a candid exchange of opinions, I will leave whilst you deliberate.”
RICHARD HAD HEADED in the direction of Berengaria’s pavilion, but at the last moment he veered off. He knew his wife would not berate him or even implore him to remain, but her brown eyes would reveal her bewilderment and her deep disappointment. His sister offered a safer harbor and he made for her tent, instead.
“I told them,” he said tersely, “and now they are deciding their future once I’m gone.”
He was obviously in no mood for conversation, so Joanna did not press him further. Beckoning to one of her knights, she gave him low-voiced instructions, all the while watching as her brother slouched on her bed, absently petting the Sicilian hound who’d hopped up beside him. The knight was soon back, having retrieved a musical instrument from Richard’s tent. “Here,” Joanna said, “occupy yourself with this.”
Richard was strumming a melancholy little melody when Henri entered and pulled up a stool. “What is that . . . not a lute?”
“It is called an oud. Al-’Ādil gave it to me after I expressed interest in Saracen music.”
Henri leaned closer to see. “You do not pluck the strings with your fingers like a harp?” Richard explained that a quill was used for the oud. His face was hidden, his head bent over the oud, and Henri watched him for a while, not sure what would better serve his uncle—silence, sympathy, or candor. Finally deciding upon the latter, he said, “You know they will choose Conrad?”
“I know.”
“And . . . and you are all right with that?”
Richard’s shoulders twitched in a half-shrug. “You recently reminded me that Guy is a puppet king at best, and could not hope to survive without my support. Since I do not know how much longer I dare remain in Outremer, that can no longer be ignored.”
“It is the right decision, Uncle.”
“Only time will tell. But compared to the other choice I’m facing, this was a relatively easy one.”
“Of course the de Lusignans will not take it well.”
“No,” Richard agreed, “I do not suppose they will.” He said no more, and Henri decided not to probe any further. He yearned to know what Richard would decide to do, for it would affect them all, but he was not sure his uncle even knew, not yet.
The poulain lords determined the fate of their kingdom with surprising speed; within an hour, the two Grand Masters, Hugues de Tiberias, and his younger brother were being ushered into Joanna’s pavilion. “We have discussed it, my lord Richard, and we are all of one mind, save only Humphrey de Toron and the de Lusignans. We want Conrad of Montferrat as our king.”
Richard nodded. “I expected as much.”
“And you accept our decision?”
“I said I would, did I not?”
“Yes, my liege, you did.” Hugues de Tiberias hesitated. “As you know, I am no friend to Conrad. But under the circumstances, it was the only choice we could make.”
Richard nodded again and they soon withdrew, so obviously relieved that Henri thought Conrad would begin his reign with one great advantage always denied Guy—a united kingdom. Richard had picked up the oud again, signaling that he had no interest in discussing it further, and Henri took the hint. But almost as soon as the men had departed, Guy de Lusignan burst into the tent, trailed by his brothers, Joffroi and Amaury.
“How could you let this happen? How could you abandon me like this?”
“I did all I could for you, Guy. But I could not change the fact that none of them wanted you as king. I am not going to ‘abandon’ you, though.”
“What . . . you mean to give me a stipend? I am not one of your knights to be paid wages or a pension now that I’m no longer of any use. I am an anointed king!”
“No,” Richard said, “you were a king. But I have more in mind than a stipend. I cannot give you the kingdom of Jerusalem. I can give you Cyprus.”
Guy’s mouth dropped open. “Cyprus? But you sold it to the Templars.”
“You’ve heard of the rebellion in Nicosia on Easter Eve? Well, Robert de Sablé told me that they have decided the island is more trouble than it’s worth to them. They’d agreed to pay me one hundred thousand bezants and so far have paid forty thousand of that sum. If you reimburse them the forty thousand, Cyprus is yours.”
Guy’s brothers were listening avidly, eyes gleaming, the sort of predatory