How old is the queen? When she comes of age, can she please punt the pompous bounder that is her daddy into the med?
The Crusader Queen- A Kingdom of Jerusalem AAR
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Good luck with your studies, my semester has also started as well, though thankfully it will be entirely online. Excellent chapter, the victory over the Muslims was an impressive one, and should make the rest of the Crusade run more smoothly. The desertion of the Holy Order, and the souring relations with the King of Cyprus are troubling however, it would seem that Jean's greatest foes are his fellow Christians.
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Best of luck with your studies
The Crusaders have won quite a hard-fought battle, though it does seem to have been a close-run thing -- not the least because they seem almost as eager to fight one another as their supposed enemy. The Lusignan-Hospitaller betrayal will certainly cut deep.
The Crusaders have won quite a hard-fought battle, though it does seem to have been a close-run thing -- not the least because they seem almost as eager to fight one another as their supposed enemy. The Lusignan-Hospitaller betrayal will certainly cut deep.
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FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS I LAY DORMENT!!
Hey everyone and welcome back. I bet you all thought I was never going to post another update. So did I at times. I got distracted and frankly it was hard to get back on the wagon. I wanted to make this chapter something special. However that got in the way of just putting it out.
I'm going to change up my style a bit. First, I'm experimenting with a new format, based on a web novel I've been reading. Tell me if you like it. Secondly, I've decided to finish everything up until the end of the Crusade the normal way. After that I'll convert the story into a half timeline half narrative thread. Isabelle will be the only POV character, unless I feel it really necessary to get a full chapter on someone else. I hope to get the best of both worlds.
Again I am so sorry for the delay.
She is three. I won't spoil anything yet.
Thank you.
The AI really fucked up on this one, as we shall see in later chapters.
In Hughes defense he hasn't accepted anything. And if he does he will do so with the blessing of the Pope and the High Court. As shown in his chapter he doesn't intend for any harm to come to the Queen. While he hasn't had a son yet he will no doubt try for one as soon as he gets back to Cyprus. From there the plan would still be to wed the boy to Isabelle and relink the Kingdoms through marriage.Best of luck with your studies
The Crusaders have won quite a hard-fought battle, though it does seem to have been a close-run thing -- not the least because they seem almost as eager to fight one another as their supposed enemy. The Lusignan-Hospitaller betrayal will certainly cut deep.
Thank you to everyone who wished me luck with my studies. It's funny, people earlier were telling me I needed to zoom in on a few POV characters and that I was loosing focus. That exact same thing happened with my thesis. Hopefully you all won't ditch this thread after I make changes.
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Welcome back!!! You are the Queen and we are your subjects, we will gladly accept any and all morsels you grant us with minimal complaints. Focus is good. Be safe, my Queen and may 2021 be better than 2020.
Chapter 13: April 1214
April 1214
Acre
Acre stank worse than any city Agnes had lived in. It’s brothels, taverns, and dicing dens made a mockery out of the term “Holy Land.” If Palermo was what happened when men of all faiths came together to forge a culture of high refinement and learning, Acre was it’s debauched brother. Here Christian, Muslim, and Jew united to commit acts that would make their poor pious mothers weep.
[Agnes: And yet this city of sinners thinks itself worthy to judge me for the company I keep?]
Two mobs had come before her demanding that she get rid of her cats. The first had been made up of local grandees, clad in fine silk and courtesy. The second had been ragged and angry. Agnes preferred the latter. That one she could order the guards to disperse. Her answer in either case was no. She would not give up friends, no matter how insignificant, to sate the idiotic bloodlust of superstitious nincompoops.
[Raymonde: I don’t think it’s just the fact you keep strange company. You hardly ever see the people of Acre. You’ve held court twice since the capital was moved to this city and you hardly ever socialize with the local grandees. You conduct your counsels in secrecy and spend most of your free time either with Marajil and Mariyumah in the lab or with me in the bath].
Agnes sent a splash of water Raymonde’s way out of irritation.
[Raymonde: You try spending all your time with the wretched Burghers! Besides I don’t see you ever turning down an invitation to bathe!].
[Raymonde laughed: I’m a people pleaser not dead or stupid.]
They both laughed. Raymonde had been born in Jerusalem and known nothing but it’s customs her whole life. Whereas Agnes hailed from the Netherlands, where, like in much of the occident, bathing was frowned upon and viewed as effeminate and weak. Her father had once said that the Lords of Outremer had brought the fall of Jerusalem upon themselves by displeasing god with their love of sinful foreign concepts like bathing.
[Agnes: Sicily gave me a taste of the finer things in life. But I don’t think there have been a people as obsessed with washing themselves since the Romans.].
After all, the very bathhouse where the two women were now relaxing had been of Roman construction.
[Raymonde: It helps a lot with stress, which we’ve had a lot of in recent years. I don’t think I would have survived the last year without them.]
[Agnes: I doubt I could survive a week without them.].
[Raymonde: You will have to get use to governing more than a mere city if you hope to be Empress one day.]
Agnes smirked. Little Queen Isabelle did just fine ruling without a care in the world, though of course those carefree days would soon be at an end. Agnes’s had decided she was grown up at age twelve, the day her mother died, and also the only time she saw her father weep. Isabelle’s mother was already dead, Agnes was the only mother she had known. Would Isabelle grow up when she went away? Agnes sunk further into the warm water and tried to put all troubling thoughts at bay.
The sound of hurried footsteps interrupted the women’s tranquility. Agnes tensed in spite of herself. Something always acquired her attention, and today she just wanted to lie in the warm water and give herself over to sloth. But the door slammed open and she knew that would not be happening. Marayumah ran into the room and slammed the door behind her. She slipped and with a shriek fell into the bath.
Agnes swam over to her. The servant girl lunged from the depths, her hair tumbling over her face. She brushed it aside. Agnes held her with concern as she coughed water from her lungs.
[Marayumah: My lady Agnes, the captain of your guards brings an urgent message.]
[Raymonde: From what I know of De Margot, if he knew we were at a place like this, he wouldn’t hesitate to come himself.]
Bonson De Margot was by her husband’s account a fine soldier. He had accompanied him to the Holy Land as a man at arms and been knighted just prior to the start of the Crusade. However he was well known to have a weakness for women and whenever they conversed it seemed as if he was undressing her with his eyes. She was certain he did so whenever he interacted with Raymonde. And he’d done much more than that with Marayumah. Agnes knew this because her servant had become his bedwarmer and informed her of his every going on. Agnes was not completely blind to the realities of ruling, though even in this case she lacked the ruthlessness to command such things of any women, in this case Marayumah had suggested it herself.
[Marayumah: Knowing me I will probably end up in his bed anyways. The best you could do is get some use out of it.]
The three women got out of the bath and dressed together. Raymonde had lost the weight from her pregnancy and returned to her athletic form. Marayumah looked like the platonic ideal of beauty. The only imperfection Agnes could see in her body were stretch marks across her belly, the same as the ones Raymonde bore. Agnes recalled the conversation they’d had when discussing how she and Marajil would inform on their lovers. Agnes had pronounced herself grateful and swore to pay for the upbringing of any children that resulted, and to allow the women to raise them in whatever faith they chose. Marajil had laughed and said any child would die of shame from having a notorious whore like her for a mother. Marayumah though had been unusually solemn and said [you’d have cared for him better than I ever could.]. She’d then expressed her immense gratitude, before warning Agnes against making such open ended promises.
They were all so loyal, Agnes didn’t deserve them. She could not help but envy Raymonde’s athleticism and feucidity, and Marajil and Marayumah’s beauty and sociability. She needed all of these to reach her goal, and yet lacked them. That must be why God had blessed her with friends to make up for these deficiencies in herself.
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They convened in the private counsel chamber. De Margot’s silks looked ruffled and his hair was clearly dirty. It was as if he had just thrown them on. His intense expression indicated that he had greater concerns than appeases.
{Bonson;“Your Ladyship, I apologize for the inconvenience.”]
His very professionalism put her on edge, so different was it from his usual behavior.
“You could start by telling me what you inconvenienced me about?”
“As you say. We have word from peasants fleeing the countryside.”
[Agnes: I gave instructions that any and all refugees were to be admitted to the city and housed.] There had been raiding all over the county of Acre both before and after the recent battle The subtext of Agnes’s question was and why couldn’t you have dealt with this without dragging me from my bath.
[Bonson: Your ladyship they bring word of a Saracen army heading for Acre. We believe the enemy wishes take the city by storm and have the numbers to do so.]
Agnes’s heart raced.
[Agnes: How many would that be?]
[Bonson: We estimate their strength to be around 9,000. They are probably the part of the Egyptian army that was missing from the main force when your husband defeated them.].
[Agnes: My husband commands far more than 9,000 and every day my father’s army grows closer. If we send word to them, how fast can they get to us?].
[Bonson: They are at most a week away.]
A week. A week was all they’d need.
[Agnes: How many men do we have?]
[Bonson: 500 your ladyship. And to be honest with you most of them aren’t much to boast about. I work with what I have, but the mayor took almost all of the trained men in the city and left me with boys, old men, and useless drunks and cripples.]
[Agnes: I have heard one man on the wall is worth ten underneath. And were our walls not just improved?]
[Bonson; Yes my lady, but some of these men are hardly worth three. Plus even if we had crack troops, that leaves us with 4,000 to deal with. And that is before we get into the issue of controlling the population. At the end of the day it is not the walls who decide things, but the men on them].
[Agnes: Is this the cats issue again? There will be no eating of my friends here, is that understood!].
[Bonson: That will not be necessary. The enemy only has a short window to take the city. Starvation will be no issue. What I worry about is panic. Refugees are already streaming in from the countryside. Add to this the issue of superstition and religion, and you have a combustable mix. The instant any of the clergy here of this they will demand we expel the Muslims and Jews from the city. And the Latins will demand we expel all the other Christian sects as well, just to be safe.]
[Agnes: And you don’t think we should follow their recommendation.]
Bonson shrugged. [I consider myself a realist. Many men claim they are willing to die for their god, few are actually willing to do so. Acre has proven profitable for all it’s residents. If the city falls, even to a “friendly” army, that could be put in jeopardy. Better to cower inside one’s own hovel and greet the “liberators” when they come over the walls than risk anything. Also I happen to believe no man should be punished for a crime he might commit.].
She was finding she liked this Bonson much more than the gruff lecher of a guard captain. She could see a soldierly resolve in him, it remained her of her husband’s best qualities. Jean. His good qualities were few and far between. But she was counting on him.
[Agnes: It appears we are in agreement Sir Bonson. I assume there are further issues to discuss related to the defense.]
Bonson explained to her the layout of the city’s walls and how his men would try, and most likely, fail, to defend them.
[Bonson: Forgive me my lady, but I feel I am not worthy of the burden placed upon me.]
She smiled at him, in recognition. [Agnes: That is a feeling many of us are grappling with right now.]
After she left the council chamber the first person she talked to was Raymonde. Her friend deserved to find out what was happening before the others.
[Raymonde: Well the city has five hundred and one defenders now. I can’t see how different shooting Saracens can be from shooting pheasants.] Agnes smiled, leave it to Raymonde to say something so stupid and brave. Bonson would of course object, but Agnes already knew how she would dissuade him. Raymonde had proven popular with the people by patronizing widows, orphans, and destitute pilgrims. Every day when she rode from the keep she’d be beseeched by pleading hands, and she would take the time to pull a coin out and press it into each and every one of them, no matter how unwashed. Raymonde had always had a charitable side, but Agnes couldn’t help wonder if this extra generosity wasn’t motivated but he knowledge that the father of her son and once been amongst the vast hordes of unwashed that populated most of the world. The people, the soldiers, would cheer for Raymonde, as they never would for Agnes.
Next she went to the chapel to pray.
God, if you bring my husband to you I will forever be your faithful servant. I will lay with him every night and give him children whenever you provide, as is my duty. I will forever be a true and loving wife, mother, and daughter. I will put this over all other worldly ambitions of mine. Please god preserve me, preserve this city, and preserve the ones I love, Amen.
She spent the entire day in devotion, skipping dinner as a small fast. She could not be certain if anyone had heard her plea.
The vanguard of the enemy army encamped outside the city the next day. Bonson told her they flew the standard of Egypt and it’s vassal, the Sheikdom of Jeresh. A messenger was sent requesting to enter the city to negotiate it’s surrender.
[Bonson: Our best bet is to buy for time.]
[Agnes: So we should accept their offer without preconditions?]
[Bonson: I wouldn’t go that far. We can’t let them inside the walls. If they see how weak we are they will attack, and all will be lost.].
[Agnes: So we should treat with them under the walls?]
[Bonson: My thoughts exactly. Though when you say we I assume you mean us, as in the defenders. Respectfully, negotiations like this are no place for a lady.].
[Agnes: Do you honestly feel they are a suitable place for you?]
[Bonson: As I said, I find myself overwhelmed by the gravity of the task.]
[Agnes: Then I see no reason why I should be excluded from the negotiations. My husband appointed me to rule this city and this kingdom in his absence, and that is what I intend to do.].
They rode out the city gates under guard from four knights. Above them flew the colors of Jerusalem and Acre. Agnes was vailed and wearing a cape adorned with the sigils of both her husband and her father. Since neither of them spoke Arabic, Marajil would act as translator. And since Bonson did not trust her, he insisted on brining on his own translator, a Venetian merchant.
The Saracens rode close to the walls, with seemingly no fear of any treachery on the part of the defenders. Above them flew the banners of Jeresh and Egypt.
It was quickly established that the merchant would conduct direct dialogue with the Saracen negotiators. They would treat with a high born woman, but a low born was out of the question, even if she shared their religion. The meeting opened with a speech from the enemy Sheikh,
[Marajil: He says it was very brave for a woman to treat with him. He praises your virtue and courage, while noting that it is a pity your husband was not around to protect you.]
Agnes was going to say something when de Margot shot back. “Tell him I protect her.” The translator spoke as bid. One of the Emir’s soldiers said something and laughed while the man himself did his best to maintain composure, but could not help but make a small smile.
“What was that?”,asked de Margot.
[Translator: Nothing sir, nothing worth troubling the lady’s ears with.]
Agnes scowled and thought this is exactly whey I brought Marajil along. She was a married woman, appointed to govern a city in her husband’s stead. Surely words could not wound her, especially if she couldn’t even understand them? Still it felt bad to be left out and mocked behind her back.
The Sheikh spoke again. His voice was menacing.
[Marajil: He says he has five thousand men with him now and many more on the way.]
The translators face was noticeably paler.
[Marajil: He says your husband has been defeated in battle, along with all the power of Outremear. The Kings of Europe may be coming to help you, but they will be too late. Luckily for you, the Sheikh is more merciful than your Frankish menfolk. If you surrender, you will be allowed to leave the city, along with your servants.]
Jean, defeated? Her heart raced. She did not love the man. On some days she had struggled even to like him. But he was still her lord husband and she could not help but feel some concern for him. Far more importantly, he was her benefactor and protector, her partner in her ambitions, and the fulcrum on which her fate now drifted. If his army was lost, than so was Acre.
Agnes wondered if the Emir considered her father’s Empire to be part of Outremaer. She wanted to ask him, but if he didn’t know about the army marching down the coast, it might tip him off. She looked to de Margot. His jaw was firm and his eyes were facing forward. That settled it. It seems I truly am too stubborn for my own good.
[Agnes: Tell the Emir that we will not yield Acre without a fight.] The translator conveyed their words to the Emir. He shook his head and looked at them with a rueful, sad look in his eyes. He spoke some words, but the translator did not bother to convey there meaning. It was clear where things now stood.
