Chapter 155: Chapter 155 — The Terms of a Queen
March 17th, 1181 - Palermo
The late afternoon light fell in angled gold through the high, arched windows of Palermo’s royal audience chamber. The air carried a faint scent of orange blossom from the courtyard beyond, mingling with the waxy perfume of the tapers burning in iron sconces along the walls. Outside, the sound of the sea was only a whisper, barely audible through the heavy stone and thick tapestries. Within, the polished marble floor shone faintly, its veined surface reflecting the silhouettes of the four who gathered here.
At the far end of the chamber, upon the carved walnut chairs reserved for smaller councils, sat William II of Sicily. His posture was upright, but his hands rested loosely on the carved arms, betraying an intent to listen rather than to command. Beside him, in a simpler but still richly worked chair, Constance of Hauteville held herself with the poise of someone who had prepared for this moment. The thin circlet upon her hair caught the light with each measured turn of her head. Her ladies were absent; this was not the place for murmured comfort, but for the striking of agreements between sovereign realms.
Opposite them stood Balian of Ibelin, robed not in armor but in the dark, fur-lined mantle of a high-ranking envoy. Beside him was Brother Gerard of the Hospital, a tall figure in the black mantle with the white cross of his order, the chain of his office gleaming faintly over his chest. Both men had crossed leagues of sea and the breadth of Baldwin IV’s court to stand here, and now waited, silent, for Constance to speak.
William’s voice was the first to break the quiet.
"My sister," he said, using the familial address they sometimes favored, "you sent word three days past that you had reached a decision — or near enough to one — on the matter of King Baldwin’s proposal. You asked for us three to be present. We are here. Speak what is upon your mind."
Constance inclined her head, her eyes briefly closing as if to center herself. "Your Majesty. Lord Balian. Brother Gerard." Her voice was calm, even, but it carried a gravity that was not lost on the two envoys. "I have spent the days since our last discussion in prayer, in counsel with my closest advisors, and in confession with my chaplain. I have read the reports and examined the evidence that you, Brother Gerard, placed before me regarding the precautions and the medical certainties surrounding His Majesty of Jerusalem’s condition."
Her gaze passed over them, steady but shaded with something more personal — not quite doubt, not quite fear, but the residue of long consideration. "The match itself is not the obstacle. King Baldwin is, by all accounts, a sovereign of extraordinary resolve and capacity. His victories over Saladin, his unification of the Syrian principalities under Jerusalem’s crown — these command respect. My unease... lies not with his throne, but with his health."
Brother Gerard inclined his head. "And yet, my lady, you now believe the precautions will—"
"I believe," she cut in gently, "that the precautions are sufficient to protect me from his illness, yes. I believe, further, that the possibility of producing an heir is not barred to us, if God wills it. But such a step, once taken, cannot be undone. If I am to bind myself to this, there must be assurances. Not only for my person, but for my future position, my livelihood, and my role in the governance of whichever realm I may find myself ruling in the years to come."
Balian shifted slightly, clasping his hands before him. "You have demands, then. Speak them plainly, my lady, and I will tell you which I have authority to answer."
Her chin lifted. "Three demands, all of which I consider reasonable in light of the circumstances."
William leaned back, a faint glint in his eye. "Let us hear
"The first," Constance began, "is the assignment of revenues from specific fiefs, estates, or customs duties within the Kingdom of Jerusalem as my dower — my widow’s portion — in the event of King Baldwin’s early death. I do not speak of sovereign control, but of clear, unchallenged right to the income from certain lands or tolls, enough to ensure my financial independence and security."
She leaned forward slightly, her voice measured. "This is neither without precedent nor without justice. When the Byzantine princess Maria Komnene married King Amalric I — King Baldwin’s father — she was granted dower lands in Jerusalem itself, with revenues sufficient to maintain her household in dignity after the king’s death. Such provisions are the shield of a royal widow against the shifting tempers of court, especially in a realm as contested as Outremer."
Balian’s expression eased into a faint smile. "This is already foreseen by my king. Baldwin determined that you would be granted not only lands, but full rights to the income they yield, to be held in your name alone. They will be in secure regions, not border marches."
William gave a small nod of approval, though his gaze remained on his sister. "That is well, then. You will not be left in
"My second," Constance continued without hesitation, "concerns the interests of Sicily itself. Sicily would have exclusive or preferential trading rights for Sicilian merchants in key ports of the Kingdom of Jerusalem — Acre, Tyre, Jaffa. This would include tax exemptions on imports and exports, dedicated quarters or warehouses in these cities, and monopolies on certain goods in which Sicily excels — grain, timber, luxury cloth."
She gestured slightly toward her brother. "Sicily is the heart of the Mediterranean’s trade routes. Such privileges would bind our kingdoms in commerce as well as marriage. Venice won its quarter in Tyre after aiding the First Crusade; there is precedent enough for this."
Balian nodded again. "This too has been discussed. While Sicily already holds certain concessions in Acre, they can be expanded. My king has no quarrel with such arrangements — indeed, he sees them as strengthening the bond between our thrones."
William’s lips curved faintly. "A marriage that pays for itself, almost. Continue."
Now Constance’s gaze grew sharper. "The last is the most important. I will be included politically at court — to sit in the council meetings, to be privy to matters of state. And if Baldwin and I were to have a child, and he were to die while that child was yet in need of regents, I will be named sole regent for our heir. I will not allow that right to be seized by another — not Sibylla, not her son, not any lord or faction."
She let the words hang in the air. "This is not mere vanity. It is necessity. If I am to bear the heir to Jerusalem, I will not see his throne endangered by ambitious kin or barons who might seek to use him as their puppet."
For the first time, Balian and Brother Gerard exchanged a look — not of doubt, but of recognition that they had reached the core of her position. Balian spoke carefully. "Lady Constance, I am empowered to tell you that Baldwin agrees to this as well. The charter of your marriage will stipulate your inclusion in council, and the regency clause will be sealed before witnesses. He does not wish his heir to fall under the control of those whose loyalty to the crown is... conditional."
William’s brows rose slightly, but he did not interrupt.
Constance’s breath came slowly, as though she were weighing the shape of her own words before speaking them. "Then... if these three concessions are given in full — my dower lands and revenues, the trade privileges for Sicily, and the regency rights — I will accept King Baldwin’s proposal."
The room was quiet for a heartbeat before William inclined his head. "So it is settled, then."
Balian bowed deeply. "I will send word to my king at once. He will be pleased."
Brother Gerard’s voice was quieter, but held a note of satisfaction. "God has joined many realms through the bonds of marriage, my lady. May He bless this one for the peace and strength of both thrones."
Constance managed a small smile, though her hands were tightly clasped in her lap. "May He bless it indeed."