The Crusader Queen- A Kingdom of Jerusalem AAR

[JSB217118]

An intruding chill woke Jean from his fretful sleep. A cool breeze through one’s window at night was not uncommon in these lands. But this was the kind of biting cold that reminded him of the more unpleasant aspects of winter in Champaign.


And was it just his imagination, or did he hear the floor creek? Did he hear the faint clank of steel plate? The faint rattling, screeching sound of a chain dragging itself on the ground?


No, no, certainly not. He must be hearing things. Did that mean he was going mad? Would madness be any better than ..whatever this was?


An echoing scream of agony put an end to those doubts and sent Jean flying under the covers.


As his senses returned, Jean felt the white heat of shame burn within him. Why was he cowering like a woman? Was he not a knight of Champaign. Was he not the son of Crusaders? The husband to one Queen, the father of another. Was he not the conqueror of Jerusalem itself? If anyone was coming to kill him, spectral, demonic, or mortal, he would stand up and face them as a man. If he was to die he would do so facing his enemy.


Jean cast aside the blankets and rose to his feet.


“Show yourself creature!”, he yelled.


The rattling reached a fever pitch. And then just stopped. At first Jean could not see his enemy. Then his eyes adjusted. A shape shimmered in the moonlight. It let out yet another terrible cry. The shape twisted and contorted until it bore a man’s form and face. A very familiar face.


"I have been through many torments. But the thought that my lord might be so afraid to see me is the worst of all!"


"Savary?!” That was impossible. He had been at the man’s deathbed. Heard his final labored breaths. Seen to his burial.


"What are you doing here?"


The butcher's smile on Savary’s face was what convinced Jean he was real. No trick of the light could imitate the malicious grin that Savary had worn so well. "What did you think I went to rest with the angels?"


Savary was obviously never going to make it to heaven, but it was probably not a wise thing to say to a ghost.


The shade smirked and Jean could not help but smirk in reply. He laughed on impulse. It started as a nervous titter and then the rest surged out of him like water from a broken dam.


"Yes. Laugh. Laugh at my suffering. It is richly deserved and I have done it myself more times than I can count. But the joke will be on you all too soon. If you do not mend your ways you will soon enough find yourself a shade just like me, weighed down by the chains of your sins, laughing at your own misery."


Suddenly Jean did not feel like laughing. "That can't be true. You are suffering this fate as a punishment for your greed and cruelty." He knew that not just because anyone could tell you that about Savary, but by looking at the chains on his legs, which were inscribed with his sins. And a list of names. Lilly, Flower, Adelise, Ms Fluffy?


Savary put his hand to his chin in a parody of consideration. “Yes, it is true. You were never the type to lust after money or women, nor to torture cats and girls."


"Pardon me, but did you say cats?"


Savary shook his head and sighed. “Yes, for every kitten I drowned, they added one iron to my chain."


"Dear God!" exclaimed Jean. Savary’s chain stretched the length of the room. Knowing how much he had loved to drown cats, it probably extended halfway around the city."


"And also the dogs, men, and little boys. My list of misdeeds is long indeed. Still, your Grace, I am sure you can admit, if only to yourself, that you have your own vices, your own names to add to your shackles?”


Jean straightened himself up indignantly. "I am no such man. I am a knight of Christ, not some common born cutthroat."


Savary extended a finger like a lecturer at a university. "And right there is one of them. And we both were indeed knights of Christ. He used us just as you used me. Fully knowing what we were. We had our usefulness, but that does not mean we are fit to see heaven."


Jean was genuinely puzzled. “I still cannot see what I have done that makes me different from any other Lord? I have never raped a woman, never tortured animals, never ordered a town sacked unless they deserved it."


Savary sighed. "I tried to say something similar. But they did not accept my excuses. You may have not committed those black deeds yourself, sir. But you set me, your rabid dog, loose among innocents, knowing full well what I was. And there was a certain Christian soldier. A regal sort of man. One who had everything you wanted.”


A tightness, like that of a hangman’s noose, gripped Jean’s chest. "Savary! Shut your fucking mouth or I'll.."


"Shut it for me?” He made a sound that was half laugh, half sob. “I'm dead Jean. I no longer care about these sorts of things. You would be harming yourself more than me. For I am beyond saving. But you are not. Tonight, three Ghosts will come to you. Three familiar shades. Maybe they will show you what I cannot."


And with that, the ghost of Savary dematerialized and swooshed out the window like a gust of wind. Jean after him and beheld a sandstorm of damned souls. Thousands of men and women of all races and religions. He recognized the Bishop Guillaume, that thieving lecher he had sent to die in the dungeons. And for a chilling instant, he thought the tormented eyes of that false priest recognized him. It was as if they spoke and said: soon, you will join us!

 

[Midnite Duke]

I would say short but sweet; but this is anything but sweet. The taste of black licorice is much more prevalent than butterscotch. Will Jean become a more humble man?

 

[Eludio]

After this chapter, I think I’m in love with you. Beautifully written!

 

[JSB217118]

Jean stumbled through the dark back to his bed. He shivered, and told himself it was from the cold, not from fear.


Yet the cruel chill did not come. Instead, the room grew warm. Like a comforting blanket or a warm fire. A sweet hum filled his head like a lullaby. Somehow, he found himself drifting off to sleep.


"Wake up. Wake up”, a gently cold voice whispered. Like the chill of death overtaking the warm flame of life. Jean jolted awake.


When he saw the kind face before him, his heart spun between feelings of relief, sadness, and fear.