As they rode back she asked Marajil what the men had been laughing about. [Marajil: He said that Bonson was trying to play the role of husband but really better suited to a place in your harem.]
[Agnes: Oh. I guess I should thank them for the compliment].
[Marajil: What do you intend to do now?]
[Agnes: Pray. What of you?]
[Marajil: Scrub floors…and pray.]
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“I want go fast like horsee!”, the little Queen demanded as the litter wound it’s way through Acre’s streets.
[Agnes: If you are good I’ll let Raymonde take you on another ride. But remember what we talked about?]
Isabelle nodded solemly. [Isabelle: Be quiet and brave. Do not speak unless spoken to. Touch the knights. Tell them they are heroes and that God is watching them. Then we will pray].
[Agnes: Very good.]. Agnes couldn’t resist hugging the little girl tight. It was a big thing to ask of someone so little, but it was all Agnes could think to do to boos the flagging morale of the army. The idea had come to her when she was deep in prayer. Isabelle had been in the chapel as well. At three years old she was already impressing the Court Chaplain with her piety. It was an especially odd thing for such a rowdy child. Ever cynical Marayumah and suggested the two behaviors came from the same source.
[Marayumah: She misses her father and feels alone and unloved. So on the one hand she acts out in hopes of getting adult attention. On the other she draws closer to the only father figure left who she believes will always lover her and have time for her. It’s an experience I am intimately familiar with].
Whatever it was, the sight of this little child with perfect calm composure reciting liturgy moved her, and it reminded her of the way the destitute looked at Raymonde, as a divine miracle come down to grant them salvation. Seeing the ramshackle state of Acre’s defenders they had to be as desperate as starving urchins.
They disembarked in the shadow of the walls. In front of them were arrayed a group of soldiers. Their was armor caked in dust. They stared at her. Isabelle stared back with her big brown eyes and a curious look on her face. Isabelle squinted back at them. “You are wearing armor. It is very dirty dirty.”
Dear God what have I done!, thought Agnes.
[Isabelle: Papa keeps me safe. But Papa away. Will you keep me safe?]. By God this little one’s a born orator.
[Yes of course]
[Every man here would die for you your Grace.].
Isabelle frowned anxiously. [Isabelle: Oh don’t do that! God is watching over us and I know he will keep us safe. God is watching us and he knows if we are good or bad. I am scared of lots of things. But hell scares me the most. And it lasts forever.].
[God is with us!]. Them cheered. Someone shouted Deus Vult!
[Isabelle: All of you are heroes! God bless you!]
The touch of a monarch was said to bring healing or good luck, and Agnes saw their spirits lift. They seemed to find her expression dignified, serene even. Agnes of course knew that she was merely contemplating the feel and look of the armor the men worse. But men often saw what they wanted to see, and these knights saw a child Queen blessed by god, and not a curious, if spoiled, little girl who only barely knew what was going on.
They kneeled in prayer. And for the first time Agnes was sure God would not forsake them.
[Isabelle: Can I go up on the walls and see the bad people?]
It would probably be prudent to deny this request. But Agnes was too swept up in the moment to care. She climbed the steps of the wall with the men and boosted Isabelle up to let her peak over.
[Isabelle: Why are they marching away?]
That can’t be right, thought Agnes. But it was. Others began to notice as well. The enemy army seemed much smaller than both the Sheikh’s claims and the observations of men on the walls had led Agnes to believe.
Perhaps their were more of them hiding behind the hills? They began to array for battle, with no sign of any reinforcements. Trumpets blew and the defenders scrambled to their stations. And yet when the Saracens marched they headed away from the walls.
From the heights crested a sea of banners. They were massive, there was no way she could see the insignias from the city otherwise.
The Sigil of Antioch
Tripoli
The Knights Hospitler
The Knights Templar
Cyprus
And the duchy of Massa
Leading them was the standard of her father, the Emperor.
And amidst the fray was the royal banner of Jerusalem. [Isabelle: Papa! Papa! Papa! Papa!] She wiggled in Agnes’s arms such that she worried she would loose her grip on the girl. Agnes pulled her back from the walls, but it would not stop her cheering. The men joined her in crying out in jubilation.
For their King, for the King of Cyprus, for the Poltiers brothers. And most of all for the coat of arms of her father, the Latin Emperor.
The vast tide of the Christian army tore through the besieging force like wet paper. The battle was over in a scant half hour. Agnes’s heart rose. This was a miracle. A true miracle.
Note: The picture spoilers that I will eventually make Bonson a baron and give him a wife. He does not have these things as of 1214.
Acre
Acre stank worse than any city Agnes had lived in. It’s brothels, taverns, and dicing dens made a mockery out of the term “Holy Land.” If Palermo was what happened when men of all faiths came together to forge a culture of high refinement and learning, Acre was it’s debauched brother. Here Christian, Muslim, and Jew united to commit acts that would make their poor pious mothers weep.
[Agnes: And yet this city of sinners thinks itself worthy to judge me for the company I keep?]
Two mobs had come before her demanding that she get rid of her cats. The first had been made up of local grandees, clad in fine silk and courtesy. The second had been ragged and angry. Agnes preferred the latter. That one she could order the guards to disperse. Her answer in either case was no. She would not give up friends, no matter how insignificant, to sate the idiotic bloodlust of superstitious nincompoops.
[Raymonde: I don’t think it’s just the fact you keep strange company. You hardly ever see the people of Acre. You’ve held court twice since the capital was moved to this city and you hardly ever socialize with the local grandees. You conduct your counsels in secrecy and spend most of your free time either with Marajil and Mariyumah in the lab or with me in the bath].
Agnes sent a splash of water Raymonde’s way out of irritation.
[Raymonde: You try spending all your time with the wretched Burghers! Besides I don’t see you ever turning down an invitation to bathe!].
[Raymonde laughed: I’m a people pleaser not dead or stupid.]
They both laughed. Raymonde had been born in Jerusalem and known nothing but it’s customs her whole life. Whereas Agnes hailed from the Netherlands, where, like in much of the occident, bathing was frowned upon and viewed as effeminate and weak. Her father had once said that the Lords of Outremer had brought the fall of Jerusalem upon themselves by displeasing god with their love of sinful foreign concepts like bathing.
[Agnes: Sicily gave me a taste of the finer things in life. But I don’t think there have been a people as obsessed with washing themselves since the Romans.].
After all, the very bathhouse where the two women were now relaxing had been of Roman construction.
[Raymonde: It helps a lot with stress, which we’ve had a lot of in recent years. I don’t think I would have survived the last year without them.]
[Agnes: I doubt I could survive a week without them.].
[Raymonde: You will have to get use to governing more than a mere city if you hope to be Empress one day.]
Agnes smirked. Little Queen Isabelle did just fine ruling without a care in the world, though of course those carefree days would soon be at an end. Agnes’s had decided she was grown up at age twelve, the day her mother died, and also the only time she saw her father weep. Isabelle’s mother was already dead, Agnes was the only mother she had known. Would Isabelle grow up when she went away? Agnes sunk further into the warm water and tried to put all troubling thoughts at bay.
The sound of hurried footsteps interrupted the women’s tranquility. Agnes tensed in spite of herself. Something always acquired her attention, and today she just wanted to lie in the warm water and give herself over to sloth. But the door slammed open and she knew that would not be happening. Marayumah ran into the room and slammed the door behind her. She slipped and with a shriek fell into the bath.
Agnes swam over to her. The servant girl lunged from the depths, her hair tumbling over her face. She brushed it aside. Agnes held her with concern as she coughed water from her lungs.
[Marayumah: My lady Agnes, the captain of your guards brings an urgent message.]
[Raymonde: From what I know of De Margot, if he knew we were at a place like this, he wouldn’t hesitate to come himself.]
Bonson De Margot was by her husband’s account a fine soldier. He had accompanied him to the Holy Land as a man at arms and been knighted just prior to the start of the Crusade. However he was well known to have a weakness for women and whenever they conversed it seemed as if he was undressing her with his eyes. She was certain he did so whenever he interacted with Raymonde. And he’d done much more than that with Marayumah. Agnes knew this because her servant had become his bedwarmer and informed her of his every going on. Agnes was not completely blind to the realities of ruling, though even in this case she lacked the ruthlessness to command such things of any women, in this case Marayumah had suggested it herself.
[Marayumah: Knowing me I will probably end up in his bed anyways. The best you could do is get some use out of it.]
The three women got out of the bath and dressed together. Raymonde had lost the weight from her pregnancy and returned to her athletic form. Marayumah looked like the platonic ideal of beauty. The only imperfection Agnes could see in her body were stretch marks across her belly, the same as the ones Raymonde bore. Agnes recalled the conversation they’d had when discussing how she and Marajil would inform on their lovers. Agnes had pronounced herself grateful and swore to pay for the upbringing of any children that resulted, and to allow the women to raise them in whatever faith they chose. Marajil had laughed and said any child would die of shame from having a notorious whore like her for a mother. Marayumah though had been unusually solemn and said [you’d have cared for him better than I ever could.]. She’d then expressed her immense gratitude, before warning Agnes against making such open ended promises.
They were all so loyal, Agnes didn’t deserve them. She could not help but envy Raymonde’s athleticism and feucidity, and Marajil and Marayumah’s beauty and sociability. She needed all of these to reach her goal, and yet lacked them. That must be why God had blessed her with friends to make up for these deficiencies in herself.
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They convened in the private counsel chamber. De Margot’s silks looked ruffled and his hair was clearly dirty. It was as if he had just thrown them on. His intense expression indicated that he had greater concerns than appeases.
{Bonson;“Your Ladyship, I apologize for the inconvenience.”]
His very professionalism put her on edge, so different was it from his usual behavior.
“You could start by telling me what you inconvenienced me about?”
“As you say. We have word from peasants fleeing the countryside.”
[Agnes: I gave instructions that any and all refugees were to be admitted to the city and housed.] There had been raiding all over the county of Acre both before and after the recent battle The subtext of Agnes’s question was and why couldn’t you have dealt with this without dragging me from my bath.
[Bonson: Your ladyship they bring word of a Saracen army heading for Acre. We believe the enemy wishes take the city by storm and have the numbers to do so.]
Agnes’s heart raced.
[Agnes: How many would that be?]
[Bonson: We estimate their strength to be around 9,000. They are probably the part of the Egyptian army that was missing from the main force when your husband defeated them.].
[Agnes: My husband commands far more than 9,000 and every day my father’s army grows closer. If we send word to them, how fast can they get to us?].
[Bonson: They are at most a week away.]
A week. A week was all they’d need.
[Agnes: How many men do we have?]
[Bonson: 500 your ladyship. And to be honest with you most of them aren’t much to boast about. I work with what I have, but the mayor took almost all of the trained men in the city and left me with boys, old men, and useless drunks and cripples.]
[Agnes: I have heard one man on the wall is worth ten underneath. And were our walls not just improved?]
[Bonson; Yes my lady, but some of these men are hardly worth three. Plus even if we had crack troops, that leaves us with 4,000 to deal with. And that is before we get into the issue of controlling the population. At the end of the day it is not the walls who decide things, but the men on them].
[Agnes: Is this the cats issue again? There will be no eating of my friends here, is that understood!].
[Bonson: That will not be necessary. The enemy only has a short window to take the city. Starvation will be no issue. What I worry about is panic. Refugees are already streaming in from the countryside. Add to this the issue of superstition and religion, and you have a combustable mix. The instant any of the clergy here of this they will demand we expel the Muslims and Jews from the city. And the Latins will demand we expel all the other Christian sects as well, just to be safe.]
[Agnes: And you don’t think we should follow their recommendation.]
Bonson shrugged. [I consider myself a realist. Many men claim they are willing to die for their god, few are actually willing to do so. Acre has proven profitable for all it’s residents. If the city falls, even to a “friendly” army, that could be put in jeopardy. Better to cower inside one’s own hovel and greet the “liberators” when they come over the walls than risk anything. Also I happen to believe no man should be punished for a crime he might commit.].
She was finding she liked this Bonson much more than the gruff lecher of a guard captain. She could see a soldierly resolve in him, it remained her of her husband’s best qualities. Jean. His good qualities were few and far between. But she was counting on him.
[Agnes: It appears we are in agreement Sir Bonson. I assume there are further issues to discuss related to the defense.]
Bonson explained to her the layout of the city’s walls and how his men would try, and most likely, fail, to defend them.
[Bonson: Forgive me my lady, but I feel I am not worthy of the burden placed upon me.]
She smiled at him, in recognition. [Agnes: That is a feeling many of us are grappling with right now.]
After she left the council chamber the first person she talked to was Raymonde. Her friend deserved to find out what was happening before the others.
[Raymonde: Well the city has five hundred and one defenders now. I can’t see how different shooting Saracens can be from shooting pheasants.] Agnes smiled, leave it to Raymonde to say something so stupid and brave. Bonson would of course object, but Agnes already knew how she would dissuade him. Raymonde had proven popular with the people by patronizing widows, orphans, and destitute pilgrims. Every day when she rode from the keep she’d be beseeched by pleading hands, and she would take the time to pull a coin out and press it into each and every one of them, no matter how unwashed. Raymonde had always had a charitable side, but Agnes couldn’t help wonder if this extra generosity wasn’t motivated but he knowledge that the father of her son and once been amongst the vast hordes of unwashed that populated most of the world. The people, the soldiers, would cheer for Raymonde, as they never would for Agnes.
Next she went to the chapel to pray.
God, if you bring my husband to you I will forever be your faithful servant. I will lay with him every night and give him children whenever you provide, as is my duty. I will forever be a true and loving wife, mother, and daughter. I will put this over all other worldly ambitions of mine. Please god preserve me, preserve this city, and preserve the ones I love, Amen.
She spent the entire day in devotion, skipping dinner as a small fast. She could not be certain if anyone had heard her plea.
The vanguard of the enemy army encamped outside the city the next day. Bonson told her they flew the standard of Egypt and it’s vassal, the Sheikdom of Jeresh. A messenger was sent requesting to enter the city to negotiate it’s surrender.
[Bonson: Our best bet is to buy for time.]
[Agnes: So we should accept their offer without preconditions?]
[Bonson: I wouldn’t go that far. We can’t let them inside the walls. If they see how weak we are they will attack, and all will be lost.].
[Agnes: So we should treat with them under the walls?]
[Bonson: My thoughts exactly. Though when you say we I assume you mean us, as in the defenders. Respectfully, negotiations like this are no place for a lady.].
[Agnes: Do you honestly feel they are a suitable place for you?]
[Bonson: As I said, I find myself overwhelmed by the gravity of the task.]
[Agnes: Then I see no reason why I should be excluded from the negotiations. My husband appointed me to rule this city and this kingdom in his absence, and that is what I intend to do.].
They rode out the city gates under guard from four knights. Above them flew the colors of Jerusalem and Acre. Agnes was vailed and wearing a cape adorned with the sigils of both her husband and her father. Since neither of them spoke Arabic, Marajil would act as translator. And since Bonson did not trust her, he insisted on brining on his own translator, a Venetian merchant.
The Saracens rode close to the walls, with seemingly no fear of any treachery on the part of the defenders. Above them flew the banners of Jeresh and Egypt.
It was quickly established that the merchant would conduct direct dialogue with the Saracen negotiators. They would treat with a high born woman, but a low born was out of the question, even if she shared their religion. The meeting opened with a speech from the enemy Sheikh,
[Marajil: He says it was very brave for a woman to treat with him. He praises your virtue and courage, while noting that it is a pity your husband was not around to protect you.]
