Widow of Jerusalem: A Medieval Mystery (13 page)

“We are from Toulouse,” said the stout man.

“I know it well,” I said, tuning my lute.

“Well, not from the city itself,” he amended hastily. “From St. Sulpice, north of there.”

“I believe I passed through there once or twice,” I said. “Does it have a small wooden church with a flat roof on a hill and a tavern called the Blue Dog?”

“That’s the one,” he replied.

“Then let me sing you a song the farmers sing at their revels,” I said, and I launched into something appropriate. Peter grabbed a tambourine from my bag and accompanied me vigorously. At the end, they clapped and the stout man gave us each a penny. Peter’s eyes grew wide and he thanked them profusely, drawing their attention away from me.

Afterward, as the two of us walked away, I handed him the second penny.

“What’s that for?” he said.

“”lour finder’s fee,” I said. “You did splendidly back there.”

“I was amazed that you know that little village so well,” he said.

“I don’t,” I said. “Neither do they. I made up the church and the tavern. And their accents weren’t quite right. They sounded more like Normans to me.”

“So they are spies,” he said excitedly.

“Poor ones,” I commented. “I have seen a much better spy today.”

“Where?” he asked, trying to look around without appearing he was doing so.

“Right here,” I said, patting his shoulder.

He grinned all the way back to the clearing.

Scarlet decided to take this information directly to Conrad. We were admitted to his private chambers. He nodded when we told him, unsurprised.

“Outside the walls, they don’t present much of a problem,” he said. “There’re a few more in the city that I have my men keep under surveillance. I think that these two are just trying to find out the extent of the French desertions, but I’ll notify the watch at the city gates to refuse them entry. I thank you for the information, and more for your loyalty.”

We bowed. He picked up a scroll from his desk.

“Another summons,” he said.

“From Richard?” asked Scarlet.

“From Hugh, Duke of Burgundy,” he said. “He’s abandoned Richard and taken the bulk of the French troops with him.”

Scarlet gave a low whistle. “Where is he now?”

“Outside Acre. And therein lies the problem. The Pisans and the Genoese are at each other’s throats there. The Pisans are trying to seize the city for Guy de Lusignan, and they won’t admit the French.” He stood and stretched, then removed his cloak to reveal that he was in armor. “Burgundy seeks my aid. And we cannot let Acre fall into the wrong hands, can we?”

“You mean the infidels?” I asked.

“I mean Lusignan,” he said, picking up his sword. “After all, it belongs to my Queen. I will see you when it’s over. It shouldn’t take too long.”

We followed him down to the harbor, where several dozen troops were pouring onto galleys in a grim, orderly manner. They cheered when they saw Conrad. He drew his sword and held it aloft so that it caught the sun, and they cheered some more.

“I almost feel inspired,” I said. “When he does go to battle, he appears quite competent.”

“He is,” said Scarlet. “And he knows when to go. I feel sorry for the Pisans, except for the fact that it’s their own damn fault.”

Isabelle had not come to see her husband off. There was some comment about that around the city, but most ascribed it to her condition and forgave her readily.

Still, with the castellum virtually emptied by the expedition, she needed entertaining more than usual. Ralph Falconberg tried to pay her a few visits in her husband’s absence but was rebuffed. He had stayed behind with his brother Hugh to assist Balian d’lbelin in running the city while Conrad was away.

I saw Mary approach him in a hall one afternoon. Once again, I was too far away to hear the brief conversation, but she left in tears while he stood there, smirking. I wondered if I had read her wrong. Perhaps she was not a go-between but another discarded conquest. But none of our attempts to elicit conversation from her had any success.

Conrad and his ships returned from Acre a week or so later, laden with booty and prisoners. There were cheers from around the harbor as he waved the Pisan standard from the forecastle.

The Queen awaited him in the great hall, along with the assembled nobles. The trumpets sounded, the drums beat out a triumphant clatter, and he led his men through the doors and knelt before the Queen.

