In sickness or health, till death do us part

Disclaimer: see previous chapter

Again many thanks to DocM and LadyLorca, who are not only helping but also inspiring me, as their stories are very much better than mine!

And, of course, thanks to our boy. If he sees us, I hope he knows how inspiring he is to us.

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Not Man and Wife, but King and Queen

Joana took a sip of wine before setting her quill down upon the parchment. Her headache was receding and the sound of the scratching quill was soothing to her nerves.

She blinked rapidly, as her eyes were still sore from crying.

At a moment like this, she was almost thankful Baudouin could not see any longer, for she wanted to spare him the knowledge that his condition was so heavy for her to bear.

As he had once told her, his one fear was, apart from the worries for his kingdom, that she should not be happy because of him. She had kissed him and assured him that she would never be unhappy on his account. That had turned out to be untrue only a few months later…

It was the month of November, in the year of our Lord 1177. I do not know much of the politics of our kingdom, as Baudouin always said it was nothing he liked to burden me with. I had agreed wholeheartedly, as I knew I could not be of any help in that department. I am no woman of state, like Lady Agnes, my husband's mother, or my own mother Terese, so I contended myself with being a companion for him, someone he could be with without having to feign a strength he did not possess, someone he could simply rest with.

I did notice however, that the Saracen forces were amassing, for the whole city spoke of little else, I would have been blind not to see.

Last we heard they had lain siege to several cities and the King prepared to go to Ascalon.

It was only a few months after we had carefully started to admit our love for each other. He was still sixteen and I fifteen, yet he was already so very much the King, and I little more than a child that had been raised with both songs telling of the glory of battle and veterans describing its utter cruelty and horror.

Naturally, I thought that, being unwell, he would command the forces from here, through messages, or at least from a safe point behind the lines of fighting.

I was quickly proven wrong.

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Balian d'Ibelin was admitted to the King's chambers after only a moment of waiting.

Baudouin was already dressed in chain mail and tunic. He was standing in a ray of sunlight, which fell in through the window and it was making his hair look like spun gold.

Then he turned towards his visitor and Balian sighed. The disease was already at work in the young man's face, and only Balian knew of the device he would soon take out of its hiding place. He had shown it to him once before: a mask with neutral features, made out of silver and yet light enough to carry in front of the face all day. The only places it would not cover were around his eyes. Baudouin dreaded it, Balian knew, as he loved the feel of the sun on his face. But, as he had once remarked, only half-jesting, he would not feel it much longer anyway, so why not wear it?

Still, today the boy was smiling at him.

"My Lord," Balian greeted him and bowed low.

"Greetings, Baron," Baudouin replied and gestured for the older man to rise. He went back to the parchment he had been perusing.

Balian straightened and observed the young monarch for a moment, before remarking, "If I may say so, my liege, you seem to be in good spirits, considering we are likely on the brink of battle."

"'tis true! Love, they say, makes the spirit rise, good friend, does it not?"

The Baron of Ibelin gave an affirmative nod.

"The Lady Joana seems to be much better, as well. If I may be so bold: You appear to be good for each other."

The King's smile faltered a little. He trusted Balian like a son trusts his father, so he confessed, "I hope she is happy. I know I can't give her everything a normal husband could. She might want children, but I…"

"Your love is a sacred thing, because it is chaste," Balian offered. "I am sure the Queen would agree."

"So she told me." Baudouin sighed, the he resumed that air of authority.

"Baron, if there is nothing else? I am certain you have things to prepare, as do I. Proceed!"

The nobleman bowed and left.

On the way out the door, he passed Queen Joana. She greeted him with kind words and a smile, but he also sensed trepidation in her voice.

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I knew something was going on, something I was not supposed to be exposed to. I had noticed Baudouin's silence during the time we spent together in the days leading up to this one, something which was uncommon for him. He has a dry sense of humour and enjoys it very much when someone leads a vivid discussion with him.

Whenever I inquired as to what was bothering him, however, I received an evasive answer or none at all. This day, I would not leave without answers.

After Balian had left, Baudouin and I were the only ones left the room.

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As soon as they were alone, Joana wrapped her arms around her beloved, who returned the embrace tenderly. He was already losing his sense of touch, but he never failed to appreciate his wife's affection. This day, however, she felt the ridges of the chain mail under his tunic and took a step back. Her gaze roamed over his armour, the belt and the protruding sword hilt and over to the helmet on the table.

"You really think there will be fighting, my lord?"

Baudouin nodded sombrely.

"We are coming to the defence of the city, so yes, probably."

His clumsy, unfeeling fingers pushed away her veil and undid her hair.

"You are so beautiful…", he murmured, but she was not to be appeased.

"But, sire," she protested, "surely you will not join in the fray, if indeed there would be battle?"

