With You, I'll Be Only Sibylla

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Chapter 9: A Kingdom of Conscience

Doors were meant for protection; those leading to Sibylla's quarters were made to keep out any unwelcome presence. Inside was her refuge; a place of peace and safety in the middle of Jerusalem's dark undercurrents and courtly intrigues. The colours and hangings had all been chosen for the tranquillity they represented. The inner chambers were sheltered from the heat, but with the coming of evening, they would be graced for a short while, with the dying golden light of the sun as it set over the heart of Christendom.

The princess loved the security she felt when she was in her sanctuary; it was like being in the warm loving embrace of her old nurse, who had long since passed away. When she returned this afternoon, she expected to find her son there, playing or completing the tasks set by his tutor. What she saw gave her a most unpleasant shock. Guy had gone too far; he had invaded her haven and worse yet, he was with her son, telling her boy how he ought to arrange his pewter figures. The man had his back to her, but she could hear him quite clearly. "Always surround your knights with foot-soldiers," he told the boy.

How dared he? Sibylla's heart was filled with rage. Baldwin was not Guy's son. How dared he come here and corrupt his angelic mind? She pushed aside the sheer curtain. "These rooms are not yours," she said. Her voice was cold and sharp, like the icicles which formed during the harsh European winters which she had heard about.

Guy turned around at the sound of her voice. He smiled when he saw her; his fierce little vixen. Not even an illicit lover had softened her. Then again, how could a man like Balian soften a creature like Sibylla? He was a man as harsh and unrefined as the desert sand. Just simply thinking about that bastard peasant from France made his blood boil. He had even dared to claim Sibylla as his woman before the entire world, leaving Guy to be the joke of Christendom. "One day, I will be the husband I was commissioned to be," he said, looking Sibylla in the eye and daring her for rebuke him. Losing a woman was a small matter. Losing a queen was not-so-small. She was the one woman who could give him power, and he was not going to let her go that easily.

Sibylla gave a brief cold smile, her blue gaze never wavering. "And perhaps not, my dear," she said. Those two words were meant to be a mocking barb, and she felt a surge of satisfaction when she saw him flinch.

"Your lover has a hundred knights and the love of a king," said Guy, trying to use reality to frighten Sibylla into submission, "and I, the largest force in the kingdom and the support of the Templars." He smiled grimly. "I can do without the king's affection, but as for your love..." He left that sentence hanging and reached out, trying to cup Sibylla's face. She jerked away sharply and then pushed past him to go to her son.

Baldwin kept his eyes fixed on the tall and imposing figure of Lord Guy. Thank God his mother was here. Lord Guy frightened him; he spoke of the most horrible things, and his voice was always too thick and smooth, like oil. The boy knew that his mother detested Guy, and he wished that he could protect her from him. He promised himself that when he grew up, he would be a brave knight like Lord Balian and keep his mother safe from Guy.

"Then we must come to an understanding," said Guy, looking down at Sibylla's little runt of a son. "You need my knights, or his rule will be bloody and brief." That made Sibylla glance up again and she fixed her eyes on Guy. It was with some glee that Guy saw the first hints of fear in those large blue eyes. He caressed her chin with a rough thumb. Not once did she move. He smiled; yes, he had made her think, and surely an intelligent woman like Sibylla would know what was more important. He turned and left her still staring at his retreating back.

"Maman?" said Baldwin. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes," said Sibylla, trying to smile to reassure her son. "I'm fine." She kissed Baldwin on his soft smooth cheek. "I'm fine, darling."

"I don't like Lord Guy," said the boy, gazing at his mother intently.

Sibylla sighed and gathered her son into her arms. "I don't like him either," she admitted, rocking him.

"He won't come back again, will he?"

"No, no, not ever again. I will make sure that the servants don't let him in. I won't let him hurt you, mon chèri."

"Maman?"

"Hmm?"

"If you hate him so much, why don't you marry someone else?"

"What?"

"If you had another husband, Lord Guy can't bother you anymore. Why don't you marry someone nice, like Lord Balian?"

"Oh my darling," said Sibylla, wanting to weep and laugh at the same time. How was it that her son knew exactly what she wanted? "I do love Lord Balian very much, but I can't just change husbands."

"Why not?"

"Because God says that once a man and a woman are married, they are bound to each other forever until one of them dies." Sibylla forced herself to smile; she had to be strong for her son. "But enough about all of this. Someday, you will understand when it is time for you to take a wife of your own. What say we go riding today?"

Baldwin's face lit up. All thoughts of lords and ladies and marriages were driven from his head. "Can we really?" he said, "and out of Jerusalem too?"