Maria looked down, a pained look in his eye. She must have seen the horrified look on his face. "You look like you don't want to see me husband. Have I done something wrong."
He laughed. He cried. "No, no, you could never do anything wrong my sweet." He wanted to reach out and embrace her. Yet he could not touch her anymore than he could embrace the morning mist.
"But what are you doing here?" Of course he knew she was one of Savary’s three. But the thought of seeing her again was just so utterly preposterous as to require further explanation.
She smiled joyously. "It's Christmas!"
"The birth of our Lord and Savior is an important occasion, ", Jean recited the obvious with rote piety.
Maria nodded, it seemed more out of formality than reverence. “Indeed it is. And it brings to mind so many happy memories. On this day we spend time with those we love and remember how blessed we are. Or at least that's how it is supposed to go.
He couldn’t help but laugh at her naivete. “My lady, forgive me. I wish what you said was true. But the reality is much different. To believe otherwise is childish, though understandable for a woman.”
She frowned. “Perhaps I am still naïve. I certainly was in the past. Sometimes I wish I still looked at the world in that innocent light. But, if we are talking about childishness, I think we should begin with when you were a child. When you could still believe such ‘silly’ things.”
The world changed. There was no other way to describe it. One minute everything was dark. The next it was light. And cold.

“Where are we?”, asked Jean.
Maria turned to him in surprise. “You don’t you recognize this place?”
There was indeed something familiar about the room. Something he could not quite put his finger on.
“You said we would begin with my childhood. What did that mean?”
She smiled at him. “What else?
He could recognize it now. His old chambers, lined with the hunting and battle tapestries that had enthralled him as a child. How often had he imagined himself in those very scenes? Slaying dragons and rescuing Princess. As he aged, the Princess began to reward him with kisses. Then, as he got even older, they started to give him favors some might consider sinful. But always, the greatest satisfaction had been the cheering crowds chanting his name.
The arms of a small child flung open the window shutters to reveal a dusting of snow floating down from the sky. Young Jean had always been a morning person, and that went double on a day like this. There was just so much to do on Christmas Day. Of course, Christmas Mass had to come first. But then the fun could start.
The knight and his spectral companion followed the family, their servants, and retainers to the Castle chapel. The priest began his sermon. Jean, in both past and present, clasped his hands in prayer out of sheer force of habit. However, he noticed Maria did not do the same. Were Ghosts not allowed to commune with the Lord? He remembered Savary’s words. But surely his wife must be a different kind of spirit. Surely, no just God would condemn such a sweet and dutiful girl to wander the Earth as a revenant for all eternity.
After Church, young Jean raced back to the castle. Eagerly, he bounded down the steps to the kitchen, risking a frightful fall more than once.
“You seem so happy, so excited, so… alive”, said Maria
Jean chuckled. “Nothing brings joy to a small boy’s heart like the prospect of treats.”
Maria smiled at him. Evidently Jean had missed something, but he was too absorbed in his own past to think of what that might be.
The boy scrambled to the kitchen, eager to smell the fresh mincemeat pies, Jean and Maria following close behind.
“Our whole family loved them. My mother especially.” That was putting it mildly. His father had once joked that if he did not keep her well supplied with the things that she would leave him for a baker. It was a charge the lady Agnes de Montfaucon had never denied. Though she would have never really gone so low to get her fix, the lady of Castle Brienne could sometimes be seen pacing about the kitchen, eagerly awaiting a baked pie, like a lioness stalking her prey.
“Why sometimes she would even go into the kitchen and help the servants knead dough!” His lord father had borne his wife’s executrices with commendable patience. However, their eldest son was a whole other matter.

As he had grown Jean’s older brother, Garunthier had become increasingly prone to fits of piety. Though Jean feared God as much as any good Christian, he still knew how to enjoy himself. That seemed to drive his brother into even greater spasms of outrage.
When the young zealot found his mother and brother gluttonously drooling over some mincemeat pies, he could not resist giving them a piece of his mind.
“Do you two have no concern for your souls?”
“Hello brother”, Jean answered in a sardonic tone. Their lady mother smoothed her skirts and smiled at her oldest child. “Now is that any way to greet your mother?”
Gauthier, of course, would not yield to the fifth commandment.
He puffed up rather self-righteously. “Mother, I act out of concern for your salvation. For the security of your immortal soul! I cannot think of any greater act of love a son could give.”
“He doesn’t show any concern for your soul Jean”, observed Maria.
Jean chuckled. “Perhaps he forgot about his bratty younger brother. Or perhaps he thought I was just beyond saving. He certainly wouldn’t have been the first.”
Undisturbed by any spectral conversations, pious young Garunthier continued his lecture: “You should be spending the day giving thanks for the birth of our savior instead of drooling over pies like glutenous pigs”
The kindly lady Brienne did not give her eldest son the righteous thrashing he so evidently deserved. But neither did she pay much mind to his opinion, nor for that matter did young Jean This infuriated Garunthier. “At the very least, you should refrain from making such displays around the riff-raff. Think of our station! Think of the dignity of our House! ”, he yelled like a bratty child attempting to sound mature and stormed off.

“Husband”, Maria spoke like she was trying to get a very important point across to a stubborn pupil.
Jean turned to face his dead wife. “Yes”
“You are not beyond saving.”
He chuckled. “I’m surprised you think I need saving at all. You know Savary thought that as well.”
“It’s probably the only thing we agree on.”
That was not very encouraging for Jean. It was all well and good for them to show concern about him. But he resented the implication he had done anything wrong.
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Even their normally indolent father had been full of life that Christmas morning.

