CHAPTER 35
November 1183
Jerusalem, Outremer
Balian had disregarded the king’s summons, for if war was no longer looming, he was determined to put his wife and daughter’s needs first, and he returned to Nablus so he could escort Maria and Isabella to Kerak for the wedding. Having to leave them there was as difficult as anything he’d ever done, but Baldwin was awaiting him in Jerusalem. Promising Maria that he would come back to take her home after the wedding, he and his men settled into their saddles for another long journey, all those endless miles stretching between Kerak and the Holy City.
Upon his arrival in Jerusalem, Balian and his knights stopped at one of the public bathhouses to wash away the grit of the road and then continued on to his town house, where he changed his clothes before setting off for the palace. Baldwin might well be angry with him for missing a High Court session, so he went first to the Archbishop of Tyre’s town house to learn the lay of the land; William would know what sort of reception he’d get if anyone would.
“No, you’ve not missed the High Court session,” William assured him. “Baldwin has scheduled one for week’s end, so you’re just in time. He has been conducting a very thorough investigation, interrogating Guy and all of the lords who were with the army at Saforie and Ain Jālūt, trying to piece together what happened. Like me, Baldwin does not understand how we could have assembled the largest army in the history of the kingdom and yet failed to strike a single blow at the enemy. Nor do the people understand. Guy has been booed whenever he rides through the city streets,” he said with a touch of malicious satisfaction.
So public opinion has turned against Guy, judging his first campaign to be a failure, just as Amaury feared. Balian agreed with that conclusion, but not for the reasons that men were debating in taverns and on street corners. He was too weary to argue with William, though, nor did he see any point to it, for William was no soldier. Gratefully accepting a cup of wine, he sank back against the settle cushions, feeling as if every bone in his body was aching. “Should I expect a cold reception from Baldwin?” he asked, thinking it was no small feat to be able to have offended both the current king and the future king at the same time.
“No, not at all. Baldwin told me that he’d expected you to accompany Maria and Isabella to Kerak. He also said he was eager to hear what you had to say about the campaign. Why look so surprised? Baldwin has always respected your opinions, Balian.”
Balian took a swallow of his wine. “It sounds as if Guy has few friends left at court.”
“You do not know the half of it, lad. I’d often wondered if the man had any talents aside from seducing Sybilla. Well, it turns out he has a gift for making enemies. I am sure you will agree that his position is a precarious one, as even he ought to realize. Whose favor should matter the most to him? Whom should he be most concerned about pleasing?”
Balian assumed that was a rhetorical question, yet William seemed to be waiting for an answer, so he provided one. “First and foremost, he needs to keep Sybilla happy since his claim to the crown depends upon hers. And to have Baldwin on his side, of course. After that, mayhap the patriarch, Eraclius, and then as many members of the High Court as he can win over.”
William nodded. “That is just common sense, no?”
Balian regarded the other man curiously. “What has Guy done, William?”
“When Baldwin conferred the regency upon Guy, he kept for himself Jerusalem and an annual revenue. His doctors told him that it would be better for his health if he resided in a coastal city, so he requested that Guy exchange Tyre for Jerusalem. Guy refused to do it.”
Balian was truly shocked; stupidity always astounded him. “I assume Guy felt Tyre was more profitable than Jerusalem because of its trade,” he said after taking a moment to reflect. “But I cannot think of a more blatant example of a man cutting off his nose to spite his face.” Swallowing the last of his wine, he stretched his cramped muscles, saying that he’d best be on his way. “You said there is a High Court session scheduled?”
William nodded. “Not just the members of the High Court. The grand masters of the Templars and Hospitallers will be there, too, even Prince Bohemond; he arrived from Antioch a few days ago. Only Reynald de Chatillon will be absent. I assume you saw him at Kerak?”
“I did.” Balian’s mouth tightened. “In truth, I was surprised to find him there. I am sure he cares only that Humphrey and Bella are legally wed, so I did not expect him to give a fig for the wedding festivities themselves.” He stopped then, for the archbishop’s face was as transparent as spring water. “William?”