"I don't see why not," said Sibylla. "It is still fairly early. Youmna! Send word down to the stables and tell them to prepare a fresh horse and Baldwin's pony. The prince and I are going riding."


The fields of yellow barley stretched on like an endless sea of gold. Their heads, heavy with ripened grains, waved gently in the wind as if they were conversing with one another. Jerusalem looked no bigger than a child's toy from here. The dark corners and malicious shadows of the Holiest City could not be seen from afar.

On the path which separated the fields was a merry and informal procession. Little Baldwin sat astride his bay pony while his mother lead the beast along; the servants followed them, keeping some distance behind mother and son so that they could have some time to themselves. Out here in the tranquil countryside, Sibylla could pretend that she was not a political pawn in one of the biggest games which Christendom had ever seen. She wondered what it would be like to live the life of a common woman, unburdened by bloodlines and political associations. For a princess who had spent her entire life cosseted within the walls of the palace and sheltered from the outside world, it was hard to imagine a life without servants and bodyguards running around to do her every bidding.

Would she mind such a life? Sibylla did not know. The life of a princess was hard, but who was to say that the life of a peasant woman or a blacksmith's wife was not just as hard? Each station in life had its own difficulties. Balian would know. He had played so many parts in the pantomime of life; a blacksmith, a knight and a baron. And soon, he would be playing the part of Prince Regent, if Sibylla had anything to say about it. 'How would you like that, my perfect knight?' she wondered. 'How would you like to go from owning nothing to owning the world?'


To say that Balian was surprised when he received summons from the king would have been an understatement. With so much going on, the baron had thought that his liege would be much too occupied with settling his affairs to even remember him. The messenger had been very vague about what the king actually wanted with Balian, and no amount of questioning had been able to extract any information from him. It seemed that the messenger was just as confused as to why the king wanted to see the baron.

Evening had settled over Jerusalem. Balian followed the servant through the dark corridors. The flickering torches in the brackets on the walls gave little light. Ominous shadows seemed to close in around him. He felt was if there was someone watching him, waiting for the right chance to strike.

The king and Tiberias were waiting for him in the king's inner chamber. Many candles had been lit, casting the room in a golden glow, but nothing could disguise the weariness in Baldwin's red and watery eyes, not the silken robes and certainly not the perfect silver mask which hid his ravaged face. "So, my friend," said Baldwin. "The time has come for me to settle my affairs." It was a painful reality; the king was only twenty-three. It was not fair that such a young life should be snuffed out, but then, nothing in life was fair, and Balian knew that better than most.

"We have decided that you will take command of the army," Baldwin continued. "If I leave the army to Guy, he will take power through my sister and make war on the Muslims."

The request shocked Balian. He couldn't see himself as the high commander of any army, much less the army of Jerusalem; it was such a heavy burden, and he feared that he lacked the experience and the ability. Yes, had made his name at Kerak, and the House of Ibelin was a prestigious house, but would that be enough? However, if the king insisted that he take this burden, then he would. It was his duty to obey.

"Whatever you ask, I will serve," said Balian. The king lifted a hand to stop him.

"No," said Baldwin. "Hear it all before you speak."

There was more? What else could the king possibly ask of him? He was a soldier, not a diplomat.

"Would you marry my sister Sibylla were she free of Guy de Lusignan?"

At that question, Balian's heart almost stopped, only to resume beating much more rapidly than before. He wanted nothing more than to have Sibylla by his side; watching Guy dangle her in front of him was agony, even if the Poitevin lord had only done it once. But Sibylla was still married to Guy, and Guy commanded half the army. If his chance to become king was torn away from him, Balian had no doubt that the nobleman would rebel. A civil war was the last thing that this kingdom needed. "And Guy?" he asked.

"He would be executed," said Tiberias, who had not spoken a single word up until now, "along with all his knights who do not swear you allegiance."

One word. One word from him would be enough to condemn Guy. With so much power in his hands, Balian felt alone and uncertain, as if he was standing at the edge of a bottomless crevasse and in danger of falling in. The world would be a better place without Guy de Lusignan, but did Balian have the right to be Guy's judge and executioner? Wouldn't killing someone for his wife and power be considered murder? God, that was too much. He would not be able to live with himself. He had come to Jerusalem to seek forgiveness, not throw himself deeper into the fires of Hell. "I cannot be the cause of that," he said.

" 'Whatever you ask, I will serve'?" said Tiberias, throwing Balian's own words back at him. Was the man mad?

Balian glanced at Tiberias, but he did not respond. Instead, he turned to the king. "A king may move a man, you said," said Balian, "but the soul belongs to the man."

The king nodded. "So I did," he said.