At midday, he met the boys for a snowball battle.
“What are those?”, Maria asked as the armies assembled.
“You don’t know what a snowball fight is?”, he briefly looked at her as if she were an idiot. She looked down, somewhat abashed.
“I suppose that would make sense, seeing as you are from a land so bereft of snow.” Jean did not mean to say that this was something the inhabitants should be ashamed of. However, the implication was still there.
Jean then explained the specifics of snowball fighting, which was rather basic. Single combat with a stick was the preferred method of settling disputes amongst small boys. However, for large-scale combat, nothing beat a snowball war.
“The first army was always made up of young boys, the children of our family’s retainers. Garuntheir was always placed in charge. I was his second.
Our fathers would form the opposing army. It goes without saying that the lord and the future lord would lead them. This, of course, was all practice for when we grew up and had to follow my brother into battle for real.”
Maria nodded. “My mother taught me court protocol and intrigues in a similar way. This is the way things are with children, especially those born to our station. My mother. She did so much for me.” Maria seemed on the verge of tears, a problem Jean had no idea how to manage. So he focused on the bout.
The battle was intense, with both sides using any means at their disposal to win.
A snowball, packed with rock and ice was thrown, and Jean winced, knowing what was to come. It struck young Jean across the face. He spun to the ground bloodied. Jean winced, remembering the pain. Maria instinctively rushed to comfort this young boy, before stopping, glancing around as if she had just remembered something really important, and continuing to mercy observe.
Once Jean would have seen such concern as a sign of wifely devotion. But he was beginning to see she possessed an urge to help hurt children, no matter who they would grow to be.
“You have no need to worry, my lady. Wounds heal. And I think my nose healed well enough. Don’t you?”
That made her giggle and make an adorable smile. Jean felt a strange, melancholy brew of emotions. Joy at seeing Maria so happy. And sorrow that she would never again laugh as a warm, living, loving woman.
A ferocious volley of snowballs from the boy’s side silenced the projectiles hailing from their father’s fort. Garuntheir roared an order to charge. Jean had felt uneasy, and told his brother this, but was rebuffed. This was too easy, it had to be a trap. But orders were orders, and it was his duty as a younger brother to obey. He whispered a quick prayer before going over the top alongside the other frenzied youths. It was only when they had charged out of their defenses that they realized their mistake.
The defenders had been holding their fire to lure the young boys into making a mistake. Bereft of their defenses, the boys stood helpless against the merciless volleys of their fathers. Hard projectiles knocked small bodies, sending them to the ground, writhing in pain. Jean had taken yet another hard hit, this time in the ribs, but shrugged it off. He was to be a knight someday, and knights had to endure pain.
Most of the other boys called it quits. But not stubborn Garuntheir. The future lord of Brienne insisted on sticking it out to the bitter end, giving his brother, and the most loyal of his boy retainers, no choice but to stick with him.
“My brother never knew when to quit. It led him to an early grave.”
In the end, though, Garunthier knew they were beaten. However, he found admitting this to be too shameful. So he sent out his brother, who was still nursing his bleeding nose, to negotiate the army’s surrender.
“My brother truly was a little shit back then, huh”, mused Jean.
Maria looked at him funny. “I don’t think so. A Lord must maintain his dignity after all. One could almost admire such an attitude, even if it is carried to the extreme.”
Jean scoffed. “You are truly a kind woman, but sometimes we must call a spade a spade.”
Maria looked at him as if her words posed some hidden test, one he was failing. Women could be so contrary. If it had been Agnes he would have told her to say what she meant and be done with it. But Maria was dead, and so in his book warranted gentler treatment.
“Well, you still loved him in spite of his flaws”, she continued.
“Of course I did. He was my brother. What kind of monster would I be if I didn’t.”
She paused, thinking of what to say. “Jean, imagine how you must look through other eyes.”
He chuckled. “Well, I hope your eyes at least find me handsome.” That did not seem to be the answer she was looking for. He had failed another test.
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“I enjoyed watching the snowball fight. I’ve never seen so much snow before or used so violently.
Jean grinned. “It was very fun, even if it was often very painful.” It was one of the many things he missed about home.
Maria smiled and shook her head. “Most boy's games are like that.”
The little lads rested up by a warm fire, both brooding over their humiliation. Their mother brought them slices of mincemeat pie to make them feel better. Garunthier devoured his with the ferocity of a lion gorging on a Holy Martyr. Their mother made no comment on the issue.
Jean laughed at his brother’s hypocrisy.
“You and your family…you take a lot from each other.”
“Why thank you, we were very close.”
Maria looked at him with forlorn eyes, but said nothing.
The lady Brienne hugged her two sullen children, kissed the tops of their foreheads, and told them to get filled up before dinner.
“Your mother was a very kind woman.”
Jean had forgotten just how much he missed her. It was a shame she had never met Maria. “Even without your crown, she would have loved you. You are everything she could have wanted in a daughter.” Knowing her she would even love poor, inadequate Agnes.

Jean and Maria watched from the rafters above as the extended Brienne family and their retainers sat down for Christmas dinner.
Tumblers tumbled, musicians played their instruments, and singers sang of heroes of the past. Jean could listen to those stories for hours and never grow bored. As of now though, his younger self was engaged in a heated debate with his brother over who would win in a fight, Godefroy of Boulogne or Charlemagne.
Jean still had strong opinions on the matter, though arguing them was an undignified thing for a man of forty.

His Uncle Gauthier regained the family with gossipy stories from his brother Richard’s court to Richard’s evident discomfort.

Soon, however, he switched the topic to his sister.
“You must stop with the sweets love, they’ll make you fat”, he said to Jean’s lady mother with brutal honesty.
She, however, was well prepared to defend her honor. “My dear brother, I thank you for showing so much concern for my health. Thankfully, sweet timid young girl that I am, I will never have to worry about your health, dear brother. Since you run from every fight.”
Uncle Garuntheir made a farcical show of wrath, pounding the table with his fists and shouting. Then his face loosened, and he laughed. “Your right. But you can hardly fault a man for looking out for his health, can you, dear Agnes?”
“Brother, you must stop disgracing yourself and act like a knight. Your actions not only disgrace yourself, they disgrace this whole House”, declared Jean’s Uncle Richard.
Gauthier rolled his eyes. “As if there are any soldiers in this family. The only duels you fight are with haggling merchants and unruly tenants. No, when this family needs soldiers, we will call on these two fine little boys that Agnes was so kind to provide us with.”
“And we’ll be ready”, Gauthier's brother proclaimed grandiosely.
“Yeah, anything my brother can do I can do better.”
Their lady mother laughed and hugged them. The two boys struggled to escape, but it was impossible to fight her off.
Their father, Erard, shook his head. “I can only thank God for putting me in such eccentric company.

