?”, the little Queen pleaded. Raymonde had been right, little Isabelle was impossible not to love. Still, Agnes had never been good with small children, and she found Isabelle difficult to understand. It’s why she found it strange when the little girl called her mother. Isabelle alternated between that word and Agnes’s name. Usually she called any adult woman taking care of her mother, alternating between that and the woman’s real name, not understanding the exact biological and legal technicalities.



It was good that the Queen had taken such a liking to her cats, Griffon in particular, the gentle grey old man would ignore the Queen’s tugging of his tale, or the times she would clamber and climb over him. Alas, Agnes doubted that the favor of a two year old would be enough to save any of them from the wrath of a mob of discontented peasants. It did mean she had at least one thing in common with her stepmother. Maybe, in time, she would introduce her to the arcane.


“Of course you may Isabelle, I’m sure they’d love to spend the evening with you.”


“Yay”, the little girl cheered.


Just before she was carried out of the room she commanded Raymonde’s baby to be good and not give her mother trouble.


“Be good baby. Your Queen commands it.” Isabelle was beginning to recognize the concept of monarchy, though she had yet to grasp the intricacies of her regency yet. As far as she was concerned she did what her father, Agnes, and Raymonde and all her other attendants told her to because they were her father and her caretakers. She would take any opportunity to boss around those she considered beneath her.


The two woman laughed and waved goodbye to the little sovereign, who blew kisses back at them.


“She’s such a cheerful little girl, hardly a care in the world”, Raymonde said wistfully. She was now sitting up on the edge of the bed.


Agnes smiled. “Would it that god would grant all of us the ignorance of a child.”


“You’ve been very distant as of late. Is something troubling you.”


“Oh it’s nothing. Just a bit of melancholy. Some news came back from Constantinople. My Uncle didn’t get his county back in the peace agreement, and my good friend Princess Anna’s new baby is sick.”


20200711105319_1.jpg



Raymonde nodded her head. “And you are not at all thinking of King Frederick’s misfortunes? Or sad about what the Queen Dowager wants to do with your cats?”


“You yourself have been quite distant as of late”, Agnes shot back.


“I also have loved ones to worry over. And you didn’t deny it.”


“All right all right. Yes. I am worried about Frederick. Is that so wrong?” She would have denied it to most people, certainly to her husband or the Queen. But Raymonde had been her first friend at court and had always been good to her, even if they had grown apart in the past few months. She deserved honesty.


“No. Not at all.”



“It’s just. It’s just that theirs’s so much on my mind. I am the regent’s wife, and yet the Dowager Queen is treated with greater esteem than myself.” “ Mayhaps my husband should have wed her, they like each other better and are closer in age", Agnes snapped, with more venom than she thought she could spend for a man she did not love. But then it wasn’t Jean’s affection that concerned her, but his council.


Raymonde laughed. “Queen Maria is kind and wise, it’s no wonder we all turn to her for counsel.” I don’t turn to her for council, not anymore.


“But fear not. You are my friend and wise in your own way, you’ll grow on people, I promise.”


“It doesn’t seem like wisdom or kindness to throw my sweet pets to the mob.”


Raymonde shook her head and sighed like she carried the sorrows of the world on her shoulders. “People are scared and angry because of the consumption outbreak. They look for scapegoats. You are a woman from a foreign land who spends her days alone in her room with scrolls, spells, and cats for company. Their hatred is as inevitable as it is unfortunate.” It was like arguing with the Greek woman all over again. That should not have been surprising, for she had taught Raymonde everything she knew.


“That still doesn’t make it right.”


“I don’t think the Queen thinks it’s right either. She believes the restless mob is a threat to her great-granddaughter. For now they say they act against “evil councilors”, but that could change. We can’t afford to chance it’s wroth, especially now. At least that’s my mentor’s thoughts, as far as I can understand them. Maybe she’s correct, maybe she isn’t. I haven’t been in a position to judge as of late.” She gestured towards her belly, swollen huge and ungainly with child.


She placed a hand over her belly and shifted her sitting. “If I were to be perfectly honest with you, I would sacrifice any creature without hesitation if it meant preserving my child’s life. You may be attached to those cats, but trust me, they are not your children. You will know the difference when the time comes.” She wanted to yell at Raymonde for saying her companions didn’t matter. But Agnes knew that what she was saying was true. She had known it when the Greek woman had said them as well, but she had refused to admit it.


She took Agnes’s hand. “But maybe the regent will decide to side with you on this. After all, my former mistress may provide good company, but she is old, and do you think Jean of Breiene is the type of man to let his line die with a daughter, however royal she may be.”


Agnes shot an envious glance at Raymonde’s annoyingly rounded belly. “Lucky you.”


Raymonde laughed. “I know I am blessed, and I give thanks for that whenever I can. But you of all people should know, I have my own troubles.”


“I know.” Agnes said wearily, feeling shame for the way she had been pitying herself.


But there had to be a way to save them. Even if the church said they didn’t have souls, even if they lived short lives, even if people sometimes suffered worse than them, they were still her friends and she would always look out for them, the same way she looked out for Anna, or Raymonde, or her Uncle Eustache.


Agnes thought back on what Mayumah had told her of the people’s thoughts.


It is said amongst the people of Jaffa, in the court and in the town, Muslim and Christian and Jew alike, that you engage in wicked rites to bring plagues upon the realm and death to the little Queen. They say your cats are changelings and that at night, after the regent is asleep, they change into demons and have their way with you, so that after you kill little Isabelle their hell spawn may take the throne.


30th of May Cats blamed for Plauge 1.jpg



The peasants did not lack for imagination.


“I mean I have a rowdy little one growing in me, who loves tossing and turning and making things difficult. A husband whose taken ill with Gout of all things, and I can’t help but think it’s my fault for having the servants prepare us all that seafood. And you are what, worried because you have only twenty more years to conceive a child, or that people at Court don’t find you fun to talk to?


I worry that I may loose my life, that my child may be born weak and die young, or that my husband might be bedridden for life, and you fear for cats? But don’t worry, I cry over your pain and suffering every night.” She wiped her eyes and made a mimicry of a sad face.


Maybe it was the wine, but for the first time in months, Agnes and Raymonde laughed together.


“Raymonde you are being too cruel.” And I don’t just fear for cats, I fear for my friends. The point she made to Raymonde was true, even if it was made without anger.


“I’m sorry I’m sorry. I’m sure the creatures are fine company. But it is true, you could really improve people’s opinion of you if you spent some time outside of your laboratory, or with anyone except your servants.”


“Or you?”


She patted her belly. “Or me, I’m not at my most sociable right now, they call it confinement for a reason.”


The women laughed together again, only for Raymonde’s mirth to be interrupted by a wince and then a groan. She grasped one hand on the bedpost and the other on the table, holding herself steady.


“Are you okay is it..”


“No it’s not coming now, I don’t think so anyways.” She spoke fast.


