to reflect, he said, “I suppose I ought to be thanking you.”
Balian shook his head. “No, it was none of my doing, for I was not there. They took care to seek her out whilst neither I nor my wife nor Renaud of Sidon were with her, doubtless expecting to easily intimidate her into submission. But much to their surprise, they discovered that even kittens have claws. Having reminded them that Philippe had deserted Conrad and turned his back on God’s kingdom, Isabella declared that she meant to obey her husband’s dying wish—that she surrender Tyre only to Richard or the rightful lord of the land.”
The other men exchanged startled looks. Was Conrad capable of such deathbed generosity, putting the welfare of the kingdom before the sea of bad blood that lay between him and the English king? Had he even been capable of expressing such sentiments? “I’ll not deny that comes as a surprise,” Henri conceded. “You made it sound as if Conrad was well nigh dead by the time he was taken back to the castle, beyond all mortal concerns.”
A smile flickered across Balian’s lips, one of paternal pride. “I daresay Beauvais and Burgundy have their doubts, too. But who is to call the bereaved widow a liar? She said Conrad gave her these secret instructions ere he died, and how are they to prove otherwise? Isabella then shut herself up in the castle and put the garrison on alert.”
Henri suddenly remembered that it was the Bishop of Beauvais who’d wed Isabella to Conrad. Beauvais ought to have remembered that, too, he thought, and felt a surge of sympathy for this beleaguered girl. He’d always been impressed by her beauty, but until now he’d not realized that she had such courage. God knows she’d need it in the dark days to come. She’d already been forced into one unwanted marriage, and it was all too likely to happen again. A young, pregnant woman could not rule a war-torn land on her own. She’d need another husband as soon as possible, need to be wed again with indecent haste, for political necessity always triumphed over propriety. He hoped she’d be given some small say in the matter, although he thought it unlikely. But whom could they choose? Who would be acceptable to all warring factions and yet also be capable of defending the kingdom as stoutly as Conrad would have done?
“What now, Balian?”
The older man shook his head wearily. “We can only deal with one crisis at a time. Right now the greatest danger lies in Tyre, for the people are on the verge of panic and the French will grasp any opportunity to seize control of the city. I want you to come back with me to Tyre, Henri. Mayhap your presence will reassure the citizenry and remind Beauvais and Burgundy that Conrad may be dead but Richard of England is still a force to be reckoned with.”
“When do you want to leave?”
“Now,” Balian said, and that succinct reply, so fraught with urgency, told them more about the poulain baron’s state of mind than a torrent of words could have done. They were teetering upon the edge of the abyss and who would know it better than a man born and bred in Outremer?
TO BALIAN AND HENRI’S mutual frustration, the winds had died down, delaying their voyage for hours. They considered riding the thirty miles to Tyre but by then twilight was approaching and it made more sense to keep waiting for favorable winds, as a ship under sail could cover three times that distance in a single day. They were eventually able to raise anchor that night. The winds continued to be contrary, however, becalming them at the midway point, and so it was almost sunrise before their galley was within sight of Tyre’s formidable walls and soaring towers. The massive iron chain was lowered to allow them entry into the harbor, and they were soon at the wharf by the Sea Gate. The castle was situated on the eastern harbor mole, and Henri’s gaze kept coming back to it; he wondered if Isabella was still abed, if she dreaded each dawning day now as one sure to bring more trouble and grief.
Henri politely declined Balian’s offer of hospitality, not wanting to intrude into a house of mourning, and instead chose to return to the archbishop’s palace, where he’d lodged on his earlier visit. Rather than wait while a servant was sent to Balian’s stable to fetch