As the day's festivities ended, the family retired to their chambers. Young Jean prayed before bed. “Thank you, oh Lord, for this wonderful evening and especially for the pie.” There was a silence, as if the young boy struggled with what to say next.
“If I could beseech you for a favor, oh Lord. Let me grow into a Great Man. A man who fights his own battles and does not have to cover for the faults of others. I know I was made to serve my brother. And I will support him. But, and I know this is a sin, I want to be better than him.
I humbly beseech you to find a place for me. Perhaps I could win a victory over infidels in some faraway land. Or you could give me an heiress whose lands I can take over. I pray to you that she is pretty and gives me lots of sons. It doesn’t have to be soon, though I would like it to be. My Uncles say that if you are strong enough and have enough money, a pretty girl will want to marry you, even if you are old and ugly. So once again, oh Lord, I thank you and put myself at your service, hoping I can be of much use to you. Amen.” Jean did not remember having such a clear understanding of the social contract at such a young age.

This place, it seems like a whole different world from the one I live in now. What happened to change it.
“Maybe it started with that prayer? Or rather, the thoughts behind it.”, said Maria.
“I doubt it. It is hardly unusual for young boys to be ambitious. Nor, I think, is ambition confined to boys.”
“Whenever my mother was with child, I prayed first for her health, and that of the baby, and that it would be a boy. I never wanted to be a Queen. My sister Alix, though, was very different. Even still, I think it was a choice between her ambitions and living so far away. She would have chosen us, her family.”
“You act as if I was the first man to leave his homeland in search of fame and fortune. And I do not regret my choices.” He sounded more defensive than he meant to.
“Husband, Jean, love, if that were the case, then why do you insist that everything in my Kingdom, your Kingdom, our daughter’s kingdom, is inadequate to what you left behind?” Her words were as gentle as could be. But also a stern slap in the face, specifically when “our daughter” became involved. It was like his mother after he had made some error. She would always do her best to give him comfort, before scolding him and urging him, with the fervor of someone who truly loved him, to do better.”
Maria sighed. “We must walk closer to our own time. To the Christmas where your ambitions were finally put on the path to realization.”
And just like that, he felt the world change.

 

[JSB217118]

I would say short but sweet; but this is anything but sweet. The taste of black licorice is much more prevalent than butterscotch. Will Jean become a more humble man?

Thank you. We will see.

After this chapter, I think I’m in love with you. Beautifully written!

Thank you Eludio. I try my best to create the best writing I can. It gets tiring, but praise like yours keeps me going.

 

[Midnite Duke]

I am not am going into the psych-babble world that surrounds the fact that his second and 'lesser' wife whose purpose is to give him sons and be a mother-figure to his daughter shares a name with his mother. What is the Arpitan culture? Who is Count Richard's liege?

 

[Eludio]

Thank you Eludio. I try my best to create the best writing I can. It gets tiring, but praise like yours keeps me going.

I get it, truly I do. Though remember that there’s nothing wrong with taking a break, we’ll be here to read whenever you feel like writing. You owe us nothing, and we owe you for a beautiful tale

 

[JSB217118]

In a whirl of snow, they passed through the spirals of time.

Jean and Maria found themselves in a wintertime wood. Snow-covered the trees and fell gently from the sky. The tips of the trees were decorated with ice, like ladies' jewelry. Jean had forgotten how just beautiful his homeland could be during wintertime. Why had he ever wanted to leave?
A party of men rode between the trees. Their lack of armor, leisurely attire and easy-going pace indicated that they were not soldiers, or at least not electing to fight a battle anytime soon.

“My good knight, I trust that you will have reconsidered our offer.”
“I have indeed. But alas, I have yet to find a reason to change my mind.”, Jean recognized the voice as his own. He had since grown to manhood and looked about a decade younger, and far more carefree.
The King’s chancellor, Count Raul de Nestle, chuckled haughtily.

