Fate | Baldwin IV

Tyre

After days of travel, we finally reached Tyre.

We had been on the road for a week or so, when the tall, fortified walls against the blue Mediterranean came into our view. The king had been carried on his litter most of the time, slowing our pace a bit, but other than that, the rest of the journey had been somewhat uneventful.

It wasn't until late in the afternoon that we arrived in this coastal land with a port as busy as the one back home in Constantinople. As we approached the city, I felt an odd mix of awe and trepidation. It extended out into the water, as if perched on its own island, with a narrow causeway connecting it to the mainland. It was unlike any I had seen—a bustling hub by the sea, teeming with energy and voices of Jews and Muslims and Christians and Franks that echoed across the dense streets. Beyond the gates, it was alive with commerce—everywhere I looked, people seemed to be bartering or bargaining, though all stopped and turned to look at the royal retinue as we passed by them. Soon the confusion on their faces turned into delight, the unknown queen had made an appearance, what a surprise!

In the markets, traders hawked bundles of dark, rich dye, with glimmers of a color so deep it attracted all the eyes—the famed Tyrian purple. I felt a strange pull toward the beauty and wealth that was laid out here so freely, as if the city itself had a spellbinding power.

From his horse Baldwin pointed out the high tower of the church of San Marco, beside the church of San Pietro. And then there was Saint Mark's Cathedral, which had been erected on the ruins of an old mosque, he explained. Beneath that lay the stones of older churches, and even deeper, the remnants of the Temple of Melqart, one of the oldest shrines of the city. Layer by layer, a different faith and different time.

Ahead of us rose the gates to our quarters, an impressive residence reserved for us by the archbishop William himself. It was near the heart of the city, close to the great cathedral of the Holy Cross. Around the residence's towering stone façade were palm trees, and decorative arches with a wide courtyard. I could see that it was nestled in the finest location, with windows that overlooked both the city and the sea.

But as we approached the gates, my gaze wandered from the procession. All I could think of was the Great Sea, I had missed it so. I hadn't truly felt the sea air on my face for so long, and here it was, beyond the edges of the city with its endless blue, calling to me.

"Do you wish to see the coast first?" Baldwin's voice pulled me back, soft yet firm in the way only he could manage. I looked up to find him turned towards me from his horse.

I couldn't hide my excitement even if I tried to. I nodded eagerly, and he smiled beneath the veil, then turned over his shoulder to Balian, who rode closely behind us. Without words, Baldwin's glance conveyed his silent order, and Balian nodded in understanding.

Though a small delegation awaited our arrival by the gates, Baldwin made a turn towards the road down to the sea and split from the rest of the caravan without warning. With Balian and a few trusted knights at our side, we left the welcoming party behind, who could only stare in confusion, while the rest of our retinue entered the residence to make preparations. I barely noticed any of it as I rode outside the massive walls of the city, where the greenery made way to the sandy shore. After all, I was the daughter of the sea.

The sounds of waves crashing grew louder, and the smell of seaweed stronger as we got closer to it, and my heart beat with a childlike anticipation as we approached the shoreline. We dismounted somewhere close, and Baldwin and I walked towards the water, letting the waves greet us with sprays of cool mist.

As soon as we approached the sea, I shrugged off my cloak and removed my belt, letting them fall carelessly onto the sand. Slipping off my shoes, I gathered my skirts and ran to the beckoning waters. Baldwin remained behind, watching me from a distance with an air of enigma as he walked slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. Even further back was Balian and the knights resting beside the horses, their posture relaxed but observant.