Widow of Jerusalem: A Medieval Mystery (6 page)

“Ten bezants,” he said, grinning.

“What?” I exclaimed.

“Your original price did not include any documents,” he said. “The price of occupancy inside the walls is at a premium right now.”

Scarlet began to laugh, and after a bit of feigned chagrin, I joined him.

“Here, milord,” I said, handing him half of my new fortune. “I hope to be of service to you again.”

“You are most welcome in Tyre, Droignon,” said Conrad. “Pray, leave me with my little friend so that I might catch up on the latest news from Acre.”

I retreated to the front of the hall and made myself useful by entertaining the stalled line of petitioners as well as the guards. Scarlet was perched on the arm of the throne, having a hushed conversation with Conrad. Finally, the marquis let my colleague go.

“I had to bring him up to date on the negotiations with Saladin,” he said as he rejoined me. “Not to mention as much gossip as I could gather while I was in Acre.”

“Doesn’t he have other people with Saladin? I never saw you when I was there.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said. “But I saw you. Where did you learn your Arabic, by the way? It’s excellent.”

“In Alexandria when I was younger,” I said. “How come you never contacted me before Acre?”

“I couldn’t risk being seen with a secret envoy from King Philip when I was an equally secret envoy from Conrad. Even two fools working toward the same goal can end up at cross-purposes.”

“I wonder whom Saladin will make the deal with. If he decides to deal at all.”

“I think he will,” said Scarlet. “The war has gone on too long, and his troops don’t want to fight year round. For now, he’ll play Richard and Conrad against each other while he consolidates his gains. Maybe we’ll have a truce by winter. Or maybe Richard will give up and go back to his kingdom before he loses control of it.”

“In the meantime, what are we doing right now?”

“I am going to give you the tour of the castellum and an introduction to the key people around here. You met Conrad and you saw the Bishop of Beauvais. I cannot believe you pulled that stunt over the money.”

“I thought it would be in character. Besides, I made ten bezants. Tell me about the bishop.”

“He’s been around a few years,” said Scarlet as we left the hall and walked a series of corridors and staircases. “He was an active participant in persuading the Papal Legate to annul Isabelle’s first marriage, practically procuring for Maria Comnena. When Conrad married Isabelle, Beauvais performed the ceremony, blessing the hypocrisy with everything he had.”

“Was he a friend of Conrad’s before this?”

“Not to my knowledge. I think he saw an opportunity for power and influence in an ever-decreasing sphere. He’s been away from Beauvais a long time, and he’s wondering now what he’s going to get to show for it.”

“It doesn’t sound like he’s getting much from Conrad today.”

“He should get a little more. I put a word in for him.”

“You did?” I exclaimed. “Since when do we help out the Church?”

“Beauvais is at least a neutral party as far as the various splits between England and France and between Pisa and Genoa. We need him on Conrad’s side, because Conrad has no natural constituency of his own, just a lot of sycophants and soldiers of fortune.”

“And the Queen of Jerusalem.”

“And the Queen,” he agreed.

He stopped outside a massive oaken double door.

“I am taking you in to see her,” he said, suddenly stern, “”feu are to behave in a proper manner. No coarse ribaldries or suggestive puns, and none of your rustic capers. Think of her as the Queen of the Courts of Love, a place where chivalry actually exists. Sing in your sweetest voice, and only romances and ballads. Make your courtesies with elaborate flourishes, and speak only when she speaks to you.”

“Will that be all?” I asked.

“I’m serious, Theophilos,” he said. “She is a rare creature and not to be subjected to any insult, intentional or accidental.”

“I understand,” I said. “Come, let us greet this paragon.”

He rapped softly three times on the doors, then two times more. There was a rustle of silk on the other side, then the two doors were opened by a maidservant who giggled the moment she saw Scarlet. “He’s here, milady,” she called.

We walked in, and I thought I had stumbled into Paradise. The room was draped in silks of different hues, and statues of marble and porphyry gazed benignly from niches in the walls. The furniture was ornate, with elaborate carvings on the arms and legs, and birds sang from gilded cages suspended from the ceiling. Yet in the midst of all this splendor, the most splendid of all was the lady with the alabaster skin, the golden tresses, and the dancing eyes who reclined on a divan in the center. She was about twenty, but there was still something of the little girl in her.