Her eyes wide and agitated. “The midwife told me these things come as you get closer.” Agnes reached out to her friend. Raymonde held up her hands. “But I shouldn’t worry just yet. I’ll have time when it comes. They think my baby will be here in a week or so.” Raymonde gulped in a breath, Agnes held her shoulders. She breathed in and out, getting calmer and calmer.


“I still worry though, about the birth I mean. Agnes I have no one to talk to about this. My mother is long dead, my husband has troubles of his own, you’ve been off mopping, and it would just bring up bad memories for the Queen Dowager.”


She cast her head down and put her arms around her belly. “I know everyone says I’m brave, but the truth is I’m terrified.”


“I’ve seen a couple of births myself, I know it can be painful.”


“Have you ever seen someone die of it? I did.” Agnes knew she was referring to Queen Maria of Monferat, Isabelle’s birth mother, the dead woman both her husband, and it would seem, the whole kingdom pined for.


Agnes grasped her friend’s hand. It was the least she could do. “You can talk to me.” It was the least she could do to make up for not talking with her for months.


“It was so horrible. She was in so much pain, their was blood everywhere, and it went on for a day and a half. By the end our poor Queen, who had always been so calm and kind, was a half crazed raving lunatic.“ Raymonde had a fearful look in her eyes, her lips were held together tight and tense.


“Agnes?”


“Yes”


“Can you promise me a couple of things?”


“Sure.”


“If I die like that, never tell anyone. And second, if both myself and my husband should perish, look out for our child. See him, or her, see them rise high in the world. And see to it that he never forgets me or Alphonse.”


“Of course, yes to all of those.” She tired to make her voice quiet and soothing. She wasn’t sure why.


“Good. I know you love your cats, and fear for them, but that love is nothing compared to what I feel for my baby.” You don’t have to keep reminding me.


“I understand”. Agnes really did, though it was hard not to be a bit bitter, especially when Agnes had no children of her own.


She sighed. “I understand. Your family must come first.”


“Thank you Agnes, I wished I had kept you closer these last few months.”


“Once the baby’s born and you get your health back, I’m sure there is much we could do together.”


“Assuming I live.”


“Don’t worry yourself Raymonde, yyour strong, you’ll survive this. You and Alphonse will be blessed with many more children, and you will live a long life happy life.”


“Was that in one of your books?”


“Yes, the book of take care of yourself and don’t worry. Raymonde laughed and smiled. “You are a kind woman, Agnes de Flanders.”


Raymonde yawned and rubbed the black circles under her eyes. “Speaking of taking care of myself, I should get some rest.”


“Ok. Sweet dreams.”


“Agnes”


“Yes?”


“I left some of your fish for you.”


Agnes smiled. “Thank you.” Raymonde tucked herself in under the covers.


Agnes took up the plate and left the room, heading to the old out of the way chamber she had made into her laboratory. The fish tasted really good.


Agnes had been interested in the higher mysteries for as long as she could remember. At home in Flanders she had been forced to maintain the strictest secrecy. But here in the east things were more enlightened. Frederick had patronized her experiments. She’d had a few rooms in Palermo filled with beakers, cauldrons and old tomes. The King had worked alongside her when he was free from his duties, and once or twice they might have kissed, but for Agnes’s own dammed prudence.


Her father had always been less openminded, and it had gotten worse after the Crusade. Still, Constantinople had proven to be a treasure trove of arcane secrets. Anna had given her a book of prophecies she herself had owned as a girl, though like Maria Komnenos, she called them superstitious nonsense. That they might have been, but they were entertaining superstitious nonsense.


Jean had been kind enough to let her bring them with her to Jerusalem. Though he was so preoccupied with planning the Crusade, that sometimes Agnes wondered if he forgot she actually inhabited the same castle as he, and didn’t just magic herself into his bed at night. Of course they saw each other, but his mind was always elsewhere, probably wearing a crown and surrounded by cheering crowds of knights.


There were days when Agnes wondered how much of this kindness had been motivated by the hope that a happy wife would get with child quicker.


She entered the laboratory. The grisly brew bubbled up from the black cauldron.


“Will the potion work?”, Agnes asked the servant girl attending to the pot, Marajil


Marajil looked up and smiled wickedly. “Maybe too well. My big sister drank a glass of this once, and she birthed triplets.” She shook her head solely. “They tore her apart.”


Agnes winced, thinking about what Raymonde had told her. “Maybe give me something less strong.”, she said in her best impression of a commanding voice. “I am a dutiful wife, and would like to keep living in order to carry out my duties thank you very much.”



“Oh no, she survived the birth. And all three of the babies were boys, born strong and lively. But as you can imagine they proved a handful, especially without any servants in the household. Even though she was the jealous type, my sister leapt for joy when her husband got a young pretty second wife Finally an extra pair of hands to help with the children.”


Marajil grinned. “I’m told the little jinni driven the whole family half mad.”



Agnes chuckled. She had taken both of the Bishop of Radwan’s former lovers Marajil and Maynmunah, into her service.


Both had proven excellent help, and fine social companions. Marajil was a genius and possessed a keen mind hungry for knowledge. Maynumah lacked her companion’s love of book learning, but made up for it in wit and charm, and was the better looking of the two. Where Marajil could tell you a horoscope, Maynmunah could tell you a story about a friend of hers who had that same horoscope, usually ending with said friend naked, drunk, or embarrassed, usually all three. They had filled the void left by Raymonde, who, for a time, had been too worried with her own cares to spend much time with her friend.


It was easy to forget rank, or that these two women were both sworn to a heathen faith and dammed to hell, but then Agnes had never been the most pious of women.


At 18 Agnes was hardly at the age were women became desperate enough to resort to fertility potions. But she had been married for a year and yet still showed no sign of being with child. Agnes was already only second amongst the women of little Isabelle’s court. If she proved barren, she feared she would fall further. Her husband didn’t love her and she didn’t love him. That was fine, many women had worse marriages. But the future of their partnership depended on having a son. And maybe, just maybe, if she conceived fast enough, she could persuade him to rebuff the mob, as a favor to her.


“Is it ready?”, Agnes asked.


“In a few minutes”, said Marajil.


She let the cauldron settle before taking a bit of the potion, putting it into a beaker and mixing it, Agnes watching fascinated all the while. She wished to learn the process, but Marajil had told her that training would take years, and Agnes did not have the time or the patience for it. She wrinkled her nose, noting the mixture’s ugly green color. What are you a child?


After the last step was complete Marajil poured the mixture into a cup and offered it to Agnes. By this point Maynumunah had finished putting Isabelle to bed and had come back to see if her mistress needed anything else. They both watched eagerly as Agnes held the cup to her lips. The brew tasted bitter and weak. Agnes spit the mixture out spraying the vile liquid all over Mrajil’s face.


Agnes was filled with shame but the servants reacted with mirth. “What are you doing! Were you trying to poison our mistress”, Maynmunah asked Marajil between sputtered laughs.


Marajil took it in stride. “If I were going to poison her do you think I would make it so obvious?”