“I would have said something, but I was sure you knew, that Reynald would have told you. He is there because a spy warned Baldwin that Saladin is considering an attack on Kerak.”
Balian was already on his feet. “That cankered, treacherous whoreson! He said nary a word about a planned attack on the castle. He knew that if I learned Saladin was leading an army to Kerak, I’d never have left Maria and Bella there, would have taken them to Jerusalem with me, the wedding be damned!”
“We do not know for sure that Saladin is planning an attack,” William said, as reassuringly as he could. “Baldwin’s spy could be wrong. Even if he is not, you need not fear for Maria and Isabella. Reynald may be the Devil’s own, but he is a superb soldier. And Kerak is the most formidable citadel in all of Outremer. It could never fall to the Saracens.”
Balian had retrieved his mantle and was on his way to the door. “Men said that, too, about the castle at Jacob’s Ford.”
“Come in, Balian, and sit beside me at the table. Anselm will get you some wine.”
Balian was surprised that Baldwin’s voice sounded so strong, not at all like a man who’d been on his deathbed just three months ago. It was significant, too, that they were meeting in the palace solar and not Baldwin’s bedchamber, more proof that his doctors had vanquished his mystery fever.
Balian sat as bidden, but almost at once, he rose again, too edgy to sit still. “I need to know what your spy told you about the Saracens’ planned attack on Kerak. How reliable is your man? Do you expect Saladin to lay siege to the castle?”
“Whilst I cannot tell you for a certainty that it will happen, it makes sense, given how much Saladin hates Reynald. Moreover, the wedding itself would be a tempting target, offering up some very highborn hostages, including my sister. That is why I sent so many knights with Reynald as soon as we got my spy’s report—to make sure Kerak would be well defended. Since it would take a messenger so long to ride from Kerak, I gave Reynald two of my own pigeons to take with him. So far they have not come back to Jerusalem.”
That eased Balian’s mind a bit. While the Franks had never relied upon the use of messenger pigeons to the extent that the Saracens did, some of the Poulains had become convinced of their value, including the Hospitallers and Templars. “I still wish to return to Kerak, sire, as soon as possible after the High Court’s session.”
“Of course. I have also sent out scouts, under orders to return to Jerusalem at once if they discover the Saracen army is on the move toward Kerak. If that happens, I will personally lead a relief force to raise the siege. On that, you have my word. Now . . . do sit down again.”
“How did you know I was not sitting down?”
“There is nothing wrong with my hearing,” Baldwin said with a slight smile. “I heard your chair scrape the floor as you pushed it back and then your pacing whilst you listened to me. I fully understand why your nerves are on edge, but I need to hear your view of what happened at Ain Jālūt. Guy is claiming that he is being unfairly criticized for making a decision—not to fight—that was urged on him by most of the Poulain lords.”
Balian conceded there was some truth in that. “I was one of those who counseled Guy to avoid a battle.” When Baldwin asked why, he took his time in framing his answer, for it was obvious that a military decision had taken on political ramifications, too. “Historically, we have always been cautious about battles with the Saracens and I explained to Guy that Saladin could afford to lose an army, but we could not, that a loss on the field would mean the loss of the kingdom, too. Also, Saladin was trying very hard to bait us into a battle. Lastly, we were outnumbered and some of his men could have attacked us from the rear if we’d engaged his army.”
Anselm had placed a cup at Balian’s elbow and he paused to drink. “I changed my mind, though, when Saladin sent out raiding parties, for our people have the right to expect us to protect them.” Baldwin nodded and Balian knew they were both thinking of Montgisard.
“So, you are saying Guy’s initial decision not to do battle with the Saracens could be justified on military grounds, but once circumstances changed, he failed to take that into account.”