“My sweet Scarlet!” she cried, rising to her feet and rushing to him. She knelt and clasped him to her bosom, covering his face with kisses until he blushed more deeply than his name. “’’lou’ve returned at last. I’ve been simply miserable without you.”

“Then let me be scourged for bringing the slightest hint of misery to your chamber,” laughed the dwarf. “Surely you’ve managed to keep yourself entertained in my absence.”

“Entertained?” she scoffed. “How shall I be entertained when the prince of performers has abandoned me? Did you find some other lady with flashing eyes and exquisite boredom while you were in Acre?”

“Never even saw another woman while I was away from you,” said Scarlet. “Some wretched things were paraded by me that I was told were beautiful maids, but how could I believe that when I have beheld you? My Queen, there can be no other woman for me.”

My, he could lay it on thick, I thought. Do women really appreciate that sort of thing?

Y
ou could try
it on me once in a while, my wife said acidly.

“
A
nd you’ve brought a friend
,” she said, casting a smile in my direction that almost blinded me.

“My Queen, allow me to present my friend and colleague, Droignon,” said Scarlet.

I bowed so low that my bells tickled my toes.

“You are welcome, Droignon,” said Isabelle, extending her hand. “A friend of Scarlet’s will always be welcome in my court.”

“A benefit of his friendship beyond price, milady,” I said, grazing her hand with my lips. I looked sideways at my colleague, who was nodding approval. “Scarlet, I admit that I was wrong.”

“About what, friend Droignon?” he asked.

“You had said during our journey that there could be no lady fairer than the one that you served, and I had dismissed your words as mere hyperbole. But now that I have seen her, I will brook no comparison with any other woman in the world.”

“Now, sit and tell me all about Tyre,” she commanded, motioning him to a scarlet pillow by her divan and me to an overcushioned chair nearby.

“Accompany me, if you please, Droignon,” said Scarlet.

I pulled out my lute and began to play softly.

“Tell me the news, my pet,” said the Queen. “Is that nice Cecilie still there?”

“Aye, lady, but much worn with cares.”

“Is she? Alas, poor dear. That will doubtless have ill effect upon her complexion. What is the fashion amongst the ladies of the town?”

“Slender,” said the dwarf.

“Really?” said Isabelle in horror, glancing at her own figure.

“They haven’t had much to eat,” explained the dwarf gently. “It was a long siege. Now that things have settled down, they should be getting back to where they should be.”

“Well, that’s good,” she said.

“And they are getting plenty of exercise,” I added.

“Are they?” she said, frowning slightly.

“Promenading in the streets and entertaining the soldiers,” I said.

“Yes, as good Christian ladies should when good Christian soldiers are present,” said Scarlet hurriedly.

“Oh, I see,” said Isabelle. “Then it is charity on their parts.”

The going rate was a loaf of bread, I had heard, but Scarlet’s expression stopped me from uttering that thought.

Scarlet gossiped on as if he had never diverted a single bit of flour or crossed an enemy line during his sojourn, and she laughed and asked nonsensical questions about clothes and jewels.

“And how does the Marquis treat you?” inquired Scarlet.

“Oh, you know how it is,” she said, her cheeks turning crimson. “I am trying my very best to be the sort of wife he likes, but he would rather sit up all night with his friends, drinking and dicing. When he does come to my chambers, he’s usually drunk. But he can be quite kind and charming when he’s sober.”

She sighed. “I had a young, beautiful husband who didn’t want me. Now, I have an old, ugly husband who wants me occasionally but seldom can do anything about it. It’s not at all the life I expected when I became queen. I thought there would be more parties, and state occasions, and cheering crowds.”

“There will be, milady,” said Scarlet. “And in the meantime, there is me, back to be your own personal state occasion and cheering crowd.”

“Oh, Scarlet, I’ve missed you so much,” she said, with another fit of dwarf-clasping. I began to worry that he might suffocate from her attentions. “Don’t ever leave me again. At least, not for such a long time.

“I will do my best,” he promised. “But your lord sometimes needs me for these little errands of his.”

“Can’t he send one of his men instead?” she protested.

“Send a large man for such a little errand?” he responded. “No, lady, a little errand requires a little man. There are too few soldiers to waste around here. Having no fighting ability, I must make myself useful in other ways.”

“Well, I don’t want you to do it anymore,” she said. “I’ll talk to Conrad at the dinner tomorrow.”