Agnes grinned. “Or used something that looked so much like poison?”


Agnes had another cup prepared and, after ordering the servants off to a safe distance, forced herself to down the substance. Quick thinking Marajil gave her a cup of water to wash the vile brew down with. After that the two of them left to change out of their dirty cloths.


Agnes decided to catch up on some reading before dinner. She had found The Alexiad in the library of the first Queen Isabelle, a gift from her mother, Maria Komnenos. It had been dusty, probably unread since that Queen’s death eight years earlier, if at all. Agnes had offered to return the book but the old Queen had insisted she’d keep it. “My eyes are close to giving out anyways, and I have already read the book two to three times.” Agnes had never been that interested in historical chronicles. They lied about as often as troubadours, and their lies were usually less entertaining, or so her uncle the Emperor Baudouin had said. But she found the opportunity to read a history written by a woman, and the chance to get closer to the dowager Queen, to be irresistible.


Alas that friendship seemed to have meant nothing to Maria Komnenos, or at least nothing compared to the safety of her progeny. But couldn’t she have trusted Agnes to figure out a better outcome? She was smart enough to handle a Greek history book, surely she could handle a gang of riotous peasants? And if not why hadn’t anyone told her about the poor perception people had of her before it was too late to do anything. Because at the end of the day I’m just an oven, and not even one that works. Who would talk about affairs of state with a broken oven?


Maynmunah creaked open the door and slid into the room. She informed Agnes that Jean would not be joining her for dinner.


“ He is meeting with Gerard, the Mayor of Gaza , officially it is something about taxes.”


The serving girl gave a sly smile. “I could tell you the true purpose of the meeting, if you so wish.” Agnes narrowed her eyes. She was tired of being left in the dark. “Tell me.”


Maynmunah gave a flourished bow. “The mayor has been angling for the position of steward. To hear men talk, he is touched by Midas himself.”


Mayor Geurard asks to be steward January 18th, shot down..jpg

“Will my husband select him?”


She shook her head. “That would mean firing Grandmaster Guillame from the council. The mayor may be a better steward, but the Grandmaster is an ally the regent cannot afford to loose.” It made sense, mere competency was rarely the sole qualifier for important positions.


“As to how I know these things, well to put it simply, people of your station often don’t notice people of my station and will say incriminating things in front of us. For example, I got this tidbit from a girl who was scrubbing the floor while the meeting was conducted.”


Agnes chuckled. “My husband always was an oblivious one.”


Maynmunah smiled. “It is not my place to question the regent. Merely to relay important matters to my mistress.”


Agnes though of having dinner with Raymonde, but was informed that she was asleep. Once she would have dined with the Queen Dowager, but the two of them had not been on speaking terms ,ever since the old Queen suggested killing Agnes’s cats, and besides, the woman was busy preparing to depart for her son’s lands in Beirut.


So she decided to eat with Marajil and Maynmunah. She told them about all that had happened, the danger her friends were in, and how she wanted to help. They made a plan together over dinner.


“I think we’re finished”, Agnes declared when she finished her meal, as well as the plan. The two girls smiled. “It’s a good one”, said Marajil. “Indeed”, said Maynmunah, but I need you to change one thing.


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Raymonde’s labor began two days later, before Agnes had time to finish preparing her plan. She could only watch, and try to comfort her friend through her pains. Maria Komnenos was also there, the two women kept their distance from one another, usually keeping to opposite sides of Raymonde’s bed, each clutching one of her hands.


After a day and a half of labor, not much progress had been made.


“Agnes, remember what you promised me!” Raymonde pleaded.


Agnes nodded. “I do I do, but you will be fine.” Raymonde screamed and cursed through another pain. “I don’t feel very fine!” Where the hell are they? She had just hoped to ease Raymonde’s suffering, and to help her other friends as well. But now the work of her servants might make the difference between life and death.


A knock came at the door. Baron Haifa entered, followed by a servant. The Baron was tense and nervous, as they all were. A man did not belong in a place like this. Raymonde instinctively looked away.


The girl who accompanied him was tall and striking, with flowing relish brown hair and light olive skin, she curtsied. “My lady, the potion you requested has arrived.”


“Lubna, what is the meaning of this? And what is a man doing in this place?”, Maria Komnenos asked sternly. So that was her name. “I asked for her”, said Agnes. That was technically true. “Raymonde, I was worried about you, so I had a servant brew a potion that should speed up your labor.”


“I am her”, Lubna said.



20200711120905_1.jpg


Maria Komnenos glared at Agnes. “Are we in the business of putting the life of a noblewoman in the hands of some random potion? I didn’t think I’d have to tell you this, but this is a matter of life and death not some game for silly young girls.”


“This girl’s methods are unorthodox I admit, but I have used such potions in the past, though I do not know how to make them. Such things are women’s arts. I merely buy and test. This girl learned her method from one I have trusted in the past. I believe she can help Raymonde.”


The old Queen shook her head. “I like this not”


“Raymonde?”, Agnes asked.


Her poor friend tried to strife a scream, , Agnes moved to take her hand. “For the love of all that is holy I want this thing out of me!” She said panting.


The servant obeyed the lady’s command and fed her the drink from a wooden spoon.


Raymonde sipped it down, her face displaying disgust. “Drinking this would be the worse part of my day on literally any other occasion.” The women chuckled in sympathy. The Baron took his leave.


Raymonde clasped her hands together. “Right on with it then.” Her bravery seemed much more genuine. There was more screaming and agony, only now things went faster. Soon enough they were easing her over to the chair. Agnes remained at her friend’s side all the while. I’ve done it. I’ve helped them all. Soon enough the babe came squalling into the world. Agnes had seen birth before, but somehow the final act still struck her, in all it’s disgusting yet profound glory. “It’s a boy!”, cried the midwife. “I have a son!?”, Raymonde cried with tears streaming down her cheeks. “I knew it. Praise god I knew it!” The ladies busied themselves cleaning the little lad. Agnes remained at her post, if only because her joints were too stuck in place to move.


Raymonde was still sobbing. “Thank you. Thank god for all of you. Me and my son, we’re both so tired. Why don’t you put me and my babe in the bed and go off to sleep yourselves. You’ve done more than enough for me.” Her voice was so weary.


“My lady, the afterbrith”, said Lubna.


“Exactly, after the birth you let the mother get some sleep!” Agnes saw a moment of recognition on her friend’s face, probably a memory of a birth she herself had witnessed.


“Motherfucker!”, Raymonde yelled.


It fell on Agnes to convey the joyous news to the men. She found them seated in the great hall and deep in their cups. Jean had apparently put all business of state aside, spending the whole day with Alphonse, as had…the other one. Agnes was surprised her husband had such sentimentality in him, and a little hurt that he never seemed to spend any of it on her.


Alphonse rose, wobbling as he clutched the cane he hated so much. “I have a son!”

