Marriage Arrangements (Part 2)

On the spiral staircase, Cesar ran into Princess Sibylla.

Although Cesar had awakened, and Baldwin had awakened as well, they still had to wait several days before they could see each other.

When Baldwin was brought back to Holy Cross Castle, everyone had witnessed that solemn miracle. While he was still asleep, people had continually asked to visit him or even serve him—of course, such requests could not be granted, not only because Baldwin was still very weak, but because he still bore the symptoms of leprosy.

Though it could now be said that this was God's trial rather than punishment, after much consideration, Amalric I still placed Baldwin's health first. He ignored the anxious letters and pleas, and only after Baldwin had passed the dangerous stage did a few people deeply trusted by Amalric I enter his chambers.

Among them were Count Raymond of Tripoli and his son David, Duke Bohemond of Antioch and his son Abigail, as well as several other vassals and their heirs. These boys naturally could not return as attendants, but their fathers would probably return to Prince Baldwin's side within the next few months—his lessons were to begin again.

As mentioned before, the prince's lessons had originally been packed, and aside from his father, Amalric I, those teaching him were his ministers and commanders. Raymond had taught riding and the lance, while Bohemond taught falconry and archery. More refined subjects such as grammar and astronomy had been handled one-third by the late former patriarch, with other clerics responsible for the rest.

After Baldwin was confirmed to have leprosy, the former patriarch had fled faster than if he had seen Saracens. Raymond and Bohemond had also stepped down. If Baldwin were no longer the king's heir, a mere monk had no standing to make a count or duke teach him.

At last, that troublesome page could be turned. Leprosy was still a hidden danger, but no one would again doubt whether Baldwin could become a valiant commander. The Spear of Saint George had already revealed his future destiny—as for being unable to have children and dying before thirty, that no longer mattered much. Kings without heirs were everywhere, and there were plenty who died before thirty.

With these important visitors arriving, Prince Baldwin's chambers immediately became cramped. Considering that Cesar had received the same "blessing" as himself, Baldwin would rather have him remain in the room than stay beside him, where Cesar would have to bow to visitors and serve both him and them.

At last, after confirming that there would be no visitors that day, Baldwin immediately sent a servant to fetch Cesar.

What Cesar had not expected was that, carrying a box of saffron and a casket of honeyed mulberries sent by Abbot John—he knew Baldwin would not lack such things, but sharing between friends was always delightful—he climbed the spiral staircase and ran straight into Princess Sibylla.

Princess Sibylla had once been praised as a jewel among flowers, and she still was. Yet this jewel seemed to have been polished and ground; while becoming sharper, it had also become brighter. Even in the dim spiral stairwell, she seemed to shine. Her previous setback appeared not to have affected her greatly.

Cesar felt relieved. In the farce caused by Count Étienne's arrival, the two kings had been the instigators, while Princess Sibylla had been an utter victim. From his position, whether out of simple sympathy for the victim, concern for Baldwin's only full sister, or consideration for Damara's mistress, he could not remain unmoved, nor could he look on coldly like the others, much less take pleasure in her misfortune.

Sibylla was watching Cesar too. She had once wanted this child. He was so handsome that he ought to have stayed at her side, like a brooch, bracelet, or ring. But once she learned that he was Baldwin's new attendant, she immediately abandoned the thought.

It was not out of love or pity for her younger brother, but because she had long known that the only person capable of holding an important place in their father Amalric I's heart was Baldwin. Now guilt had been added to that. Let alone Cesar—even if it were a stone, Amalric I would not allow her to contend with Baldwin for it.

It was hard to say, when Amalric I began to regard Cesar with suspicion, and she sought Baldwin out to tell him that she could arrange a clever accident to dispel that suspicion and doubt, how much of it had been for Baldwin, and how much had come from the malice that had brewed within her for so long.

Crushing a rose, cutting a bolt of brocade to shreds, smashing open a gemstone—the more perfect and flawless it was, the more exhilarating its destruction!

When they held the "Selection Ceremony," Sibylla had not returned to her room to rest. Instead, she knelt in the chapel and prayed silently. Anyone who saw her would have been moved by her piety and sisterly affection; no one knew how turbulent her heart was.