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His pleading blue eyes told me all I needed to know. My tears, my pleading, even my childish outbursts of anger could not dissuade him. He held me, calmed me and spoke to me in a soothing voice, but he did not yield. He was king, on the throne, as well as on horseback, that I had to understand. For the first time, I was angry at him and I could sense that he, too, was losing his patience. I know now that it was not simply a matter of pride for him; back then, however, I accused him of acting so foolishly out of a need to prove himself. He was not amused.

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"Joana!" The girl flinched. For the first time in six years, someone had spoken her name harshly and, coming from Baudouin, it again brought tears to her eyes. He frowned at her, his anger dissipating quickly, but when he spoke again, it still sounded like a reprimand.

"I am the King of Jerusalem, and you are its Queen. I know you worry for me, love, I am glad you do. But where matters of state are concerned, we are not husband and wife, we are king and queen which means we cannot think of ourselves. I will not let my men ride into battle and possible death while I stay safe at home simply because my wife is afraid I might get hurt."

His stern gaze softened at the sight of her hugging herself, her hair a mess and her eyes swimming in tears.

"I will be careful!"

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He left soon after, with a last, reassuring embrace. I spent the days in agony, knowing anything could happen to them on their way and in Ascalon itself. News soon came that it had been surrounded by the Saracens, my husband and his knights trapped inside.

After that, rumours spread like a plaque: the Saracens had won, a victory of my beloved, peace, war, the utter destruction of Ascalon, its relief… no-one knew.

Lady Maria, Baron Balian's wife and Eschive de Tripoli, the Lady Tiberias, kept me company for most of the time, but they were unable to ease my trepidation.

The worst was still to come, however, in the presence of my mother.

She arrived one afternoon, her face set in an expression of worry and regret and rushed into my chambers, exclaiming that she could not let her beloved child go through such a period of grief and mourning alone.

When I asked what she meant by that, she told me that, last she heard, the knights had been defeated and my husband killed.

I stared at her for a moment, then, suddenly, I felt a burst of blinding pain in my heart and darkness surrounded me. How was I to know what was really going on…

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Ascalon was surrounded.

At night, Baudouin and his knights watched from the battlements of the city as surrounding settlements burned. Every day, the hope of the people dwindled and many a knight could be seen with shaking hands and cold sweat on his brow.

King Baudouin was the only one who seemed to be calm in the face of danger.

Finally, he decided something had to be done, and quickly. He gathered his advisors in a quiet chamber away from the bustle of the besieged city.

He pointed to a place on a map that lay spread out before them.

"Salah-ad-Din is here," he began, his sonorous voice firm, "at the Tell Gezer, southeast of Ramlah. If we manage to break out of Ascalon and get around Salah-ad-Din's forces without him noticing, we can ambush them!"

He looked up to see his advisors' faces. One of them was the ruddy-faced Reynaud de Châtillon, a heavy set man with grey streaks in his reddish hair and a determined grin at the thought of battle.

"As you command your highness!" he said and bowed. The others, trusting his judgement, agreed as well. And so it happened.

Salah-ad-Din was indeed taken by surprise. He and his men only had little time to mount their horses and ride off before the charging knights were upon them.

The battle occurred in the valley of the Wadi ed-Duhr.

The knights fought fiercely against the Saracen warriors, who clearly outnumbered them.

Baudouin himself was in the thick of the battle, none fighting more bravely.

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I regained consciousness after what seemed like ages of only darkness. The first thing I sensed were awkward fingers caressing my hair and my cheek. My eyes opened to the most wonderful sight I could have imagined.

Baudouin was sitting at my bed, certainly alive and in one piece, his blue eyes filled with worry.

I cried out in joy and he smiled at me, his posture relaxing. But I also sensed that he was tired and weary from battle. So I made an effort to regain my strength as quickly as possible, for the last thing I wanted was to give him another reason to worry.

Soon our life was more or less like it had always been, but I had also noticed for the first time that he might love me, but I was not the perfect wife for him, weak and easily shaken as I am.

The Queen regarded the parchment thoughtfully, unsure whether to burn it or not. Finally, she decided to put it away in the same chest were she kept her lute, as no-one but her ever touched it.

Satisfied that it would not be seen by unfit eyes, she left her chambers once more. The sound of the servants passing and the voices of the knights that had gathered in the small courtyard, waiting for Count Raymond, seemed almost deafeningly loud at first.

Her brocade slippers made no sound as she hurried along the stone corridor.

Before she could enter Baudouin's room, the door opened and his physician came out. He bowed to her and left, and Joana did not waste time with calling him back to ask how the King was doing. It would have been pointless, anyway, as she already knew.

She entered the room, and suddenly, the quiet figure upon the bed reminded her of what he would soon look like in his grave.

She groaned and cringed as suddenly another sharp stab of pain rose in her chest…

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Author's note: Review! I know there hasn't been much interaction between them yet, but remember, in her memories, they are only just beginning to admit their love and in her present, he is on the brink of death. They'll have their little husband-and-wife moments and so on. More to come...