Agnes was going to say something when de Margot shot back. “Tell him I protect her.” The translator spoke as bid. One of the Emir’s soldiers said something and laughed while the man himself did his best to maintain composure, but could not help but make a small smile.
“What was that?”,asked de Margot.
[Translator: Nothing sir, nothing worth troubling the lady’s ears with.]
Agnes scowled and thought this is exactly whey I brought Marajil along. She was a married woman, appointed to govern a city in her husband’s stead. Surely words could not wound her, especially if she couldn’t even understand them? Still it felt bad to be left out and mocked behind her back.
The Sheikh spoke again. His voice was menacing.
[Marajil: He says he has five thousand men with him now and many more on the way.]
The translators face was noticeably paler.
[Marajil: He says your husband has been defeated in battle, along with all the power of Outremear. The Kings of Europe may be coming to help you, but they will be too late. Luckily for you, the Sheikh is more merciful than your Frankish menfolk. If you surrender, you will be allowed to leave the city, along with your servants.]
Jean, defeated? Her heart raced. She did not love the man. On some days she had struggled even to like him. But he was still her lord husband and she could not help but feel some concern for him. Far more importantly, he was her benefactor and protector, her partner in her ambitions, and the fulcrum on which her fate now drifted. If his army was lost, than so was Acre.
Agnes wondered if the Emir considered her father’s Empire to be part of Outremaer. She wanted to ask him, but if he didn’t know about the army marching down the coast, it might tip him off. She looked to de Margot. His jaw was firm and his eyes were facing forward. That settled it. It seems I truly am too stubborn for my own good.
[Agnes: Tell the Emir that we will not yield Acre without a fight.] The translator conveyed their words to the Emir. He shook his head and looked at them with a rueful, sad look in his eyes. He spoke some words, but the translator did not bother to convey there meaning. It was clear where things now stood.
As they rode back she asked Marajil what the men had been laughing about. [Marajil: He said that Bonson was trying to play the role of husband but really better suited to a place in your harem.]
[Agnes: Oh. I guess I should thank them for the compliment].
[Marajil: What do you intend to do now?]
[Agnes: Pray. What of you?]
[Marajil: Scrub floors…and pray.]
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“I want go fast like horsee!”, the little Queen demanded as the litter wound it’s way through Acre’s streets.
[Agnes: If you are good I’ll let Raymonde take you on another ride. But remember what we talked about?]
Isabelle nodded solemly. [Isabelle: Be quiet and brave. Do not speak unless spoken to. Touch the knights. Tell them they are heroes and that God is watching them. Then we will pray].
[Agnes: Very good.]. Agnes couldn’t resist hugging the little girl tight. It was a big thing to ask of someone so little, but it was all Agnes could think to do to boos the flagging morale of the army. The idea had come to her when she was deep in prayer. Isabelle had been in the chapel as well. At three years old she was already impressing the Court Chaplain with her piety. It was an especially odd thing for such a rowdy child. Ever cynical Marayumah and suggested the two behaviors came from the same source.
[Marayumah: She misses her father and feels alone and unloved. So on the one hand she acts out in hopes of getting adult attention. On the other she draws closer to the only father figure left who she believes will always lover her and have time for her. It’s an experience I am intimately familiar with].
Whatever it was, the sight of this little child with perfect calm composure reciting liturgy moved her, and it reminded her of the way the destitute looked at Raymonde, as a divine miracle come down to grant them salvation. Seeing the ramshackle state of Acre’s defenders they had to be as desperate as starving urchins.
They disembarked in the shadow of the walls. In front of them were arrayed a group of soldiers. Their was armor caked in dust. They stared at her. Isabelle stared back with her big brown eyes and a curious look on her face. Isabelle squinted back at them. “You are wearing armor. It is very dirty dirty.”
Dear God what have I done!, thought Agnes.
[Isabelle: Papa keeps me safe. But Papa away. Will you keep me safe?]. By God this little one’s a born orator.
[Yes of course]
[Every man here would die for you your Grace.].
Isabelle frowned anxiously. [Isabelle: Oh don’t do that! God is watching over us and I know he will keep us safe. God is watching us and he knows if we are good or bad. I am scared of lots of things. But hell scares me the most. And it lasts forever.].
[God is with us!]. Them cheered. Someone shouted Deus Vult!
[Isabelle: All of you are heroes! God bless you!]
The touch of a monarch was said to bring healing or good luck, and Agnes saw their spirits lift. They seemed to find her expression dignified, serene even. Agnes of course knew that she was merely contemplating the feel and look of the armor the men worse. But men often saw what they wanted to see, and these knights saw a child Queen blessed by god, and not a curious, if spoiled, little girl who only barely knew what was going on.
They kneeled in prayer. And for the first time Agnes was sure God would not forsake them.
[Isabelle: Can I go up on the walls and see the bad people?]
It would probably be prudent to deny this request. But Agnes was too swept up in the moment to care. She climbed the steps of the wall with the men and boosted Isabelle up to let her peak over.
[Isabelle: Why are they marching away?]
That can’t be right, thought Agnes. But it was. Others began to notice as well. The enemy army seemed much smaller than both the Sheikh’s claims and the observations of men on the walls had led Agnes to believe.
Perhaps their were more of them hiding behind the hills? They began to array for battle, with no sign of any reinforcements. Trumpets blew and the defenders scrambled to their stations. And yet when the Saracens marched they headed away from the walls.
From the heights crested a sea of banners. They were massive, there was no way she could see the insignias from the city otherwise.
The Sigil of Antioch
Tripoli
The Knights Hospitler
The Knights Templar
Cyprus
And the duchy of Massa
Leading them was the standard of her father, the Emperor.
And amidst the fray was the royal banner of Jerusalem. [Isabelle: Papa! Papa! Papa! Papa!] She wiggled in Agnes’s arms such that she worried she would loose her grip on the girl. Agnes pulled her back from the walls, but it would not stop her cheering. The men joined her in crying out in jubilation.
For their King, for the King of Cyprus, for the Poltiers brothers. And most of all for the coat of arms of her father, the Latin Emperor.
The vast tide of the Christian army tore through the besieging force like wet paper. The battle was over in a scant half hour. Agnes’s heart rose. This was a miracle. A true miracle.
Note: The picture spoilers that I will eventually make Bonson a baron and give him a wife. He does not have these things as of 1214.
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Glad to have you back
I didn't expect you two to reply so fast. I am genuinely touched by your compassion and patience.
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Great things come to those who wait! This may be your best chapter! Why do I like Agnes and Isabella better than Jean? Nice try Sheikh, but no one bit on your bluff. Welcome back and please be safe!
Jean is a proud, envious, and deeply insecure man. That drives much of who he is, along with a sizable dose of peity and determination to uphold his understanding of the code of chivalry. Beneath all that he is suprisingly vulnerable and caring caring. Just look on how he longs for his marriage to Maria, even if that is to a certain extent loving a shadow. Look at how he tries to reach out to Agnes, or the last time he holds Isabelle. He can't bring himself to be vulerable because of his pride, and his envy causes him to lash out at others he perceives as having a better lot than him, be it friend or foe.
Thank you for your compliment. Did you like the new text style?
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New Style is wonderful. I thought that Jean was a vain glory seeker who would sell out his wife and daughter for a title (Barony or Emperorship, any title would be good).
Chapter 13 Part 2
April 1214 (Part 2)
Acre
The Crusading army entered Acre like a Roman Legion in triumph. At it’s head was the Emperor, Agnes’s father, Henri. Even though he had shipped her off to be married to a man she could not love, a man far below her social station, she realized she still cared for him and that deep down she still thought of him as her hero. Agnes remembered her childhood, when he would pick her up and spin her and call her “la mia piccola bellezza”, a reference to her mother’s Italian heritage. The Crusade for Constantinople had changed him. I should have prayed that when I saw him again he would be the man who left Flanders in 1201 and not the man I met in Constantinople.
By her father’s side was a visage she could remember just as well, albeit with much less fondness, her uncle, Godefried. He was a mean man with a curt manner and eyes that seemed possessed by demons. Agnes had been afraid of him since she was little, and he had seemed to relish inspiring those feelings in his little niece. The passing of years had not lessened those feelings.
Behind them rode her husband, and after him the King of Cyprus, and after them the leaders of the other Crusading forces. King Hughes was waving to the cheering crowd, with a bright smile on his face. Jean also performed the part of the conquering hero, but she had been married to Jean long enough to know what he would really be thinking. His pride would be wounded by riding behind the Emperor and at the side of the King of Cyprus. He wouldn’t see that her father was trying to show the rank of each of the Crusader states. As far as her envious husband would be concerned it could be nothing less than a slight to deny him the leading role at the procession through his own city. Irritation bubbled up within her. Why couldn’t he understand that others had concerns beyond sabotaging him. That they did not experience triumph joy or love specifically to rub his nose in there absence from his life.
But then Agnes remembered her vow. True it had been her father’s army that had proven decisive, the royal levee not having up even made half of the Crusading host, but Agnes did not wish to risk divine disfavor by breaking her vow. At the very least she would try to be everything her husband wanted in a wife, and see how he reacted.
The procession stopped just in front of the Cathedral of the Holy Cross. Isabelle stood in front of the Church, with Raymonde on one side and Sir Bonson de Margot on the other. Isabelle clutched at her stepmother’s dress, rocking herself in place out of sheer excitement.
All eyes were on her. Agnes’s heart raced. She sucked in a breath, and spoke. “Soldiers of Christ. We must thank the Lord God for sending you as the instrument of our salvation.” Her Uncle smirked. “And as an instrument of death to these sand dwelling rabble.” Agnes decided not to address his rudeness. Instead she thanked each of the leaders of the Crusade individually, making extra sure to emphasize her dutiful love for both her father and husband. Jean seemed especially pleased by all the flattery. Hopefully he would be appreciative and pay more consideration to her needs. She hadn’t given him a son, but she had helped saved his kingdom. Surely that would count for something even with a grouch like Jean.
It was remarkable that Agnes had been able to control her nerves over the course of the day. What was even more remarkable was that young Isabelle was able to contain her excitement for the sake of public decorum. Admittedly Agnes aided in this by softly cuffing the Queen on her head whenever she became too hyper active. Still she couldn’t help but be proud of the little girl. For a girl of three years old she had done much better than some other rulers would have done in the same situation, and this was after her remarkable display of maturity earlier in the day. Agnes was beginning to wonder if the Queen had not been directly sent by God to save the Holy Land. Whatever the case, Agnes felt the girl was marked for greatness.
However all of the Queen’s restraint vanished as soon as they returned to the palace. Isabelle rushed towards her father who picked her up in his arms. He held her with awkward tenderness, like a delicate piece of glass he was afraid of dropping. “Did you pray for my return little one?”
Isabelle smiled and wiggled around in his arms. “I did I did! I was a very good Queen! And God smiled down on us and granted us victory! Just like you said!” Jean smiled and kissed her head. “Yes he did sweet one. You have done both me and your mother proud keeping the city strong and loyal until I could drive and drive the Saracens out of these lands.”
King Hughes interrupted this tender moment with a distractingly loud cough. “Far be it for me to intrude on your happy reunion, but one would do well not to forget the other valiant men who took part in this battle. Of course I claim only a small role in this for myself.”
Jean turned away from the girl and towards Hughes, his expression filled with malice. “If you wish to boast have the decency to do so as a man instead of hiding behind a façade of humility.”
Henri shrugged. “I am simply following the teachings of the Church. Pride and envy are sins, ones I have always been keen to avoid. God rewards this. My family grows. My real prospers from both foreign trade and domestic production, and as you have seen my armies are victorious in every battle they fight.”
“Your realm may prosper further if It’s sovereign sticks to cultivating his own garden and does. Not seek to take what does not belong to him.” If a snarling dog could talk it would have sounded much like her husband.
Hughes’s’ response bore a tone of icy courtesy. “You accuse me of evasiveness, yet choose to hide the meaning of your own words. If you are trying to say something just say it. If you would like me to be out of your affairs just say the word and I will take my men home. I am not so vain as to impose myself where I am not wanted. Say the word and I will take my men and get back on the boat to Cyprus, though I'm sure a good number of your daughter's liegemen would wish to travel with me."
The Emperor, glared at both of them. “Are you two going to continue sniping at each other like small children? No, that would be an insult to the actual small child standing before us, who has conducted herself with the dignity and grace befitting of a monarch. The both of you could learn something from her.”
The men ceased their quarreling for the time being. The Emperor outranked them both and his success on the battlefield had silenced any doubts as to his worthiness to hold such rank.
Isabelle paid little attention to the quarrels of the adults. She was more interested in finally meeting another reigning sovereign, and to ask after her Aunt Alix.
“I’ve always wanted to have another Queen for a friend. My auntie is the type of Queen who doesn’t get to do anything, not even set her own bedtime. I am Queen in my own right, so when we play together I get to tell her what to do.”
Hughes laughed. “And what pray tell will you do with your own husband?”
“I’ll do everything myself”, Isabelle spoke with the confidence of a small child.
Agnes’s father, the Emperor, shook his head. “That is impossible. And being a monarch isn’t all about fun little one. Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to for the sake of others. And sometimes doing the right thing hurts.” Agnes wondered if her father was referring to his decision to wed her to Jean.
Isabelle was still undaunted. “I’ll do it anyways. I’ll fix everything all by myself and be the best Queen there ever was”
Hughes sighed “That’s an awful weight to put on such little shoulders. You will need somebody to help you. Somebody who will love and protect you and care for your kingdom.”
Jean, naturally, took the King of Cyprus’s words in the worse way possible. “Her family and counselors can provide the Queen all the help she needs”, he said through gritted teeth.
“Are we not family?” Hughes spoke as if he was merely restating a fact. His wife was, after all, Isabelle’s aunt.
“She’s already betrothed”, Jean said with a soldier’s bluntness.
“All of this talk is wasteful. The Pope and myself will decide the fate of these Kingdoms. And we will not make our decision until after Jerusalem is retaken. Is that clear?” Her father was just as blunt and angry as Jean.
The Emperor’s wroth was a terrible sight, and the two monarchs found themselves overcome by it. They once again swallowed their pride and submitted to the Emperor’s will.
It was at this moment that Prince Bohemond interjected himself. “If you will pardon my intrusion into your royal quarrels, the army has had a long march and just won a great victory. This deserves a celebration. A feat they will sing of for the ages!”
Agnes wanted to tell him that this was the last thing she wanted. After having helped rally a city and performed her public duties, all she wanted to do was go somewhere where she would not have to see people for the rest of the day. But she knew that doing so would diminish her dignity and that of her husband.
Salvation would come from the most unlikely of places, her father. “That is a splendid idea. I am sure my daughter would be honored to host. However in terms of readying the great hall, Agnes might their be someone you could entrust preparations to? I wish to speak with my daughter in private, with her husband’s permission of course” He turned to Jean.
Jean smiled a little too broadly. “It would be a great hypocrisy on my part to interrupt the reunion between father and daughter.”
“Splendid! The lady Grenier is first amongst my ladies. She has proven herself more than capable in my service. I believe she is in her chambers with Sir Alphonse and their child.” That or Alphonse alone, but Agnes did not mean to embarrass her friend by discussing such things in the company of men.
Jean ordered one of his runners to fetch the couple.
Meanwhile Agnes went with her father and little Queen Isabelle to a sitting room. Old Griffon started rubbing against her leg. Agnes picked him up and placed him on her lap. Scratching him behind the ears calmed her nerves, and was greatly pleasing to the old feline.
Her father made disgusted face and pushed the wine away “Local fair? I see you are settling in to your new home.”