“Exactly so, my liege. A failure of judgment can be forgiven unless it is utterly reckless and that was not the case at Ain Jālūt. His other mistakes and blunders cannot be as easily dismissed. Guy sent out an urgent summons to Acre and Tyre for aid, and the pilgrims about to sail responded heroically, as did the crewmen of their ships. Yet Guy made no provisions to feed all these extra mouths. In fact, he neglected to make sure we had enough supplies for the thousands of our foot soldiers. The Templars and Hospitallers and most of the Poulain lords had seen to it that their own men were provided for. But Guy had arranged to take only enough food for three days and men were soon going hungry. It was a failure of leadership and not the only one.”
Baldwin’s face was expressionless. “What others?”
“He did not take any measures to protect our holy sites even though they would be natural targets for the Saracens. As a result, the Greek monastery of St. Elias was plundered, all of its sacred relics stolen, and the abbey on Mount Tabor was almost overrun, saved only by its walls and the stout defense put up by the monks and villagers. When our food began to run out, Guy asked local villages and towns to provide supplies, but he failed to send out men to protect their wagons and some of them were captured by the Saracens. Even after word reached us of the suffering being inflicted by Saladin’s raiding parties, he did nothing.”
Balian paused again. “I told Guy what you’d said after learning that Saladin’s men were ravaging the countryside, killing and looting—that you could not remain behind the walls of Ascalon whilst your people suffered. But he was not willing to listen to me at that point, convinced that I was his enemy and seeking to lead him astray. His greatest failing, though, was his inability to inspire respect or loyalty or to gain mastery over the other men. When it became obvious that the council was so divided, he should have taken control and made the decision himself.”
“He claims the Poulain lords like Raymond and your brother thwarted him from doing that. He accuses them of wanting him to fail and insists he could not give battle to the Saracens because he feared they would not fight for him.”
“He never told the council that he wanted to fight. Would some have balked? Mayhap they would. The Count of Tripoli is fiercely independent, as we know. And the Hospitallers and Templars rarely miss an opportunity to remind us that they are accountable only to the Holy Father in Rome. These are men to be persuaded, not commanded. If Guy does not understand that after four years in Outremer, it does not bode well for his regency, much less his kingship.”
Balian wished he found it easier to read Baldwin’s face. He’d always been able to shield his thoughts and he was even more inscrutable now that he’d gone almost blind. “To be fair to him, sire, Guy is in a difficult position. Likely any man would find it a challenge to overcome the jealousies and suspicions that most Poulains harbor against outsiders. But Guy is floundering as if he has been thrown into water over his head and he does not know how to swim.”
“I appreciate your honesty, Balian,” Baldwin said, no more than that. Balian was sure, though, that Baldwin was not happy with Guy’s first command and that he was understandably furious with his brother-in-law for rejecting his request to exchange Jerusalem for Tyre. He supposed the king could reprimand Guy for his blunders. That would help only if Guy was able and willing to learn from his mistakes. Yet what else could Baldwin do?
As the lords filed into the upper chamber of David’s Tower, they saw that Baldwin was already present, seated on the dais with his mother on one side and William on the other. Guy, Sybilla, and Joscelin were nearby, all three of them looking so distraught that some of the men hoped this meant Guy was expecting a humiliating public rebuke.
Once they were seated, the patriarch offered a prayer and then all eyes turned to Baldwin. “Ere we begin the session,” he said, “I have bad news to share. Late last night a messenger arrived from Reynald de Chatillon. Kerak is under siege by Saladin.”
Balian was on his feet before the words were out of Baldwin’s mouth. “When did the siege begin?”
“A fortnight ago.” Baldwin anticipated Balian’s next question. “They set my pigeons loose ere the start of the siege. Both were shot down by Saracen bowmen, and the first man that Reynald entrusted with an appeal for help was captured and killed. The second messenger managed to get through their lines and outraced his pursuers, for which he will be well rewarded.”
“Sire, when did this man escape the castle?”
Baldwin turned toward the sound of Balian’s voice. “Nigh on a week ago,” he said, and in the silence that followed, Balian was the object of many sympathetic glances, for they all knew how much could happen at a siege in the course of a week.