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Agnes smiled. “Your wife had much the same reaction”


Savary slapped his friend on the back. “You’ve got yourself a little killer, congratulation. It makes me shed a tear and wonder what would happen if I didn’t give all those whores a little extra to go keep their bellies flat.”


“You are truly blessed my friend.”, said Jean. He put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “God gives just rewards.”


“I feel too dammed old”, complained Balian Greinier.


All except Savary went up the stairs to see Raymonde. Agnes fell in behind her husband


“You may be similarly blessed if you make me happy, look at how Alphonse adores his wife”, she whispered in his ear, trying her best to make her voice sound sweet and vaguely seductive. It didn’t work, and in any case they were both much too tired to do anything except congratulate the new parents.


Raymonde was abed, suckling her little son. Alphonse kneeled beside the bed, stroking the little boy’s hair with one hand, and his wife’s cheek with the other. “You were very brave. So strong, and you gave me the greatest gift any man can ever receive.”


“Thank you my love. I don’t think I could have done it without the Queen Maria, or Agnes, she gave me a potion that really helped me make it through.”


“Did she now”, Jean turned to his wife.


Agnes curtsied. “It was the idea of a Maronite girl in our employ, I merely had it made in my laboratory.”.


“The same one the peasants are making a fuss over?”, Alphonse asked.


“The very same”, replied Agnes.


“What do you actually do there”, Jean asked his wife, for the first time.


She shrugged. “I read, and brew potions, especially fertility potions.” Jean almost jumped at that. “Do you now?”


“Yes she does. In fact I took one in October, just before I was blessed with this little one”, said Raymonde, who raised the baby up in her arms, carefully so as not to startle him. I never told you to lie for me.


It was the dowager Queen’s turn to speak. She sighed, her voice heavy. “Your grace, I was not told of any of this. But even if it is so, the point remains, the peasants are blaming your wife and her pets for all the ills that befall them. She may continue to read her tomes brew her potions in secret, but we must offer something up to appease the mob. I know it is a hard choice, once I might have shied from making it, but you are responsible for my great grandchild's safety and..”


“Would you hurt me so after all I have done?”, Agnes said pointedly. “It it’s not just me who would cry. Little Isabelle loves the cats. Would you really cause both of us sorrow, and lessen the chances of god blessing us with a son, all to appease a mob of peasants? If that is your will husband, their is nothing I can do to stop you, but at least let me be a comfort to your daughter in her grief, and she mine.”



Jean tensed up. “I appease no one!” he yelled, causing the infant to cry. Raymonde fussed over him while Alphonse glared at Jean, who paid him no mind. “Maria I am more than capable of defending my child and my Kingdom. I was already uneasy about yielding but this does it. I will not have this joyous occasion marred by slaughter!”


The Greek woman seemed like she was going to say something, paused, looked to Raymonde, shook her head, and spoke. “I am tired your grace, we all are, but I am old as well and don’t wish to fight you on this. Do as you will. I am going to sleep. I will depart soon too see my sons and sort out their sordid affairs. But if one hair on little Isabelle’s head is harmed, or if harm befalls anyone at this court, so help me god I will haunt you through the gates of hell.” She stormed out. Agnes felt like she should say something to her, give some reassurance, but she was just too exhausted. However none of that stopped her from savoring the sweet taste of victory.


On the morrow, just after breakfast, Agnes talked with Maynmunah. “Your plan worked brilliantly, I can’t thank you enough.” Maynmunah smiled and blushed. “It was nothing really, you had the idea to make a potion to help your friend, and it was Marajil who did most of the actual brewing, I just provided some conversation tips, and advised you to pass off the potion as one of Christian making, so as to gain the trust of the noblewomen. They’re usually okay consulting with Muslim magics and medicine, but we couldn’t take the chance with a situation as delicate as this. It was fortunate that I know some people who know some of the good Baron’s questionable commercial dealings. And Lubna is ambitious, fortunately she sees cooperation with me as a means to fulfill her ambitions.”


Agnes shook her head. “You give yourself too little credit. Those mere conversation tips brought me closer to my husband and saved the lives of my feline friends. And your potion may have saved the life of Raymonde.”


“Still, it was no big deal. I knew your nature, and that of the other women, from first hand experience. You told me of your husband, and I explained to you how such a man can be won over.” Agnes had argued many of those same points alone with Jean, usually just before bed or just before waking up, but each time he had brushed her aside with an appeal to Maria Komnenos’s age and wisdom, or his own grim duty as a man. Once in a while she stormed out of the room. But cornering him, while his envy of Alphonse, and his desire for a son of his own, was at it’s highest, putting her plea in sweater words, and implying that appeasing Agnes’s would bring him closer to that goal, had been key.


Agnes fidgeted with her fingers. “I confess, I am not very good with men.” She laughed nervously.


Maynmunah laughed. “They say I’m quite good with men, over them under them, side to side, they all say I’m a great conversationalist.” Agnes burst out laughing in spite of herself. “You are a wicked woman.”


“Your religion and mine agree on a surprising number of things, amongst which is that women like me are destined for damnation. But I don’t mind really. Better that than an eternity of boredom right?”


Agnes found it best to shift the conversation to something she was more comfortable with. “Raymonde and Alphonse named the baby after her father, even though they both dislike him. I don’t know why. I suppose we all have complicated feelings towards our parents.”


Maynmunah shrugged. “My mother died giving birth to me, my father’s second wife was put in charge of raising me. She hated me and I hated her right back, and my father, for he ignored what she did to me. I don’t see what’s so complicated about that.”


“I’m sorry”, was all Agnes could say. “It’s not your fault my lady, you never took anyone I loved from me.” An awkward silence followed.


“Maynmunah , I would like you to provide me with the same sort of help in the future.”


“Of course mistress, I would do anything for you, so long as you keep me in your employ and compensate me well, I would be at your beck and call.”
 

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Interlude 3
Interlude 3: The Cat Speech.



The town crier proclaimed the Christening of the new lordling, Balian Grenier. Son of Alphonse and Raymonde, grandson and namesake of the Count of Sidon. Afterword's the Knight Ser Savary, the only Knight who didn’t attend the cermonony, for according to rumor he was barred from appearing in any church, mosque, or synagogue, rose to speak.


“People of Jaffa, Latins, Levanntines, Saracens, (unmentionable slur for Jews that shall not be repeated in this AAR.), lend me your ears. You have defined this plague to protest and petition your government, to demand that the regent put down the cause of this plague, the cats. We have heard your please and we have this to say.


We do not care about you. At all. You are all dirty, worthless, and useless, fit only to serve your betters. My Lord of Briene values his lady’s happiness over your lives, and you should be thankful he rules you and not I, for I value you even less. Now get back to work!


Pray that however many of you this accursed illness kills, that enough of you are left to keep paying taxes. Your money goes into my pockets and it in turns goes into yours, after I am done putting my own coin into your daughters pockets, the double meaning is very much intended.”


The mob fell silent, shocked that anyone in government would say openly what they so obviously thought of the people of Jaffa. Then a single, great, collective scream of sorrow and rage and pain was let out as the crowd threw whatever they had, rocks, trash, even a small animal or two, at the arrogant Knight. This served to convey the people of Jaffa’s opinion of their government.