“Acre is yours again, my love,” he said, offering her the standard. “We are glad to see you safely returned,” she said, taking it and handing it to Mary. “All is well here.”

“Is it truly?” he said quietly.

She gave an almost imperceptible shrug.

“Come,” she said. “Sit in your accustomed place by my side.”

As he did, a soldier came running in a panic.

“Sir, we have report of a great army approaching from the south,” he cried.

There were gasps in the room, but Conrad merely smiled.

“I have been expecting them,” he said. “My Queen, the Duke of Burgundy will be joining us for dinner.”

“Will you look at that?” exclaimed Scarlet. “He’s done it! He’s turned the French.”

“I suspect Richard had as much to do with that as Conrad,” I said. “Armies need to be paid, no matter how holy their mission.”

The Duke came in a little later and was escorted to the place of honor at Conrad’s right hand as Balian graciously ceded the place. Conrad himself served the Duke, selecting the choicest morsels for his plate.

“You
are most kind, my friend,” said Burgundy. “I have something for you as well that may be of interest.”

He handed Conrad a scroll. The Marquis glanced at the seal and slit it open.

“From Richard,” he said. “He wishes to meet with me again. At Casal Imbert.”

“But that’s just a day’s journey south,” said Hugh Falconberg. “I thought he was in Ascalon.”

“He came up to Acre to try and help settle everything,” said Burgundy.

“What do you think?” Conrad asked Balian.

“For him to come this far just to meet with you is a compromise on his part,” said Balian.

“And for Richard, compromise might as well be capitulation,” crowed Conrad. “Well, I am willing to meet him less than halfway. I’ll be off in the morning. Balian, time for you to go to Saladin and discuss terms again.” He lifted his goblet to the Duke of Burgundy. “My friend, to peace. You are most welcome in Tyre.”

T
he tent city
doubled in size overnight with the arrival of the French army. The celebrating began immediately as they had shed their armor and only awaited the ships that would bring them home again. Every kind of drink that could be found within twenty miles was carted in and sold at a huge profit, while the prostitutes were so in demand that they began talking about forming a guild of their own, just so they could have regular breaks from their practice.

A week after the arrival of the French, I saw the emergency signal from the novitiates. I found Scarlet at the castellum, and we ran to the tent city. Sara was by the signal pole, tears streaking her grimed face.

“Hurry, please,” she said. “It’s Ibrahim.”

She led us to a tent where some of the older boys were apparently loitering, but we could see that they were on guard. Inside, Ibrahim lay on a blanket, his face bruised and bloodied. I lifted his tunic to see that his body was much the same.

“What happened?” asked Scarlet.

“It was the soldiers,” said Peter. “Ibrahim and Magdalena were performing for them. The soldiers wanted Magdalena to go with them. She refused, and they grabbed her. Ibrahim tried to help. He fought well, but there were too many of them. They did this to him.”

Scarlet sat by Ibrahim, feeling his pulse.

“Get a stretcher from somewhere,” he said, and two of the older boys ran off. “I know a surgeon in the city. We’ll try and save him. Where did they take Magdalena?”

“To a tent in the middle of their camp,” said Sara. “We heard her screaming. But she came out later and ran off.”

Scarlet looked at me. “I suppose you’re thinking that if I taught them to fight your way, this could have been avoided,” he said heavily.

“No,” I said. “If Ibrahim had killed one of them, they would have hunted him down and hung him. fou take care of him. I’ll look for Magdalena. Did you see where she ran?”

“No,” said Sara.

“Be careful,” warned Scarlet.

I left without replying.

I wasn’t about to go into the French camp. I wouldn’t find out anything, and she had to be long gone from there. I went over everything I remembered about the girl, then started toward the clearing.

The sun was setting when I got there, and it was dark under the cover of the trees. I looked around and saw the one that she had climbed when we had her serenaded by Ibrahim. There was a dark form crouching on one of the upper limbs.

“Magdalena,” I called softly.

There was a slight rustle from above.

