Fate | Baldwin IV

defiance

It was a month and half into the rainy season. We had grown used to the gloomy mornings, the quietness of the palace, and the constant muddy footprints on the hallways by then. I'd rarely see anyone besides Aisha and Ines, and some of the other chambermaids—and Suleyman, of course. It was boresome at times, but I enjoyed not having as many responsibilities as I did before. I didn't have to attend any meetings nor make any appearances. I didn't have to wear heavy dresses and my hair in big updos or lavish styles. I didn't have to always look presentable. But the time would come soon enough.

The conversations about the three Christmas masses and the festivities started around mid-December, with Seneschal Joscelin leading the council as usual, for he was in charge of the treasury and the general planning of the event along with the chamberlain and the patriarch. He'd singlehandedly managed to bring life back into the palace in a remarkably short time, urging everyone to start cooperating. And as it was my first year of celebrating Christmas as the queen, I too had duties to the church that I'd need to fulfill. Therefore, my peaceful retirement had come to an end, and once again I had to take part in council sessions. Thankfully, those sessions included very few people, which allowed us the freedom to be less formal and more at ease.

On this day, however, the council was held in the great hall, if one could call it council, that is, for it turned out to be more of an unintentional get-together hosted by the king, with most of the mass attendants already present in the city: Agnes' husband Reginald arriving from Sidon to spend Christmas with his wife, Guy's brother Amalric—whom the king had made the constable earlier in the year—joining in a little later for a family gathering, and a variety of lords and barons coming from all around the kingdom to celebrate the birth of Christ in the holiest of churches after a trip to Nazareth. Archbishop William and Grand Master Arnold were also there, mostly quiet amidst the clamor, yet their presence undeniably strong.

Among the crowd, one could find all kinds of noble houses but the most influential ones. Raymond and Balian had fairly recently departed from Jerusalem, leaving their seats empty. But the seats didn't remain unoccupied for long—Guy and his brother Amalric took them, but later stood once again to give them to the injured and the elderly instead.

The guests, on the other hand, all stood dispersed throughout the hall due to the lack of seating arrangement, some leaning against columns, some restlessly pacing, others deep in conversation, unaware of their surroundings. Meanwhile servants moved about trying to keep up with the wine servings and the unfinished decorations in the background. A noble guest or two would step forward every now and then, either to have a simple conversation with the king or to voice their requests regarding the land they owned.

One of them approached the dais grimly, looking slightly annoyed and relieved at the same time to finally have a chance to speak with the king. He offered only a cursory bow before launching into his grievance.

"Sire, I pray you forgive my frankness, but I've come near to losing my patience."

Baldwin, from his throne, tilted his head. "What is it, pray tell?"

"It's the pilgrims, your grace," said the man. "This weather is no blessing. The roads are under water. I nearly lost a wheel in the mud on the way to Jerusalem. The lands around my keep are swamped with pilgrims seeking shelter—they've clogged my granaries and won't move on. They come in droves, soaked to the bone, begging for food and shelter. I've housed as many as I can, God knows I've tried, but still more arrive each day—and I simply cannot house them anymore!"

A few murmurs stirred in the hall. Someone muttered something about the rain turning roads to rivers.

"They've made camp on the lower slopes near my vineyards," the lord went on complaining. "The whole hill smells of unwashed bodies. My steward fears disease. My wife hasn't stepped outside in a week."