Agnes weighed her words carefully. “It was difficult to find myself in a new land. The food and drink took some getting used to. But it was the people I met who truly gave me comfort. She thought of Raymonde’s first few acts of charity, her loyal servants, her trusty cats
“And I am to assume one of them was your husband?” Her father spoke in a tone that indicated he did not believe this to be true.
Agnes must have made some sort of tick to indicate to him that this was not true. She reminded herself that Jean’s future was her future. And that she must fight for that future.
“My husband has always been dutiful and chivalrous. He means well and does his best to treat me tenderly. Alas he is the type of man for whom such expressions are difficult.”
“There are days where I wished to impale the man.”
“Please don’t”, she said quickly and in a deadpan style. Her father’s voice sounded more tired than anything else, but Agnes didn’t want to take the slightest misunderstanding happening between her father and husband. Such a clash would surely spell ruin for her.
The Emperor held up his hands in a gesture of surender. “Oh don’t get me wrong, he’s a good soldier. And a pious man. You don’t have to worry about him taking to the bottle or seeking comfort in the arms of other women. But he is thin skinned and takes everything as a slight. It just boils my blood. I assume you know how he feuds with the King of Cyprus?”
“I know they have a dislike for one another. But I don’t know what it is they clash over.” Her father then went on to explain the enmity that had grown between the two men over the course of the campaign. How some, in particular the commanders of the Knights Hospitler were saying that after the Crusade Hughes should be given some sort of overlordship over the states in Outremer. Jean, and later Isabelle could be asked to pay him homage, or he could even seek to claim the throne of Jerusalem for himself.
Recognition dawned on Agnes. “And I assume that is why there was such tension around the topic of Isabelle’s marriage.”
Her father’s resigned reaction confirmed that she had been right, and that the Emperor thought this whole affair trivial and beneath his dignity. “If only Queen Alix had given birth to a boy. It would have solved every problem that now besets these lands save for your husband’s overinflated pride.”
Agnes was both puzzled and concerned. “I thought you feared the King of Cyprus and his alliance with the Venetians and Epirus.”
“I did. However he failed to assist Epirus in the last war, as did Venice. The marriage seemed to have been more about commerce and getting his sister a husband before she dishonored herself. After meeting the man in person I believe we both wish to work towards the common cause of Christendom.”
“So what is to happen to me and Jean?” The whole purpose of her marriage had been to counter a Lusingion-Venetian alliance. With that threat now ended, was she now just a discarded former heir left to wander the world with her landless husband, forsaken by her family and bereft of both money and honor?
“I will not allow you or any grandchildren of mine to be reduced to poverty. Nor, as I have said, do I bear any ill will towards your husband. However I do not think it would be wise to intervene against a fellow Crusader, especially one backed by at least one of the Holy Orders. God would surely strike us down if we wasted this opportunity by bickering amongst ourselves. Once the war is done we can craft a solution amenable to all parties. If we are truly blessed God will bless the King of Cyprus with a son within the next few years. That boy can be wed to Isabelle once they both come of age.” He sounded firm in his resolve, both to protect her and to resolve the conflict without bloodshed.
“But I can’t marry a baby! Papa said I’m going to marry a French Prince and he will be strong and handsome. Isabelle was too young to know the tragic reality of being a woman.
The Emperor shook his head. “Sometimes we must do things we do not want to for the sake of the state.” His tone was firm, yet also somewhat sad and world weary.
Isabelle crossed her arms and pouted. “In that case why don’t you marry a baby?”
“A good point little one. I of all people should know that their are some vows that cannot be forsaken.” That drew a hearty laugh from Henri. The kind she’d heard from him in her childhood. It was a relief to see her father feeling more alive.
Isabelle was obviously fascinated by Henri. After all, it was not every day one met a reigning Roman Emperor. Unaware of any sort of etiquette or decorum she began to pepper him with questions.
“Do you ride a chariot in the Hippo-drome? Like the old Romans used to do?”
Henri laughed at Isabelle wide eyed innocence. “No. Even the Greeks stopped doing that a long time ago.
Isabelle quickly moved on to her next question. “Was your father the Emperor before you?”
Henri sighed sadly. “No that was my brother. We took the city together during the last Crusade. He had a little girl just like you, but she didn’t want to leave home, so I became Emperor after he died.” Of course he left out the gory details of Agnes’s Uncle Baudoin’s death,
Isabelle’s next question was an awkward one for the Emperor. “How many Saracens did you kill when you freed Constantinople?”
Henri shook his head ruefully. “No, we did not fight Saracens for Constantinople. We fought Greeks. It is a long story, one that, one we have yet to see the end of.”
There was steel in her father’s voice. If she had to guess it was directed towards Venice. They had tried to formulate an anti Imperial alliance, and he may have blamed them for the less than savory aspects of the war. Either way it was clear this was a topic he did not wish to discuss further. She told Isabelle of this, and that all would be explained to her if she was good. The girl protested at first but Agnes reminded her of the patience she had shown earlier. For good measure she offered to give her sweets. A servant was summoned to take the little girl out of the room to get her treats.
Agnes thought now as good a time as any to ask after old friends. “How are things in Constantinople? The war has made it difficult to receive letters. I wish I could have written to Uncle Eustance, or Princess Anna. I hope they are doing well.”
Her father looked at her sadly. “I had assumed someone would have told you this.”
From that look, she knew it would be something bad. Agnes’s heart raced. “Tell me what?”
He looked at her with grief in his eyes. “That your friend, Princess Anna of France. is dead along with her baby daughter.”
Anna, dead. It seemed so unbelievable. “She was a comfort to me. My first friend in the city.” Agnes felted sounded numb. Too dazed to process what she had heard.
“When I was cold to you?”, said her father.
Agnes tried to stammer something but he hushed her.
“I failed you. I made you a marriage beneath you dignity and for poorly thought out reasons. Worse still I was cold to you. Ever since this throne, this burden, fell upon me, I have been feeling, uneasy. Our capture of Constantinople was a great boon and God’s will, but it was the fruit of Venetian deceit. With on my conscience, and hearing of the fate of your poor Uncle Baudoin, I grew paranoid towards everyone even those closest to me.”
“She went through so much in life, and to have it all end like this…” Agnes didn’t know what to say next.
“All is as God wills. You must control any anger you have towards him, I have some practice at it.”
He got up from his place at the table, and to Agnes’s great surprise, came over and hugged her. She wanted to say thank you but the words would not come in between the sobs.
When he spoke next his voice was soft and tender. “I will not upset you further child. There are things we need to discuss. I will leave them to another day. Just know that no matter what happens, I have always and will always love you.”
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A collision of cultures. Western and eastern sound and scents danced together in the air of the Great Hall. Her husband stood up. Let us raise a toast. To my loyal wife Agnes, who conducted herself with the courage and cunning befitting of daughter of Flanders. And to my daughter, our Queen Isabelle, who even at such a young age, and bearing in mind the deficiencies of her sex, showed herself possesses the courage of Alexander and the piety of Godefroy de Boulogne. She will do her ancestors proud. Together they foiled the Sheikh of Jeresh’s scheme to trick his way into Acre before we arrived.
She and Jean sat at the head of the hall with Emperor Henri and King Hughes. Her father keeping the two monarchs separate. It was not exactly subtle symbolism.
Agnes had wanted to stay in her room all night and sob, comforted by her friends, both feline and human. But she remembered Raymonde’s words, and the promise she had made God, and knew she had no choice but to put on a brave face and attend to her duties.
Jean chuckled smugly. “Sadly the dear Sheikh had been abandoned by his sultan, who was so sure of victory he saw fit to send his army into Anatolia instead of concentrating on us. Now he has not choice but to skulk back to whatever sandy hole he crawled out of."
Sometimes truth was stranger than fiction. Agnes was no soldier, but even she found the decision idiotic. She tried to analyze it, anything to take her mind off her dead friend, but she couldn’t find an answer.
Agnes was grateful that her duties kept her at her husband’s side, away from the rambunctiousness of the raucous revelry. She could fake dignified calm, but not happiness.
Jean did not concern himself with her feelings. Nor did he overindulge himself with food and drink. Instead he focused on maintaining a gruff, but sober and dignified masculine charm, joking with comrades, promising a barony to Sir Bonson, and toasting the valor of the Kingdom. He pointedly excluded the Holy Orders from this toast.
King Hughes on the other hand could not hold his liquor. “I AM DRUNK!”, he shouted at the top of his lungs.
Hughes then preceded to deliver a treatise on rulership. “A good King must in all things be JUST! He must HUMBLE himself before God and be Honest with himself and others!”
He then preceded to display that honesty by monologuing his thoughts aloud for the entire hall. “I thank God everyday that he let this lowly servant of his wed the most beautiful Princess in Christendom, even if she is my stepsister.
Ah dammit I mentioned that! Why do I keep thinking about it? The Pope gave dispensation. So it’s ok to bed my stepsister. To think I thought I was going to be punished by God. Maybe I still will be?! Melesinde will be married in a few years and I’ll spend all my money on the wedding. That’s me alright, a wastrel! But it is better to be a wastrel than a mister.”
He turned to one of his knights. “ERARD!! Don’t you dare tell Alix I got soooo talkative when drunk!”
“I…I wouldn’t dare sire”, the Knight stammered.
Hughes held his hands to his head and cried out in despair. “She will be so angry. More so than when I was crowned in a barn.…But her face. Her is so cuuute when she gets angry.” With that he collapsed on to the table.
Jean smirked at his rival’s plight. “A boy can drink all he likes, but it takes a real man to know his limits and conduct himself with dignity.” That might have been so, however Agnes could not help but find the earnest embarrassing boyishness in Hughes endearing. She certainly would be embarrassed if Jean drunkenly proclaimed how much he loved her to the whole court, but it would be a sweet thing nevertheless.
The party was even more raucous at the lower levels of the hall, save for the table of the Holy Orders. Religion was so far gone from the place that even the non Christians seemed to enjoy themeless. The new commander, a ugly Jew more frightening than even Savary named Hallell diced with the common soldiers, while being glared out by Chaplain Humbert, who though a kind man and a good friend to the Queen, would not tolerate any apostasy spreading amongst the men.
Neither Marajil or Marayumah seemed interested in giving any rewards to Sir Bonson. Instead they shamelessly flirted with every knight, lord or squire who drew their eye. Agnes noticed they seemed to take particular enjoyment around the tables set aside for the Poltiers brothers and their men. Marajil blew kisses at Count Raymond, who blushed furiously, and flirted with one of the numerous Poltiers cousins. Meanwhile Marayumah was enthroned on the lap of the younger brother, Bohemond, something that no doubt would have infuriated King Hughes, the Prince’s brother in law, if he weren’t passed out on the floor. They were both laughing, no doubt enjoying the other’s considerable wit.
Her Uncle lay slothfully on his chair, muttering something about “that fucking lowborn whore.” That perked Agnes’s interest. She knew her Uncle had married a low born woman, supposedly in a fit of insanity. Could he be having regrets? Or could he be referring to Marajil and Marayumah. As Marajil would often say, “I am no whore. I could never take money for something I enjoy so much.” But they all knew men rarely made such distinctions.
Raymonde of course had no such regrets about her marriage to a commoner. She had practically tackled Alphonse the first chance she had, to the amusement of his fellow knights. Apart from their ambitions, the thing Agnes and Jean shared the most was a simultaneous admiration and envy for the bond the old soldier shared with his young wife.
————
After the dinner Agnes and Jean retired to their chambers.
Jean broke the silence first. “I apologize for not having been more sociable to you. I had a lot on my mind.
"I understand. You have been having great difficulty. I haven’t been able to be on my cheeriest either. One of my closest friends died in Constantinople."
Jean sighed and shook his head. “Princess Anna, I heard. She is with God now.” We must all return to his side one day.
Though she knew how impious it was, Agnes wanted to ask how that would help, but felt it would be a bad idea. She focused on remembering her vow.
Jean awkwardly sat next to her and put his hand in hers. “Forgive me my lady wife, I would not ask this if the stakes were not so high…but what did your father say in regards to his succession?”
“He..He..he said nothing. He seemed to want to discuss something with me. But he thought it would upset me at a delicate time.”
“I see.” Jean sounded disappointed.
“He did however, say he would arbitrate the conflict between yourself and King Hughes. Since the King of Cyprus failed to intervene on Epirus’s side in the last war, he the Emperor doesn’t consider Hughes to be his enemy. Furthermore my father doesn’t wish to use his army against a fellow Crusader. Regardless he said he would look out for us and any future children”
Agnes knew her next suggestion would annoy her husband, but she felt it was something he needed to hear. “I know it was your great dream to wed Isabelle to the French King’s bastard, but my father is here and King Philip is far away. If he does no aid us in this Crusade he is unlikely to aid us in anything else. It would require Papal dispensation, but the Pope let Hughes wed his stepsister, so I am sure he will authorize this. A wedding between son of Hughes would unite the Kingdoms and would be pleasing to my father.” Right after the words left her mouth she felt the need to add that Isabelle would do fine no matter who she wed.
Jean however jumped down her throat. “Their children would not bear my name. And I don’t think either you or your father are stupid enough to think that a king in his own right would allow my daughter to reign in her own right. And even a bastard of the Royal House will bring more honor to me than a mere Lusingion.” He spat the last word.
No I will not break a betrothal with the King of France himself for the sake of a boy who might never be born, just to please your father. In any case if you are to think of any future children think of your own. Isabelle is my only daughter and until that changes her interests take priority, no matter what plans I make for the future, and no matter what ambitions you yourself may harbor. I will not sacrifice my position and crawl off to Constantinople to be a slave to the Emperor! You wish to be a partner in our common enterprise when you haven’t even fulfilled your most important duty. If you devoted half as much time to your own fertility as you do to thinking of the future sons of Queen Alix’s you might have given me a son by now. Maybe even twins like Hughes has.”
The envious inconsiderate old cur. She had spent months praying, choking down vile tasting potions, and manhandling every dusty old relic she could find, all so she could conceive a child with Jean. Furthermore she had only brought up anything to do with her father’s opinions on Isabelle’s potential marriage because she thought it would aid her husband. Yet he didn’t see any of her efforts, and choose to focus on false slights. She was grieving for a lost friend. By all rights he should be comforting her. Instead even while the world hailed him as a hero, Jean of Brienne remained absorbed by envy and self pity.
Agnes decided to strike back. “It is said a husband must please his wife in bed to conceive a child.” She was so sick of doing everything for him, only to receive cold comfort in turn. Jean glanced at her, seemingly astonished that she would hit that low. Agnes answered him with her brightest smile. Men had marital duties too after all.
His face puffed red. He seemed like he wanted to yell. But to his credit the old knight was able to partially restrain his temper.
“You are a young girl and you are grieving, so I will forgive this slight.” He sat up and paced around the room stewing in his own juices.
“Just know, that I have been a kind husband to you, considering all you do to vex me. By all rights I should have seen through your father’s deception and wed one of Aimery de Lusingion's younger daughters. That family is of proven fertility.”
She forgot her vow then. All she could focus on was the hurt she felt in her heart. She closed her eyes and thought of the words that would hurt him as much as he had hurt her. “You wouldn’t be any happier. You would obsess over the smallest slights and compare them to this false visage you have of their dead sister. Any wife of yours would be as miserable as I am! They’d be like to die of a broken heart. Only then, would you care for them, just like you only cared for Queen Maria after she was cold and dead and unable to tell you what she really thought. I can only pray that when you finally drive into the grave that you will show me a tenth of the love you showed her!”
Agnes braced for the blow that must come. Sobs escaped her lips and she covered her face, already wet with tears, with trembling hands.. God not now. Please not now. Agnes cursed herself for being such a weak woman. Anna would have never let her husband treat her like this. Nor would Maria Komnenos. She was unworthy of being royalty.
