Fate | Baldwin IV

banquet

After the ceremony, a feast was waiting for all in the citadel. The nobles were gathered in the courtyard, the sounds of laughter and loud chattering of the reunited houses at the king's table rising as the evening fell, mixing with the music of the minstrels gently playing in the background, adding a soft rhythm to the night.

We had stopped by our bedchambers for a quick refreshment before making an appearance, and I had changed into my previous wedding gown prepared by my now mother-in-law Agnes, deciding to honor her on this day as well despite our strained relationship.

The king had come out wearing a veil covering the lower part of his face so as to not make the guests uncomfortable as they ate, but the rest of his face remained untouched, his crown glinting above his brow. His posture was dignified, regal, and it made me straighten my shoulders, a sense of pride welling within me. Whatever anyone might think of his condition, he was their king.

At last, we stepped into the courtyard to greet all, the night air carrying the warmth of early summer, the scents of roasted meats, freshly baked bread and cheese and sweet spices wafting through the air. The twinkling light of countless torches illuminated the expansive courtyard, a golden glow on the nobles gathered in clusters. Conversations ebbed away as we entered, the lively chatter punctuated by laughter drifting into a gentle hush. I could feel the eyes on us, curious, some even wary, but not as openly judgmental as they had been in the church—the constant serving of wine must have eased some of the tension.

I caught a glimpse of Agnes having a conversation with Stephanie of Milly along with a few other noblewomen, all turning to face us as we stepped into their view. Agnes' eyes darted to my dress, a quiet surprise crossing her features. The ladies regarded me with curious gazes when I offered them a small, curt smile, and they returned with the same curt smile of their own, though it didn't quite reach their eyes.

Patriarch Heraclius sat at the back, eating a handful of nuts, disinterested in the affairs of the courtiers while Archbishop William stood with the crusader generals engaged in a seemingly profound conversation, an air of wisdom around him.

We continued walking side by side in slow steps until we reached our places on the raised dais in front of the neatly arranged tables in the courtyard. The nobles turned to face us, the music fading slowly as the conversations ceased, and all turned their attention to us.

The flickering torchlight reflected in the king's eyes, which were now sharp and commanding. He looked out at the assembly of people, his voice strong despite the fragility of his condition.

"Tonight, we celebrate a union," he began, his calm voice carrying across the courtyard. "One that binds not only myself and my beloved wife but also our noble houses, our people, and our kingdom."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the audience, lingering briefly on the various familiar faces, or rather, the absence of some. Agnes stood near the front, her lips set in a neutral line, the ladies around her all listening intently. On the opposite side, I noticed Balian and Raymond, still leaning against the column, goblets in their hands, watching with an attentive calm.

"Yet I don't see my sister with us." The king tilted his head as he continued, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Where is she?"

A servant stepped forward, bowing deeply before answering. "The princess retired early today, your majesty. She claims to be sick."

"Sick?" the king raised an eyebrow, his tone teetering on disbelief. "And what of her husband? Is he sick too?"

The servant remained silent, his head bowed.

A moment of uncomfortable silence fell over the courtyard, until the king spoke once again. "Tell them that I don't wish to see their seats empty," he commanded, his voice cold.