“Magdalena, it’s me, Droignon,” I said. “Ibrahim is still alive. Scarlet’s taking him to Tyre for help. Come with us. He needs you.” A sobbing drifted down.

“He’ll never want me now,” came her voice. “No one will. Who would want me when I have been so shamed?”

“A young fool,” I said. “One who loves you unconditionally. What happened to you was not your doing, and he knows that. I suspect that he feels shame for not saving you.”

“He tried,” she said. “He was so brave. How can I face him?”

“Because you are also brave,” I said. “There are no cowards in the

Fools” Guild. Scarlet picked you because he knew your worth. Come down, Magdalena. I’ll take you to Ibrahim.”

She came down, almost falling. I caught her and brought her out of the clearing. In the waning light, I saw what they had done to her. I took my cloak and wrapped it around her, then put my arm around her shoulders and helped her walk.

As we walked through the tents, a loose escort of novitiates formed around us who kept the curious and the louts from coming too close. I talked the guards at the gates into letting her into the city. As we walked through, I looked back and saw over my shoulder the phalanx of children who we had brought into this strange profession standing and watching us, the younger ones huddling together for comfort. Then the gates closed.

“
I
t’s my fault
,” said Scarlet as we sat outside the surgeons door. “How?” I asked.

“I gave them too much responsibility,” he said. “Too much confidence in their abilities.”

“Bad things happen to even the best of fools,” I said. “Ours is a dangerous profession.”

“But the novitiates are supposed to be protected until they are ready,” he said. “That’s the point of the Guildhall. That’s where they should be, not with me.”

“They look up to you,” I said. “You gave them responsibility and confidence, but you also gave them hope in a world where there’s little to be had. Look at all that they had been through before they came to you. They know the world can be a miserable place, and they know that it’s nearly impossible to change it. But thanks to you, they know that it’s worth the effort.”

He gave me a wan smile.

“Where’s Magdalena now?” he asked.

“At the castellum,” I said. “I had carried her to your room. When I came down, Mary was waiting for me. I told her to go to the Queen and tell her that there was a girl who needed help. Isabelle insisted on caring for her herself.”

“That’s my Isabelle,” said Scarlet. “Why was Mary waiting for you?”

“I didn’t ask,” I said. “I was concerned with helping Magdalena at the moment.”

“Well,” began Scarlet, then the surgeon opened the door and beckoned to us.

“He’ll live,” he said briefly. “His right arm is broken. I put it in a splint. If he’s lucky and God provides, it will heal straight. If not, he’ll have a bent arm. His nose was broken, but that’s never serious, and he lost some teeth. He won’t be as handsome as before, but that’s the price of brawling. If he wants to fight, tell him to join the Crusade, not take it on single-handedly.”

Scarlet gave him a coin, and we looked in on Ibrahim. He was stretched out on a table, unconscious.

“I gave him something to make him sleep,” added the surgeon. “Best thing for him. Feed him hot broths, and check the arm twice a day. If the skin begins darkening, bring him here straightaway and I’ll have it off in a trice.”

We had brought the stretcher with us, and we managed to get him to Scarlet’s building. Then I slung him over my shoulder and carried him up to the roof. He groaned with pain at every step. By the time I had dumped him on the pallet, I was spent.

“I am carrying no more bodies today,” I informed Scarlet. “You attend your Queen, and I’ll take care of him. And buy a chicken for broth on the way back, would you?”

“Right,” he said, and left.

I sat with Ibrahim through the day, mopping his brow with a wet cloth. In the afternoon, he sat up suddenly, calling out, “Magdalena!”

“She is safe,” I said. “She is with the Queen.”

“Did they..he began, then he hesitated.

“Yes, they did,” I said.

He tried to stand, and I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him down.

“I have to find them,” he said weakly. “I have to kill them.”

“Then you’ll die,” I said. “You’ll do her much more good by living.”

“But she will be unavenged,” he protested.

