she told him she’d sneaked his dog in, and dangled his fingers over the edge of the bed for Ahmer to lick.
The physicians had been conferring in a corner, studying a vial of liquid that Mariam assumed was William’s urine. Glancing over, Jamal al-Dīn noticed the dog and glared at Mariam, who favored him with an innocent smile. When he approached the bed to take his patient’s pulse, Mariam took advantage of the distraction to implore Joanna to get some sleep, but the other woman stubbornly shook her head.
“He is calmer when I am here,” she said before lowering her voice still further to whisper an indignant account of the Archbishop of Palermo’s gaffe. “That wretched old man still bears a grudge against William for establishing an archbishopric at Monreale. But I never imagined that his rancor would impel him to contemplate burying William whilst he is still alive!”
Mariam concurred, but all the while she was regarding Joanna with sympathy so sharp it felt like a dagger’s edge. Joanna seemed to be the only one blind to the truth, that William’s labored breaths were measurable and finite. Barring a miracle, he was dying, and all knew it but his wife. While Jamal al-Dīn spoon-fed his patient an herbal remedy for intestinal pain, Mariam continued to urge Joanna to take a brief nap. When William added his voice to Mariam’s, she finally agreed, promising to be back before the bells rang for Vespers.
As soon as she was gone, William beckoned his sister to the bed. “Send for a scribe,” he murmured. “I want to list all that I bequeath to the English king for his campaign to recover Jerusalem. Joanna became distraught whenever I mentioned it. . . .” And as their eyes met, Mariam realized that there had been an odd role reversal between her brother and his wife. Joanna had always been the practical partner, William the dreamer, given to impulse and whims. Yet now she was the one in denial and he was looking reality in the face without blinking.
It took William a long time to dictate his letter, for his strength was ebbing and he had to pause frequently to rest. Mariam sat by the bed, holding his hand, half listening as he offered up the riches of Sicily for a crusade he would never see. “A hundred galleys . . . sixty thousand seams of wheat, the same number of barley and wine . . . twenty-four dishes and cups of silver or gold . . .” When he was finally done, she tried to get him to eat some of the soup sent up by the palace cooks in hopes of tempting his fading appetite, but he turned his head aside on the pillow and she put the bowl down on the floor for Ahmer, which earned her a weak smile from William and a look of genuine horror from Jamal al-Dīn.
William’s fever was rising and Mariam took a basin from the doctors and put a cool compress upon his hot forehead. “At least . . .” William swallowed with difficulty. “At least I need not worry about Joanna . . . Monte St Angelo is a rich county . . . ”
“Indeed it is,” Mariam said, her voice muffled. Joanna had been provided with a very generous dowry at the time of her marriage. It was to William’s credit that even in the midst of his suffering, he was concerned for his wife’s future welfare. Did he spare a thought, too, for his kingdom? Did he regret that foolhardy alliance now that it was too late? Gazing into William’s eyes, Mariam could not tell. She found herself hoping that he was not tormented with such regrets. He had been a careless king, but he’d been a kind and loving brother, and she did not want him to bear such a burden in his last hours. What good would it do, after all?
JOANNA JERKED UPRIGHT in the chair, ashamed to have dozed off. Her eyes flew to the bed, but William seemed to be sleeping. He had not looked so peaceful in days and her faltering hopes rekindled. Taking care not to awaken him, she smiled at his doctor. “He appears to be resting comfortably. Surely that is a good sign?”
Jamal al-Dīn regarded her somberly. “I gave him a potion made from the juice of the opium poppy. It eased his pain and helped him to sleep. Alas, it will not cure his ailment, Madame.”
Joanna