CHAPTER 166: CHAPTER 166 - THE ENVOYS ARRIVE

Palermo, June 7th, 1181

The harbor of Palermo glimmered beneath the Sicilian sun, its waters as restless as the tides of politics that swept through Christendom. On the morning of June 20th, 1181, a small fleet of galleys entered the port, their banners fluttering bright against the sky—the golden cross of Jerusalem stitched upon white fields, and beside them the banners of the nobles entrusted with this mission. Crowds gathered on the piers, merchants pausing in their transactions, dockworkers laying aside their ropes, and beggars craning for a glimpse. Word had already spread through the capital: the envoys of Baldwin, King of Jerusalem, had come to treat of marriage with Lady Constance, aunt of Sicily’s young monarch.

The June sun hung high above Palermo, gilding the roofs of the royal palace and shimmering across the broad harbor where galleys rocked gently at anchor. The city smelled of salt and resin, mingled with the rich perfume of citrus groves that encircled it. Within the Norman palace, a blend of Byzantine domes, Arab arches, and Latin stonework, preparations were underway for the arrival of envoys from Jerusalem—the men who would carry King Baldwin’s offer into the realm of binding covenant.

Lady Constance of Hauteville aunt to King William II, had been preparing herself for this meeting for weeks. The matter was no longer abstract. It was flesh and blood, faces and voices from Outremer, men sent across the sea to treat with her as the future Queen of Jerusalem.

She dressed with care that morning, in a gown of deep azure silk edged with gold thread. Around her neck she wore no extravagant jewel, only a chain bearing a simple cross of ivory—an unmistakable statement of piety and restraint. Her ladies arranged her hair in a net of pearls, yet she dismissed them before the envoys entered. She would greet these men not as some silken ornament of William’s court, but as a ruler in her own right, a woman who had made demands and expected them to be honored.

The envoys’ arrival was announced with ceremony. A chamberlain proclaimed their names one by one:

Lord Humphrey of Toron, an old and seasoned baron of the north, known for his calm prudence and his command of frontier fortresses.

Lord Reynald of Sidon, sleek and polished, his garments carefully tailored, his manner smooth as oil but edged with calculation.

Lord Reginald Grenier, lord of Sidon’s rival Tyre, stocky and broad-shouldered, his speech direct, his face weathered by salt air and long campaigns.

Archdeacon Matthew of Bethlehem, a scholar-cleric with penetrating eyes, bearing the dignity of the Church and the authority to speak for the Patriarch.

Brother Anselm, a Hospitaller knight in his black mantle, representing the military orders and their stake in Baldwin’s reign.

Constance rose from her seat when they entered, flanked by her cousin Roger and several Sicilian nobles. She studied the men in turn—how their eyes flicked across the chamber, how they carried themselves after the long voyage. Humphrey bowed deeply, Reynald smiled too easily, Grenier kept his hands clenched as though eager for a sword, Matthew inclined his head with clerical solemnity, and Anselm stood stiff as stone.

"Lords of Jerusalem," Constance said in measured Latin, her voice clear, "be welcome to Palermo. You carry your king’s words and his purpose. You will find in me a ready ear and, God willing, a steadfast partner."

Humphrey of Toron, as senior among them, stepped forward. "Lady Constance, we come at the bidding of our sovereign, Baldwin, King of Jerusalem, Defender of the Holy Sepulchre. He bids us extend to you the greetings of his court, and to assure you that he awaits eagerly the day when you may reign at his side."

Constance inclined her head with the faintest smile. "Then let us sit and treat of these matters as they deserve."

They took their places around a long inlaid table of ivory and ebony, Sicilian servants pouring cool wine and setting bowls of figs and dates between them. Yet no one touched the fruit. The air was taut with the knowledge that what was spoken here would shape the politics of Christendom.

The First Exchanges

It was Reynald of Sidon who first allowed himself a smooth word. "My lady, I confess that when news reached us of your acceptance of His Grace’s offer, there was astonishment. Not because it was unworthy—far from it—but because many feared that Jerusalem could not hope for so fortunate an alliance."

"Indeed?" Constance’s eyes glinted. "I imagine more than one baron in your kingdom muttered that a Sicilian princess would never bind herself to Baldwin, who has long borne heavy trials."