But Jean did not hit her. He stood by the bed, dumbfounded, shaking. For a brief moment she thought she heard him muffle a sob. He recovered his composure and coldly bid her goodnight, then stormed out of the room. I tried God, I really tried. What more do you want from me.
Acre
The Crusading army entered Acre like a Roman Legion in triumph. At it’s head was the Emperor, Agnes’s father, Henri. Even though he had shipped her off to be married to a man she could not love, a man far below her social station, she realized she still cared for him and that deep down she still thought of him as her hero. Agnes remembered her childhood, when he would pick her up and spin her and call her “la mia piccola bellezza”, a reference to her mother’s Italian heritage. The Crusade for Constantinople had changed him. I should have prayed that when I saw him again he would be the man who left Flanders in 1201 and not the man I met in Constantinople.
By her father’s side was a visage she could remember just as well, albeit with much less fondness, her uncle, Godefried. He was a mean man with a curt manner and eyes that seemed possessed by demons. Agnes had been afraid of him since she was little, and he had seemed to relish inspiring those feelings in his little niece. The passing of years had not lessened those feelings.
Behind them rode her husband, and after him the King of Cyprus, and after them the leaders of the other Crusading forces. King Hughes was waving to the cheering crowd, with a bright smile on his face. Jean also performed the part of the conquering hero, but she had been married to Jean long enough to know what he would really be thinking. His pride would be wounded by riding behind the Emperor and at the side of the King of Cyprus. He wouldn’t see that her father was trying to show the rank of each of the Crusader states. As far as her envious husband would be concerned it could be nothing less than a slight to deny him the leading role at the procession through his own city. Irritation bubbled up within her. Why couldn’t he understand that others had concerns beyond sabotaging him. That they did not experience triumph joy or love specifically to rub his nose in there absence from his life.
But then Agnes remembered her vow. True it had been her father’s army that had proven decisive, the royal levee not having up even made half of the Crusading host, but Agnes did not wish to risk divine disfavor by breaking her vow. At the very least she would try to be everything her husband wanted in a wife, and see how he reacted.
The procession stopped just in front of the Cathedral of the Holy Cross. Isabelle stood in front of the Church, with Raymonde on one side and Sir Bonson de Margot on the other. Isabelle clutched at her stepmother’s dress, rocking herself in place out of sheer excitement.
All eyes were on her. Agnes’s heart raced. She sucked in a breath, and spoke. “Soldiers of Christ. We must thank the Lord God for sending you as the instrument of our salvation.” Her Uncle smirked. “And as an instrument of death to these sand dwelling rabble.” Agnes decided not to address his rudeness. Instead she thanked each of the leaders of the Crusade individually, making extra sure to emphasize her dutiful love for both her father and husband. Jean seemed especially pleased by all the flattery. Hopefully he would be appreciative and pay more consideration to her needs. She hadn’t given him a son, but she had helped saved his kingdom. Surely that would count for something even with a grouch like Jean.
It was remarkable that Agnes had been able to control her nerves over the course of the day. What was even more remarkable was that young Isabelle was able to contain her excitement for the sake of public decorum. Admittedly Agnes aided in this by softly cuffing the Queen on her head whenever she became too hyper active. Still she couldn’t help but be proud of the little girl. For a girl of three years old she had done much better than some other rulers would have done in the same situation, and this was after her remarkable display of maturity earlier in the day. Agnes was beginning to wonder if the Queen had not been directly sent by God to save the Holy Land. Whatever the case, Agnes felt the girl was marked for greatness.
However all of the Queen’s restraint vanished as soon as they returned to the palace. Isabelle rushed towards her father who picked her up in his arms. He held her with awkward tenderness, like a delicate piece of glass he was afraid of dropping. “Did you pray for my return little one?”
Isabelle smiled and wiggled around in his arms. “I did I did! I was a very good Queen! And God smiled down on us and granted us victory! Just like you said!” Jean smiled and kissed her head. “Yes he did sweet one. You have done both me and your mother proud keeping the city strong and loyal until I could drive and drive the Saracens out of these lands.”
King Hughes interrupted this tender moment with a distractingly loud cough. “Far be it for me to intrude on your happy reunion, but one would do well not to forget the other valiant men who took part in this battle. Of course I claim only a small role in this for myself.”
Jean turned away from the girl and towards Hughes, his expression filled with malice. “If you wish to boast have the decency to do so as a man instead of hiding behind a façade of humility.”
Henri shrugged. “I am simply following the teachings of the Church. Pride and envy are sins, ones I have always been keen to avoid. God rewards this. My family grows. My real prospers from both foreign trade and domestic production, and as you have seen my armies are victorious in every battle they fight.”
“Your realm may prosper further if It’s sovereign sticks to cultivating his own garden and does. Not seek to take what does not belong to him.” If a snarling dog could talk it would have sounded much like her husband.
Hughes’s’ response bore a tone of icy courtesy. “You accuse me of evasiveness, yet choose to hide the meaning of your own words. If you are trying to say something just say it. If you would like me to be out of your affairs just say the word and I will take my men home. I am not so vain as to impose myself where I am not wanted. Say the word and I will take my men and get back on the boat to Cyprus, though I'm sure a good number of your daughter's liegemen would wish to travel with me."
The Emperor, glared at both of them. “Are you two going to continue sniping at each other like small children? No, that would be an insult to the actual small child standing before us, who has conducted herself with the dignity and grace befitting of a monarch. The both of you could learn something from her.”
The men ceased their quarreling for the time being. The Emperor outranked them both and his success on the battlefield had silenced any doubts as to his worthiness to hold such rank.
Isabelle paid little attention to the quarrels of the adults. She was more interested in finally meeting another reigning sovereign, and to ask after her Aunt Alix.
“I’ve always wanted to have another Queen for a friend. My auntie is the type of Queen who doesn’t get to do anything, not even set her own bedtime. I am Queen in my own right, so when we play together I get to tell her what to do.”
Hughes laughed. “And what pray tell will you do with your own husband?”
“I’ll do everything myself”, Isabelle spoke with the confidence of a small child.
Agnes’s father, the Emperor, shook his head. “That is impossible. And being a monarch isn’t all about fun little one. Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to for the sake of others. And sometimes doing the right thing hurts.” Agnes wondered if her father was referring to his decision to wed her to Jean.
Isabelle was still undaunted. “I’ll do it anyways. I’ll fix everything all by myself and be the best Queen there ever was”
Hughes sighed “That’s an awful weight to put on such little shoulders. You will need somebody to help you. Somebody who will love and protect you and care for your kingdom.”
Jean, naturally, took the King of Cyprus’s words in the worse way possible. “Her family and counselors can provide the Queen all the help she needs”, he said through gritted teeth.
“Are we not family?” Hughes spoke as if he was merely restating a fact. His wife was, after all, Isabelle’s aunt.
“She’s already betrothed”, Jean said with a soldier’s bluntness.
“All of this talk is wasteful. The Pope and myself will decide the fate of these Kingdoms. And we will not make our decision until after Jerusalem is retaken. Is that clear?” Her father was just as blunt and angry as Jean.
The Emperor’s wroth was a terrible sight, and the two monarchs found themselves overcome by it. They once again swallowed their pride and submitted to the Emperor’s will.
It was at this moment that Prince Bohemond interjected himself. “If you will pardon my intrusion into your royal quarrels, the army has had a long march and just won a great victory. This deserves a celebration. A feat they will sing of for the ages!”
Agnes wanted to tell him that this was the last thing she wanted. After having helped rally a city and performed her public duties, all she wanted to do was go somewhere where she would not have to see people for the rest of the day. But she knew that doing so would diminish her dignity and that of her husband.
Salvation would come from the most unlikely of places, her father. “That is a splendid idea. I am sure my daughter would be honored to host. However in terms of readying the great hall, Agnes might their be someone you could entrust preparations to? I wish to speak with my daughter in private, with her husband’s permission of course” He turned to Jean.
Jean smiled a little too broadly. “It would be a great hypocrisy on my part to interrupt the reunion between father and daughter.”
“Splendid! The lady Grenier is first amongst my ladies. She has proven herself more than capable in my service. I believe she is in her chambers with Sir Alphonse and their child.” That or Alphonse alone, but Agnes did not mean to embarrass her friend by discussing such things in the company of men.
Jean ordered one of his runners to fetch the couple.
Meanwhile Agnes went with her father and little Queen Isabelle to a sitting room. Old Griffon started rubbing against her leg. Agnes picked him up and placed him on her lap. Scratching him behind the ears calmed her nerves, and was greatly pleasing to the old feline.
Her father made disgusted face and pushed the wine away “Local fair? I see you are settling in to your new home.”
Agnes weighed her words carefully. “It was difficult to find myself in a new land. The food and drink took some getting used to. But it was the people I met who truly gave me comfort. She thought of Raymonde’s first few acts of charity, her loyal servants, her trusty cats
“And I am to assume one of them was your husband?” Her father spoke in a tone that indicated he did not believe this to be true.
Agnes must have made some sort of tick to indicate to him that this was not true. She reminded herself that Jean’s future was her future. And that she must fight for that future.
“My husband has always been dutiful and chivalrous. He means well and does his best to treat me tenderly. Alas he is the type of man for whom such expressions are difficult.”
“There are days where I wished to impale the man.”
“Please don’t”, she said quickly and in a deadpan style. Her father’s voice sounded more tired than anything else, but Agnes didn’t want to take the slightest misunderstanding happening between her father and husband. Such a clash would surely spell ruin for her.
The Emperor held up his hands in a gesture of surender. “Oh don’t get me wrong, he’s a good soldier. And a pious man. You don’t have to worry about him taking to the bottle or seeking comfort in the arms of other women. But he is thin skinned and takes everything as a slight. It just boils my blood. I assume you know how he feuds with the King of Cyprus?”
“I know they have a dislike for one another. But I don’t know what it is they clash over.” Her father then went on to explain the enmity that had grown between the two men over the course of the campaign. How some, in particular the commanders of the Knights Hospitler were saying that after the Crusade Hughes should be given some sort of overlordship over the states in Outremer. Jean, and later Isabelle could be asked to pay him homage, or he could even seek to claim the throne of Jerusalem for himself.
Recognition dawned on Agnes. “And I assume that is why there was such tension around the topic of Isabelle’s marriage.”
Her father’s resigned reaction confirmed that she had been right, and that the Emperor thought this whole affair trivial and beneath his dignity. “If only Queen Alix had given birth to a boy. It would have solved every problem that now besets these lands save for your husband’s overinflated pride.”
Agnes was both puzzled and concerned. “I thought you feared the King of Cyprus and his alliance with the Venetians and Epirus.”
“I did. However he failed to assist Epirus in the last war, as did Venice. The marriage seemed to have been more about commerce and getting his sister a husband before she dishonored herself. After meeting the man in person I believe we both wish to work towards the common cause of Christendom.”
“So what is to happen to me and Jean?” The whole purpose of her marriage had been to counter a Lusingion-Venetian alliance. With that threat now ended, was she now just a discarded former heir left to wander the world with her landless husband, forsaken by her family and bereft of both money and honor?
“I will not allow you or any grandchildren of mine to be reduced to poverty. Nor, as I have said, do I bear any ill will towards your husband. However I do not think it would be wise to intervene against a fellow Crusader, especially one backed by at least one of the Holy Orders. God would surely strike us down if we wasted this opportunity by bickering amongst ourselves. Once the war is done we can craft a solution amenable to all parties. If we are truly blessed God will bless the King of Cyprus with a son within the next few years. That boy can be wed to Isabelle once they both come of age.” He sounded firm in his resolve, both to protect her and to resolve the conflict without bloodshed.
“But I can’t marry a baby! Papa said I’m going to marry a French Prince and he will be strong and handsome. Isabelle was too young to know the tragic reality of being a woman.
The Emperor shook his head. “Sometimes we must do things we do not want to for the sake of the state.” His tone was firm, yet also somewhat sad and world weary.
Isabelle crossed her arms and pouted. “In that case why don’t you marry a baby?”
“A good point little one. I of all people should know that their are some vows that cannot be forsaken.” That drew a hearty laugh from Henri. The kind she’d heard from him in her childhood. It was a relief to see her father feeling more alive.
Isabelle was obviously fascinated by Henri. After all, it was not every day one met a reigning Roman Emperor. Unaware of any sort of etiquette or decorum she began to pepper him with questions.
“Do you ride a chariot in the Hippo-drome? Like the old Romans used to do?”
Henri laughed at Isabelle wide eyed innocence. “No. Even the Greeks stopped doing that a long time ago.
Isabelle quickly moved on to her next question. “Was your father the Emperor before you?”
Henri sighed sadly. “No that was my brother. We took the city together during the last Crusade. He had a little girl just like you, but she didn’t want to leave home, so I became Emperor after he died.” Of course he left out the gory details of Agnes’s Uncle Baudoin’s death,
Isabelle’s next question was an awkward one for the Emperor. “How many Saracens did you kill when you freed Constantinople?”
Henri shook his head ruefully. “No, we did not fight Saracens for Constantinople. We fought Greeks. It is a long story, one that, one we have yet to see the end of.”
There was steel in her father’s voice. If she had to guess it was directed towards Venice. They had tried to formulate an anti Imperial alliance, and he may have blamed them for the less than savory aspects of the war. Either way it was clear this was a topic he did not wish to discuss further. She told Isabelle of this, and that all would be explained to her if she was good. The girl protested at first but Agnes reminded her of the patience she had shown earlier. For good measure she offered to give her sweets. A servant was summoned to take the little girl out of the room to get her treats.
Agnes thought now as good a time as any to ask after old friends. “How are things in Constantinople? The war has made it difficult to receive letters. I wish I could have written to Uncle Eustance, or Princess Anna. I hope they are doing well.”
Her father looked at her sadly. “I had assumed someone would have told you this.”
From that look, she knew it would be something bad. Agnes’s heart raced. “Tell me what?”
He looked at her with grief in his eyes. “That your friend, Princess Anna of France. is dead along with her baby daughter.”
Anna, dead. It seemed so unbelievable. “She was a comfort to me. My first friend in the city.” Agnes felted sounded numb. Too dazed to process what she had heard.
“When I was cold to you?”, said her father.
Agnes tried to stammer something but he hushed her.
“I failed you. I made you a marriage beneath you dignity and for poorly thought out reasons. Worse still I was cold to you. Ever since this throne, this burden, fell upon me, I have been feeling, uneasy. Our capture of Constantinople was a great boon and God’s will, but it was the fruit of Venetian deceit. With on my conscience, and hearing of the fate of your poor Uncle Baudoin, I grew paranoid towards everyone even those closest to me.”
“She went through so much in life, and to have it all end like this…” Agnes didn’t know what to say next.
“All is as God wills. You must control any anger you have towards him, I have some practice at it.”
He got up from his place at the table, and to Agnes’s great surprise, came over and hugged her. She wanted to say thank you but the words would not come in between the sobs.
When he spoke next his voice was soft and tender. “I will not upset you further child. There are things we need to discuss. I will leave them to another day. Just know that no matter what happens, I have always and will always love you.”
—————
A collision of cultures. Western and eastern sound and scents danced together in the air of the Great Hall. Her husband stood up. Let us raise a toast. To my loyal wife Agnes, who conducted herself with the courage and cunning befitting of daughter of Flanders. And to my daughter, our Queen Isabelle, who even at such a young age, and bearing in mind the deficiencies of her sex, showed herself possesses the courage of Alexander and the piety of Godefroy de Boulogne. She will do her ancestors proud. Together they foiled the Sheikh of Jeresh’s scheme to trick his way into Acre before we arrived.
