CHAPTER 168: CHAPTER 168 - THE TREATY SEALED IN PALERMO

Palermo, June 19th, 1181

The long gallery of Palermo’s Norman palace smelled faintly of salt and roses. A breeze from the Tyrrhenian Sea stirred the silken banners, and the polished mosaics on the wall seemed to shimmer as though touched by divine light. This was the setting chosen for the third and final round of negotiations between Lady Constance of Hauteville and the envoys of King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem.

The previous sessions—tense and deliberate—had shaped the great questions. Baldwin’s envoys had pressed his demands first: the knights and footmen, the galleys, the fifty thousand bezants. Constance, sharp of mind and unwilling to be cowed, had countered with her own terms: clarity over her rights, security of her position, and the recognition that if she bore a son, no one but herself would hold the regency until he reached manhood. Those articles had been hammered into language acceptable to both parties.

Now, at last, the moment had come for finality: parchment, ink, and seals.

Lord Humphrey of Toron, steady and courteous, led the Jerusalem delegation into the hall. Beside him strode Lord Reynald of Sidon, his hawk-like features betraying both intelligence and suspicion, as though every word of every clause might conceal a dagger. Lord Reginald Grenier, broader in stature and voice, wore a measured confidence, more soldier than courtier, yet keenly aware of the stakes. Behind them came Archdeacon Matthew of Bethlehem, bearing the box of sealed parchments, and Brother Anselm of the Hospitallers, a quiet shadow whose mere presence lent a weight of holy purpose.

Constance awaited them already seated upon a high-backed chair of carved ivory, her ladies standing discreetly at her sides. She wore green silk embroidered with golden lilies, the color chosen deliberately—a reminder that she was not simply a Sicilian noblewoman, but one who might soon sit beside the King of Jerusalem.

"Lords of Jerusalem," she said, her voice clear, "let us bring to completion what God has guided us to begin. The terms have been debated. The conditions weighed. What remains is to bind them by word and seal."

Humphrey bowed low. "Lady, we come with full authority from our sovereign. His Majesty bade us return not merely with promises, but with a treaty written in fair hand, so that all Christendom may know of this union."

Archdeacon Matthew stepped forward and lifted from his box several rolls of parchment, thicker and whiter than most in Sicily had ever seen. He unfurled one upon the marble table, the ink still gleaming faintly, though dry.

"These sheets," he announced, "were wrought in the papermills of Jerusalem itself, recently established under the command of His Majesty. They are of rags beaten and pressed by water-driven mills, and thus endure longer than calfskin or papyrus. The King thought it fitting that this treaty, which joins Sicily and Jerusalem in bond, be set down upon the very fruit of his reforms."

At that, murmurs rose among the Sicilian courtiers who had gathered at the edges of the hall. Some whispered of the novelty—Jerusalem producing its own paper, a marvel of industry! Constance herself leaned forward, brushing her hand gently over the surface.

"It is smoother than parchment," she said, a note of admiration in her tone. "And to think—it comes from the city that shall, God willing, become my home. A sign of a new age, perhaps."

Brother Anselm crossed himself. "Indeed, my lady. May the words upon it endure as long as Christ’s kingdom on earth."

Humphrey of Toron began to read, his voice deliberate, giving space for Sicilian scribes to follow with their copies:

Article the First:

The Lady Constance of Hauteville shall be taken in holy matrimony by His Majesty Baldwin, King of Jerusalem, in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

Article the Second: In recognition of her person and lineage, the Lady Constance shall be granted the County of Tripoli, held directly of the Crown, with all rights of revenue and jurisdiction.

At this, Constance’s lips curved faintly. The envoys had confirmed what she had pressed for—a status worthy of her rank.

Article the Third: If the marriage bears issue in the form of a son, then upon the death of the King, the crown shall pass unto him. Until his majority, the Lady Constance shall hold the regency, unshared and uncontested, in her sole authority.

At those words, there was a ripple among the Sicilian observers. Everyone knew that regencies were fertile grounds for intrigue, and for Baldwin to concede that power entirely to his bride spoke volumes of his calculation and his respect for her claim. Constance, proud but composed, nodded slightly, as though confirming to herself that she had secured the guarantee most vital to her position.