“Guards to me!” The men at arms formed a shield wall.


“Just like my sisters.” Savary sniffled in feigned sorrow.

3rd of October Civl unrest in Jaffa..jpg

Authors Note: Sorry for the delays. As a reward I'm treating you to two chapters. I have a new schedule, so I don't think this will happen as frequently as it did in the past.
 
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Excellent chapters, it's nice to see that the birth was successful and that Jean is sticking up for his wife. Hopefully the cats live long happy lives at the side of Agnes and Isabelle!
 
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Excellent chapters, it's nice to see that the birth was successful and that Jean is sticking up for his wife. Hopefully the cats live long happy lives at the side of Agnes and Isabelle!
Thanks. Well for cats a long life is relative. I also forgot to post the actual event picture, so it must have been confusing to people.
 
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Seeing Alphonse and Raymonde doting on their newfound bundle of joy was adorable :) Hopefully young Balian will have a long, happy life in good health.

Agnes's victory over Maria in the matter of the cats might be a small one in the grand scheme of things, but it has undoubtedly proven to be a learning experience for her. She's learned that Maria Komnenos isn't invulnerable, and that she herself is capable of exerting some influence over her husband when she chooses her battles and her words carefully. Most importantly, though, she seems to be learning -- slowly but surely -- the eternal truth that for those who live in high places, their lives are in some sense not theirs alone; their hobbies, habits, and proclivities are constantly under scrutiny from their peers and the masses alike. Agnes might think her dabbling in potions and mystic arts to be just a harmless private indulgence, but by isolating herself in such a way she's alienating herself from the people her husband rules, and naturally the people have turned to the most sensational and lurid imaginings...

Speaking of gossip, Maynmunah certainly seems to keep her ears close to the ground (in more ways than one). Agnes might still be a little too naive to truly appreciate how valuable her friend is as a source of information, but she'd do well to keep her close.

And finally: Savary, "World's Greatest PR Man" you most definitely are not. Admittedly the peasants wouldn't have been happy regardless, but still...
 
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I am on comment 67 and I am confused. Is this a story of a child queen or her daddy searching for a golden parachute? The only person that cares about the child's success is her great grandmother. There are too many characters, too many screenshots and too much information. An introduction was badly needed. The first chapter was confusing in that the screenshots showed that you were a female child but the viewpoint was an adult male. The dialogue is wonderful but sometimes it is confusing who is speaking. You may want to change to a script style. (Speaker's name followed by a colon). The screenshots can be cropped to the relevant info with your prose conveying added info. An example would be portrait with prose telling age, holdings, relevant stats (ie dip for chancellor, martial for marshal, all for leader and regent) and traits, culture and religion. One example would be: The royal family and the councilors were French Catholics in a Levantine Sunni world. Many screenshots were of dead people without info of birth dates, death dates or cause of deaths. I have several times been rendered "screenshot drunk", wondering who the people were and why they were significant. (It is like attending a family reunion with a grandparent). Added info can be conveyed in response to comments which have been the best part of this AAR. I apologize for being negative when I could not do 1% as well. Sorry, I mean no offense.
 
Seeing Alphonse and Raymonde doting on their newfound bundle of joy was adorable :) Hopefully young Balian will have a long, happy life in good health.

Agnes's victory over Maria in the matter of the cats might be a small one in the grand scheme of things, but it has undoubtedly proven to be a learning experience for her. She's learned that Maria Komnenos isn't invulnerable, and that she herself is capable of exerting some influence over her husband when she chooses her battles and her words carefully. Most importantly, though, she seems to be learning -- slowly but surely -- the eternal truth that for those who live in high places, their lives are in some sense not theirs alone; their hobbies, habits, and proclivities are constantly under scrutiny from their peers and the masses alike. Agnes might think her dabbling in potions and mystic arts to be just a harmless private indulgence, but by isolating herself in such a way she's alienating herself from the people her husband rules, and naturally the people have turned to the most sensational and lurid imaginings...

Speaking of gossip, Maynmunah certainly seems to keep her ears close to the ground (in more ways than one). Agnes might still be a little too naive to truly appreciate how valuable her friend is as a source of information, but she'd do well to keep her close.

And finally: Savary, "World's Greatest PR Man" you most definitely are not. Admittedly the peasants wouldn't have been happy regardless, but still...
Thanks. I worried people wouldn't like that sort of chapter. Glad I was wrong. Not to spoil too much but young Balian is somewhat important down the line. We will see if Agnes has learned the right lessons from this whole affair. Agnes appreciates how valuable Maymunah is, though she is far to trusting to realize that those skills might be turned on her.


I am on comment 67 and I am confused. Is this a story of a child queen or her daddy searching for a golden parachute? The only person that cares about the child's success is her great grandmother. There are too many characters, too many screenshots and too much information. An introduction was badly needed. The first chapter was confusing in that the screenshots showed that you were a female child but the viewpoint was an adult male. The dialogue is wonderful but sometimes it is confusing who is speaking. You may want to change to a script style. (Speaker's name followed by a colon). The screenshots can be cropped to the relevant info with your prose conveying added info. An example would be portrait with prose telling age, holdings, relevant stats (ie dip for chancellor, martial for marshal, all for leader and regent) and traits, culture and religion. One example would be: The royal family and the councilors were French Catholics in a Levantine Sunni world. Many screenshots were of dead people without info of birth dates, death dates or cause of deaths. I have several times been rendered "screenshot drunk", wondering who the people were and why they were significant. (It is like attending a family reunion with a grandparent). Added info can be conveyed in response to comments which have been the best part of this AAR. I apologize for being negative when I could not do 1% as well. Sorry, I mean no offense.
None taken. It is good to have constructive criticism. I admit to not being very good at writing dialogue tags. I got a bit carried away with past characters. I had read about them in the history books and wanted to introduce them. Also I was thinking of Before Plantagenant and it's loads of characters. Of course Before Plantagenant took years to get to having that many characters. The story overall is that of Isabelle. But since she's a baby, for now our main character will be her father, Jean of Breiene.

Best chapters so far. Why am I expecting the regent and unSavory to abandon all for greener pastures?
Thanks. Like your nickname for Savary. Jean isn't intending to bolt. His ideal plan goes something like this. He will rule in his daughter's stead until she comes of age and is married. Once that happens she will take over governance of the Kingdom and Jean will move on to trying to establish himself in the Latin Empier, eventually placing his son on the throne. It's similar to IRL Jean, who sort of Bounced around as a warlord in the employ of various patrons. Remember, Jean is unlanded. All his power comes from who he is married to, and who he is the father of. Once Isabelle is married, he goes from a King in all but name, all the way back down to a lowly knight. So it is not surprising he has a backup plan.