She and Jean sat at the head of the hall with Emperor Henri and King Hughes. Her father keeping the two monarchs separate. It was not exactly subtle symbolism.
Agnes had wanted to stay in her room all night and sob, comforted by her friends, both feline and human. But she remembered Raymonde’s words, and the promise she had made God, and knew she had no choice but to put on a brave face and attend to her duties.
Jean chuckled smugly. “Sadly the dear Sheikh had been abandoned by his sultan, who was so sure of victory he saw fit to send his army into Anatolia instead of concentrating on us. Now he has not choice but to skulk back to whatever sandy hole he crawled out of."
Sometimes truth was stranger than fiction. Agnes was no soldier, but even she found the decision idiotic. She tried to analyze it, anything to take her mind off her dead friend, but she couldn’t find an answer.
Agnes was grateful that her duties kept her at her husband’s side, away from the rambunctiousness of the raucous revelry. She could fake dignified calm, but not happiness.
Jean did not concern himself with her feelings. Nor did he overindulge himself with food and drink. Instead he focused on maintaining a gruff, but sober and dignified masculine charm, joking with comrades, promising a barony to Sir Bonson, and toasting the valor of the Kingdom. He pointedly excluded the Holy Orders from this toast.
King Hughes on the other hand could not hold his liquor. “I AM DRUNK!”, he shouted at the top of his lungs.
Hughes then preceded to deliver a treatise on rulership. “A good King must in all things be JUST! He must HUMBLE himself before God and be Honest with himself and others!”
He then preceded to display that honesty by monologuing his thoughts aloud for the entire hall. “I thank God everyday that he let this lowly servant of his wed the most beautiful Princess in Christendom, even if she is my stepsister.
Ah dammit I mentioned that! Why do I keep thinking about it? The Pope gave dispensation. So it’s ok to bed my stepsister. To think I thought I was going to be punished by God. Maybe I still will be?! Melesinde will be married in a few years and I’ll spend all my money on the wedding. That’s me alright, a wastrel! But it is better to be a wastrel than a mister.”
He turned to one of his knights. “ERARD!! Don’t you dare tell Alix I got soooo talkative when drunk!”
“I…I wouldn’t dare sire”, the Knight stammered.
Hughes held his hands to his head and cried out in despair. “She will be so angry. More so than when I was crowned in a barn.…But her face. Her is so cuuute when she gets angry.” With that he collapsed on to the table.
Jean smirked at his rival’s plight. “A boy can drink all he likes, but it takes a real man to know his limits and conduct himself with dignity.” That might have been so, however Agnes could not help but find the earnest embarrassing boyishness in Hughes endearing. She certainly would be embarrassed if Jean drunkenly proclaimed how much he loved her to the whole court, but it would be a sweet thing nevertheless.
The party was even more raucous at the lower levels of the hall, save for the table of the Holy Orders. Religion was so far gone from the place that even the non Christians seemed to enjoy themeless. The new commander, a ugly Jew more frightening than even Savary named Hallell diced with the common soldiers, while being glared out by Chaplain Humbert, who though a kind man and a good friend to the Queen, would not tolerate any apostasy spreading amongst the men.
Neither Marajil or Marayumah seemed interested in giving any rewards to Sir Bonson. Instead they shamelessly flirted with every knight, lord or squire who drew their eye. Agnes noticed they seemed to take particular enjoyment around the tables set aside for the Poltiers brothers and their men. Marajil blew kisses at Count Raymond, who blushed furiously, and flirted with one of the numerous Poltiers cousins. Meanwhile Marayumah was enthroned on the lap of the younger brother, Bohemond, something that no doubt would have infuriated King Hughes, the Prince’s brother in law, if he weren’t passed out on the floor. They were both laughing, no doubt enjoying the other’s considerable wit.
Her Uncle lay slothfully on his chair, muttering something about “that fucking lowborn whore.” That perked Agnes’s interest. She knew her Uncle had married a low born woman, supposedly in a fit of insanity. Could he be having regrets? Or could he be referring to Marajil and Marayumah. As Marajil would often say, “I am no whore. I could never take money for something I enjoy so much.” But they all knew men rarely made such distinctions.
Raymonde of course had no such regrets about her marriage to a commoner. She had practically tackled Alphonse the first chance she had, to the amusement of his fellow knights. Apart from their ambitions, the thing Agnes and Jean shared the most was a simultaneous admiration and envy for the bond the old soldier shared with his young wife.
————
After the dinner Agnes and Jean retired to their chambers.
Jean broke the silence first. “I apologize for not having been more sociable to you. I had a lot on my mind.
"I understand. You have been having great difficulty. I haven’t been able to be on my cheeriest either. One of my closest friends died in Constantinople."
Jean sighed and shook his head. “Princess Anna, I heard. She is with God now.” We must all return to his side one day.
Though she knew how impious it was, Agnes wanted to ask how that would help, but felt it would be a bad idea. She focused on remembering her vow.
Jean awkwardly sat next to her and put his hand in hers. “Forgive me my lady wife, I would not ask this if the stakes were not so high…but what did your father say in regards to his succession?”
“He..He..he said nothing. He seemed to want to discuss something with me. But he thought it would upset me at a delicate time.”
“I see.” Jean sounded disappointed.
“He did however, say he would arbitrate the conflict between yourself and King Hughes. Since the King of Cyprus failed to intervene on Epirus’s side in the last war, he the Emperor doesn’t consider Hughes to be his enemy. Furthermore my father doesn’t wish to use his army against a fellow Crusader. Regardless he said he would look out for us and any future children”
Agnes knew her next suggestion would annoy her husband, but she felt it was something he needed to hear. “I know it was your great dream to wed Isabelle to the French King’s bastard, but my father is here and King Philip is far away. If he does no aid us in this Crusade he is unlikely to aid us in anything else. It would require Papal dispensation, but the Pope let Hughes wed his stepsister, so I am sure he will authorize this. A wedding between son of Hughes would unite the Kingdoms and would be pleasing to my father.” Right after the words left her mouth she felt the need to add that Isabelle would do fine no matter who she wed.
Jean however jumped down her throat. “Their children would not bear my name. And I don’t think either you or your father are stupid enough to think that a king in his own right would allow my daughter to reign in her own right. And even a bastard of the Royal House will bring more honor to me than a mere Lusingion.” He spat the last word.
No I will not break a betrothal with the King of France himself for the sake of a boy who might never be born, just to please your father. In any case if you are to think of any future children think of your own. Isabelle is my only daughter and until that changes her interests take priority, no matter what plans I make for the future, and no matter what ambitions you yourself may harbor. I will not sacrifice my position and crawl off to Constantinople to be a slave to the Emperor! You wish to be a partner in our common enterprise when you haven’t even fulfilled your most important duty. If you devoted half as much time to your own fertility as you do to thinking of the future sons of Queen Alix’s you might have given me a son by now. Maybe even twins like Hughes has.”
The envious inconsiderate old cur. She had spent months praying, choking down vile tasting potions, and manhandling every dusty old relic she could find, all so she could conceive a child with Jean. Furthermore she had only brought up anything to do with her father’s opinions on Isabelle’s potential marriage because she thought it would aid her husband. Yet he didn’t see any of her efforts, and choose to focus on false slights. She was grieving for a lost friend. By all rights he should be comforting her. Instead even while the world hailed him as a hero, Jean of Brienne remained absorbed by envy and self pity.
Agnes decided to strike back. “It is said a husband must please his wife in bed to conceive a child.” She was so sick of doing everything for him, only to receive cold comfort in turn. Jean glanced at her, seemingly astonished that she would hit that low. Agnes answered him with her brightest smile. Men had marital duties too after all.
His face puffed red. He seemed like he wanted to yell. But to his credit the old knight was able to partially restrain his temper.
“You are a young girl and you are grieving, so I will forgive this slight.” He sat up and paced around the room stewing in his own juices.
“Just know, that I have been a kind husband to you, considering all you do to vex me. By all rights I should have seen through your father’s deception and wed one of Aimery de Lusingion's younger daughters. That family is of proven fertility.”
She forgot her vow then. All she could focus on was the hurt she felt in her heart. She closed her eyes and thought of the words that would hurt him as much as he had hurt her. “You wouldn’t be any happier. You would obsess over the smallest slights and compare them to this false visage you have of their dead sister. Any wife of yours would be as miserable as I am! They’d be like to die of a broken heart. Only then, would you care for them, just like you only cared for Queen Maria after she was cold and dead and unable to tell you what she really thought. I can only pray that when you finally drive into the grave that you will show me a tenth of the love you showed her!”
Agnes braced for the blow that must come. Sobs escaped her lips and she covered her face, already wet with tears, with trembling hands.. God not now. Please not now. Agnes cursed herself for being such a weak woman. Anna would have never let her husband treat her like this. Nor would Maria Komnenos. She was unworthy of being royalty.
But Jean did not hit her. He stood by the bed, dumbfounded, shaking. For a brief moment she thought she heard him muffle a sob. He recovered his composure and coldly bid her goodnight, then stormed out of the room. I tried God, I really tried. What more do you want from me.
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Isabelle is such a gift. Agnes is fascinating, The chip on Jean's shoulder is threatening to bury him. Please be safe.
Excellent update, it's fascinating to see all the dynamics, and how the Muslims have been driven back... Hopefully things between Agnes and Jean improve soon..
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Thanks for thinking so. As for Jean and Agnes, we will see.
Thank you. All the dynamics are fascinating to see, but I confess hard to write. Especially since I have to come back to it after long absences and remember just what I was thinking when I first wrote a section. I may have bitten off more than I could chew. To think I was worried the regency would be uneventful
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I've been trying to post a new chapter, but I keep suffering from server errors. Is there anything I can do to fix this?
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I'm not sure, you may need to restart your PC? Either that or there may have been something up with the server at the time...
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Chapter 14 Part 1: May 1214
May 1214
It was a sweltering day in the Council Chamber. Even in silks, Agnes thought she would burn up. Still, she would rather be here than anywhere else. Jean had allowed her to take part out of respect for her father , probably because he knew she was stubborn enough to force herself in.
Still, her husband had made clear to her, she was to be seen and not heard. That was perfectly fine by Agnes. Though she would always insist on her right to be present, she had little to add to discussions of military matters, and hated arguing in public. That was especially true because she was the only woman in a room full of powerful men. Better to survey the lay of the land and then make her move.
Represented were the commanders of the army, Jean, Emperor Henri, King Hughes, the Guillaume Grandmaster of the Templars, Gurrien the Grandmaster of the Hospitlers, and the Poltiers brothers. Jean had also brought along Alphonse, who he had elevated to the rank of advisor because of the resignation of Grandmaster Gurrien from the Council and his order’s renunciation of their oath of fealty to the Kingdom. Because of Alphonse's inclusion, each of the other men could bring one councilor. The only one Agnes recognized was her father's spymaster, Adrien of Madytos.
The meeting started off with the reading of a letter from Jean’s spymaster, Raymonnde’s father, the Count of Sidon. The forces left behind by the main army at Saphat had taken the city. The spymaster had since left the army and gone on a far ranging scouting mission, and was thus out of contact.
They then moved on to the situation in Anatolia. Armenia has broken into Civil war ever since the Rubenid Queen tried to revoke Tarsus from it’s Hethumid Count. However, both parties were willing to allow Crusader armies to transit their lands.
The same could not be said of the Seljuk turks. They had allied with the Sultan of Egypt and were, with the help of the army the Egyptians had unwisely deployed to the region, attempting to intercept the Crusader armies as they crossed through Anatolia. The Turks were also involved in a war with the Greeks of Nicaea, who were supported by several Orthodox States. They were however loosing. An attempt by one of the Sultan’s vassals to subdue the Komnenos of Trebizond was also going poorly, due in large part to the assistance of Queen Tamar of Georgia.
“The puppeteer comes to assist the marionette”, her father sneered.
The King of Cyprus winced. “My brother in laws is doing very well in this war. The Orthodox may not be taking part in our Holy Quest for Jerusalem, but they bleed the enemies of God all the same.”
The two men might have launched into a heated discussion on the merits and demerits of their fellow Christians. However, they were distracted by the opening of the door. “Ah drinks”, cried out Prince Bohemond with his typical enthusiasm. His face lit up when he saw who was serving them, while his brother looked down like an abashed child.
Marajil and Marayumah came carrying refreshments for the Crusaders. Nobody batted an eye at being served by Muslims while plotting a Holy War. After all, Agnes thought, what better way was there to show superiority over an enemy than by taking their womenfolk. Because that was all they were right, trophies to be traded amongst men like the captured standards of old Roman Legions. Ever since she was a child Agnes had been learning and relearning the same lesson. The world was unfair.
King Hughes’s scowled at the new arrivals. “Well, some news recently arrived from Antioch that should interest many of the men at this table. It concerns the lady Sybille. ”
“My sweet wife”, Bohemond said, as if he was just remembering who she was.
“Yes, my little sister, your lawful, loving, Christian wife, has given birth to a baby girl”. The King spoke as if he was attempting to drill the meaning of each of these words into the Prince’s thick skull. Agnes doubted he would be successful.
“She is in good health, and wishes to convey her thanks to God, her love to her husband, and her wish for a Christian victory in this war.” Hughes did not take his eyes of Bohemond for the entire speech, nor did Marayumah.
The Prince of Antioch looked like a trapped man. “Ah I am so glad that both they and Antioch are safe. Best to carry on with the meeting. I am told it is bad manners to bring up personal matters in such a setting. I will write to her when matters are concluded”
Raymond looked at his brother with a smirk, as if to say nice dodge.
Hughes seemed like he wanted to beat the Prince into a pulp, while Marayumah had an unexpectedly pained look on her face.
Marayumah was the Prince’s lover. Lords often took such women into their beds, caring little for their thoughts, feelings, or moral character. But Bohemond had not just plied her with gifts and money, he’d given her a hijab that once belonged to his Muslim wet-nurse. Marayumah now wore it on her head, as she did every day.
Marayumah claimed to find enjoyment out of these trysts, and the information she gained proved to be valuable. However, she seemed to feel something more for this boy, and from what Agnes had seen, he felt the same for her.
Raymond de Poltiers had recently jumped out of his shell. He was proving to be quite popular at dinner and had even gotten himself a lover. Of course, what Raymond counted as living in sin and what Marajil thought were two very different things. He confided in her, cried on her shoulder, and once even kissed her, but little else had happened, to Marajil’s amusement and consternation. The furthest they had gone was cuddling together, which had led Raymond to apologize to Marajil for dishonoring her. Of course, the Saracen woman’s honor had been lost long ago. Raymond often turned to her for advice on the real object of his desire, some knight's daughter. Marajil was happy to indulge him, she found his modesty cute. She indulged her physical needs with the Prince’s uncle, another Bohemond, who seemed quite taken with her. Marajil and Marayumah would often compare their Bohemonds for the sake of fun.
Finally, the men turned their attention to matters closer to home. The armies of the Iberian Kingdoms were soon to arrive in the Holy Land. If they landed in the south, they could rescue and refortify Jaffa-Askleon. Although the Egyptian army had bypassed the major settlements, that did not make the counties tranquil. Civil disorder had broken out in many towns, several small castles and holdfasts had been raised and occupied, and the whole county was suffering depopulation because of the Consumption epidemic. Jerusalem was suffering from the same outbreak. Grandmaster Gurrien deemed it a fine thing, as its depopulation would allow the city to be more easily resettled. Marajil and Marayumah kept their expressions carefully natural for this part. The Poltiers brothers, for their part, argued the best way to prove one's Zeal was to peacefully convert non-Christians. After all, had Christ himself not ministered to sinners. The Grandmaster responded that if they wanted to take off their armor, leave their armies, and go to Jerusalem to talk with the Sultan, he was more than happy to oblige them. It fell to her father to put an end to this pointless quarrel. He then laid out his strategy.