“Yes,” I said. “Vengeance is not a useful thing, in my opinion. I come from a land where Christianity is a relatively recent phenomenon, and one of the old ways that the nobles refused to give up was the blood feud. As a result, we have a dwindling aristocracy, which is not necessarily a bad thing. My point is, once you set vengeance on its course, it never ends, and it will come back to hurt others that you care about.”

“What will happen to the soldiers?”

“I don’t know. The Fools” Guild is not here to punish. It’s here to ft save.

“I don’t want them to be saved,” he said.

“Neither do I,” I replied. “But that’s the way it is sometimes.”

He was quiet for a while, and I thought he had drifted off again. But then he looked at me with old eyes.

“Being a fool is more difficult than any of us knew,” he said.

“If Father Gerald heard you say that, he would give you the rank of Jester on the spot,” I said.

There was a noise outside. I glanced out, my hand on my knife, then stood back. Magdalena came through the doorway, Scarlet behind her. She looked at Ibrahim with trepidation. Then he held out his hand, and she flung herself onto him, sobbing as he embraced her awkwardly. Scarlet pulled me outside.

“We have to arrange two things,” he said. “First, let’s get them married. If she is pregnant as a result of this violation, it will legitimize the baby. Second, we have to get them out of Tyre.”

“Good idea,” I said. “Where shall we send them?”

“To the Guildhall,” he said. “I’ve been saving up to send two novitiates there. I was going to send two of the younger ones who could benefit more from the training, but things just changed.”

I dug into my pouch and pulled out some gold. “Here’s my contribution,” I said, handing it to him. “That’s what is left of the money I conned out of Conrad, plus what I’ve made since.”

“But how will you live?” he asked.

“I’ve lived on no money before,” I said. “That should be enough for you to send two more children.”

“Twenty Venetian ducats a head,” he calculated. “Plus food for the voyage and travel from Venice to the Guildhall.”

“As for that, they could probably earn their way by entertaining,” I said.

“If Ibrahim’s arm doesn’t heal, he won’t be able to juggle or play the guitar,” said Conrad.

“I knew a one-armed juggler once. He did quite well. People were impressed that he even bothered.”

“All right. We have enough for four. Of the younger children, who would you pick?”

“Peter and Sara,” I said.

“My choices as well,” he said.

The wedding was performed by a Syrian monk two days later in the clearing. All the novitiates were there, of course, along with Scarlet and me. When the ceremony was done, Scarlet announced his news.

There were cries of joy, and tears from all. We made a modest feast from what was available and finished with sweetcakes that we had smuggled out of the castellum kitchen. As it ended, Scarlet and I each presented the newlyweds with a bundle tied with string.

“What is it?” asked Magdalena.

“Open them,” commanded Scarlet.

She undid both knots, Ibrahim still hampered by his splint, and pulled out two pairs of motley.

“Discarded scraps of cloth from all over, brought together in a unified whole,” I said. “Much as the Fools” Guild has been assembled from the discards of the world.”

“Wear them well, my children,” said Scarlet. “You’ve earned them.”

“What about us?” demanded Sara.

“You’ve earned a few years with Father Gerald,” said Scarlet. “You may or may not thank me for it.”

We lent the newlyweds Scarlet’s room and sat in the courtyard below, playing our instruments through the night, Peter and Sara sleeping at our feet. The next morning, we took them to the harbor where Scarlet had arranged things with a sympathetic sailing master. At the wharf, the four shook my hand solemnly, then suddenly burst toward Scarlet and hugged him hard.

“Will we ever see you again?” wailed Sara.

“Of course,” said Scarlet smiling cheerfully. “I’ll pop up at the Guildhall sometime, and you can buy me a drink and tell me your adventures.”

A drum sounded from within the boat, and the children hurried on board. The oarsmen took their stations; the anchors were pulled up, and the boat slowly pulled out of the harbor. We waved until it was a dot on the horizon.

“You know that it’s unlikely we’ll run into them again,” I said.