“If I did not know any better, I would assume you mad. The great and gallant Jean of Brienne would never forsake of a young maiden besieged by murderous Saracens. Especially since this girl is the beloved stepdaughter of your very own tragically deceased Count, Henri.”
The Chancellor's obvious manipulations had not fooled Jean. “I will pray that Queen Maria finds a husband capable of protecting her and her Kingdom. Alas, that man cannot be me. My place is in Champaign, serving its Count, as my ancestors have done for centuries.”
If the Chancellor had been offended, he did not show it. "It takes a man of an uncommon character to turn down a crown, let alone to ignore the request of his own sovereign by doing so."
“A request is not a command," Alphonse said briskly. This Kingdom is smaller than some counties. A kingdom under threat not just from without, but from within as well. You would send my lord into a nest of vipers. For what purpose, I wonder.”
Jean laughed. “Enough good sir.” He turned to the envoy. “Forgive my hound. He is true and loyal, but sometimes he barks a bit too loudly.” He leaned in closer. “It comes with being common-born.”
The envoy nodded as if they were both politely discussing a man with some terrible disease.
“I understand all too well. It is a fine thing for a knight to be so loyal to his liege. I of all people should be able to appreciate that, as a loyal servant of our glorious King.”
The Chancellor turned to ride away. “I bid you farewell Jean of Brienne, we will speak again. I pray that in time you will see the wisdom of my proposal.”
Jean had indeed taken him up on the offer, but it had not been out of any prudent appreciation of the pros and cons of being a king.
The doe’s chest heaved in and out. Fighting for breath. Her body punctured through with arrows, like a pincushion. Savary smiled his usual malignant grin.
Alphonse snorted contempt. “I would hardly call killing a doe good sport. Where’s the challenge?”
Savary touched the tip of his head as if summoning some grand philosophy. “Ah, my good friend, it’s not about the challenge, but the fun. Look at that creature’s suffering eyes and tell me you can’t find some humor. What’s more, she had a fawn with her.”
“I don’t see any dead fawns”, observed Alphonse.
Savary shook his head. “Even after all these years, you still do not get it. Killing a kid is easy enough. And I confess they make the cutest little noises as they go. To spare him, however, is to inflict a blight upon the whole world. You leave him marinating in pain and rage. Cursing God for sparing his miserable life. One day he will come for you. He has to. Once he has gone down that dark road, there is but one way out. If you kill him, then it’s a hilarious end to a tragic life. But if he kills you, then he will truly have nothing left. And he will become just like you.” This seemed to cause Savary to slip deep into thought.
“You do remember we are discussing animals, right?”, inquired Jean.
“Forgive me, my lord, I was just reflecting on some matters long past.”
Jean nodded nervously, having no desire to find out what could put the infamous knight in such a state. “Very good. Carry on.”
A lady trotted up to the kill, riding at the leisurely pace and saddle-style typical of a noblewoman. She was a handsome woman, with well-formed cheekbones and a head of fine olive hair. Jean’s heart raced, and he felt goosebumps prickle on his skin. Even after all these years, she still had that effect on him.

The lady Blanka dismounted and advanced towards the dying creature. Its eyes rolled up to look pleadingly at her. As if it expected some understanding. Perhaps she expected a member of the fair sex would take pity on her. Perhaps it somehow sensed that she, too, was a mother. The Countess snuffed out any such notions by raising her boot and bringing it down hard and fast. One, Two, Three times in rapid succession. The creature let out one last agonized wheeze and then expired. Its blood scattered across the snow.
There was a pregnant moment of silence. Blanka turned her head towards the men, their mouths agape. “It looked at me funny”, accenting her voice to sound like that of a laconic soldier. Savary cackled and Jean, standing right next to him, could not suppress a ghost of a smile.
Watching from the cover of the forest, an older Jean could not help but smile. “That woman has wit and spunk to rival any man.” Maria, by contrast, looked as if she was about to throw up. The fawn let out a sound that seemed like a child’s cry. "Don't cry, little boy. Don't cry, ", Maria whispered weapily.
The party skinned and prepared the corpse and then took it back to camp.

It was some time before Maria spoke again. “She, Blanka, gives off the same aura as that creature of yours. That Savary. Maria’s disgust and disquiet were evident in the tone of her voice.
Maria's attitude took him aback. “I always thought you too sensible a woman for such absurd notions. I will admit, the lady Blanka could be disagreeable at times. Surely, no noble lady, let alone the wife of the count of Champaign, could possess a nature as brutal as my friend Sir Savary.”
Maria shook her head. “I find it disturbing how you claim that man as your friend. It is not surprising that you could not see her true nature. They train us women of high birth to hide many things, even from those we love dearly.” She narrowed her eyes at him ever so slightly. And love does often prove blinding.”
Jean flushed. “Are you calling me a fool?” She shook her head and made a disappointed tsk tsk sound.
“My poor, sweet, troubled husband. No. I would never do that. Just that you sometimes see things that aren’t there. My mother used to say all men had that problem. And it is not a bad thing to see good in others. It is what I have tried to do all my life.” She had a look like she wanted to kiss his head. To hug him tight and comfort him. Yet she didn’t. Why was that?


An armored man crashed to the ground. The knight, Jean of Brienne, rode past, roaring in triumph. In both past and present, Jean cheered his own brilliant feat of arms.
The Chevalier rode past the stands. Blanka was seated on the Count’s platform, with her son on her lap, as always. She wore an elaborate dress in the style of her native Navarre, and a Dalmatian skin fur around her neck. Little count Theobold eyed him warily, but Jean paid the boy no mind.
He drew a rose and offered it to his lady. The lady regent of Champaign, the Princess Blanka of Navarre, elegantly plucked the rose from his hand. She held the nose to her nose, whiffing in its sweet scent. "A fine gift." For an event finer lady”, the knight replied in chivalric fashion.


Afterward, a feast was held in honor of the occasion. That was the way of things at the merry court of Champaign. Feasting and hunting and making merry. And Jean had been right in the thick of it. Though only the regent of Brienne, the situation of his poor sister-in-law and nephew made him Baron in all but name, one of the chief vassals of the Count of Champaign. Likewise, the Lady Blanka, though only regent for her son, was sovereign in everything but name.


“It seems you cared for this Lady Blanka”, Maria observed neutrally. Jean chuckled at her childish jealously. “It is nothing to be worried about, my sweet. As both a knight and as the regent of Brienne, it was my duty to support our sovereign in whatever way was required.
Maria scowled. “My mother often told me that my sisters were the rightful rulers of Champaign.”
Jean knew the matter to be a source of much discord. “Please, leave this be. This is a happy memory for me. One I do not wish to see soiled.”
“As you wish, my husband. I had but a brief time to learn your heart.”