I think of Jean as a more ethical Foulques (thier's that Before Plantagenant fanboy in me coming up again.). The main diffrences is that Jean is not as lustful as Foulques and wants to be seen as a hero, so he won't do the kind of unethical things Foulques does. Mind you Medieval society is twisted even when people follow the rules. IRL the real Jean of Briene may have loved his daughter very much, but it didn't stop him from in effect pimping her out in exchange for military aid.

To all, I have an extra treat. The next chapter is finished early. I've been figuring out how to format this one, at one point it was four parts. What I plan to do is release part 1 now as chapter 9, release part 2 as an interlude on Saturday, and release part 3 as Chapter 10. I'm probably going to cut Part 4. It was going to be Isabelle's first POV, but it turnned out to be completely irrelevant to the plot, at a time when I'm trying to speed up the story's pace.
 
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Chapter 9: October 1213
The Crusader King?
October 1213

Jean of Breine had wanted to spend the night before the army departed with Agnes. It was what men did with their sweet hearts in the songs. But alas life was not a song and young Agnes de Flanders could hardly be called his sweetheart, or anyone’s for that matter. He didn’t know what type of man a strange woman like that could love, but it surely wasn’t him. Not that he minded of course, such things were common in marriage. Instead he’d spent the evening firing off dispatches to the Kingdom of Jerusalem’s northern vassals, including the Templars and Hospitallers.


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The Templars and Hospitlers were to march through Tripoli and form up under the command of the Count of Sidon, who would join them with his own men, alongside the royal levies of Acre and Count Ibelin’s forces marching from Beirut. From there they would subdue the County of Touron, beginning the process of establishing the old defensive borders of the Kingdom. Sidon would have jurisdiction over the two commanders from Acre, Mayor Amede and Baron Arnol.


He’d had Humbert read William of Tyre’s chronicle of the Kingdom to him as he drifted off to sleep. See I am learned. He would never admit to it, but it was embarrassing to have a wife who was more learned than you.



13th of May, Jeane of Briene wants to improve his learning.jpg



Fittingly enough the reading had ended on Baudoin the Fourth. The Hero King who against all odds had rallied a disintegrating Kingdom to repel the Saracen hordes one last time. The whole thing was rather Arthurian. His kin had lost it all. Now was Jean’s chance to earn it back. I wonder what they will say of me. If they’ll say anything about me?
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In the morning he washed up and ate breakfast with his men. Most were Outremair born. The Knights traced their descent from warriors who had come on crusades past. The common footmen were mostly Greek, Armenian, or Maronite Christians. A few Muslims stood under their numbers, though Jean had ordered they be kept well away from him. Tolerance was yet another Queer Outremair custom he had yet to adjust to. Whatever their origin, they were the army that would fight and die for the Holy City. And they seemed to act like most soldiers did before a campaign, with a mixture of fear and bravado. That at least didn’t change when one crossed the Mediterranean.


Agnes had her own duties, preparing to move of the Court, well as much of it as was necessary to re-establish the government in Acre. Assisting her in this task was chaplain Humbert. Jaffa was too close to the enemy for Jean’s liking, not to mention plague infested and filled with discontents.
In hindsight maybe Savary had not been the best person to talk down the mob.


Allowing his wife’s eccentricities had in hindsight been in vain. Agnes’s belly remained stubbornly flat. If I die in this war, will they only remember me as Isabelle’s father? Would that be a fitting legacy, after all this, just a little girl’s father.


After breakfast, Jean went over the plan with Alphonse and Savary one last time, for the sake of assurance.


“Savary will take the men of Ashkelon and Deir al-Balah into the Sini to do what he does best. Burn and plunder every village between El Arish and Radwan. See to it that the local levies are annihilated before they link up with the main army. And make sure the Sultan will find no food, water or fodder for his troops.”


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“I won’t let you down your grace.”


“I will personally commend the men from Jaffa and strike against any enemy levies mustering near the Holy City. Alphonse will accompany me in this endeavor.”


You’ve been following physician’s orders?”, Jean asked Alphonse.


He nodded. “Yes your grace. I’m much too stubborn to let a silly thing like joint pain keep me from this one.”


“Good. We’ll need every knight we can muster for this campaign.”


“Perhaps this includes some of the dumb ones, or why else would we go over this plan half a hundred times?”, said Savary.


The Sultan had subdued the Armenian rebels that September.


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His forces in Syria and the Kindom of Jerusalem’s former territories would now be free to concentrate against the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Jean needed to strike first and kill as many of them as possible, while staying close enough to Savary’s army so that either could reinforce the other if it proved necessary. In other words they either split up and allowed themselves to be defeated in detail, or they consolidated, and by implication allowed their enemy to consolidate, and were destroyed in one great battle.



Of course things would change once the Kings of Europe arrived with their armies, and maybe even sooner than that, Jean had heard rumors that Emperor Henri had amassed an awe inspiring force to aid the crusade. Hence the delaying strategy. Still, the south of the Kingdom, the old County of Jaffa-Askelon was uniquely vulnerable, which was why Jean had moved the Court to Acre, and strengthened the city’s defenses.

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With the men assembled for battle, and the Court embarked on wagons and headed for the ships, Jean finally had time to visit Agnes and Isabelle.


They met by the gate, as the rest of the men said their farewells. Raymonde and Alphonse tenderly embraced, and for a time it seemed as if they intended never to part, though of course they did, each returning to their duties.


Savary had spent almost all of his money to pay every whore he had ever slept with for one final “farewell party” the night before.


“In ten years reckon half the pickpockets and whores in Jaffa will have my blood. It’s a legacy to make a man weep.” Jean had thought of giving Savary a castle and a wife after all was said and done. The thought of being Savary’s subjects, or worse, having your daughter be his wife, would be enough to keep any noble in line. But he had not decided yet. Savary’s wroth and greed were as troubling as his cruelty. As a soldier he could scarce object when Jean elevated Alphonse over him. As a lord, that would change.


Agnes was dressed formally, but plainly, a garb more befitting the wife of a Knight than that of a king’s bride. Her demeanor was formal, ironically, quite regal. Little Isabelle bounced excitedly in the arms of a servant, one of the ones Bishop Guilhielm had bedded. Jean had wanted to dismiss her from service, along with all non Christians in the royal household, but Maria Komnenos had thought otherwise, both because such employment could guarantee the loyalty of their kin in the city, and because the Latin Nobility had grown attached to such creatures, and Jean could not afford to offend them more than he already had. Besides, those two girls in particular could provide valuable information, if used artfully.


“I will miss you wife”, he declared formally.


“I will pray for your success husband.” There was a pause.


“Do you remember my instructions?”


“Yes your grace. Once the Court is relocated to Acre I am to assume charge of the city. I am to see to the education of the Queen and send letters to my kin in Flanders and the Greek Empire, beseeching them to step up their efforts on this Crusade. I am also authorized to conduct all functions of state in your absence, though you will review my decisions and may…chastise me if you find them not to your liking.” She grimaced at that last bit.


“Good. There is however the matter of your foremost duty.”


