HERE COMES THE SON
By Rose de Sharon
Disclaimer: do I look like Sir Ridley Scot? Well then, I guess I own nothing! ;-)
Author's notes: I've played with the idea of Tiberias being a no-nonsense old soldier, so his language might be a little… rough. This story is slightly AU. English is not my native language and this story hasn't been beta-readed, so I claim all responsibility for mistakes.
Summary: Tiberias' POW when he first meets Balian, and later when he confronts Guy de Lusignan.
Feedback: Yes please!
To my wonderful reviewers:
Mizamour: thanks for the advice! ;-)
Sunniva: thank you for taking time to read my ramblings.
Doc M: what's up, Doc? I'm so glad you liked the second story and I hope you will like this one as well.
Red Cloud Phoenix: you live in Korea? It's a great coincidence I have chosen your national flower as my pen name! Rose de Sharon is indeed the name of a character in John Steinbeck's "Grapes of wrath".
Redone: you've given me a nice plot idea! Thanks!
LateBloomer04: thank you! I like your stories too: please feel free to post new chapters anytime!
Hikara Kokoi: your words of praise are much appreciated. Thank you!
(Tiberias' POW )
I was enraged when Renaud de Châtillon stormed out of my office: once more, the fat brute has won. I haven't been able to prove he was behind the recent attacks against the Saracens' caravans and he walked out free, ready to start his own wars again.
At last, I had him banished from the royal courts, but will that be enough to stop him? I doubt it: he'll stay calm in his Kerak castle for a month or two, quietly gathering the Templars who will spy on the ongoing and outgoing Saracen caravans. Then he'll strike again and shatter in the process the peace treaty King Baldwin IV and Saladin have signed six years ago.
I present my apologies to Mustapha Said Amiri, the Syrian Lord whose caravan has been attacked by Renaud de Châtillon: I have sentenced the Templars knights who did his evil deeds to be hanged and their corpses are currently balancing at the end of a rope, inside the palace's court. The crowd gathered for the execution has yelled in enthusiasm every time a Templar got his neck broken, yet I know it's just a matter of time before another incident provoked by Châtillon or his accomplice, Guy de Lusignan, will have Saladin's army marching on us.
Lord Amiri is satisfied by the executions and he thanks me with exquisite politeness, but it's a hollow victory: executing the killers won't bring back the men, women and children of his clan who were murdered by the Templars. King Baldwin's state of health is getting worse every day and soon, he will be free of his leprosy… forever. Lusignan will be King of Jerusalem and every peace-loving knight will be labeled as traitor. I don't fear for myself, my reputation and power protect me but I know that, as soon as the arrogant prick will be on the throne, I will be forced to exile.
As soon as Lord Amiri and his bodyguard exit, a servant comes up to me. He bows and says:
"Lord Tiberias, Brother Michael of the Hospitaler order is waiting in your audience chamber. There is a young knight with him."
Brother Michael, Godfrey's monk, has returned to Jerusalem a few days ago. I haven't seen him yet, but he sent me a message telling of Godfrey's passing… and the arrival of his son Balian in our city.
When Godfrey, my long-time dear and trusted friend, told me about the son he left in France, I was astonished and delighted. A son! That will shut de Lusignan's mouth for a while, that dirty slug that had been snickering behind Godfrey's back for years. But when Godfrey announced his upcoming departure to Europe in order to retrieve his son, I was doubtful he would succeed. Even if his child would be alive (and that was unlikely, since the conquest of Jerusalem have impoverished France greatly), why would he leave his family and village for the Holy Land?
But now, it seems that Godfrey has indeed succeeded. Then again, the old rascal had always achieved his goals!
I smile fondly at his memory, and then I straighten up and walk towards my audience chambers. Indeed, Brother Michael and a young knight are waiting for me.
"Good day, Brother!"
"My Lord Tiberias." answers the bowing monk, and then he retreats on a nearby armchair so my whole attention gets focalized on the younger man.
So, this is Balian of Ibelin. I look at him straight in the eyes: dark-haired, almost as tall as his father, dignified, charismatic… If not for the color of his hair and eyes, I could have sworn the ghost of a young Godfrey was standing in front of me. The resemblance is even accented by the coat of mail and the Ibelin colors he's wearing.
"It's true." I say bluntly instead of a formal greeting. I'm an old soldier with a straightforward personality, which has won me as many friends as enemies. But denying the truth always appeared to me as a waste of time. This young man is Godfrey's son, no doubts about it.
"I was a friend of Godfrey." I add. "Now I am yours, you can count on it."
He remains stoic, but a touch of gratitude enlightens his brown eyes.
Yes, Balian, you're under my wing now, and pity the fool who stands in my way. You probably didn't realize yet how important your father was for Jerusalem… and for me!