As the night's festivities died down, Jean had found himself on a balcony alone with Blanka. Or rather, he had endeavored to stick close to her in order to place himself in this exact position. “Might I offer you a drink of wine, good sir knight?” The two toasted, “To our mutual benefit and happiness.”
Now is as good a time as any, was what he had thought, at what was very much not as good a time as any.
He got down on one knee before the lady. “Princess Blanka of Navarre. Would you do the honor of joining yourself to me in Holy matrimony?” She looked down at him as if he had just suggested that they fly to the moon together.
“My dear Sir Knight, forgive me, I assumed you could hold your liquor better.”
"I beg for your pardon?"
“Sir Knight, are you still in your right mind?”
"Y....yes, ", he said in shock.
She shook her head. “Then you are not drunk on my wine, but on your own vapid tales of romance and chivalry.”
Blanka turned her back on him. He shuffled after her, still on his knees.
She turned to leave. “My lady. I beseech you, do not take your leave of me. If I have taken you by surprise, I apologize. I beg you not to fear any troubled seas we might face. I will keep you safe underneath my cloak. As my ancestors have protected Champaign for centuries. You needn’t fear for young Theobold either. I will protect him, too. You wouldn’t have to worry about dealing with King Philip and the other vassals. You could return to raising young Theobold and the children we would have.”
She laughed, in what Jean now thought resembled Savary's cruel cackle. “My dear, is your name Jean or Tristan?”
He was at a loss for words.
But Blanka did. She always did. “My knight, I am quite fond of you. You are charming, brave, and have a good heart. You could even say I love you. But alas, I love my station and my dignity more. Why would I worry about dealing with the King? I am a Princess of Navarre! Ruling is my natural role, and I shan’t give it up for a kind word or a comely face.”
“Blanka please..”
She was unmoved. “Nor shall I lower myself to wedding a mere Baron’s second son, any more than you would lower yourself to marry some sweet but simple serving girl.” Her voice was as sharp and cruel as a whip.
Jean felt everything all over again. The grief at a life lost. The burning shame across his cheek. The literal ache in his heart. Like she had snapped it. As surely as she had snapped that doe’s neck.


The snow outside the castle walls blurred and whirled, trapping the guests inside. Men drank and ate and jested together by the fire. Most of them, anyway. Some were not in the mood for such things. Jean was in his cups, with only old reliable Alphonse to keep him company.
“She thought she was too good for me. Me, who was offered a crown by the King of France himself. Can you believe it?”
Alphonse patted his friend on the back. “Do not worry. You are in an excellent position to wed a highborn heiress. Any Lord in Champaign would be delighted to have you for a son-in-law.”
He laughed. “Thank you, Alphonse. You know just what to say to cheer me up. Though I fear Conrad of Monferat will be in no position to smile down on me from anywhere but heaven.”
“My lord, this is not a wise course of action.”
He slammed his cup down. “Why not? I’d love to see Blanka’s face when she hears of this. She thinks herself too good for me, a King!”
“My lord. Jean. Please do not do this. You are making a mistake.”
But then, as now, Jean had paid his advisor no heed. “I have talked it over with the other lords. And they think it is a grand idea.”
“Dammit man! They think it is a grand idea because they want to get rid of you. You don’t talk to their men at arms, but I do. I hear what they say about you behind your back.”
Jean’s cheeks reddened angrily, and his shoulders bunched up like a bull about to charge.
"My brother wed a Queen and took up his sword for her cause. And I daresay I am a far better soldier than he ever was, God rest his soul.
“And look how that ended up for him. He was unable to outfight the Hohenstaufen boy and unable to manage the politics of Sicily. In the end, his widow was forced to make peace with his killers. His, your nephew, reigns over a county, not a Kingdom, and only as long as the Sicilian King wills it.”
"And just what do you know of politics?" Jean snapped.
“Very little, I confess. But I know people. And I know this. If King Philip thought the throne of Jerusalem was anything of value, he would offer it to one of his kinsmen or someone with enough clout that a King would seek his favor. And forgive me, my lord, but you are neither.
Jean stormed out, tossing his chair to the side in a fit of anger. “I have made up my mind, sir. Do not question me on this again.”
Alphonse, ever the good soldier, stood stiffly at attention. “As you command my lord.”
“So that’s why I gave up my home.” It seemed so stupid now that he saw it in action.
“I wouldn’t blame you for hesitating to leave your home to marry a stranger. I too had my doubts, when my uncle told me who I was too wed.”
Jean scowled. He did not like the implication. Sure, his was not the most powerful of houses, but it was an ancient line, worthy of respect. “Even if you had your doubts, and I would be very curious as to what those were, you never had to leave your home to wed me”
“That is true, Jean, but I think the people you love are as much a part of home as any place. For better or worse, my world was changed forever, and there was no going back to how Christmases used to be.”
Just like that, the world disappeared. Snow whirled around them. They were lifted from the ground, Maria giggling as her dress fluttered. Jean held his breath. Once again, the world changed.

 

[JSB217118]

I am not am going into the psych-babble world that surrounds the fact that his second and 'lesser' wife whose purpose is to give him sons and be a mother-figure to his daughter shares a name with his mother. What is the Arpitan culture? Who is Count Richard's liege?

I didn't even realize that. I don't think it has had any effect on him. Count Richard is the vassal of Beatrice, countess of Burgundy. Arpitan culture is something added in the Historical Immersion Project. The culture is found in places like Savoy and Burgundy, and other places in the southern Alps.

I get it, truly I do. Though remember that there’s nothing wrong with taking a break, we’ll be here to read whenever you feel like writing. You owe us nothing, and we owe you for a beautiful tale

I think I do have an obligation to you. And myself. I started this whole project to prove I could finish something.

 

[Midnite Duke]

Blanka is why Navarre dies so quickly in EU4. Jean truly has a chip on his shoulder. No Christmas story is complete without an innocent Maria.

 

[JSB217118]

Jean watched as the world danced around him, Maria’s world. Christmases came and went. For her first few years of life, she was Queen Isabelle’s only child and heir. The apple of her mother and stepfather’s eye.
Her biological father, the famed Crusader Conrad of Montferrat, had been assassinated before she was born. Her mother had remarried soon thereafter to Henri, the count of Champaign. In time, Maria was joined by two little sisters, Alix and Philippa. She never showed any jealousy towards them. Her mother still adored her as her eldest, and the affable Henri loved the little girl as strongly as any father could love his child. In fact, he seemed closer to her than Jean was with his own only daughter, a thought that caused him shame.


