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 hero. If he sees us, I hope he knows how inspiring he is to us.

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Everyone wears Masks

Joana groaned and cringed as suddenly another sharp stab of pain rose in her chest. She swayed a little and reached out blindly. A hand grasped hers and another clasped her elbow and steadied her.

The Queen was led over to a divan and sank down upon it. As her vision cleared, the first thing she saw was the face of Sybille, her husband's sister.

She had a worried look in her eyes and her hand clasped Joana's so tightly that she felt every single one of the many rings Sybille wore. She gently extracted herself from that grip and smiled weakly.

"Are you alright, sister?" Sybille asked, her soft voice filled with genuine concern. Joana was surprised at that. The two women had never gotten along too well before.

"I didn't even know you were in Jerusalem," Joana remarked and got to her feet shakily.

Sybille cast a meaningful glance at the curtained bed.

A servant just stepped back from the bed after having readjusted the pillows.

Joana took a step closer and once again put her hand on Baudouin's hair, the other one felt his forehead beneath the mask. She frowned.

The fever had risen again.

Baudouin, having noticed her hand in his hair, and knowing that she was the only one to do that, stirred slightly.

"How are you feeling, love?" his hoarse voice rose from behind the mask.

"I am just fine, sire," Joana lied.

Baudouin heard in her voice that she was not being truthful, but he let it go.

"Your sister is here, my liege. Did you know?"

He dull, unseeing eyes turned toward her once more.

"Yes, I know. She spent an hour at my bedside already; my nephew came to greet me as well."

Her hand stilled in his hair for a moment, but she didn't reply. His nephew had always been a difficult subject for her. She loved little Baudouin dearly, he was a darling child, yet it had always pained her to know that he was the potential heir to the throne, a place her and Baudouin's son should have been in, a child she could not give him.

Baudouin asked if his sister was still there and thus interrupted her musings.

Sybille hurried over to them and sat down next to Joana.

"I'm here, brother," she said, in the kind of voice a mother would use with a sick child.

The King sighed contentedly. "Now I have the two most beautiful women by my side."

Again, Joana shifted uncomfortably, as she knew she looked rather plain next to the lovely Sybille.

They chatted some more about different subjects, then the young man asked calmly, "Sweet sister, I would like to be alone with my wife. Tell the servants to leave as well, will you?"

Sybille looked surprised.

"Of course, brother. Do you need anything else?"

A chuckle could be heard from behind the mask. "Would you divorce Guy and marry Baudouin d'Ibelin?"

Sybille smiled. "Farewell, brother." She left and ordered the servants to follow her.

Joana and Baudouin were left alone.

"Take off my mask, will you?" he asked her, "and come closer."

She did as he had told her and leant back against his pillows. He rested his head on her shoulder and she put her cheek on it.

He could feel her breath in his hair.

"How many times have we been like this?" he asked her gently.

"Often," she replied, "hundreds of times."

"Then what prevents you from again trusting me? Talk to me, Joana. For all we know, this might be our last opportunity."

His words broke the last barrier.

She covered her eyes with her hand and sobbed.

And whilst he was whispering soothing words to her, she prayed to God, asking him not to take him away from her or if he had to, to take her as well.

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Baudouin was sleeping again. The servants had returned and were going about their tasks quietly, frequently casting worried glances at the young queen.

She was sitting at the King's bedside and occasionally reached over to stroke the cheek of the impassive mask.

Joana felt ashamed. She had burdened him with her own petty troubles again, in a time when every hour could be his last and yet, while he was just barely clinging to life, he still had the strength to offer her support.

She turned to a passing servant and asked for parchment and quill, which were quickly brought to her.

Before she had decided what to write this time, her eyes strayed to the mask once more and she wished she could just take it off him again, but she knew he'd disapprove.

Then she resolutely put the quill onto the parchment.

I have always hated that mask. Not only does it hide the face I love most in this world, no matter how much the disease might distort it, but the silver façade also reminds me of one of the bleakest days in my life. It was the only time I'd ever seen my beloved so furious.

He is usually of a very gentle nature, but he is King and since he had always known that he would never father children, Sybille's life and family were always an important matter for him.

We had received news that Sybille and Lady Agnes would be coming to the city, and on the day of their arrival, Baudouin had me called to his rooms.

I went, unknowing that I would regret ever getting up that day.

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Queen Joana entered her husband's chambers, her light blue dress flowing around her and a happy smile on her face.

She spotted Baudouin sitting at the chessboard with his back to her, wearing a blue tunic, his bandaged hands in gloves and his golden hair brushed, its soft waves almost reaching his shoulders.

"Good morrow, my lord!" she called. The King got up and turned around and Joana screamed. Underneath the golden curls was not his face, but a blank silver visage, betraying no emotion and casting his eyes into shadow so the looked like black holes.

She stumbled back a little and Baudouin, startled by her reaction, took off the mask.

He limped towards her -his condition was growing worse- and reached for her hand. He smiled apologetically.

"Child, did I frighten you? I'm sorry. But you'll have to get used to the sight, dear." He looked down to the floor for a moment. "Everyone wears masks anyway…," then his smile was back in place, "Are you alright, dear?"

Joana nodded and blinked away the tears that, due to the shock, had gathered in the corners of her eyes.

He patted her cheek and then pulled her over to where he had been sitting.

"My mother and sister have not yet arrived, so we have time to play a game of chess!"

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We spent the morning playing chess and enjoying each other's company.

Baudouin won again, although he was starting to have difficulties moving the pieces.