“There’s a dinner tomorrow?” asked Scarlet.

“Yes, and I want the two of you there to entertain,” she said. “Do a good job of it, sweet Scarlet, so that Conrad will see that you’re more valuable here amusing us than out on those silly missions of his. Now, sing to me.”

We sang, and eventually she fell asleep. We tiptoed out.

“I find myself in a professional quandary,” he said as we walked back to his place. “The entertainer in me wants to knock them dead tomorrow, while the practical side wants to be able to still be available for Conrad, which means I shouldn’t perform well. But that would displease Isabelle.”

“You’ve forgotten something,” I said.

“What’s that?”

“You now have a second fool on the premises. You no longer have to be two fools at once. Make your queen happy, my friend, and I’ll do the dirty work for a while.”

He smiled. “Fair enough. Shall we rehearse some two-man work?”

“By all means.”

And, having spent the morning riding and the afternoon getting acquainted, I juggled my way into the evening on the roof of a dwarf’s cottage, with all the world spread out before me.

I
awoke midmorning
and did my stretches on the roof, using the vantage to get the shape of Tyre in my head before I ventured forth. Scarlet had already left; a note on his pallet said that he was attending his queen. I had noticed by this time that he subsisted on little sleep, even now that we were safely back in Tyre, yet he seemed ever alert, his gleaming eyes always watchful.

I spent the rest of the morning walking about the city, frequently getting lost despite my aerial reconnaissance. The streets were laid out in a haphazard manner due to the constant tearing down and rebuilding. Despite the many wars and sieges it had been through, or perhaps because of them, Tyre appeared to be a city of vast wealth. I would turn one corner and come across a square with a huge, sculptured fountain, water spewing from the ewers of marble maidens. Another turn would lead me to a slave auction, with recently captured Saracens up for sale. The fish market was at peak activity, the boats docked in the inner harbor while their crew flung their catch to the waiting hordes of servants and cooks.

The usage of space ranged from economical to insane. I constantly had the illusion that the towers were leaning over me, ready to topple, yet they seemed to stay put, and the other pedestrians didn’t even look up. The town hall was an immense building, so large that the land itself could not hold it. It was over a hundred yards long, at least a third of it extending onto bitumed wooden posts driven into the harbor floor.

I saw the cathedral, which looked in decent enough shape despite the Bishop of Beauvais’s public anguish. Perhaps he was hoping to add another wing to it. There was another grand church with granite columns that was reserved for the use of the Crusaders. The Emperor Frederick Barbarossa was entombed there, his body carried in state all the way from the Calycadnus river in which he had drowned. They had filled his coffin with vinegar in an effort to preserve his body until it reached the Holy Land, but by the time they reached Tyre there was nothing left but pickled bones. At least he got a decent tomb. There were plenty of Crusaders whose bones were being picked clean by buzzards on Syrian plains.

There were mosques in abundance, and even a Jewish temple by a small but active street of artisans working in glass, making delicately hued vessels with long necks. All the citizens—Christian, Saracen, and Jew alike—walked about the city with a sense of purpose, unmolested by their fellows, just as if their brethren weren’t bent on slaughtering each other just a few days’ ride south. Yet for all that bustle, the streets were immaculate. The respite from the war allowed the use of water for the luxury of washing the grime from the paving stones and the buildings, and the baths were thriving. I noticed that the cisterns and wells were in good repair and filled to the brim.

All in all, I was most impressed with how this rogue from Montferrat was managing the city.

I was wandering along the northern wall when Scarlet hailed me.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said, puffing a bit as he joined me.

“That’s where I’ve been,” I replied. “I’m surprised you didn’t see me there.”

“Well, since we’re here, let me show you something interesting,” he said. “Give me a hand up.”

I lifted him up to the top of the wall, then pulled myself up next to him.

“When the weather’s been good for a few days, you can see them,” he said, looking down at the water.

“What?” I asked.

“Just look,” he said.

I gazed down at the waves below. They were crossing our field of vision, racing toward the beach north of the causeway. It was getting toward low tide. I was about to ask him again when there was a momentary stillness in the waters, and I gasped with amazement.

Pure white marble gleamed up from the sea’s depths. I saw columns, steps leading to nothing, flagstones laying out roads for undersea charioteers.

“What fabulous place was this?” I asked.