When Maria was five, Henri died. He left a grieving widow and two little girls, a toddler and a newborn infant. Maria saw how her grandmother, the former Queen, Maria Komnenos, was a comfort to the whole family. “I guess that was part of what made me who I am”, she said to Jean, as they watched Christmases come and go.


Not even a year passed before Isabelle re-married to the aged warrior Aimery of Cyprus. He was a dutiful and caring husband to the grieving young Queen and a doting father to young Maria and her sisters. The Queen gave him two girls and, at long last, a son to inherit the Kingdom, who she named after his father. Maria rejoiced at each new addition to the family and showed no bitterness about being displaced in the succession.
As she grew older, little Maria took it upon herself to act as a sort of shepherd to Queen Isabelle’s growing brood of children. She was their comfort in sadness, their confidant, and occasionally on hand to give them a stern lecture. Her royal parents could not be more proud of their trusty little helper.


Maria cried as she watched the years go by. “So many memories. So many Christmases past. I guess that is what happens when you get older.” But you died so young, thought Jean.
“I always thought that life had been so unfair to my mother. First, she was forced to put aside her childhood love, Humphrey of Toron. My mother never spoke of him. However, I know they loved each other. Just hearing his name mentioned caused her pain.
She gave him up to marry my father and save the Kingdom. And then she lost him to an assassin's knife.
I was still in her belly when she wed Henri. By all rights, they both should have hated me. The child of the man she had been forced to marry. The obstacle in the path of Henri’s daughters. By all rights, they should have sent me to a convent, or worse. But they didn’t. I was always grateful for that.
God was cruel to take Henri from us. And it was cruel to force her to remarry yet again. Even if he showed kindness by giving us as fine a husband and father as King Aimery. But I know life was hard for her. I thought that if I did my best to help her, it would make up for all the trouble I’d caused.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. “I tried so hard to be a good daughter. A good sister. A good Queen. And in the end, what came of it?” Jean had no idea how to answer that question.


When Maria was twelve, that Christmas of 1204, the entire family was reunited, Maria Komnenos, the Ibelins, Aimery’s children from his first marriage, and the children of Queen Isabelle.
Relations between them were frigid and awkward at first. But kind-hearted Maria was on hand to bridge the divide. She informed her stepbrother Guy, who was closer in age to her mother than his youngest half brother, that the Queen shared his bookish disposition. While Guy might not inherit the Kingdom of Jerusalem from his father, he contented himself with a stepmother who shared his interests. Soon enough, the whole clan was as close as pea’s in a pod. The oddity of the situation allowing for a humorous atmosphere to prevail, if nothing else.
There was no Chancellor's guile in Maria’s action, no Court intrigue, at least none that Jean could detect. She simply sought to make those close to her happy.
Maria Kmonenos, in particular, took great pride in her eldest granddaughter and namesake. “You would have made such a wonderful Queen. I just hope you bear no resentments against little Aimery.”
“Oh no, I would never want to be Queen. If anything, I am thankful that our sweet little brother has taken that burden away from me.”



Young Hughes proved to be the exception to this spirit of reconciliation. He had seen his father’s remarriage as a betrayal of his dead mother, and abandonment of himself and his siblings.
The doting love the old man showed his youngest son, his namesake no less had the boy clenching his fists in rage. Before Aimery’s birth, ten-year-old Hughes had been the youngest son. Yet he had never been treated like this. It was unjust, unfair, and he said so often enough.
One particular rant brought out the ire of Princess Alix who whacked him atop the head with a spoon.
“Ow.”
“That’s for insulting my brother.”
“He’s just a stupid baby. What’s he have that I don’t?”
She hit him again, harder this time.
“Ow.”
“That’s for insulting the future King of Jerusalem.”
“I’m telling!”
She whacked him twice.
“That’s for being a tattletale.”
He sulked off to his room in tears, Maria and Aimery’s oldest daughter Bourgogne were left to handle the sulking child, while Hughe’s sister Helvis argued on her brother’s behalf to their father, and managed to spare him from punishment, save from that which Princess Alix had already inflicted.


Jean took a certain guilty pleasure at seeing his rival whacked upside the head by a small girl, especially one carrying the blood of the Counts of Champaign.

Alas, this would be the last Christmas together. Being in the same place at the same time meant a single disease could rip through them like fire through a dry forest. Aimery’s two oldest sons and one of his daughters died within scant weeks of one another.
The aged King could not endure such tragedy and passed on shortly thereafter. Through it all, the Queen, the mother-in-law Jean never met, the namesake of his only child, clung on. But the death of her baby son Aimery drove her to despair.


As the Queen lay on her deathbed, she made sure to make final arrangements for both her Kingdom and her soul.
“My dear half-brother Jean will serve as regent until my daughter has come of age.” A notary scribbled down this last request.
She turned to Maira. “My dear girl. I pass a heavy burden onto you. I know you are strong and wise and brave and will carry it better than I ever could. Keep God in your heart and take care of your sisters. I pray that life will not be as cruel to you as it has been to me.” Then they left her to the confessor. “Do you want to know what your mother said?”, Jean felt compelled to ask her. He would have at the very least wondered what his mother and father and brother had thought in their final moments. Maria shook her head, tears welling in her eyes.
“She wanted to be alone with God in her final hours. I will honor my mother’s last wish, as I did in life.”