He had put the mask aside and although his face was already becoming unpleasant to look at, he seemed so beautiful to me when he smiled about a well placed move.

He also told me that Baudouin d'Ibelin was, according to Balian, on his way to Constantinople to get the Emperor's help in paying his debts in order to win Sybille's heart back, and how much he was looking forward to having an Ibelin as a brother-in-law.

I had settled down with a piece of embroidery when disaster struck.

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A timid servant had just announced the Ladies Sybille and Agnes when the two highborn women swept into the room.

Agnes was a tall woman with light blond hair and cold green eyes. Her slender, willowy figure was clad in dark grey silk and many golden rings sparkled on her fingers; more gold was on her neck and in her hair.

Sybille followed her, almost a younger version of her mother, but where Agnes was cold and regal, Sybille was arrogant and foolish. Her dress of green silk looked splendid on her and Joana felt very small and insignificant next to those two women. Her throat almost closed up as she uttered a greeting.

Baudouin was wearing the mask once more and, though he greeted his mother and sister warmly, did not waste time in asking what their wishes were.

Agnes did not hesitate.

""We would like you to consent to your sister's marriage to Guy de Lusignan."

Baudouin was speechless. Joana could see his eyes narrowing behind the mask as he asked, "What about Balian's brother?"

Sybille tossed her head back, "Oh, who is still thinking about that! Guy is wonderful, dear brother, he is handsome, charming…"

"But…" he tried to interrupt but was cut off by his mother.

"My son, it would be best if you would allow this union. Better for you and our family, our… reputation…"

Baudouin had gotten to his feet. He was idly pushing around the chess pieces, but at his mother's last remark, he turned around again.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his tone of voice suddenly one of forced calm.

Sybille couldn't look at him. She stared at her hands, which lay folded in her lap. Joana observed the exchange with confusion. She did not understand what her husband was implying and so she was badly startled when he suddenly slammed his fist onto the chessboard and sent the pieces flying. His mask landed on the floor with a clatter and his sister bit her lip as she suddenly found him staring at her, his scarred face visible.

It had been easier talking to an emotionless mask, but this was a very real, very angry young man.

"Sybille, how could you? Are you… are you…?"

He made a feeble gesture, but Sybille understood him.

"Yes, I'm pregnant."

Joana gasped and the Princess shot her an evil look that clearly told her to stay out of the discussion.

Baudouin was furious.

"Why does God torment me with such a sister! Have you no sense of honour? Of dignity? Of morals? Am I to marry my sister to a simpleton now because she couldn't resist his charms, like a washerwoman who falls for the first knight she sees?"

"Baudouin," his mother said sharply, "she is your sister! I will not have you degrade one another! Sybille will marry Guy and her delivery will simply be somewhat early for a child conceived in the wedding bed." Her eyes softened. "Do not worry too much, my son. Guy is young. He will learn!"

Baudouin nodded. "Yes, mother. From you they all learn. I am the perfect example, am I not?"

Agnes raised a perfect eyebrow. "Have I yet steered you wrong?"

He sat back down, clearly exhausted. "That remains to be seen. Fine, I cannot prevent it. After all, I would not give my friend, the Lord of Ibelin," he cast an angry look at his sister, "rotten fruit."

Sybille jumped to her feet. "How dare you! Do not condemn me for something you know nothing about!"

Agnes had had enough of the quarrel between her children. She ordered Sybille to wait for her outside and the Princess left in a whirl of silken veils and with an attractive pout on her face.

Baudouin was very silent after this last statement. Agnes tried to make amends for his sister's rude remark, but her sweet words fell on deaf ears.

She left soon thereafter, but not before she had embraced Joana and advised her to take care of her husband.

The young Queen had nodded and whispered a reply, but when they were alone, Baudouin refused all her attempts to engage him in conversation.

Finally, as a last effort, she tried to embrace him, but he pushed her away gently.

"I am not in the mood for your coddling, my lady," he said, his voice friendly, but firm. "If you will excuse me…"

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He had been hurt worse by that comment than I had understood at that time. I was confused, since he normally wasn't easily shaken by verbal attacks. Over the years, he had developed such a strong character that one could say almost anything to him and he would bear it with a smile. Yet he had read more into Sybille's insult than I had seen in it, and, frankly, more than she had meant by it.

He thought she was not only referring to carnal love, but also to emotional love, to closeness to another person. And, as I later found out, this had been during a time when his last hopes of ever becoming a father had been crushed by the physicians.

We never discussed the issue again. Really, for two weeks following that incident, we did not speak at all. I left to visit my mother and my little sister Maria and he did not even say goodbye to me. When I returned, however, everything was back the way it had been before, with the exception that Sybille was now betrothed to Guy. I did not know back then that this would spell trouble for me, my beloved Baudouin and the kingdom before long. He was no longer as open with me as he used to be, still, I remained confident that everything would be fine.

I turned out to be wrong.

Joana put down the quill and flexed her fingers. She took a sip of wine from a goblet on the table next to her, rolled up the parchment and put it aside.

She then rose from her chair and readjusted her sleeves which she had pushed up to facilitate writing. Baudouin had awoken again. His voice was more tired than before and the wheezing in his breath sounded more pronounced to her ears.

"Will you leave now, love? Or would you stay some more?"

She sat down on the bed next to his frail form. He would have been a tall, strong man, exceptionally handsome and dashing, had he not suffered from the disease. To her, he could not be more precious in any other shape or form.

"I will stay as long as you want me to, my lord," she promised.

And in an almost childlike tone of voice he asked her, "Will you tell me a story?"

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Author's note: Review!