The arrival of the reinforcements would allow the army to form multiple centers of gravity and be able to concentrate on sieging multiple strongholds with forces capable of independently defeating virtually any army sent against them. It was agreed the army would make another attempt at Tiberius. They would then fan out and retake the kingdom’s old borders, and their natural defenses, before then swinging back and Capturing Jerusalem. Agnes had not the slightest idea how these military matters would pan out. The men seemed confident in their plan, and so she was at well.
-------
At the end of the meeting, her father’s spymaster approached her.
He bowed before her. "My lady Agnes. It is always a delight to see you, even if it is under difficult circumstances."
"Mayor Adrien, how go your studies."
He looked up at her in surprise. "Oh they go quite well, sadly this is not the reason for our meeting."
"Oh How may I be of service to you?" It was a pity. The spymaster was a scholarly sort, and she had hoped to establish a connection on that basis.
“I am told you have been sending your spies after a certain girl in your father’s retinue. Your father wishes this to cease at once.”
“Am I not allowed to know what goes on in my husband’s castle?” Agnes could practically feel her heels digging in.
“It is not a matter of allowing. It is a matter of privacy and Imperial dignity.” He spoke in a polite but firm tone. The way a diplomat would speak to a respected colleague from a hostile state. This offended her.
“Am I not a member of the Imperial family? The Emperor’s only living and legitimate issue? Is my dignity not affected by my father’s actions?”
He sighed and muttered something about pitying "both of them", though Agnes had no idea who the other person was.
The spymaster sighed. “Did your Uncle Godefroid put you up to this?”
That was not incorrect. Her Uncle had not only implied that not only was her father seeing a woman, but she was ruling him, and turning him against his family. The whole thing had been a garbled rant and she found it a good idea to leave the room while he discussed matters with his "imaginary friends." Agnes did not believe the concubine, assuming she was even real, had been successful in turning the Emperor against his family, at least recently. Her father had been nothing but cordial to her and Jean, and had been very kind to her on his first day in Acre.
However, she still had her concerns. As far as Agnes knew, her father had never tried to remarry or taken other lovers. Intellectually she knew their must have been some. But she had never seen any, and so chose to believe that Emperor Henri was unique amongst laymen in his celibacy. But even if he wasn’t, she still wouldn’t mind if he just took a woman to his bed every night. But he spent almost all his time with his army or at prayer. All his remaining hours seemed devoted to this woman, and not to her. They had hardly spoken since he’d hugged her. The joy of receiving parental love only made it more bitter when that affection was once again withdrawn.
“And if he did?” She stared him down, and the spymaster stared right back at her in turn.
“Then I would tell you he is misleading you, whatever he is saying. I hate to tell you this but the man is hardly sane. Furthermore, you must cease these intrusions at once. It is most upsetting to your father.” That made her angry. Why was he upset that his only daughter was trying to look out for him?
“What right does he to tell me, a married woman, what to do in my own home? You may convey my love to my father, but you must also tell him that if he wishes to discuss something sensitive with me he should do so himself and not work though intermediaries.”
She was surprised at the way the Spymaster looked at her with pity filled eyes.
“As you say, my lady. However, I must say, you will be in for quite a shock.”
She was with her cats when a messenger came inviting her and Jean to dine with the Emperor.
------
Agnes decided she would wear a gown with the black and yellow colors of the House of Flanders Her father would like that.
“How do I look?”, she asked her husband, half expecting some rebuke. “You cary yourself with dignity and grace my lady. You require no finery to make that clear. I can see what the people of this city saw in you.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “Thank you husband.”
Sitting on her father’s left was her uncle, Prince Godefroid, and on his right was…no. Dear god not that. “My beloved daughter…Sir Jean, please, have a seat.”
They sat down, all merriment gone. The girl was tall and had reddish brown hair. She was even more beautiful than Raymonde and poised as well. Too poised. Like she was trying to act a part others had been born to play. Her one physical inperfection was a pale sickly coloring of her skin. She wore a red gown with a yellow trim, her father’s new colors. She was silent, her hands on her laps, as if she was a criminal being judged. Her eyes seemed to peer into Agnes, searching for something. Weakness no doubt, said a voice in her head that sounded an awful lot like Marayumah.
“Who is she?”, Agnes asked.
He looked at the girl, who was looking pained, and kissed her tenderly on the cheek.
“She is my wife and Empress, Sophie de Constantinople.”
The girl was slow and measured in her response. “It is an honor to be in your presence, my lord and lady. I am eternally grateful for the Emperor’s kindness. I know it is hard to accept a woman like me as his consort. I promise to work to earn your trust and affection. I pledge to be a good and loyal servant to my lord husband until the day death do us part.” Underneath the flattery, there was a hint of steel. The girl intended to remain attached to her father until the day she died.
Godefroid jumped out of his chair with a crazed look in his eyes. He seemed ready to throw a fit. “She is not who she pretends to be. This woman is an unnaturally cruel impaler who has bewitched my brother.”
The young woman fixed Uncle Godeforid with a look that was equal parts hatred and terror.
“SIT DOWN!" the Emperor bellowed.
His brother obeyed.
"You are one to talk about being bewitched. This lady is my wife and your Empress and you will treat to her with respect if you wish to continue in my service. Is that understood, brother?!” Her father almost spat the last word. Agnes had never seen him this angry.
Jean seemed taken back as well. He seemed like he had meant to say something but decided against it.
He turned to Agnes and Jean. “That applies to you two as well. I would have never thought my own daughter could spy on me! Your mother would weep if she could see what's become of you. I can only pray that you turn to God for forgiveness."
"My mother would weep to see you in another's arms." That was the pleasant way of saying it.
"This is exactly why I took my time in telling you. This and worse. If you are capable of spying on me, what is to say you wouldn't send knives after her? It was my sweet Sophie who convinced me that you had to hear before the rest of the world. And it would just break her heart if you reject her.” He seemed to regard this Sophie as both bride and child. A prettier, more obedient daughter he could take into his bed. Agnes felt the urge to vomit. Both she and her friend Raymonde had wed older men, but they did not have children any near her age to bring that difference in so stark a relief.
She and Jean were both at a loss for words. The Ibelin had been one thing, and Raymonde and Alphonse had worked out splendidly but for an Emperor to wed a commoner. It was outrageous. The looks on their faces must have given them away.
“Oh so you two think me a fool as well? Well I’ll show you. If any harm should befall my Sophie, you shall suffer the same harm but ten times! This lady is my wife in every way a woman can be. I do not wish to be cruel to you daughter, but I feel I have no choice. Failure to accept her or our future children will have grave consequences!”
----
After the dinner Jean insisted they withdraw to a sitting room to discuss what had happened. Agnes agreed, she was tired of arguments and reeling from the revelation, and from her father's change in attitude. Better to get Jean's inevitable temper tantrum out of the way. Jean spoke first, after having had drinks brought for the both of them.
“My nobles, my marshal, Ibelin, the bishop and now your father. Why men sacrifice so much for pretty girls, I will never understand it.”
"Do you consider me a pretty girl?" Of course, ever prudent Jean would stay stuck with an ugly woman like herself for the sake of political expedience.
Jean looked at her. It seemed like he was about to say something, then smirked and chuckled to himself. “Only I could complain about such a marriage. You are a younger woman than I have any right to ask for, and the daughter of an Emperor no less. If I am to be honest with myself I have hardly made any sacrifices to have you.”
This was quite a reversal of attitudes from what he had said but a few days earlier. “You married a barren argumentative shrew.” After what had happened with her father, her self esteem was at an all-time low.
“My lady. You should know by now I am a man who values my honor. I was excessive in chiding you. I know you were just trying to do what was best for me, as your wedding vow demands. I have the same problem with Alphonse and others who give me council I do not wish to hear. Perhaps your father's unfortunate marriage is a punishment from God for having taken your for granted.”
He shook his head. "I think it was that youth that drove me to act the way I did. You know how all those stories go about old men and their young wives. It made me sensetive to the smallest of slights.
God grants things in his due time. Perhaps when I stop moping so much, then he will grant us a child. You are a stubborn woman, but I am a prideful man. But at the very least you must admit a knight such as myself would be a better husband than a bookish craven like Jean of Ibelin, and by that same token you are ten times the woman the Chancelor's ugly low-born wife is.”
They laughed together at this. The last time they had laughed together, and the first time they had done so in fact, was when they left Jaffa at the start of the war.
“And we still have a chance to accomplish our goal.”, Jean added.
“I do not wish to fight a war against my siblings, should any be born.”
“But you still do wish to have a son of ours reign as Emperor?”
Agnes had no answer to that. She had no wish to fight her kin. And yet she still had her ambitions. Now more than ever she wanted not to give up. She was stubborn like that.
“Yes, I do.”
Jean raised a toast. “May their union prove barren, or else produce only daughters.”
Agnes knew she needed a son for her plans to work. And yet her time with Isabelle had left her longing for a daughter of her own.
Agnes declined to answer his toast. Jean put his glass down, disappointed. “Did I do something wrong, my lady?”
She sighed. “I do not want to wish unhappiness on my father. He was kind to me after the news broke that my friend Princess Anna was dead.”
Jean shook his head. “I was not kind to you then. A true knight would have comforted you when you were distressed and not acted the stern disciplinarian.”
Agnes shook her head. “It would not have made much of a difference. Husband I know the type of man you are. You are a good man, but not one given to fiery, misguided passion when you feel envy, or when something threatens your pride. Otherwise you are courteous and noble. However, you do not know how to manage a woman’s feelings. You are sensitive to any word said to you, but you do not know what your words mean to someone like me. I would like you to change, I pray you do, but I am willing to accept you for who you are. I just wish..I just wish you respected me the way you respect Maria Komnenos. When you complimented my leadership during the siege, that meant more than when you called me beautiful. Pleas Jean. You say I am dignified. Then treat me with the dignity I deserve.”
They were both somewhat taken aback by this. The words had just flown from her mouth like she had been bottling them up all this time.
Jean laughed. You know, both you and the Komnenos Queen have a way of showing me my own mistakes. Very well, I shall make the next toast to our new partnership.”
“I’d rather make a toast to the fruitfulness of our own marriage.” She smiled and drank her wine, trying to hold it in a seductive and alluring way.
She got to her feet and extended her hand to Jean. He took it. He trembled , it was obvious a woman had not held him in a while. He held her like he was afraid she would break He didn’t speak. He held her, his hand on the small of her back, and stared into her eyes. She saw the neediness that so vexed her and everyone around him. His courtesies and knightly valor were all armor to hide the frightened, lonely man underneath.
She spoke in a whisper. “I’ve been so afraid. A dear friend of mine has died. My own father thinks me capable of murder. I don’t know who to turn to anymore. I feel so lost. My stepmother is more beautiful than me."
“I..I’ve lost a good friend. Savary was not a good man by any means. But he was a good friend. I should be grateful to god for all these victories. I should be thankful for a lot more. But envy for others eats away at me. Some some of the my strongest vassals see to steal the kingdom out from under me. I do not know which sides all the states of Outremear will fall, or what the Kings of Europe will do. I am in as strong a position as I ever was. And yet I am afraid.”
She kissed him then and pressed herself up against him gently as if to say; you are not alone. This was meant for herself as much as him. Agnes had seen the absolute worst of her husband. Yet there was still a fundamental decency to him. He could be her comfort for the night, and their child, whenever it was born, would serve as her instrument of defiance. To her father, to Jean, to the cruel world that she could never fit into. Agnes reminded herself that she was the one who wanted to spend the night with him, and not the other way round. She would not be the only one of her friends lonely at night.
Gently she took his cheek, stroking it like a kitten. “Tonight, I will make you feel safe. In exchange, I want you make me feel beautiful. What say you to that my knight?”
He answered by kissing her fiercely and pulling her into him tightly like a drowned man clutching at drift wood, and she felt as desired as any woman could be. They had both been so starved for love as of late.
That night, as they lay asleep next to one another, drenched with sweat, Agnes prayed. “God, take mercy on us both. Bless us with children. A little boy for him, and a girl for me.” She thought of what to say about her father and his new wife. What she had said to her husband still held true. She could not wish her father anything but the greatest possible joy, even when she defied him. And as to the girl, well, what was she even like? Her Uncle had said she was evil. And yet to Agnes she seemed more afraid of them than they were of her. "Please God, give me the strength to know what I want.” No answer came by morning.
It was a sweltering day in the Council Chamber. Even in silks, Agnes thought she would burn up. Still, she would rather be here than anywhere else. Jean had allowed her to take part out of respect for her father , probably because he knew she was stubborn enough to force herself in.
Still, her husband had made clear to her, she was to be seen and not heard. That was perfectly fine by Agnes. Though she would always insist on her right to be present, she had little to add to discussions of military matters, and hated arguing in public. That was especially true because she was the only woman in a room full of powerful men. Better to survey the lay of the land and then make her move.
Represented were the commanders of the army, Jean, Emperor Henri, King Hughes, the Guillaume Grandmaster of the Templars, Gurrien the Grandmaster of the Hospitlers, and the Poltiers brothers. Jean had also brought along Alphonse, who he had elevated to the rank of advisor because of the resignation of Grandmaster Gurrien from the Council and his order’s renunciation of their oath of fealty to the Kingdom. Because of Alphonse's inclusion, each of the other men could bring one councilor. The only one Agnes recognized was her father's spymaster, Adrien of Madytos.
The meeting started off with the reading of a letter from Jean’s spymaster, Raymonnde’s father, the Count of Sidon. The forces left behind by the main army at Saphat had taken the city. The spymaster had since left the army and gone on a far ranging scouting mission, and was thus out of contact.
They then moved on to the situation in Anatolia. Armenia has broken into Civil war ever since the Rubenid Queen tried to revoke Tarsus from it’s Hethumid Count. However, both parties were willing to allow Crusader armies to transit their lands.
The same could not be said of the Seljuk turks. They had allied with the Sultan of Egypt and were, with the help of the army the Egyptians had unwisely deployed to the region, attempting to intercept the Crusader armies as they crossed through Anatolia. The Turks were also involved in a war with the Greeks of Nicaea, who were supported by several Orthodox States. They were however loosing. An attempt by one of the Sultan’s vassals to subdue the Komnenos of Trebizond was also going poorly, due in large part to the assistance of Queen Tamar of Georgia.
“The puppeteer comes to assist the marionette”, her father sneered.
The King of Cyprus winced. “My brother in laws is doing very well in this war. The Orthodox may not be taking part in our Holy Quest for Jerusalem, but they bleed the enemies of God all the same.”
The two men might have launched into a heated discussion on the merits and demerits of their fellow Christians. However, they were distracted by the opening of the door. “Ah drinks”, cried out Prince Bohemond with his typical enthusiasm. His face lit up when he saw who was serving them, while his brother looked down like an abashed child.
Marajil and Marayumah came carrying refreshments for the Crusaders. Nobody batted an eye at being served by Muslims while plotting a Holy War. After all, Agnes thought, what better way was there to show superiority over an enemy than by taking their womenfolk. Because that was all they were right, trophies to be traded amongst men like the captured standards of old Roman Legions. Ever since she was a child Agnes had been learning and relearning the same lesson. The world was unfair.
