Chapter 47: Marriage
Caesar was stunned.
He could not be blamed for this. After he arrived at the castle, neither the castle steward, nor the servants and attendants like him, nor Prince Baldwin, nor their teacher Heraclius, had mentioned Amalric I’s first wife.
And the first rumor he had heard about marriage was that Amalric I had already negotiated the marriage many times with Byzantine Emperor Manuel I.
He naturally assumed that Baldwin’s mother had already passed away, perhaps when Baldwin was very young. Of course, he would not casually mention such things in front of Baldwin.
Then this mother walked out of the grave?
Thinking this way was indeed a bit too disrespectful. Caesar immediately lowered his head and bowed. He only felt a warm lavender breeze brush past him. “Lift your head, child. You are not the first person to see me as if seeing a ghost.”
He raised his head and saw Baldwin standing in place even more awkwardly than him. He seemed to want to reach out and embrace his mother, but as he raised his hand, he realized he was not wearing gloves or a veil. He hurriedly turned to fetch them, but was pulled into the arms of the Countess of Jaffa.
“Let me hold you properly.” she said. “Your father is a king and still does not fear you. Would I fear you?”
She held Baldwin tightly for a good while. Baldwin’s face was flushed red, almost covering the scars from leprosy. He slightly closed his eyes, his body gradually softening from stiffness, even leaning most of his weight on the countess’s shoulder like a drunkard.
Berion of Ibelin did not come in, but only coughed lightly. Caesar understandingly closed the door.
The gesture Berion made was clearly to stand guard at the door. Caesar wondered if he should also take his leave, but the countess glanced at the various items scattered on the carpet. These expensive gifts were clearly divided into two piles. So, it was obvious what these two children had been doing before she entered.
“You are Caesar, right?” the countess called softly. “Come, come here, sit with us—I have heard your name and know of your virtue. I am glad my son has a companion like you.”
She touched Baldwin’s head. “As the sage said, birds of a feather flock together. Rather than people saying you are the prince’s attendant, I would rather they say he is Caesar’s friend.”
Now even Caesar’s face began to heat up.
“He is not an attendant anymore,” Baldwin said joyfully. “Under God’s gaze, we have become brothers. From now on, he and I are the same.”
The countess smiled faintly and examined Caesar carefully. “If I could give birth to such a beautiful child, I would surely build a small chapel for the Virgin Mary alone.”
“Am I not beautiful?” Baldwin was dumbfounded. “I always thought I was beautiful, Mama.”
The countess could of course see that her child was deliberately trying to amuse her. She burst out laughing, then said: “In my heart, even if the blood-turns-to-violets Attis, the cunning suitor Cydippe, and Linus son of the sun god Apollo stood side by side before me, the most beautiful one would surely still be you, and only you.”
She reached out and pulled Baldwin close. Although after February 2nd Baldwin would be ten years old, and with the permission of a bishop or the Pope, he could become an adult early, able to marry and make alliances—but to all mothers, their child is always small, ready to be picked up and held.
It was a tender scene, but a few glints of gold pierced Caesar’s eyes rather inappropriately. He then noticed that the corner of the small cloak Baldwin had just shown him was peeking out. He was wondering how to hide it discreetly when it was spotted by the countess.
“A gift from Princess Maria.” she said frankly. “Bring it to me. Let me see if it suits my most beautiful child.”
Baldwin busily covered his face. Caesar crawled over to fetch it. The countess placed it in her hand and examined it repeatedly. “Byzantines…” There was not much jealousy or hatred in her tone. “Amalric I and I divorced in 63.”
Originally, this marriage had been a good match. Amalric I was only a second son, and the countess was the daughter of the Count of Edessa. She had never hoped to wear a crown, only that her husband not die too soon and hopefully leave her some children—they soon had Sibylla, then Baldwin. But in the year after Baldwin was born, Baldwin III suddenly passed away. He had no heir and could only leave the throne to his brother.
For Amalric I, his original wife no longer matched him. This was not ingratitude or disregard for affection, but the King of Ayyarasa Road and the Count of Jaffa and Ascalon were completely different creatures. And at that time the County of Edessa had already fallen. The patriarch, ministers, and Grand Master of the Knights were all urging him to find a better marriage, more advantageous to Ayyarasa Road.
Amalric I considered it repeatedly—he did need a powerful family-in-law. The fall of the County of Edessa was a lesson—although there were many reasons… Moreover, he had ambitions toward Egypt.
“He was willing to make a deal with the patriarch to preserve Baldwin and Sibylla’s legitimate status and recognize their inheritance rights. I was very grateful for that, not to mention he left me Jaffa.”
The countess glanced sideways at Caesar and smiled. “But they find it hard to talk to you about it. What would they say? That my husband heartlessly abandoned me? That the mother was forced to abandon her children?”
Baldwin grasped her hand. The countess in turn squeezed his fingers, seemingly casually but actually checking the child’s condition. After discovering Baldwin had not noticed her little action, her heart sank sharply, but her face showed nothing.
They sat lazily and happily like this for a while. Baldwin reselected his portion of the gifts and offered the most precious ones to his mother. The countess only picked a round brooch and pinned it to her headscarf, then looked at Caesar: “Do you have nothing you want to give me?”
Caesar mustered his courage, selected a few jewels and held them out to the countess. She looked down and also picked a brooch, pinning it next to Baldwin’s gift.
“Look,” she picked up a small hand mirror. “What a lovely pair.”
