that a crowned and anointed king could not be deposed without offending the Almighty, and Conrad had countered that Guy’s claim died with Sybilla, and the rightful Queen of Jerusalem was now his wife, Isabella. They’d then withdrawn reluctantly while their fate was decided by the English and French kings and the lords and prelates of Outremer.
It was now late afternoon and it was obvious to all that they’d reached an impasse, for Richard wanted Guy, and Philippe wanted Conrad, and neither one was willing to compromise. Frustrated and angry, their throats sore from shouting, their tempers just as raw, the men finally agreed to pause in their deliberations, sending out for food and wine. The fruit, bread, and cheese went largely untouched, but the wine was disappearing at an alarming rate. Just what they needed, Henri brooded, for if the debate had been so rancorous whilst they were sober, it might even turn violent once they were in their cups.
Balian had made a passionate speech on Conrad’s behalf, but he’d been shouted down by Guy’s partisans, as had Renaud, the Lord of Sidon. And when Garnier de Nablus, the Grand Master of the Knights Hospitaller, had spoken up for Guy, Conrad’s supporters responded just as rudely. The men had paid the two kings the respect due their rank by hearing their arguments without such heckling, but it was obvious to Henri that neither Richard nor Philippe had changed any minds. And although he’d deliberately not glanced in Balian’s direction, he could feel the older man’s dark eyes upon him, silently reminding him of his promise.
Setting down his wine cup, he sought out the most respected of the prelates, the Archbishop of Tyre. Joscius was acclaimed for his powers of persuasion, having managed the miracle of getting both Philippe and Richard’s father, Henry, to take the cross; Henri wanted to draw upon his eloquence in support of a compromise, assuming he could manage a miracle of his own and turn two balky royal mules into docile beasts of burden. Joscius was one of Conrad’s adherents, but he was a realist, too. After getting his assent, Henri squared his shoulders, then crossed the hall and asked for a private word with Richard.
As soon as they’d settled into a window alcove, Henri said bluntly, “Uncle, I suspect that you’ll eventually prevail, but it is likely to be a Pyrrhic victory. Conrad is not one to slink away with his tail between his legs. Whatever we agree here, he is not going to put aside his claim to the crown—”
“What claim?” Richard said scornfully. “He abducted Isabella, plain and simple, then forced her to wed him even though he had left a wife behind in Constantinople. But in the eyes of God, she is still wed to Humphrey de Toron. Moreover, the marriage is invalid because it is incestuous as well as adulterous—Conrad’s brother was once wed to Isabella’s sister Sybilla, and that relationship alone would damn their union under canon law.”
Henri waited patiently until Richard paused for breath. “I agree the marriage is dubious at best. But it is a done deed and none of your fuming is going to change that. Have you asked yourself why so many highborn lords and churchmen were willing to swallow such a bitter brew? I know—you’ll say some were bribed. Mayhap that is true, but it is also true that they were desperate to pry the crown away from Guy, and who can blame them? Would you want to follow the man who’d led them to the Horns of Ḥaṭṭīn?”
Richard’s silence told Henri that he would not. Before he could shift the strategic ground from a defense of Guy to an attack on Conrad, Henri said quickly, “Conrad’s friends do not believe your concern for Isabella is genuine. I know it is. They forget that you have more reason than any man in this hall to be protective of Isabella, for she and your father had the same grandfather, Count Fulk of Anjou. But it is too late to save your cousin from a marriage she did not want, Uncle. By seeking to punish Conrad after the fact, you’ll only be depriving her of her birthright—the crown of Jerusalem.”
Richard frowned, for he’d never considered it in that light. “I cannot just abandon Guy,” he said, “for whether I like him or not, I am his liege lord and owe him my protection.”
“I know. I also know that the de Lusignans are no more likely than