King Hughes’s scowled at the new arrivals. “Well, some news recently arrived from Antioch that should interest many of the men at this table. It concerns the lady Sybille. ”
“My sweet wife”, Bohemond said, as if he was just remembering who she was.
“Yes, my little sister, your lawful, loving, Christian wife, has given birth to a baby girl”. The King spoke as if he was attempting to drill the meaning of each of these words into the Prince’s thick skull. Agnes doubted he would be successful.
“She is in good health, and wishes to convey her thanks to God, her love to her husband, and her wish for a Christian victory in this war.” Hughes did not take his eyes of Bohemond for the entire speech, nor did Marayumah.
The Prince of Antioch looked like a trapped man. “Ah I am so glad that both they and Antioch are safe. Best to carry on with the meeting. I am told it is bad manners to bring up personal matters in such a setting. I will write to her when matters are concluded”
Raymond looked at his brother with a smirk, as if to say nice dodge.
Hughes seemed like he wanted to beat the Prince into a pulp, while Marayumah had an unexpectedly pained look on her face.
Marayumah was the Prince’s lover. Lords often took such women into their beds, caring little for their thoughts, feelings, or moral character. But Bohemond had not just plied her with gifts and money, he’d given her a hijab that once belonged to his Muslim wet-nurse. Marayumah now wore it on her head, as she did every day.
Marayumah claimed to find enjoyment out of these trysts, and the information she gained proved to be valuable. However, she seemed to feel something more for this boy, and from what Agnes had seen, he felt the same for her.
Raymond de Poltiers had recently jumped out of his shell. He was proving to be quite popular at dinner and had even gotten himself a lover. Of course, what Raymond counted as living in sin and what Marajil thought were two very different things. He confided in her, cried on her shoulder, and once even kissed her, but little else had happened, to Marajil’s amusement and consternation. The furthest they had gone was cuddling together, which had led Raymond to apologize to Marajil for dishonoring her. Of course, the Saracen woman’s honor had been lost long ago. Raymond often turned to her for advice on the real object of his desire, some knight's daughter. Marajil was happy to indulge him, she found his modesty cute. She indulged her physical needs with the Prince’s uncle, another Bohemond, who seemed quite taken with her. Marajil and Marayumah would often compare their Bohemonds for the sake of fun.
Finally, the men turned their attention to matters closer to home. The armies of the Iberian Kingdoms were soon to arrive in the Holy Land. If they landed in the south, they could rescue and refortify Jaffa-Askleon. Although the Egyptian army had bypassed the major settlements, that did not make the counties tranquil. Civil disorder had broken out in many towns, several small castles and holdfasts had been raised and occupied, and the whole county was suffering depopulation because of the Consumption epidemic. Jerusalem was suffering from the same outbreak. Grandmaster Gurrien deemed it a fine thing, as its depopulation would allow the city to be more easily resettled. Marajil and Marayumah kept their expressions carefully natural for this part. The Poltiers brothers, for their part, argued the best way to prove one's Zeal was to peacefully convert non-Christians. After all, had Christ himself not ministered to sinners. The Grandmaster responded that if they wanted to take off their armor, leave their armies, and go to Jerusalem to talk with the Sultan, he was more than happy to oblige them. It fell to her father to put an end to this pointless quarrel. He then laid out his strategy.
The arrival of the reinforcements would allow the army to form multiple centers of gravity and be able to concentrate on sieging multiple strongholds with forces capable of independently defeating virtually any army sent against them. It was agreed the army would make another attempt at Tiberius. They would then fan out and retake the kingdom’s old borders, and their natural defenses, before then swinging back and Capturing Jerusalem. Agnes had not the slightest idea how these military matters would pan out. The men seemed confident in their plan, and so she was at well.
-------
At the end of the meeting, her father’s spymaster approached her.
He bowed before her. "My lady Agnes. It is always a delight to see you, even if it is under difficult circumstances."
"Mayor Adrien, how go your studies."
He looked up at her in surprise. "Oh they go quite well, sadly this is not the reason for our meeting."
"Oh How may I be of service to you?" It was a pity. The spymaster was a scholarly sort, and she had hoped to establish a connection on that basis.
“I am told you have been sending your spies after a certain girl in your father’s retinue. Your father wishes this to cease at once.”
“Am I not allowed to know what goes on in my husband’s castle?” Agnes could practically feel her heels digging in.
“It is not a matter of allowing. It is a matter of privacy and Imperial dignity.” He spoke in a polite but firm tone. The way a diplomat would speak to a respected colleague from a hostile state. This offended her.
“Am I not a member of the Imperial family? The Emperor’s only living and legitimate issue? Is my dignity not affected by my father’s actions?”
He sighed and muttered something about pitying "both of them", though Agnes had no idea who the other person was.
The spymaster sighed. “Did your Uncle Godefroid put you up to this?”
That was not incorrect. Her Uncle had not only implied that not only was her father seeing a woman, but she was ruling him, and turning him against his family. The whole thing had been a garbled rant and she found it a good idea to leave the room while he discussed matters with his "imaginary friends." Agnes did not believe the concubine, assuming she was even real, had been successful in turning the Emperor against his family, at least recently. Her father had been nothing but cordial to her and Jean, and had been very kind to her on his first day in Acre.
However, she still had her concerns. As far as Agnes knew, her father had never tried to remarry or taken other lovers. Intellectually she knew their must have been some. But she had never seen any, and so chose to believe that Emperor Henri was unique amongst laymen in his celibacy. But even if he wasn’t, she still wouldn’t mind if he just took a woman to his bed every night. But he spent almost all his time with his army or at prayer. All his remaining hours seemed devoted to this woman, and not to her. They had hardly spoken since he’d hugged her. The joy of receiving parental love only made it more bitter when that affection was once again withdrawn.
“And if he did?” She stared him down, and the spymaster stared right back at her in turn.
“Then I would tell you he is misleading you, whatever he is saying. I hate to tell you this but the man is hardly sane. Furthermore, you must cease these intrusions at once. It is most upsetting to your father.” That made her angry. Why was he upset that his only daughter was trying to look out for him?
“What right does he to tell me, a married woman, what to do in my own home? You may convey my love to my father, but you must also tell him that if he wishes to discuss something sensitive with me he should do so himself and not work though intermediaries.”
She was surprised at the way the Spymaster looked at her with pity filled eyes.
“As you say, my lady. However, I must say, you will be in for quite a shock.”
She was with her cats when a messenger came inviting her and Jean to dine with the Emperor.
------
Agnes decided she would wear a gown with the black and yellow colors of the House of Flanders Her father would like that.
“How do I look?”, she asked her husband, half expecting some rebuke. “You cary yourself with dignity and grace my lady. You require no finery to make that clear. I can see what the people of this city saw in you.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “Thank you husband.”
Sitting on her father’s left was her uncle, Prince Godefroid, and on his right was…no. Dear god not that. “My beloved daughter…Sir Jean, please, have a seat.”
They sat down, all merriment gone. The girl was tall and had reddish brown hair. She was even more beautiful than Raymonde and poised as well. Too poised. Like she was trying to act a part others had been born to play. Her one physical inperfection was a pale sickly coloring of her skin. She wore a red gown with a yellow trim, her father’s new colors. She was silent, her hands on her laps, as if she was a criminal being judged. Her eyes seemed to peer into Agnes, searching for something. Weakness no doubt, said a voice in her head that sounded an awful lot like Marayumah.
“Who is she?”, Agnes asked.
He looked at the girl, who was looking pained, and kissed her tenderly on the cheek.
“She is my wife and Empress, Sophie de Constantinople.”
The girl was slow and measured in her response. “It is an honor to be in your presence, my lord and lady. I am eternally grateful for the Emperor’s kindness. I know it is hard to accept a woman like me as his consort. I promise to work to earn your trust and affection. I pledge to be a good and loyal servant to my lord husband until the day death do us part.” Underneath the flattery, there was a hint of steel. The girl intended to remain attached to her father until the day she died.
Godefroid jumped out of his chair with a crazed look in his eyes. He seemed ready to throw a fit. “She is not who she pretends to be. This woman is an unnaturally cruel impaler who has bewitched my brother.”
The young woman fixed Uncle Godeforid with a look that was equal parts hatred and terror.
“SIT DOWN!" the Emperor bellowed.
His brother obeyed.
"You are one to talk about being bewitched. This lady is my wife and your Empress and you will treat to her with respect if you wish to continue in my service. Is that understood, brother?!” Her father almost spat the last word. Agnes had never seen him this angry.
Jean seemed taken back as well. He seemed like he had meant to say something but decided against it.
He turned to Agnes and Jean. “That applies to you two as well. I would have never thought my own daughter could spy on me! Your mother would weep if she could see what's become of you. I can only pray that you turn to God for forgiveness."
"My mother would weep to see you in another's arms." That was the pleasant way of saying it.
"This is exactly why I took my time in telling you. This and worse. If you are capable of spying on me, what is to say you wouldn't send knives after her? It was my sweet Sophie who convinced me that you had to hear before the rest of the world. And it would just break her heart if you reject her.” He seemed to regard this Sophie as both bride and child. A prettier, more obedient daughter he could take into his bed. Agnes felt the urge to vomit. Both she and her friend Raymonde had wed older men, but they did not have children any near her age to bring that difference in so stark a relief.
She and Jean were both at a loss for words. The Ibelin had been one thing, and Raymonde and Alphonse had worked out splendidly but for an Emperor to wed a commoner. It was outrageous. The looks on their faces must have given them away.
“Oh so you two think me a fool as well? Well I’ll show you. If any harm should befall my Sophie, you shall suffer the same harm but ten times! This lady is my wife in every way a woman can be. I do not wish to be cruel to you daughter, but I feel I have no choice. Failure to accept her or our future children will have grave consequences!”
----
After the dinner Jean insisted they withdraw to a sitting room to discuss what had happened. Agnes agreed, she was tired of arguments and reeling from the revelation, and from her father's change in attitude. Better to get Jean's inevitable temper tantrum out of the way. Jean spoke first, after having had drinks brought for the both of them.
“My nobles, my marshal, Ibelin, the bishop and now your father. Why men sacrifice so much for pretty girls, I will never understand it.”
"Do you consider me a pretty girl?" Of course, ever prudent Jean would stay stuck with an ugly woman like herself for the sake of political expedience.
Jean looked at her. It seemed like he was about to say something, then smirked and chuckled to himself. “Only I could complain about such a marriage. You are a younger woman than I have any right to ask for, and the daughter of an Emperor no less. If I am to be honest with myself I have hardly made any sacrifices to have you.”
This was quite a reversal of attitudes from what he had said but a few days earlier. “You married a barren argumentative shrew.” After what had happened with her father, her self esteem was at an all-time low.
“My lady. You should know by now I am a man who values my honor. I was excessive in chiding you. I know you were just trying to do what was best for me, as your wedding vow demands. I have the same problem with Alphonse and others who give me council I do not wish to hear. Perhaps your father's unfortunate marriage is a punishment from God for having taken your for granted.”
He shook his head. "I think it was that youth that drove me to act the way I did. You know how all those stories go about old men and their young wives. It made me sensetive to the smallest of slights.
God grants things in his due time. Perhaps when I stop moping so much, then he will grant us a child. You are a stubborn woman, but I am a prideful man. But at the very least you must admit a knight such as myself would be a better husband than a bookish craven like Jean of Ibelin, and by that same token you are ten times the woman the Chancelor's ugly low-born wife is.”
They laughed together at this. The last time they had laughed together, and the first time they had done so in fact, was when they left Jaffa at the start of the war.
“And we still have a chance to accomplish our goal.”, Jean added.
“I do not wish to fight a war against my siblings, should any be born.”
“But you still do wish to have a son of ours reign as Emperor?”
Agnes had no answer to that. She had no wish to fight her kin. And yet she still had her ambitions. Now more than ever she wanted not to give up. She was stubborn like that.
“Yes, I do.”
Jean raised a toast. “May their union prove barren, or else produce only daughters.”
Agnes knew she needed a son for her plans to work. And yet her time with Isabelle had left her longing for a daughter of her own.
Agnes declined to answer his toast. Jean put his glass down, disappointed. “Did I do something wrong, my lady?”
She sighed. “I do not want to wish unhappiness on my father. He was kind to me after the news broke that my friend Princess Anna was dead.”
Jean shook his head. “I was not kind to you then. A true knight would have comforted you when you were distressed and not acted the stern disciplinarian.”
Agnes shook her head. “It would not have made much of a difference. Husband I know the type of man you are. You are a good man, but not one given to fiery, misguided passion when you feel envy, or when something threatens your pride. Otherwise you are courteous and noble. However, you do not know how to manage a woman’s feelings. You are sensitive to any word said to you, but you do not know what your words mean to someone like me. I would like you to change, I pray you do, but I am willing to accept you for who you are. I just wish..I just wish you respected me the way you respect Maria Komnenos. When you complimented my leadership during the siege, that meant more than when you called me beautiful. Pleas Jean. You say I am dignified. Then treat me with the dignity I deserve.”
They were both somewhat taken aback by this. The words had just flown from her mouth like she had been bottling them up all this time.
Jean laughed. You know, both you and the Komnenos Queen have a way of showing me my own mistakes. Very well, I shall make the next toast to our new partnership.”
“I’d rather make a toast to the fruitfulness of our own marriage.” She smiled and drank her wine, trying to hold it in a seductive and alluring way.
She got to her feet and extended her hand to Jean. He took it. He trembled , it was obvious a woman had not held him in a while. He held her like he was afraid she would break He didn’t speak. He held her, his hand on the small of her back, and stared into her eyes. She saw the neediness that so vexed her and everyone around him. His courtesies and knightly valor were all armor to hide the frightened, lonely man underneath.
She spoke in a whisper. “I’ve been so afraid. A dear friend of mine has died. My own father thinks me capable of murder. I don’t know who to turn to anymore. I feel so lost. My stepmother is more beautiful than me."
“I..I’ve lost a good friend. Savary was not a good man by any means. But he was a good friend. I should be grateful to god for all these victories. I should be thankful for a lot more. But envy for others eats away at me. Some some of the my strongest vassals see to steal the kingdom out from under me. I do not know which sides all the states of Outremear will fall, or what the Kings of Europe will do. I am in as strong a position as I ever was. And yet I am afraid.”
She kissed him then and pressed herself up against him gently as if to say; you are not alone. This was meant for herself as much as him. Agnes had seen the absolute worst of her husband. Yet there was still a fundamental decency to him. He could be her comfort for the night, and their child, whenever it was born, would serve as her instrument of defiance. To her father, to Jean, to the cruel world that she could never fit into. Agnes reminded herself that she was the one who wanted to spend the night with him, and not the other way round. She would not be the only one of her friends lonely at night.
Gently she took his cheek, stroking it like a kitten. “Tonight, I will make you feel safe. In exchange, I want you make me feel beautiful. What say you to that my knight?”
He answered by kissing her fiercely and pulling her into him tightly like a drowned man clutching at drift wood, and she felt as desired as any woman could be. They had both been so starved for love as of late.
That night, as they lay asleep next to one another, drenched with sweat, Agnes prayed. “God, take mercy on us both. Bless us with children. A little boy for him, and a girl for me.” She thought of what to say about her father and his new wife. What she had said to her husband still held true. She could not wish her father anything but the greatest possible joy, even when she defied him. And as to the girl, well, what was she even like? Her Uncle had said she was evil. And yet to Agnes she seemed more afraid of them than they were of her. "Please God, give me the strength to know what I want.” No answer came by morning.
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What happened to the Jean that I know and avoid? Here, he is milk toasty. May Agnes get her daughter and her father enjoy his new 'child'. Take care, my Queen.