This time Caesar boldly looked at her face. He saw many familiar features in it. It could be said that, except for the blue eyes, Baldwin and Sibylla had inherited almost everything from their mother.
Sibylla was so beautiful, and this countess was just as beautiful. Even after the wear of time and destiny, her beauty had not been completely erased, but gained a layer of hazy veil, making her appear even softer, more restrained, and more worth delving into.
“What is it?” The countess noticed his gaze.
“You look just like Baldwin.” After saying it, Caesar realized his blunder. He hurriedly added embarrassedly: “No, Baldwin looks like you, and Princess Sibylla looks like you too.”
The countess could not suppress her laughter. “Of course, child. They are my blood, my legacy.” She gently lifted Caesar’s face. “You are a beautiful child and Baldwin’s good friend, but I liked you at first sight, and not entirely for that reason.”
She turned Caesar’s face toward Baldwin and brought them close. “How strange,” she said. “You two actually resemble each other a bit.” She looked back and forth. “Perhaps beautiful people all look alike.”
They thus passed most of the afternoon until the sky outside the window turned from gold to inky blue. “I must go,” the countess said.
“Stay and have dinner with me.” Baldwin clutched her robe hem and appealed.
“I will stay in Ayyarasa Road for a while, until Amalric I’s wedding to Byzantine Princess Maria is over—this is the Countess of Jaffa’s responsibility.” The countess bent down and kissed his forehead. “So don’t worry. I will come to see you often.”
The countess came silently and left just as silently, and quite briskly.
“She said she would come again.” Caesar also felt a bit reluctant. The countess was completely different from the noble ladies in the castle. She was like a flower blooming in the Judean Mountains, surrounded only by sand, blazing sun, great lakes, and the vast firmament, making her appear so proud and unique. “Even if she cannot come, we can go to Jaffa to see her.”
“You are right.” Baldwin’s eyes lit up. “I have received the blessing. I am no longer a child.”
That night Caesar and Baldwin slept together, not in their own rooms or on the bedside cart. The two talked the whole time. In fact, by the end they did not even know what they had said, only that they had never felt so happy.
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The Countess of Jaffa was as happy with Baldwin as she was troubled with Sibylla.
“I told you this is all men’s doing!” She wiped her face with her palm and complained to her brother-in-law Berion.
“This…” Berion really found it hard to agree—Godfrey of Bouillon was an inviolable saint in Ayyarasa Road, and Baldwin II was also a supremely valiant knight king, but in how they treated their daughters—it was truly hard to describe.
Godfrey of Bouillon, to control the other Christian countries in the Holy Land, married his daughter to the rulers of Antioch, Tripoli, and Edessa. His plan was that when these rulers died（of illness or in battle）, his daughter could support a young lord and manage the court—and afterward there were indeed two more queen mothers.
Godfrey set a bad precedent, and Baldwin II followed suit. He had only one daughter Melisende and carefully chose a son-in-law for her, Fulk of Anjou. But in his will before death, he shocked everyone—he divided the inheritance rights into three parts: one for the daughter, one for the grandson, one for the son-in-law… and only designated the daughter as guardian of Baldwin III, leaving Fulk, as Baldwin III’s biological father, with no power at all!
He did this seemingly not unreasonably. Fulk and Melisende had only one son（at the time）, but Fulk had several adult sons from his previous marriage. He feared that after his death, Fulk would use his power to become the sole king（which Fulk indeed planned）, then exile Melisende and her son, and have his eldest son inherit the throne.
This was not uncommon at the time. Although male lords in the Holy Land often died young in war and disease, and in the absence of male heirs had to let daughters inherit their territories, these daughters after marriage rarely exercised power directly themselves. Instead, their husbands gained voice and authority through them.
If lucky, the bloodline from their father would continue on that territory. If unlucky, it was tantamount to making wedding clothes for others.
After Baldwin II went to meet God, Fulk indeed began to appeal and seize power. Helplessly, with Baldwin II’s will before and the support of Ayyarasa Road ministers and knights behind, he could not shake Melisende’s authority in the Holy Land. Finally, this scoundrel came up with a dirty trick: accusing Melisende of an affair with Baldwin II’s cousin（the Count of Jaffa at the time） to cut off the Church and nobles’ support for her.
Of course, the final victor was still Melisende. She ended the game cleanly through a court coup. After the Church mediated, Melisende reportedly “tolerantly” reconciled with her husband, and later had a son, Amalric I. But after that, Fulk never touched even a shred of power again.
Eight years later, he fell from his horse and broke his neck, dying.
Afterward, Melisende continued to rule, co-ruling with her eldest son Baldwin III for thirteen years. If not for her stroke in 1161, she might have remained active in Ayyarasa Road…
“If Sibylla could become a second Melisende… it might even be a good thing.” Berion cautiously advised.
“Impossible.” The countess raised her head, her gaze like lightning, making Berion shudder. “Leaving aside that her brother has received the blessing, the Byzantine princess will also have children. Girls will share power with her, boys will monopolize all power—and how can she compare to Melisende? Melisende was raised by Baldwin II as an heir.”
She sneered. “Amalric I is not even an heir himself. How could he see his daughter as someone to entrust the entire Holy Land to? Especially since he has Baldwin. And—” She wearily pressed her forehead. “I have met Melisende and spent time with her. As a mother, she was not very competent. She could be called the eldest son’s mortal enemy and the second son’s jailer. Amalric I would absolutely not be happy to have a daughter like Melisende.”
“Wait,” she suddenly looked in one direction. “That child—I think I saw her at Sibylla’s. Where is she going? The left tower?”