"You have my love, and my answer," said the young baron, bowing. This was his decision to make, and if it was going to incur the wrath of both the king and the Marshal, then he would accept the consequences, but Balian was not about to willingly become a murderer.

Instead of unleashing his anger, the king simply nodded and sighed. "So be it," said Baldwin. He had half expected this outcome. Balian's refusal to accept the tempting offer might have doomed the kingdom, but it made the king respect him all the more. Sibylla had chosen well when she had chosen Balian for a lover. Perhaps, with such men living in it, God might take pity on the Latin Kingdom and spare it from destruction.


It was very late when Sibylla returned to the palace. Throughout the entire day, her heart had been beating like the wings of a sparrow which was being chased by a hawk. Tonight, she would have her answer, and she was certain that she would be free of Guy. She dismounted and prepared to go off in search of Raymond when a familiar voice called her name.

She stopped and turned. Balian. He was here. She approached him and clung to him as if he was her last refuge. He smelled of horse and sweat, but she didn't care. He was her knight, and soon to be her Prince Regent and her champion. "Who are you to refuse a king?" she asked breathily, rubbing her cheek against his bearded one. "I will have power, without Guy or with him." Yes, power. At last, she could determine her own destiny, after years of letting others determine it for her. "Guy isn't dead at your say-so or my brother's, but at mine."

Balian could not believe what he was hearing. This power-hungry and manipulative woman was not whom he had fallen in love with. What had happened to his passionate and loving Sibylla? Christ, was power really that corruptive? He freed himself from her embrace and gripped her by the shoulders.

"Do you have any idea of Jerusalem except that it is yours?" he demanded. Hurt and disappointment were evident in his voice. What was he to her? Did she love him at all, or was he simply a stepping stone to power and a way to free her from Guy? He could see the flame of wild ambition in her eyes. It seared him to the core. He felt like an utter fool. Of course, how could a princess such as Sibylla truly love him? He had been so naive, and she had used him. But Heavens, he still loved her!

"You will never hold it in peace, as your brother did," he said. Could she not see that? She did not have Baldwin's kindness or any of the qualities which made him a great king. "It will be war."

Sibylla pulled away from him. Who did he think he was? Just because she had favoured him with her attentions did not mean that he could lecture her on anything. What did he know about the politics of the kingdom? He was a blacksmith. "My grandfather took this city in blood," she said. There was a cold edge to her voice. "I will keep it the same way or any way I can."

That declaration chilled Balian's blood. He suppressed a shiver. 'So you would sacrifice your people to keep your power, Sibylla?' he thought. 'What about those whom you claim to love? Would you sacrifice me if there was ever such a need?' The thought of such a possibility made his heart bleed. He had thought that Sibylla loved him; he had only seen the good in her, but now, everything was revealed, and the truth was not beautiful. However, love would not relent. She still excited him and even now, his resolve was crumbling and he was tempted to agree to her every demand just so he could be with her. 'No, Balian,' he told himself. 'You must not.'

Sibylla could see Balian's inner turmoil. He was not a hard man to read. He was hesitating now, but perhaps only a little more persuasion would make him see reason. "I am what I am," she said. There was no need to make excuses for her behaviour. She had done nothing wrong; Jerusalem had been conquered by her ancestors and so was it not hers by right? "I give you that, and the world."

Her voice was so sultry, and the offer was so tempting. Balian's heart was touched by the desire that was evident in Sibylla's voice. He wanted to believe that she loved him, but he could not be the cause of another man's death. He simply could not. 'God help me,' he prayed, hoping that wherever God was, He would take pity on him and give him strength to do what he needed to do. 

Sibylla's lips wandered along the line of his jaw, and just as she was about to drown him in a hot kiss, he lifted his head. "No, Sibylla," he said. "I will not."

She leapt back, as if she had been burnt. "You say no?" she asked, furious at his rejection.

"Do you think I'm like Guy, that I would sell my soul?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking. Did she not know how much he hurt? He loved her, and he wanted to be with her, but she was forcing him to choose between her and his conscience. He had to get away from here; if he lingered, he would surely capitulate, and his oath to his father would be broken, for he would be going against every principle the old knight had stood for if he did agree to condemn Guy.

No one had ever rejected Sibylla like this before. She could not bear the humiliation and the pain. The princess stormed away, only to turn back to Balian. He had broken her heart, and she was going to make him regret it. "There will be a day when you will wish you had done a little evil to do a greater good," she said, barely refraining from spitting the words out at him. She saw him stiffen. Good. Let the Perfect Knight live with this uncertainty. He deserved it.


A/N: I loved that scene when Balian defeated temptation. I just want to glomp him every time I see that bit.