Grenier gave a grunt of amusement. "They muttered plenty. But the king silenced them by reminding us that you are not only of royal blood but of rare ability. If Sicily and Jerusalem are joined, the Saracen will tremble."

That, Constance noted, was the blunt soldier’s truth. Humphrey intervened then, steady and grave. "We are charged to speak not only of honor and kinship, but of the terms that must make this union firm in law and in arms."

Constance folded her hands on the table. "Yes. The terms. They were set forth in my reply, but I imagine you will have clarifications, as I have of my own."

Baldwin’s Demands

Archdeacon Matthew unrolled a vellum scroll and read with deliberate gravity:

"By the King’s command, three chief matters must be settled in the dowry:

The dispatch, upon summons, of two hundred mounted knights and five hundred foot sergeants, for no less than one year of service in each call to arms.

The gift of four seaworthy galleys equipped for war, with mariners and provisions, to be maintained for the defense of the coast and holy expeditions.

A sum of fifty thousand bezants in gold, to be delivered to the Royal Treasury of Jerusalem upon the solemnization of the marriage."

The chamber stilled. Constance’s lips curved faintly. She had expected as much; Baldwin was no fool, and these were the lifeblood of his realm: men, ships, and coin. Still, she let the silence linger until even Reynald shifted in his seat.

"These are not light requests," she said at last. "But neither is the throne of Jerusalem a light burden. The knights and sergeants can be dispatched, though I will insist upon assurance of their fair treatment, and that they serve under a commander acceptable to both our realms."

Brother Anselm broke his silence, his voice deep and ironbound. "You may trust that in Baldwin’s host, no knight of Sicily will be dishonored. They shall fight as brethren with the Hospitallers and Templars."

"Perhaps," Constance replied coolly, "but even brethren quarrel. I will wish to see this written, with provisions for justice should disputes arise."

Grenier gave a curt nod. "Fair enough."

"As for the galleys," Constance continued, "Sicily commands the sea as few others. Four shall be granted, though I would have them serve not only for defense but for offense when occasion demands. If I am to be Queen, I will not have my fleet rust in port."

That remark drew a flicker of approval from Humphrey. This woman, he thought, had the steel to think as a sovereign.

"And the gold?" Reynald prompted softly.

Constance inclined her head. "The fifty thousand bezants shall be rendered. But I expect in return that my revenues in Jerusalem shall be respected and increased, not diminished."

Testing the Envoys

The envoys exchanged glances. Already she was negotiating like a commander, not a bride. Constance caught the looks and pressed further.

"Tell me, my lords, how fares Jerusalem since Baldwin’s reforms? I hear whispers that peasants rejoice in his courts, that the city itself grows with new walls and markets. Is it so?"

Humphrey answered gravely. "It is so, my lady. The king has built not only with stone but with law. The peasants are steadier under him than under Saracen lords. And he raises new walls even now, with districts between, to hold the swelling life of the city."

"That," Constance said, "is the mark of a king who thinks not only of war but of order. And I tell you plainly: I will join no man’s house only to sit idle in his shadow. If I come to Jerusalem, I come as one who rules beside him. Do you understand me?"

Archdeacon Matthew cleared his throat. "My lady, the king himself instructed us to listen closely, for he knows you are no passive ornament. You will find in him not only a husband, but a partner who values sharp counsel."

At that, Constance’s gaze softened just slightly. "Then we may understand one another after all."

After the Council

When at last the formalities ended, the Sicilian servants cleared the tables and the envoys were shown to chambers within the palace. As they departed, Constance remained behind with her cousin Roger.

"Well?" he asked, watching her keen expression.

"They are sharper than I expected, especially Humphrey and the archdeacon. Grenier is a soldier, and Anselm a zealot—useful both. Reynald... I will watch him. Too much honey can poison."

Roger chuckled. "And what of their king?"

Constance turned to the window, looking out over Palermo’s harbor where ships’ masts bristled like a forest. "A man who dares to demand knights, ships, and gold in one breath is either desperate or supremely confident. I think Baldwin is both. If he holds his throne against Saladin with so frail a body, he may yet prove the greatest king Jerusalem has known. Yes... I believe I will not regret this."

Her voice was low, firm, as if speaking prophecy.