Thanks to SusanDelgado, who was my beta. Dedicated to the bravest man I have ver heard of - Baldwin IV the Leper. Please R&R!
Two thin, bandaged hands moved away the silken curtain hanging from the ceiling. A man dressed in black was standing on a balcony, completely wrapped in those green, dark curtains. The wind was blowing slightly, making silent noises in the chamber.
The man's deep blue eyes were focused on a horizon, as if he was looking for something, his hair dancing in the warm wind. His motionless face was covered with a black veil, his eyes it's only visible part.
Per Dei gratiam in sancta civitate Ierusalem Latinorum rex.
Lord. King. Ruler. Monarch. Leper.
Leper. Leper. Leper.
He closed his eyes. He regretted he couldn't feel the wind on his skin – he could see it only in the waving curtains and his own hair. He could hear the wind blow, although he felt nothing, not even the slightest touch.
He looked at a horizon again, seeing the Muslim caravan slowly approaching Jerusalem. If he wasn't the King, the Templars would have killed the Muslims and stolen the goods. If he wasn't the King, Jerusalem would have fallen.
He felt fulfilled – he did what he was supposed to do – to protect the Holy Sepulchre.
He was the King, whatever it meant. If he only wished, he could have the most beautiful women, the most expensive robes and golden jewellery. He could have things others only dreamt about, but he didn't want them. He wanted what everybody had – everybody, but not him.
Yet, he knew that people were looking at him with pity, because he was a leper. Very often he felt their disgusted gazes cut through his diseased body; they were trying to keep him away from their healthy, sacred beings – and they were correct. He had no right to take away the thing he so dramatically lacked. His conscience would have never let him live if he had done that.
Sometimes he wondered how it felt to touch a woman's skin. Just for the thought, for the sight itself…
Suddenly, he felt guilty. His actions could ruin somebody's life – make it as low as his own diseased, rotten form, make it die inside what remained of the body and, what's more, to the level of a lonely, bleeding heart, hidden beneath sore flesh.
The lepers were said they had no right to love. They were treated like the dead; people used to hold masses for their souls, keep them away from the society, make them beg for mercy. No one wanted to touch them – they are those abandoned by God, punished for the sins of the world. They were cursed with open wounds, sore flesh and rotting faces. God knew no exeptions. Baldwin could not understand that.