All Things Are Lights – Day 189 of 200

Even as Amalric made his report, knowing that he would make sure the defenses were of no consequence, his mind wandered. A devil kept whispering in his ear, What if the Sultan betrays me?

He had thought it through. He would hold the city for a while, at least. Long enough to provoke the Sultan into massacring the captives. He had enough men in his pay to take the Templars by surprise — they would hardly be suspecting an attack from their fellow Christians, to whose aid they had come — and seize the ransom money. And then, when I hold the treasure, Turan Shah will agree to terms.

And if the Sultan did not cooperate by killing Louis and his men, he could at least hold the Queen and her son and make his escape, taking them with him. Some Genoese would take him away from here, if he were paid enough. The Genoese were all pirates anyway. Then, with royal prisoners, the treasure, a band of hired followers, he could find a stronghold for himself somewhere and carve out a domain here in Outremer.

But whatever else, Nicolette must die. She knows too much.

He was done talking about the defenses, and the Queen thanked him.

“How is Nicolette?” she asked.

Saint Dominic damn her! Can I not have even a moment’s peace of mind?

He shook his head. “She seemed weaker today when I left her, Madame. The priests do not seem to be able to do anything. They say this is the quartan fever.”

“I miss her so, and am so very worried for her. Perhaps I could visit her.”

Yes, perhaps I could lock you up along with her.

“Do not think of it, Madame. You are not strong yourself yet. And your son — you would risk both your lives if you were to catch her fever. Her poor maid has already died of it.”

“Agnes? Oh, how awful!” Marguerite made the sign of the cross. “So many have died. God forbid anything should happen to Tristan. If only Louis were here to see him.”

“I have no doubt he will be back with you soon, Madame.”

Amalric was in an agony to get back to the battlements. Turan Shah’s messenger must come today. He must!

“I am so afraid for Louis,” she went on, tears sparkling in her brown eyes. “The Saracens could already have killed him, and we not know about it.”

God grant that they have. O Lord, when will this woman let me go? If she keeps me here another minute I will take that baby and break his neck.

“I feel in my heart that all are well, Madame.”

“I know you must long to see Louis as much as I do, Count Amalric. His very presence is such a blessing. He often spoke to me of how burdensome the crown is. But I never fully understood what he meant until he was captive and I had to hold in my hands his fate and that of all the crusaders. What a relief it will be when he is back. You must miss his leadership, too, Count, do you not?”

His leadership? The leadership that had ruined France. The Devil piss on his leadership!

“I find my own leadership quite enough for me,” he said curtly, before he could think.

Startled, she pulled the baby closer to her bosom. “Of course, you are used to managing your own domain, Count,” she said, wide-eyed. “Still, you are not a king, and the view from the top of the mountain is very different from what you might see a few steps below.”

Me, below Louis? He see better than I? The more Marguerite talked, the angrier he became. By Jesus, I have had enough of this silly Provencal woman and her mad, psalm-singing husband.

My time is coming, he told himself. In a few hours at most, I will be turning the city over to the Egyptians. They will seize the treasure and take everyone prisoner, everyone except me. I will return to France. Then, with the King and his brothers dead, with nearly every great baron of fighting age lost, old Queen Blanche will have to ask me to join the regency. How she will thank God that I was spared to assist her. I do not need to take the crown. Not yet. To be first among the Peers of the Realm, to control the throne, that is enough for now.

So I can speak my mind to Marguerite now.

“Did you ever see a mountaintop covered with clouds, Madame? I would liken your husband’s vision to that. Look about you. The army is destroyed, and the Saracens are at our gates. And what happens to France, may I ask, if the English or the Germans decide to make war on us now? I warned him against this. I urged him to obey the Pope, to stay home and fight the heretics in Europe. None of us really wanted to go on this crusade. But he was so sure that being King made him wiser than all of us. Well, Madame, the outcome has proved him an idiot.”

Her face flushed, and she drew herself up in bed, clutching the baby so tightly he began to cry.

“How dare you speak so of your sovereign lord?”

“I dare, Madame, because he gets his power and authority from the barons. From me. We are his equals, and Count de Gobignon is as weighty a title as King of France.”

“I suspected as much,” she whispered. “You are not loyal to him at all. You are his enemy.”

“Nicolette has been talking to you, has she not? I tried to be your husband’s friend, but he would not listen to me. If he had, we would not be here. And as for you, if you had attended to me instead of to my wife, you would be out of danger now.” He had to raise his voice to make himself heard above the brat’s wailing.

Comments

  1. TurtleReader Identiconcomment_author_IP, $comment->comment_author); }else{echo $gravatar_link;}}*/ ?>

    TurtleReader wrote:

    quartan
    A malarial fever recurring every 72 hours.

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