Article the Fourth: The King of Sicily shall dispatch, upon summons, two hundred mounted knights and five hundred foot sergeants, to serve in the Holy Land for no less than one year’s campaign, whenever called.

Article the Fifth: The King of Sicily shall gift four seaworthy galleys, fully manned and provisioned, to serve in the defense of the coast and in holy expeditions by sea.

Article the Sixth: A dowry of fifty thousand bezants in gold shall be conveyed to the Royal Treasury of Jerusalem upon the solemnization of marriage.

And so the list continued: the rights of Lady Constance’s household, the privileges of her Sicilian retainers, the assurances of her maintenance should she be widowed without issue.

When Humphrey at last concluded, the silence in the chamber carried the weight of history.

"My lords," Constance said, rising to her feet, "these articles are clear. They recognize my standing and bind me in duty to Jerusalem. I will not be a silent queen, but a partner to a king. I find them acceptable."

She looked each envoy in the eye, testing them one final time. "Tell me, though—was it King Baldwin himself who named Tripoli as my portion, or was it devised here in Palermo?"

Lord Reynald of Sidon answered with a measured tone. "It was His Majesty’s decision, my lady. Tripoli he has held since the execution of Raymond, and he judged it fitting that so noble a lady as yourself should possess it, both as token of esteem and as acknowledgement of your station. It was no bargaining-table invention, but a royal gift determined from the first."

That answer softened Constance’s stern composure. She smiled, and for a moment her eyes glimmered with satisfaction. To be given such a domain outright, without wrangling—this was a true sign of Baldwin’s respect.

"Then let it be known," she said, "that I accept not as a supplicant, but as one prepared to share in his labors."

The Archdeacon laid out the treaty, two identical copies in Latin, the script fine and even. Each bore the arms of Jerusalem and Sicily painted in gold at the heading.

Constance stepped forward first, dipping the quill into ink and tracing her name in firm strokes: Constance filia regis Siciliae. She pressed her signet into the wax, the Hauteville crest leaving its sharp impression.

Then the envoys, each in turn, signed and sealed on behalf of Baldwin: Humphrey of Toron, Reynald of Sidon, Reginald Grenier, Archdeacon Matthew, and Brother Anselm.

When it was done, Matthew lifted the document high. "By these words upon Jerusalem’s own paper, sealed by noble and holy hands, a marriage is bound that shall echo through Christendom."

Applause filled the hall. Trumpets blared from the courtyard below. Outside, Palermo’s streets erupted with rumor and cheer: the Norman princess was to wed the King of Jerusalem!

Logistics of Departure

When the noise had settled, Reginald Grenier addressed the practical matters.

"The King asks that you, my lady, depart Palermo in late August, when seas are fair but not yet stormy. A fleet shall convey you first to Acre. From there, you will proceed in honor to Jerusalem. The wedding will be held in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, under the gaze of Christ’s tomb itself. A date in late September has been chosen, to allow time for your acclimation."

Constance inclined her head. "It shall be as arranged. My household will accompany me, though I will leave in Sicily those retainers unnecessary for Jerusalem. I expect that the King’s officials will provide residences for my staff until Tripoli itself is properly furnished."

"They shall," Humphrey assured her. "The Tower of David has already been readied to host you upon your arrival, and Tripoli’s garrison and estates are held in readiness. His Majesty leaves nothing unconsidered."

Constance smiled faintly, half with pride, half with relief. Everything was falling into place—not merely words, but the machinery of a new life already being set in motion.

A Closing Exchange

As the gathering broke, Constance drew aside Brother Anselm.

"Tell me truthfully, brother—this King of Jerusalem, so spoken of in Sicily as leper and warrior both. What is he truly?"

Anselm looked at her long and gravely. "He is a man who carries both suffering and brilliance in equal measure. He has remade his kingdom in ways most thought impossible. And he has endured trials that would break lesser men. My lady, he has chosen you not as ornament, but as partner. Know this, and you will understand him."

Constance pressed her lips together, thoughtful. She glanced once more at the parchment, gleaming white beneath the Sicilian sun, its surface smoother than parchment, stronger than papyrus. Jerusalem’s own paper—symbol of reform, of endurance, of a kingdom being reforged.

She touched it gently, almost reverently. "Then may these words endure, like this paper, long after we are gone."

And with that, the treaty was sealed, the logistics set, and the destiny of Constance bound to the Holy City.