My voice rises in anger, out of sorrow for Godfrey's death and Châtillon's madness.
"Godfrey dead! And at the worst moment!"
I nod to my visitors and take them to the chamber next door, where I know some good wine is waiting for us. I pour the liquid in two cups, one for me and one for Brother Michael. Balian, as a knight, has to stand to attention, his helmet tucked under his arm, until I tell him to stay at ease. It won't be too long now, but he already pleases me with his attitude; he's neither gawking nor impressed at the rich furniture scattered all over the place, like he already knows riches are only temporary in this world. Godfrey, you have a good son.
"The public announcers have talked about your duel in the desert, Balian. Saladin himself wrote to us to confirm the duel was legal and you acted in self-defense. It won't have any consequences on the peace. From this palace, I try to maintain the peace treaty King Baldwin and Saladin has signed six years ago. What do you know about Saladin?"
Balian answers: "He is the King of Saracens."
True, so true.
"Saladin has 200,000 men in Damascus. If he declares war on us, he'll win. And every day, he has new reasons to start a war. The peace treaty is compromised every day by acts of fools coming from Europe or that brute de Châtillon with the Templars. He's behind the attacks, I know it but I cannot prove it. Jerusalem will disappear in a massacre, and so quickly we won't even know what's happening!"
Brother Michael speaks, his eyes twinkling with his usual amused sparks: "If the Holy City lives for just one minute, Tiberias, at least it would have lived!"
I groan, as I'm not in the mood to appreciate the monk's humor. I am too concerned by the life of innocent men, women and children who get trapped between our ambitions, Saladin's, and the Templars'. Is it possible to save Jerusalem from a slaughter? Every day, the number of knights rallying to Lusignan and Châtillon increase, blinded by promises of easy money and "guaranteed" absolution. Religious fanatics from both the Christian and Muslim sides are calling more and more often for a "Holy war". And what can I do, except clinging to hope?
"Did your father tell you what your tasks will be?" I ask Balian.
"To be a good knight." he answers immediately.
I blink, the Hospitaler grows quiet. Is Balian ironic? A good look at his face and I realize he's dead serious. Lord knows what Godfrey told him about knighthood, but apparently he has mentioned duty, honor, respect to the enemies, loyalty to the King and protection for the people. Balian, obviously, has taken his father's words at heart. But has he realized yet knights are usually drunkards, money-greedy arrogant slugs who fight only for their own interests or to defend their nonexistent honor? Godfrey was an exception in this world, and that's why I hurried to befriend him when his honesty and loyalty became notorious in the Holy Land. Before meeting Godfrey, I had thought "good knights" were inventions only found in poetry's books. And now, Balian… will he be strong enough to resist the call of gold and power?
"May the heavens help us to find this rare gem…. A good knight…" I muse out loud.
I drain my wine cup, and then ask: "Did you have dinner?"
(Tiberias' POW )
"Princess Sybilla of Jerusalem and her husband, Guy de Lusignan!" has announced the herald.
We all rise from our seats around the King's table, to momentarily abandon our dishes and glasses. The table has been dressed in the palace's inner court and we have been enjoying ourselves with deliciously cooked food and fine wine. All the most important people of Jerusalem's court are gathered round the table: nobles, the Archbishop, his loyal secretary, knights, counts and countesses. I have introduced Balian to them and they all have greeted him with perfect curtsey. Of course, they wouldn't have expressed distaste or contempt to Balian in front of me! They damn well understood from the start that I've taken Godfrey's son under my protection, and no one dares to confront openly Tiberias, Governor of Jerusalem and King Baldwin's IV right-hand man, except for the arrogant prick who have married Princess Sybilla, to quote Godfrey.
Speaking of which… I have kind of hoped Lusignan would drown in a shipwreck or be slaughtered by brigands during his journey, but no such luck. From what I've heard, he has successfully recruited knights in France and he is glowing with praise from the success of his mission. That's Lusignan's technique: respect the small rules while breaking the big ones. On the surface, he's as smooth and perfect as a marble statue. On the inside, he's rotten to the core like a decaying corpse.
Lusignan waits 'till his resplendent spouse is seated at the place of honor (he has to respect some etiquette in front of the court's members), but then he quickly sits down. He hates being prince consort and we all know it! Princess Sybilla has some delicious chicken served in her plate while a page is busy serving some wine in her cup. Conversations can take place again.
"So," I casually ask Lusignan. "How many knights have you brought from France?"
"Fifty" he answers curtly, more interested in gulping his wine. I don't mind his open disrespect for me, we have been enemies since he stepped foot in Jerusalem. But then he looks up, and sees Balian sitting at my right side. He has such an incredulous expression on his face that I could have laughed out loud: he has never thought Godfrey' son would be invited to eat at the King's table!