“Tyre,” he said. “Tyre that was in the time of Alexander the Great. Remnants of a mighty warrior and a mighty civilization. He’s dust, and those are the bones of a city that thrived long before Christ came to redeem this world.”

“Amazing,” I said.

He hopped down.

“I like to look at that every now and then,” he said as we walked to the castellum. “Sometimes it depresses me. Sometimes it gives me hope.”

“How?”

“It depresses me during those times when I think that all of our efforts will amount to nothing in the long run and that the impact of the Guild will matter as much to the future world as Alexander’s does ft to us.

“And the hope?”

“The hope comes from realizing that even the most powerful tyrants cannot last, and that with faith and patience, we may yet find our way to the city of God.”

“Meaning Jerusalem?”

He shrugged.

“And are you hopeful or depressed right now?”

He shrugged again.

“What’s the occasion for the feast?” I asked, changing the subject.

“There’s food,” he replied.

“But isn’t there generally—?” I stopped, grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him to face me. “Tell me that this feast isn’t the food we stole!”

“Take your hands off me,” he said calmly.

“Or you’ll do what?” I said.

He thought for a moment, then brightened. “Please take your hands off me,” he said.

“I want an explanation why—” I started, and then I found myself flat on my back with Scarlet sitting cross-legged on my chest.

“I did say, ‘Please,’ ” he reminded me.

“How did you do that?” I asked. “Professional curiosity.”

“By letting people underestimate my abilities,” he said. “Would you like me to get up?”

“Please.”

He stood and offered me a hand. I’m not the sort of man to refuse the hand of a smaller man who has just bested him. I took it, and he hauled me to my feet.

“Most of the food has been distributed to the tent people,” he explained as we walked to the palace. “But Conrad has to entertain his supporters every now and then, just to show that he can, and to let them know he hasn’t forgotten them. So, yes, some of the food we diverted from the Crusaders is going into the stomachs of the rich and powerful in Tyre. That is the price of charity. I wish things were done a little more equitably, but that wouldn’t be the world, would it?”

“No,” I said. “But I don’t like knowing that I joined this venture so that lords might stuff themselves.”

“If you feel that strongly about it, then don’t partake once we’re there,” said Scarlet. “Of course, you might offend Conrad, and then you’ll be back to being a street fool, moping around the tents until your patron comes back from the wars.”

T
he tables were already set
up in the great hall when we entered, and Conrad’s throne had been placed at the center of the main table, a smaller throne for Isabelle to his left. We set up a pair of stools on a raised platform in the rear corner, which allowed us a view of the entire room as well as the entrance through which the guests arrived.

We began playing, he on guitar and me on lute. The only listeners were servants, who were just finishing setting up the tables and sideboards, but a fool cares not about the rank of his audience, just that he has one.

The guests trickled in, with Scarlet providing a constant commentary in low tones. Most of them were officers who took their places at the ends of the tables closest to the entrance.

“Quite a variety,” I commented, observing the different coats of arms.

“Some came from Constantinople with Conrad. A couple have been with him ever since he left Montferrat, and the rest have all fled from different parts of Outremer, staying one step ahead of the Saracen lances. Not many Crusading types in Tyre—they’ve all had enough of that nonsense. These men will fight first for survival and second if the money’s right. They might become more dangerous if a treaty’s struck, because they’ll all go looking to reclaim what they once had.”

“Or claim somewhere else to replace it.”

“That, too.” He suddenly struck up a lively, welcoming march, smiling broadly. A hale warrior with pure white hair and beard was making his way through the hall, stopping to greet every man present. Regardless of nationality, they stood to salute him respectfully.

“Balian d’lbelin,” whispered Scarlet. “The best man in Tyre, for my money. He’s the second husband of Maria Comnena, which makes him Conrad’s stepfather-in-law. But he’s Conrad’s closest adviser as well, and that’s on merit, not connection. He’s been the main strategist on the negotiations with Saladin.”

W
as
he married to Maria when she seduced the Papal Legate? asked Claudia.

I think so. I always wondered how much her husband knew. Or cared. Some men don’t mind being cuckolded if it leads them closer to power.

She shuddered. I am fortunate that you’re not one of them, she said.

And I am equally fortunate that you’re not one of
them,
I replied.