“We will ride to the relief of Kerak as soon as possible,” Baldwin continued. “But there is a matter of grave importance to discuss first. My doctors had expected the worst when I was stricken with a high fever this summer. As you can see, I made a full recovery. Therefore, I am no longer in need of a regent and I am removing the Count of Jaffa from that position.”
Like waves racing shoreward, amazed murmurs swept through the chamber. Those who’d hitched their hopes to Guy’s chariot looked dismayed. But most of the men appeared relieved or downright joyful. Baldwin waited for the furor to subside before resuming.
“So, I will be the one leading our army to Kerak. I will, of course, expect all of you to take part in that rescue mission.”
Joscelin had been conferring with Guy and Sybilla while their audience reacted to this unexpected news. He kept shaking his head, but Guy apparently could keep silent no longer and strode toward the dais. “I am going to speak bluntly,” he said, adding “my liege” almost as an insulting afterthought. “I think you are making a great mistake. We all know it is merely a matter of time until you fall gravely ill again, unable to fulfill the duties of kingship. Even though you are now fever free, you can no longer lead troops into battle and will need a horse litter. You still have need of a regent. As my wife and I are your heirs, I am the only logical choice.”
There was a moment of shocked silence, for none had expected Guy to throw the gauntlet down like that. Then the lords began to talk among themselves, their voices rising until Baldwin called for quiet.
“My lord Count of Jaffa.” He’d invested those five words with such contempt that Guy flushed and Sybilla glared daggers at her brother. The Poulain lords leaned forward intently, sensing something momentous was occurring.
“It does not surprise me that you seem to have forgotten it is the High Court who selects the king, for you have remained ignorant of the history of Outremer. I had not intended to raise your fitness to rule during this session, for we have more important matters to discuss—our plans to raise the siege at Kerak. But if you would have me say it now, so be it. You have not shown yourself capable of commanding our army or governing our kingdom and I have come to realize that turning the realm over to you would be the greatest gift Saladin could ever get.”
With that the audience erupted, exclamations of amazement, anger, and joy reverberating across the chamber, some of the men jumping to their feet, others embracing one another triumphantly, a few benches toppled over in the confusion. Balian felt a stab of regret that Baldwin could no longer see the faces of his vassals, for many of them were regarding their king with the same fierce pride they’d bestowed upon him after their victory at Montgisard. As he glanced around, Balian knew he was not the only one thinking that Baldwin, blind, crippled, and doomed, still had more steel in his spine than Guy de Lusignan.
Guy looked as stunned as his supporters and Sybilla seemed on the verge of tears. Recovering quickly, she came forward to stand beside her husband, linking her arm in his as she stared defiantly at her brother. Guy acknowledged her support by squeezing her hand, but then his rage broke free. “I know what this is about. This is a petty attempt at retaliation, punishing me for my refusal to yield Tyre!”
Baldwin’s own anger seemed encased in ice. “I am thinking of the welfare of our kingdom. But I would not expect you to understand that.”
By now, Amaury de Lusignan had shoved his way to Guy’s side, obviously seeking to keep his brother from making a bad situation even worse. So were Joscelin and the patriarch, but Guy paid none of them any heed. Instead, he spun around and stormed from the chamber, with Sybilla right on his heels. Amaury followed hastily. Joscelin hesitated, then he, too, hurried after them. The rest of the men retook their seats, marveling at what they’d just witnessed.
When relative calm had been restored, Roger de Moulins, the grand master of the Hospitallers, rose to speak. “I can find no fault, my liege, with your judgment upon the Count of Jaffa. But does this mean you intend to disinherit your sister the Lady Sybilla? If you are now giving consideration to the rights of your other sister, the Lady Isabella, we cannot do so as long as she remains in danger of becoming a hostage of the Saracens.”
Baldwin had realized that someone was likely to raise the issue of the succession, and he could only hope that they’d be satisfied with an ambiguous response. The truth was that he had determined to remedy the mistake he’d made in wedding Sybilla to Guy by having the marriage annulled. He was not yet ready to reveal that, though, so he said only that there would be time enough to discuss the claims of his sisters after they’d raised the siege at Kerak.