Oh, I do know some of the courtiers have been resenting the fact that Balian have been invited by the King, through me, to eat with us: how could a bastard commoner be seated with them, all coming from noble families or the church's highest hierarchy? It is sure pulling down the decorum a bit! Ibelin's heir or not, surely Balian would have been cast out of the King's table if not for my presence. But we are blessed to have a king wiser beyond his years, who values more the heart than the genealogy. His sister is just the same, even if years of marriage with the worst knight of all Europe have clouded her judgement at times.
But it sure hasn't clouded her eyes: her gaze is fixed on Balian. Please, Princess, be more careful!
Lusignan snarls at Balian: "You are sitting at my table!"
His table? Of all of the goddamned nerve!
Balian's voice rises calmly: "It is the King's table."
I am proud of my friend's son, who is handling himself very well in open confrontation. He hasn't showed irritation or fear in spite of being challenged by Lusignan in front of the court. I knew introducing Balian to the court would be like a gauntlet for him. Yet, by his calm attitude and soft intonations, Balian sounded just like Godfrey when he was verbally battling Lusignan and I can see, by the looks of the courtiers, that I'm not the only one to have this thought.
"Oh, really? sneers Lusignan. "Well, it's been ages since the King has graced us with his presence at his table!"
Arrogant p-r-i-c-k.
The conversations round the table have gone low, as the guests witness our confrontation with fearful eyes. Very few of the barons dare to confront Lusignan, mostly because they approve of his actions or because they disapprove but lack courage to confront him. Not everyone has Godfrey of Ibelin's courage, and I am glad to find the same nobility in his son!
Lusignan casts a disgusted look at Balian, and then frowns when he sees Princess Sybilla still eyeing my protégé. His mouth twists into that self-satisfied smirk of his and proclaims:
"In France, such spawn wouldn't have inherited lands or riches. But here, civilized laws are sadly overlooked! Then again, when a knight is unable to have legitimate heirs, he turns to whatever he has left in the manure."
That's it: I'm going to strangle him on the spot, right in front of his wife, Balian and the barons, and to hell with the consequences!
I'm starting to raise myself from my seat, getting ready to avenge Balian, my King, and my friend, but Lusignan beats me to it. He rises, and a young page hurries to pick up his coat from his seat just before the arrogant prick snatches it from him, as if a servant's hands are unworthy to touch his clothes. The young page blushes and bows his head before retreating in the shadows.
"I can't stay to have dinner with you, as I can only eat in good company."
Good riddance!
"Are you going to Kerak to see Châtillon?" I challenge him.
"No, my Lord Tiberias! Everyone in this court has heard that he's out of favor. Why should I, a true member of this distinguished court, meddle with that disloyal subject?"
A true member of the court, my !
But Lusignan just can't leave a place without showing off his arrogance one last time: why should he? Apart from me, he's the most important man of Jerusalem. He lays a hand on Princess Sybilla's shoulder, and sneers one last time:
"My wife doesn't grieve much about my absences. That makes her the best of spouses… or the worst."
And with that final barb, Lusignan leaves the table after throwing his wine cup at the young servant whom barely had time to catch it.
Princess Sybilla looks down in shame. She's a lovely woman dressed in royal garbs, but God knows her life hasn't been easy: married at 15 years old of age to a dangerous and ambitious knight, watching her beloved brother slowly dying of leprosy, her own son struck with the same terrible disease… She is a powerful woman, but the cost of abundance can be way too heavy sometimes. I know she would trade all her riches in a heartbeat for a good man at her side. Who would blame her showing interest in Balian?
Decided to overturn the situation, I raise my wine cup in a toast and say: "To the health of Jerusalem's best spouse!"
Everyone cheers, Princess Sybilla answers with an Arabic benediction "God bless Jerusalem" while giving me a heartfelt smile. Lusignan's scorn is soon forgotten as the guests start their mundane conversations again. But my dinner is interrupted once more, as another servant whispers in my ear: "The King wants to see Godfrey's son."
I rise, and nod to Balian to do the same.
"If you'll excuse us, Princess, Ladies and Barons, the King has asked for Godfrey's son."
But this time, it's Princess Sybilla who beats me to it:
"I will take him to the King." she says with a charming voice and a smile that would have melted the heart of a misogynist.
There's nothing I can do, and protests are quite out of the question. Everyone rises from their seats as Princess Sybilla and Balian leave our company, and I can feel my heart twisting in my chest. She's imprudent, her husband could see her walking along with Balian and the gossips will soon be heard in all Jerusalem. I understand Sybilla acts out of revenge for the public outrage her husband has just given her, but I really wish she would keep Balian out of her private wars.
Brother Michael looks at me expectantly and I turn around to nod at one of my servants, who were standing just behind me. I mouth the words "Follow them" and he rushes in the palace's corridors.
THE END