Her cheeks were bright red, but she curtsied artfully. “Your grace, I waited for you in my chambers last night. I fear the hour may be inopportune, but if you wish it we can.”


Jean waved her away. “No no, it’s too late for that. I mean do you know if you are with child already?”


“That remains to be seen husband, you usually have to wait a span to know such things. Though if I knew I would of course tell you at once if I ever received such joyous news.” Jean did not doubt that.


“That would be most pleasing to me.” There was silence between them. This might be the last time you ever see her.


I know I was not your ideal choice of husband. I also know that you are a woman of ambition. I shall give you the same advice Maria Komnenos once gave to me. Use that ambition for Isabelle’s sake, and for the sake of any children we have together. Your rise will also be their’s. If I should perish, and if you should bear a son, take care of them both. Avenge my death and see to it that both of my children are placed upon their proper thrones. That is my final command to you as your husband. Go forth and fulfill your ambitions, for their sakes.”


“I will do as your grace commands”, she said formally, but with slight smile across her face.


He remembered the first time his father rode away to war, how his mother had put on a brave face for her children. Jean had caughter her crying that night. He thought back to when his brother and father had left. Jean was not some woman. He had wished them well and dutifully carried out his task as regent. But he still wondered what he had looked like again. Did either of them think they would never be seeing him again?


“Might I hold her? My daughter, the Queen”, he asked bashfully.


It took Agnes a few seconds to comprehend what she was hearing. “Of course your grace..” She stifled whatever else she was going to say. Isabelle, thrilled by the whole arrangement, squirmed with excitement as the servant girl passed her into his arms. What if I drop her. Then you will be the fool who killed two Queens of Jerusalem.


“Papa! Papa! Papa’s going to give me god’s favorite city!” The girl exclaimed. She reached for his beard. “Your beard is very fluffy. Like a cat! ” She gasped and put a hand to her mouth. “Or like a prophet. Raymonde told me all the prophets had big bushy beards and were very old. And is that why god is giving you Jerusalem?” The Queen tugged at it, with little awareness of the etiquette expected of her rank and sex. Jean decided to allow it. Will this be all you remember of me little one? He laughed. “No little one, I am not a prophet, though I consider myself to be in possession of some wisdom, and I suppose I am old to you.” He thought of what would make her happy. Not secure her position, not sure up her power, but make her happy.


“Do you know what a fair is little one?”


She nodded her head slowly. He told her of the Champaign fairs of his home county. How every year merchants would come from all over Europe to sell their wares. Of how as a child he would run from stall to stall to see what exotic treasures were on offer. Of how he’d jousted and raced and completed so many feats of chivalry.


“Champaign sounds like a fun place”, chirped Isabelle.


“I really loved Champaign, it was my country.”


She stoped tugging on his beard and reached out to hug him. “Did it feel scary leaving Champaign?”


Jean looked to his wife. This might be the last time you see her. She might as well know.


“It was a little scary yes”, he said, his voice almost a whisper, to keep any of the men from hearing him. He thought of his family’s ancestral lands in Briene, nominally held by his nephew. He thought of the regent of Champaign, Princess Blanka of Navvare. She had been fond of him. In another life he may have married her, and risen high in Champaign instead of Outremier. Why was he thinking of so many things that could not be?


He thought he saw her smile, some sort of mutual recognition of experience.


“Leaving Jaffa is scary. Even tho mama Agnes says I can ride in a boat, and that sounds really fun. It is still really scary.”


Jean had spent most of his sea voyages bent over a railing. But she was a little girl, and he expected she would find the bumps and jolts of the ship more exciting than sickening.


“Sailing on a boat is really fun. You should focus on that. And on your duty as Queen. That’s what I did. I thought about the Kingdom God wanted me to rule, and all the blessings he would give me.” He ran his hands through her hair. Italian black like her mother’s. And she had such a sweet little chubby face too. They also shared the same sweet nature, though the little girl was much more lively. Maria would have loved her so much. She’d probably be with child again by now, perhaps a son. She had been full hipped and fertile, and when they were together he knew she let him know he was pleasing her. Unlike his current wife. It is useless to think of things that are forever passed.


“You also thought about mama Maria a lot. Raymonde says she was a Queen like me, and that she was very pretty and kind.”


He laughed. “Yes, yes she was that.” For all he obsessed over her memory, Jean realized he hadn’t thought about her that much at all while she was still alive. Maybe that was why god had taken her from him. But Isabelle was just a baby and still thought marriages were made via tower rescue. It is shameful you ever thought that way, the poor girl gave her life to bring your child into the world. Jean’s thoughts were far too morbid for his liking.


He gave her a kiss on her head and one last tight hug before handing her off to Agnes, who still seemed a bit shocked by the whole thing. “Now you be be a good girl and remember God is watching you. Listen to your stepmother and Raymonde, and all the other servants who take care of you. Do that, and god will smile down upon you and grant us victory.”


Her face lit up. “Yes, I will. I’ll be so good god will give me Jerusalem, Eden, and all the honey bread in the world! And then I’ll grow up to be a knight and ride off to slay dragons with you papa!”


Husband and wife both shared a laugh at the absurdity of the idea


They left and Jean returned to his men. He led them forward with a familiar war cry.

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The Crusades begin anew, and once more the kingdom marches off to war to retake Jerusalem.

Isabelle is certainly a precocious little thing :) It will be interesting to see whether she keeps that bright-eyed eagerness as she grows into adulthood.
 
The Crusades begin anew, and once more the kingdom marches off to war to retake Jerusalem.

Isabelle is certainly a precocious little thing :) It will be interesting to see whether she keeps that bright-eyed eagerness as she grows into adulthood.
Yep. Hopefully this goes better than the Fifth Crusade in our timeline. Thanks, I worried I laid the cuteness on too thick. She will definitely remain something of an idealist for years to come.

How old is Isabelle? I fear for anyone living under the rule of UnSavoury!
Isabelle is two/ two and a half years old.

I finished the next chapter. It will be posted tonight or tomorrow morning
 
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Interlude 4
Interlude 4: Cyprus
October 1213

King Hugh of Cyprus smiled. “It’s quite a surprise to see you out here.”


The warm sea wind blew through his lady’s hair as he reached out to embrace her. She smiled at him. “It wasn’t because I missed you. It wasn’t because I wanted to see your face one more time. It is the duty of a Queen to see her king off to war, no matter her condition or the difficulty she encounters. And besides, I think the ocean air will do us some good good.”


She patted the great swell of her belly. She shouldn’t have been out of bed, let alone this far from Nicosia, in her condition. Yet he could not find it in his heart to be angry at his Queen, or their Princess sister, who had no doubt helped concoct the whole scheme.


Hugh smiled and embraced her, instinctively putting a hand on her back to help her stay up. “So you only do this out of duty huh?” Alix smiled and kissed him. “Yes of course, I find you so stupid.” She put a hand on his cheek, looked deep into his eyes and smiled. “My stupid spendthrift sweet hayhead king.”