“I know,” said Scarlet. “But it’s my job to keep them hoping, isn’t it?”

“Come on,” I said. “I’ll buy you a drink. But you’ll have to lend me some money first.”

“So, that’s how you do it,” he said.

C
onrad returned
from his meeting with Richard in a state of rage.

“That obstinate buffoon!” he bellowed as he heaved his helmet in the general direction of his servants. “Richard the Lionhearted! Richard the Bullheaded, they should call him. Richard the Pig would do.”

“What happened?” asked Isabelle as pieces of armor continued to fly about the hall.

“He threatened me,” Conrad said in amazement. “Me! Said that if I did not send every able-bodied knight that I have down to Ascalon to help rebuild the walls, he would seize my lands as forfeit.”

“Our lands, you mean?” she corrected him gently.

He stopped and looked at her as if he had suddenly realized to whom he spoke.

“””tour lands, my Queen,” he said quietly. “Of course, they are yours. Which is why it is nonsense for him to make these threats. Every bit of land that has been recaptured is yours, not Richards, and not the Crusaders”. And everything that I do to preserve this land is done for f
t y
ou.

“How nice,” said Isabelle.

“How were things left?” asked Hugh Falconberg.

“They were left the same,” said Conrad. “He’s there and I’m here. He’s King of his country, and I am the Queen’s husband. Has Balian returned from Saladin?”

“Not yet,” said Hugh.

“Then I will speak with the Duke of Burgundy,” said Conrad. “He understands the situation. Without a King of Jerusalem, no truce will last. It has to be done now.”

The last piece of armor shed, he kicked off his boots, wrapped his cloak around him, and sat petulantly next to the Queen.

“
S
uch a lot
of noise from a husband,” said Isabelle that afternoon. “I think it’s helping me prepare to be a mother. He wants his own way, and he stamps his feet and throws tantrums until he gets it.”

“He’ll relax when he gets the nod,” said Scarlet. “It’s been a long time for something that’s so obvious.”

“Do you know, I never really wanted to be the queen of anything?” said Isabelle. “Everyone wants me for what I own, and yet I have no power to choose anything.”

“You have power, Isabelle,” said Scarlet. “You just haven’t asserted it publicly.”

“If I gave my husband a command, and he refused it, what could I do to force him?” she mused. She looked at Mary, who was bringing in a tray of food. “Mary, could you make your husband do something that he didn’t want to do?”

The woman looked startled.

“How could I do that?” she replied.

“By a woman’s wiles,” I said.

“You call them wiles,” Mary said. “Men go for women for all the wrong reasons, then say it was our wiles that snared them. If you want a man to do your bidding, then you have to marry that sort of man. Otherwise, there’s no hope.”

A
nd what’s
the fun of that? said Claudia.

Am I your ideal husband, Duchess?

There is no such thing, Fool. No more than there is an ideal wife.

S
pring sneaked
up on us one morning. We woke to see the plains shimmering greenly and the scent of new things in the air. Everyone was waiting to see which way Richard would go, east or west. The Duke of Burgundy went south to attend a council of French nobles and to urge that the question of the kingship be settled.

Richard was still holding out for Guy de Lusignan, but he had also received word that he was desperately needed in England. With Easter approaching, Burgundy threatened to pull out the few remaining French troops. Richard gave up.

Around the third week of April, the cry went up along the watch-towers: “Champagne! Champagne!” The cheer was picked up in the French encampment and soon echoed by those in the tent city, many of whom cheered without knowing precisely who he was.

With a blare of trumpets, Henry of Champagne returned to Tyre, his troops in their finest regalia. Isabelle, given the advance notice, assembled herself into a proper regal beauty, bulging belly notwithstanding, while Conrad elected to have the meeting on the steps of the cathedral.

The semi-royal couple stood to meet Henry, with the Bishop of Beauvais on one side and Balian d’lbelin on the other. All Conrads men lined both sides of the steps, and as much of Tyre as could fit crammed into the piazza to see.