At times she cursed the two of them, asking God not to bless them. At other times she begged God to bless only one of them. Whenever she imagined Baldwin staring at his attendant's back with jealousy on his face, or Cesar gradually falling into the ranks of ordinary menials because he had ultimately failed to receive a blessing, she wanted to laugh.

Should she bring him to her side?

No. She would order Abigail to summon an Isaac slave trader and let the slave return to his fate.

But in the end, the only one who fell into anguish was Sibylla herself.

God was merciful—how merciful indeed!

After Count Étienne left Holy Cross Castle, he was nominally returning to France to seek King Louis VII's permission before coming back to marry Princess Sibylla. Yet everyone knew that was only an excuse.

Sure enough, before long, Louis VII's reply arrived. In his letter, he apologetically stated that he could not approve the marriage. He did not explain the specific reason, but everyone who heard the news understood perfectly well, exchanging subtle looks with one another.

This even happened among the maids around her. She knew they mocked her behind her back. Not every maid could be as innocent and guileless as Damara... She loathed them, and they might not have liked her much either.

Count Étienne's arrival and departure had been like a blow that shattered something perfect. Aside from the maids, the scions of noble houses surrounding her had begun to look at her with clearer eyes. She was still worth pursuing, but beyond her beauty, her value had been steadily falling—Prince Baldwin had received a blessing. Perhaps he could have children after all? Perhaps his life could be prolonged to forty years, fifty?

Especially now that Amalric I's marriage agreement with Manuel I's great-niece had been settled. Princess Maria Komnene would arrive in Jerusalem on Saint Agnes's feast day, January 21, and then marry the king on the feast day of Saint Peter, June 29.

In this age, a princess awaiting marriage would generally arrive in her future husband's country very early. This was so that she could quickly understand that unfamiliar place to which she would need to devote the entire latter half of her life, and also to overturn the "identity" formed over the previous ten or twenty years—in other words, to turn her from the princess of one country into the queen of another.

Princess Maria would arrive in Jerusalem only at the end of January and marry at the end of June. The people were already mocking the king for being "unable to wait," while the keen-scented ministers had guessed that the king wanted a healthy heir as soon as possible. After all, on the battlefield, swords and arrows had no eyes; a crown could not make a king avoid an arrow or lance.

And once the king's new wife became pregnant, Sibylla's inheritance rights would be further diluted. If it was a boy, then even if Prince Baldwin had no children, after he died, his younger brother could still inherit the throne of Jerusalem.

In contrast, the little slave she had once regarded as a "thing" had, through gaining the prince's trust and God's blessing, leapt free of his original station and stepped onto a bright road.

As he stood there, she could directly see his future: servant, attendant, squire, knight, minister or commander. God favored him even more than Baldwin. Baldwin might die in the prime of his life, while Cesar would continue living. He would become the new king's confidant.

He was so clever, so beautiful, so devout. He would live to a great age, covered in glory... Perhaps he would even carve out a domain for himself and become a count, a duke, a king...

And what would she be? Someone's wife.

How unfair.

"Are you going to see Baldwin?" Sibylla said. Her blue eyes were bottomless. "Go on. He's waiting for you."

The moment Baldwin saw Cesar, he came forward, and the two embraced tightly.

"I could scarcely believe it," Baldwin said excitedly. "Of course, I saw it—the light spilling from you, so dazzling. But afterward I fainted. When I woke up, I was terribly worried, afraid it had been a hallucination brought on by my own excessive eagerness. Luckily, they told me it was real. I had a vision of Saint George, and you had a vision of Saint Jerome."

At this, the prince paused, looking puzzled. "Did Saint Jerome ever make shields?" But he quickly put the matter aside. There had previously been knights who had visions of maidens, and they still galloped across battlefields, invincible wherever they went.

He linked arms with his friend, and together they sat at a small round table. As every time before, they first ate a great deal. Only after they were thoroughly satisfied did they have the servants clear away the leftovers. Then Baldwin first drove everyone else away, pulled Cesar down to sit on the carpet with him, and began admiring and dividing the gifts he had received.