T
he Bishop
of Beauvais entered and quietly took his place opposite Balian. Then a brace of raucous young men came in, slapping their fellows on whatever piece of armor made the most noise. The older one was also the larger, boasting a fine head of long blond hair tied back and legs that were slightly bowed, as if he had spent more of his life on horseback than on foot. The younger had brown hair, as well as a mustache and short pointed beard that bespoke an hour of preparation before the glass prior to their public appearance.

“Two of the brothers Falconberg,” said Scarlet. “Hugh and Ralph. There are two more, William and Otto. They are the stepsons of Raymond of Tiberias and have the dubious honor of being the first to lead their men into battle against Saladin at the Horns of Hattin.”

“Which means that they became the first to flee?” I guessed.

“You’ve got it,” he said. “Like all good fleers, they ended up here, but they’ve made up for their early failure by being quite competent in assisting Conrad. Hugh, in particular, has become his right-hand man, and rode by his side whenever Conrad led a sortie out of the city gates. He’s married to Margaret d’lbelin, the daughter of Balian and Maria Comnena.”

My head was swimming. “That makes him Isabelle’s half-brother-in-law?”

“Correct, you’re doing well.”

“My God, I’m going to have to make up a chart with all these interconnections.”

“I have one in my room. Feel free to study it.”

There was a flurry of activity outside the entrance, then a steward entered.

“All hail Isabelle, Queen of Jerusalem,” he cried as attendees rose to their feet. “All hail Conrad, Marquis of Montferrat.”

“He doesn’t call himself king,” I noted.

“Not yet,” said Scarlet. “But he will.”

We bowed as the half-royal couple entered arm in arm. Isabelle was radiant as one rough warrior after another paid his respects to her, while Conrad beamed at her as if watching a talented child recite verses at school.

They took their places at the table, and the Queen lifted a golden goblet.

“Good friends,” she said. “Welcome to our home. Our shelter, our bastion. For the defense that you have given us, we thank you. For the love that you have shown us, we bless you. Please, share our table with us and grace us with your company.”

The assembly pounded the tables with their fists in approval, and the feast began.

Even with the provisions we had brought, there was little fresh food other than what came from the sea. Bowls of dried figs and dates were interspersed among the tables, along with the inevitable fish stews. But the main course was delicious, at least that portion of it that was sent over to the two of us by the Queen herself. Gobbets of lamprey in a thick wine syrup dotted with ginger, baked into a pie.

I was hungry. I partook.

H
ypocrite
, muttered Claudia.

“
P
lay something lively
,” commanded Scarlet when the main course was over.

I struck up a jig on my flute, keeping the beat by tapping my foot on a tambourine. Scarlet took a running leap onto the table, skidding amongst the dishes, and commenced a silly, skillful dance that sent his feet flying around the crockery without disturbing a single piece. From a number of small pockets concealed in his motley he produced a variety of small instruments—castanets, bells, whistles—which he would play one after the other before handing them to the diners. He could get the most fearsome military specimen up and dancing with the most ludicrous noisemaker, and those who spurned his offerings quickly received the brunt of his ridicule.

Balian d’lbehn needed no coaxing. The Nestor of the room was up and capering with a small drum that Scarlet produced from a bag at his belt. The dwarf started singing in a nonsensical tongue of his own devising, and had the room repeating each string of syllables giddily within a minute. When Hugh Falconberg missed a syllable, Scarlet motioned the rest of the room to be silent, and sternly took the man through an improvised language lesson that had his brother in hysterics by the end. Scarlet then turned his attention to Ralph, and it was Hugh’s turn to laugh when the younger man did even worse.

By the end of the performance, all were weak with laughter, and the room seemed brighter than it had been. Scarlet finished with a bow to the Queen and the Marquis, and the applause lasted for several minutes. I joined in wholeheartedly.

Cakes dusted with sugar and cardamom were passed around, then Conrad stood to address the room.

“We give thanks for our food,” he said. “And to those benefactors who provided it.”

The only one who glanced in our direction at this was Balian, I noticed.

“I was hoping to have some news to share with you,” continued Conrad. “But, alas, my emissary has not yet returned—“

“He’s here,” came a cry at the door, and a man strode into the room, greeted by shouts from the Falconberg brothers. The French garments had been replaced by a more local garb, but his height and the black curls immediately identified him as the man I had seen at the Lion-hearted’s revels.