Song of a Peacebringer, Chapter 20: I Would Fly Away From This Place
The ride to Kerak had not been good to Baldwin – sapped of strength, he received visitors in his room from a low couch, too weak to sit up.
"So, little dove, you've seen me at my worst and imagined me at my best. What do you think of me now?" Baldwin asked, watching his poet as Audemande, in her turn, watched him. Tiberias had left, along with Balian; the two men both looked tired and overworked. The king was on his couch, resting again – he'd had a very trying last few days. Sybilla had ridden out into the city after Balian, who had left some hours previously looking grave. That left Aude to keep him company on this, one more long day in a series of ever-lengthening days.
"I still think you are as much of a king as ever, Baldwin," Aude said with a smile.
"You said my name," the king said happily. "I don't believe I've ever heard you call me by my name before, in our three years of friendship."
"Was it friendship? I thought I was serving a king," Aude recovered feebly.
"You were my friend, Aude. 'The one with whom I shared close friendship as I walked in the house of God.' Is that not how the psalm goes? I cannot remember it now," the King admitted.
"But it is you, a man like myself,
my companion, my close friend,
with whom I once enjoyed sweet fellowship
as we walked with the throng at the house of God." Aude quoted, her throat suddenly very dry. "Shall I continue?"
"Yes, do," Baldwin said, settling back into his pillows. Aude went for the Bible on Baldwin's desk, and opened it to the Psalms, finding the fifty-fifth, with its worn corner and dirty edge.
"Let death take my enemies by surprise;
let them go down alive to the grave,
for evil finds lodging among them.
But I call to God,
and the LORD saves me.
Evening, morning and noon
I cry out in distress,
and he hears my voice.
He ransoms me unharmed
from the battle waged against me,
even though many oppose me.
God, who is enthroned forever,
will hear them and afflict them—
men who never change their ways
and have no fear of God.
My companion attacks his friends;
he violates his covenant.
His speech is smooth as butter,
yet war is in his heart;
his words are more soothing than oil,
yet they are drawn swords.
Cast your cares on the LORD
and he will sustain you;
he will never let the righteous fall.
But you, O God, will bring down the wicked
into the pit of corruption;
bloodthirsty and deceitful men
will not live out half their days.
But as for me," Aude recited bitterly, crying, "I trust in you."
"See, it applies now as much as ever. What is the line that I love so much now? 'Oh, that I had the wings of a dove! I would fly away from this place, and be at rest.' May I borrow your wings, Aude? I have none of my own," Baldwin asked plaintively. Simply.
"All that you require of me is yours, my lord," Aude wept.
"Your lord requires you to stop crying for him, Aude, and call him by his name again, and tell me another story."
"Which story, my lo—Baldwin?" Aude asked, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.
"Tell me Roland. Tell me Ganelon comes to justice in the end."
"Shall I begin at the beginning?" Aude inquired, wondering if they had time for the whole poem.
"No, not this time… begin…" Baldwin sank into a coughing fit, and had to recover his breath. "Begin at the end. At the beginning of the end. We should have sufficient time for that."
Aude nodded and opened up her traveling case, drawing forth the final pages of Roland's manuscript, thinking of the Montgisard pages, many of them still up in her tower. Those were not done yet – but they would be.
"It is written in the ancient chronicle
That Charles sent word to many lands.
At Aix they assembled, in the chapel.
The day is solemn, holy with a feast-
They say it was the day of Nicholas,
The patron saint of judges and of trials;
He'll oversee the court and make it fair.
The charges and rebuttals now begin,
For Ganelon, who has committed treason;
For this the emperor has dragged him forth.
My lords and barons, says King Charlemange,
Judge Ganelon for me with equity,
He went with me among my host to Spain,
And cost me twenty thousand of my men,
My nephew, noble Roland, whom you knew,
And courtly Olivier, his greatest friend.
For gain he has betrayed the dozen peers!"
"Ah, said Baldwin, interrupting the story before Aude could read the next line – her eyes were full of tears, and she was trying to make sure her paper did not get smudged—"If only it were this easy to try and execute Guy and Reynald."
"Indeed, my—Baldwin," Aude managed, wiping away another tear and going back to the manuscript.
"Ganelon says, "Damned if I will hide it!
Roland's taken from me gold and property—
I therefore planned his suffering and his death.
But I'll concede to no one this is treason."
The Franks then say, "On this we will deliberate…"
When Aude left Baldwin was sleeping soundly, and Aude thought that she'd very much like to sleep, too. But not while her king, her friend, was in danger of dying any moment. She'd finish what she started first – Montgisard had to be completed.
Taking the stairs two at a time up to her study, she pulled out new quills, sharpening them like a knight might sharpen his sword before a battle, ready to fight with her words on a paper battlefield.
How did she want to describe before the battle started? The image from that morning rose in her mind, the army of Jerusalem coming out of the dust, with the cross twinkling across the sands like the light of Christ come again…
Aude dipped her pen into the ink pot and began scribbling furiously.
Mea culpa for a short chapter. It's been a long week. I just got my study abroad application back, and yes, I am going to GALWAY, IRELAND, for fall of next year! It makes me really excited. If you're from that part of the world we should try and make plans to meet up sometime over tea or something. I do have the option to travel after my program is over in December.
This week was also interesting because I'm in the middle of an idea involving Aude's daughter and some very well known extant poetry from the period, which obviously I can't post until you meet Aude's love interest, who at the moment refuses to cooperate and help me write his courtship. I also spent an hour this week making family trees for Tiberias' wife, Eschiva, and the Ibelin family, because there's very little on who Eschiva actually was, and I wanted to write something about her, too. (If you'd like those charts, say something. I'm going to try and make them look nicer and maybe post them on my deviantart or thereabouts.
The Psalm, in case you don't remember, is the 55th.