At first, it seemed as if they’d accept that. But then his cousin rose to speak and Baldwin sensed that Bohemond was about to dip his oar into troubled waters. “You have proven this day, my lord king, why you are held in such high regard by your subjects despite the accursed disease ravaging your body. You have done us all a great service in removing Guy de Lusignan from the regency and the succession. Yet as much as it pains me to say it, your need for a regent cannot be dismissed as easily as de Lusignan’s pretensions. So, I would suggest that we appoint the Count of Tripoli to hold that post, a man of honor and courage who has royal blood running through his veins, a man who has already proven himself to be very capable of command.”
Baudouin jumped to his feet before Bohemond was done speaking, for like Bohemond, he’d seen what an opportunity they had with Raymond’s most vocal enemies—Reynald de Chatillon, Joscelin, and both de Lusignans—not present for deliberations. “I am sure I speak for many on the High Court when I say we could have no finer regent than the Count of Tripoli.”
Hugues of Galilee was the next to speak, offering a heartfelt testimonial on Raymond’s behalf. The count’s adherents had seized the momentum and Baldwin was not sure he’d be able to deflect it. He feared that if the proposal to make Raymond the regent carried the day, his allies would then try to get him named as the heir apparent. He was given a brief reprieve when Balian objected to a discussion of the regency at this time, reminding them how they’d argued for days about the succession after Amalric died, a luxury they could not afford as long as Kerak was in peril. It was then that Agnes leaned over to whisper urgently in her son’s ear. He listened in surprise, and then laughed softly before calling out for quiet again.
“It was not my wish that we discuss the succession during this session. In that, I am in full agreement with the Lord of Nablus. The safety of those trapped at Kerak must come first. But my lady mother has made an intriguing suggestion, one that deserves to be heard.”
When she saw that Baldwin was according her the honor of making her own argument, Agnes rose and turned to look out proudly upon an audience of skeptics. “I understand why so many of you are uneasy about leaving the succession unresolved. You fear that if the king were to be stricken again with another fever, Guy de Lusignan would attempt to lay claim to the regency, even to the crown itself. That fear is not unfounded. I would strongly advise the High Court, therefore, that we recognize the right of the king’s nephew to succeed him.”
This was as great a surprise as the brutally decisive action Baldwin had taken against Guy and it generated a lively, loud discussion, with everyone wanting to have his say. It soon became apparent that this was a brilliant counterstroke, a compromise that satisfied those who’d not wanted to disinherit Sybilla, those who preferred virtually anyone over Guy, and even those who harbored hopes that Raymond might rule after Baldwin’s death, for there would be time to advance his claim once the kingdom was faced with a child king. Only those who still supported Guy were disgruntled and they’d always been in the minority. With surprising unanimity, a decision was made to crown Baldwin’s five-year-old nephew and namesake as soon as possible.
On Sunday, the twentieth of November in the tenth regnal year of the king, Sybilla and Guillaume of Montferrat’s small son was crowned as the fifth King Baldwin in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The citizens of Jerusalem turned out to watch the procession to the church, but the crowd was subdued, their cheering muted. While many were overjoyed that Guy had been barred from the succession, they found it difficult to celebrate the prospect of a long minority. Even those who were illiterate and unfamiliar with Scriptures had still heard that ominous biblical prophecy: “Woe unto thee, O land, when thy king is a child.”
Night had fallen when Balian and Baudouin mounted the stairs to the roof of David’s Tower. As they watched, the huge bonfire was lit, the first in a series of warning beacons, a fiery promise to the besieged of Kerak that relief would soon be on the way. Baudouin moved closer to the crackling warmth, for a winter chill had set in, then tried again to console his brother. “You need not worry, lad. Reynald would never let himself fall into Saladin’s hands. He’ll hold that castle until Judgment Day.” Balian did not answer and they stood together in silence as the white-gold flames soared up into the black, cloud-smothered sky.