That was the name she had taken to calling him after he’d had himself crowned in a barn by a humble priest, in his armor as opposed to robes, and in the humble company of his soldiers. Hugh had thought it the godly, and cheap, thing to do, Alix had thought it the stupid thing to do. The name hayhead had come as an insult, but over time morphed into a term of endearment.



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They had started off resenting one another. Alix was the daughter of Queen Isabelle the first of Jerusalem and her second husband, Henri of Champaign. Alix’s father and Hugh’s mother died within a year of one another and she and Hugh’s father, Aimery of Lusigion, had wed in the interest of state. But Aimery’s children, could not help but resent their father for leaving them on Cyprus whilst he spent all his time in Jerusalem with his new family. In hindsight this estrangement had probably helped his marriage.


Hughes’s only living full blooded sibling was off in Epirus, something he regretted. The whole scheme had been a Venetian idea to fashion an alliance of powers to control the sea routs between Europe and the Crusader states. Also, while he loved his sister, Hughes was aware of her flaws. It would have been only a matter of time before she dishonored herself with a squire. She had not appreciated that sentiment, and the two had quarreled ferociously before the marriage.


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Alas Emperor Henri had attacked Epirus first, in revenge for past slights, and Venice had refused to come to her aid. Thankfully Helvis’s imprisonment had been brief. The two of them had been friends in addition to being brother and sister, and he wanted he to give him a reassuring punch on the arm at a time like this. At least she had sent him a letter conveying her continued friendship. Though even that brought grim tidings, Epirus was once again, united with other Orthodox realms to defend the Empire of Nicea’s territory from Seljuk invasion.

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Could it be a scheme to trap the Crusader Army in Anatolia? Regardless, it wasn’t of immediate concern to Hughes.


The second part of his grand design, the part he intended to carry out with our without Venice, would be wedding the little Prince growing in Alix’s belly to Isabelle to unite Cyprus and Jerusalem. Hughes felt certain her father, would try to keep Isabelle under his thumb as long as possible, in order to use her and her kingdom as a puppet to fulfill his own ambitions. The two had met only once, at their joint wedding. They had not gotten along. Jean had been furious over the firing of his thieving Uncle, Hughes’s former regent and brother in law, Gauthier de Montfaucon. Hughes had tried to explain to the man that Garunthier was an unjust craven and a thief, who had been an unworthy husband of his own late beloved sister Bourgone.


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Alas the regent would brook no insult to his kinsman. And when god finally dragged Gauthier off to hell, Jean had his children sent all the way back to their relatives in Europe, instead of Cyprus, which had been their home their entire lives. He put these grand matters out of his head. Hughes would not let Jean of Briene ruin this day for him.


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His half sister, Melesinde, was farther back along the dock, looking away and trying to pretend she hadn’t seen Alix and Hughes kiss and swoon over one another.


Alix turned to her sister and laughed.


“Oh so when some singer talks about kissing his love you swoon but when I embrace my dear husband you look set to vomit.” She shook her head. “Youth”. You are seventeen my love, I am nineteen. They had both had to grow up fast. Melesidne still had some childishness left in her. It annoyed both Hughes and Alix, but they couldn’t help but treasure this part of her nature. It would likely not be around much longer, and Melesinde herself seemed eager to grow up. The reality of that made him want to clutch them both to him to keep them safe. He had lost five siblings, his mother, and his father. He didn’t want to loose anyone else.


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“Melesinde come here.” Hughes opened his arms for a hug. All the girl’s pretend adolescent cynicism fell away as she ran to him, distinctly un lady like. Sometimes the girl’s antics drove him to near madness. Today though she would go unpunished.


She leaped into his arms, sending him stumbling back a few paces. “Easy there, don’t you almost pushed both of us into sea. Now promise to be a good girl and not give the Queen any trouble.” Hughes and Alix had, at different times told her to refer to only one of them as her sibling and the other as the King or Queen, when the two of them were together. Neither relished the reminder that they were step siblings. Papal dispensation or no, it was an unpleasant reality they did their best to avoid being confronted with.


“I promise”, she said, sniffling.


“Good.” He walked back to Alix and rested his hand protectively over her belly. “Are you sure your okay. I will order Spymaster Hélie to make you as comfortable as can be. More so in fact. If so much as a tiny lump on your mattress makes it hard for you to sleep, if your breakfast isn’t cooked just the way you like it, if one tiny thing happens to upset you or make you unhappy, tell me and I’ll put his head on a pike.” He wouldn’t literally threaten to do that to the man, but he would get the idea across. Hughes had something of a temper, which he tried his best to keep under control. He would make it clear to the mayor that if so much as a hair on his wife, or the child she carried was hurt he would severely punish anyone found responsible.


Alix smiled at him. “I talked with the Mayor Hélie. He was very courteous and kind. I will have no trouble with him, nor with any of your other councilors. As I said, I really do think the sea air will do both of us good. I couldn’t stand being cooped up in my room. I confess to being envious of you husband, and my sister Melesinde. You can run and jump and fight all you want. Meanwhile all I can do is lie in bed or waddle about. Our little Prince loves to taunt me on this by kicking and tumbling inside me all day long. If I must suffer so, I would at least like to do it with a good view of the ocean and fresh fish for dinner every night.”

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He tenderly brushed a flowing string of her hair and grinned. “Promise me you will take care of the Kingdom.”


She laughed. “Drat, I was going to raid the royal treasury and spend it all on dresses.”


“Buy all the dresses you like my love. You would be beautiful in anything, even dirty rags, but I know dresses make you happy, and that makes me happy.”


She gave him another kiss. “As my love commands.”


“If our child is a boy name him after my father. He was the greatest King Outremaier saw since the days of Godefroy de Boulogne.


“What if I named him after you? As a cautionary tale of course, a warning not to waste so much money.”


“Well we all have our faults. I confess to caring so much for the sake of my family and Kingdom that I watch over every source of income so that I can acquire enough riches to spend to make them happy.”


“You spend an awful lot, and often quite unwisely.”


He felt the kick of their child as he kissed her. “And are you not the happiest you’ve ever been?”


“Drat, now you’ve got me.”


“Of course I do.” There arms slipped apart and the King turned towards his ship.


“But if I should bear a daughter, what of it then”, she sounded almost upset, like that would make them go back to the way things were before. “Then we’ll love her and treasure her and turn her into the most spoiled Princess in Christendom.”


Alix laughed. “And take that honor from my dear sister Melesinde? I think not.”


They laughed, though Melesinde crossed her arms and made an exaggerated pout.


Alix spoke again. “But what shall we name her.”


Hughes thought for a time. “Name her Eschive, after my mother, I didn’t know her very well, but my brothers and sisters told me of how devoted she was to her husband and children. I would hate to have your mother’s name be the only one that carried down through the generations.”


“Of course my love. And Hughes”


“Yes.”


“Please Please Please, for the love you bear all of us, don’t get yourself killed. I don’t think my heart can bear to loose anyone else.”
 
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