Cesar took out the saffron and honeyed mulberries. The two children sat cross-legged, eating the sweet preserved fruit as they opened the boxes.

Jewels and spices were the most numerous; they were expensive and small. Next came weapons, and then cloth—or rather, silk, while cotton and linen had been sent directly to the storerooms.

Baldwin told Cesar to wait a moment, then took an oak box from a triangular cabinet. It was not large, about a foot square and a palm high. Before he even opened it, Cesar guessed that it might contain the clothes Princess Maria had sent Baldwin. Sure enough, Baldwin drew out a brilliantly colored deep-purple cloak. It might only have reached Baldwin's knees, but fabric of such deep purple edged with gold, if it reached the ankles, could only be worn by an emperor or king.

"This is... Byzantine style, or rather, a Persian cloak."

The box held more than just a cloak. There was also an exquisite belt, one only members of the royal family were permitted to wear.

Seeing the belt, Cesar remembered something as well. "Oh, right," he said. "Abbot John also gave me a ribbon." He showed it to Baldwin, who immediately clapped his hands in delight. "Wonderful!" he said. "I had already sent the castle steward to look for it, but the Byzantine emperor keeps a very tight grip on this deep-purple silk. Even the richest merchants may not be able to get it—Abbot John truly notices every hair."

"Do you want me to go welcome the Byzantine princess with you?"

Baldwin gave Cesar a look as if it were only natural. "But winding it around your arm alone won't be enough. I have a short cloak here. Under sunlight it looks like silver, and under moonlight it looks like gold. I'll have a maid sew this purple edging onto its collar, so we'll look like brothers."

"Baldwin, you've already given me many things."

"A master ought to be responsible for his attendant's food and clothing," Baldwin said, bracing himself on his hands behind him. Sunlight fell across his face. Now, when he was alone with Cesar, he did not wear a veil or gloves—the handsome face still bore a few red patches, but most of his skin remained smooth. "And the king said he will launch a war against the Fatimid Dynasty within three years. When that time comes, we'll be his squires."

"We?"

"Yes. We're already brothers under God's witness, so it makes no sense to keep asking you to serve me," Baldwin said lightly. "The problem is, while you were my attendant, I could cover some of your expenses. But once you become a squire, you'll need to equip yourself with many things... That will be a great expense. Some generous masters do prepare these things for their squires, but if you can outfit yourself, your reputation will be better."

"I remember Count Étienne gave you some money," Baldwin said, straightening up and curling his fingers as he began to calculate. "And the hundred gold coins Templar Geoffrey gave you." Cesar had not hidden any of this from him. "Shield, mail, iron boots, longsword, dagger, leather overgarment, heraldic surcoat, quilted cotton gambeson, gloves, knee guards... a horse... tack... If you want goods from Tours, the price may go up a little."

"Of course," he said with a smile, "if my father wins a great victory, there are some things we can strip from the battlefield."

"Uh..."

Seeing Cesar's rare look of embarrassment—Baldwin knew his little companion had extremely high standards of cleanliness, to the point of almost being a quirk—he burst out laughing, and only then did Cesar realize he was teasing him.

"But you really should change that habit of yours," Baldwin said. "My father showed me the armor he wore on the battlefield..."

Someone knocked at the door.

Baldwin looked displeased. "I said that unless it is my father or a teacher, no one is to disturb us, no matter who they are."

Cesar rose to open the door. When it opened, a lord in a sleeveless dark-gray velvet overgarment, with a gold-clasped belt at his waist, stood outside. The servant beside him looked somewhat uneasy. Cesar nodded to him, and he ran away as if he had grown wings.

The lord carefully examined Cesar's face. Green eyes, black hair—this should be the attendant much favored by Prince Baldwin. His tone accordingly softened. "Please tell His Highness," he said quietly, "that I am Balian of Ibelin. My sister-in-law wishes to see Prince Baldwin."

Ever since arriving at Holy Cross Castle, Cesar had not stopped memorizing the tangled, headache-inducing genealogies of the nobility. He knew Balian of Ibelin: it was a small fief near Jaffa. But his sister-in-law?

"Let her come in," Baldwin's voice came from behind Cesar. "She is the Countess of Jaffa and Ascalon, my... mother."