Even without Baldwin telling her, the countess could guess seven or eight parts out of ten what Damara wished to divine.
Melisende was an exception, after all. Most women of this age held no economic or political power whatsoever. They could not put on armor and ride into battle; nor could they enter the court and discuss affairs of state. Even if they entered the Church, they could only become nuns, while every convent was still governed by the local bishop. Women could not receive holy orders, not even the lowest rank.
What most noble ladies hoped for was still a marriage to their liking: a young man of matching family, young and strong, humble and courteous, both a valiant knight and an amorous poet. Preferably, he should not be too coarse, especially after drinking.
"What result did Damara receive? Did she tell you, or did she keep it secret?"
"The monk said her glory would endure until the final moment of her life."
The countess hesitated slightly. Perhaps that was a good divination. Even if a noble lady wore a crown, that did not mean no other twists and turns would arise.
Sometimes, for a dowry, for lands, or for children, a man would cast aside his wife without hesitation. Even if they had lived together for many years, even if their children would become bastards when the marriage contract was invalidated, they would not care.
"Then what about Cesar?"
At the mention of this, Baldwin wanted to laugh. "Like I just said, you know, because the monk required the person seeking divination to stay alone with him in the tent, Cesar suggested tying him up for my safety, leaving only his mouth and eyes free..."
"Oh, I see." The countess blinked. "He wasn't wrong." Geomancy was a rather