Reliving her mother’s death left Maria distraught. She broke off from Jean and became a wandering shade. Meandering aimlessly through the castle halls. Jean followed after her.
“She left me alone”, Maria said in a whisper that echoed through the castle.
“Life grew too painful for her and left me to carry her burden”. Jean frantically moved towards the sound of her sobs. If I could not be a comfort to her in life I could at least be so in death.
“How could she do that to her own child?” Jean finally found her huddled in a corner. Maria showed no sign of noticing his presence.
“Will our daughter feel the same way about me? Will she think I did not love her? Will she know nothing but duty and obligation?”
Before Jean could give any answer, the world once again changed.

-------


Maria sat on her throne with quiet, stately dignity. Her figure was well along in its adolescent transformation from girl to woman. Beside her was Jean of Ibelin and Maria Komnenos. Assembled before her was the High Court of Jerusalem. Jean of Brienne felt a stab of pity. It was not right that such a young girl should be tasked to deal with such matters. He himself had a hard time dealing with those snakes.
The Chancellor called the meeting to order. The first to speak was the Count of Sidon, Balian Grenier who launched into a tirade about how the royal government was ignoring his concerns and that of the nobility.
Ibelin shifted back a bit while his mother, the Queen dowager Maria Komnenos shifted forward. The young queen stayed perfectly still, keeping a graceful smile on her face. It was as if she just let their words wash over her like an ocean storm. “Even with Grandmama next to me, I was so frightened.” Her voice whisper by his ear, quiet and cold.


She did not look or act the statesman. Queen Maria had lacked her grandmother’s assertiveness and knack for intrigue. Yet there was a strength to her that Jean had overlooked during their brief time together.
He thought back to the time she had bid him keep Savary away from her and her ladies. She had not commanded him as a Queen, nor yelled at him as an irate spouse. But she had sat him down and firmly insisted that he would not be allowed near her ladies or her sisters. She stood there, hands clasped with demure but steady dignity. Like she would continue to exist, in her own quiet way, no matter what the world threw at her.
“Did you have anything to say to your lords?”, Jean asked. The idea of a woman ruling seemed unnatural. Yet Maria Komnenos was as capable as any man. And their daughter Isabelle would eventually have to make decisions. Maria shook her head. Sometimes I did. Sometimes I didn’t? But I was Queen of a weak realm at a tender age and of a fair sex. Even if I made my wishes known, what makes you think anyone would listen? I decided that as long as my family and realm were protected, and as long as my few wants were met, I would do what my councilors thought best.”
The point of contention was Maria’s marriage. The High Court wanted her to wed a foreign noble, to gain the support of a powerful monarch, specifically the Kings of England and France, or the Emperor of Germany. Meanwhile, her grandmother wanted the young Queen to wed her stepbrother, Hughes of Lusingion, and unite the Kingdoms of Outremer. Her Uncle, Jean of Ibelin for put his son Baudoin forward as a compromise, though it was obvious to everyone that this was his preferred outcome.
The Queen asserted herself on this point alone. “Forgive me Uncle, but I do not wish that to make a match that would be so blatantly a violation of the laws of consanguinity.”
Ibelin turned to her as if the table had just spoken. Jean laughed at his future Chancellor’s discomfort.
“Please husband, do not laugh at my poor Uncle’s misfortune. I did not wish to cause him any more embarrassment than was necessary. In his heart of heart, he truly loved both me and this Kingdom, and still does. And I would appreciate it if you treated him with respect.” Jean turned away and grunted. She was never so snippy with me when she was alive.
“For my sake please”, and she looked at him in a way that would break all but the most stone-cold of hearts. “Oh alright. I swear Maria, you were not this manipulative when you were alive.”
“I am not being manipulative Jean. I am simply lifting the veil of formality all us highborn wear with our spouses, at least at first. I am trusting you with my feelings. Giving you a window into my heart. I sense you are ashamed that this has moved you. Don’t be. The very fact that you are moved shows me that I married a good man. I should have been this honest with you in life. But I thought we had more time, and I worried I might sour our relationship.”
Why would she have had any reason to doubt him? That thought led Jean down paths he did not wish to tread. He remembered his dark regrets, in the early days of the regency. He remembered his arguments with Agnes. He remembered things about himself that he would prefer to forget.


In the end, a settlement was hammered out. The Queen’s sister, Alix would wed Hughes of Cyprus, while Maria herself would be married to whichever foreign Prince the High court thought most suitable to the security of the realm.
“And that was how they decided on me”, Jean declared.
“Yes.”, Maria said, in a tone that made her opinion of the matter hard to follow.


After the meeting was over Maria left to celebrate Christmas with what was left of her family. Here she was at ease.
Both a young Raymonde Grieneir and her cousin Cecile d’Ibelin were amongst Maria’s ladies in waiting. Both felt the need to apologize for their father’s conduct. Maria waved their concerns aside. “It is nothing a monarch should not accept from her vassals. I do my duty as God commands.”
Raymonde smiled. “That is good to hear, your grace. And I’ll do my best to make sure little Julian does not turn out to be as much of a brat as our father.”
Maria giggled. “See that you do so. Though I pity anyone who would have as fierce a teacher as you. The way you shoot and ride my lady, it’s like you were born on the steppe.”
Raymonde shrugged her shoulders. “I find being the only daughter of quarrelsome parents has a similar effect.”
“Regardless, if my sons are half as bold as you then the Saracens will cower.”
Raymonde grinned. “It seems that two of your sisters are at least my equal.” Maria sighed melodramatically. “And so they must cause me no end of worry.”
Meek young Cecile chose this moment to interject herself. “I wish I was as bold as lady Raymonde. Or as serene and deified as you, your Grace. You can stay composed in front of all those powerful men. Meanwhile, I can hardly converse with my own family without shivering in fear. I just hope that your dislike of my father and brother doesn’t mean you will dismiss me from your ladies.”
The girl seemed ready to cry. Maria took her cousin into her arms. Holding her tight and stroking her back as she sobbed.”
“There there. This is the place to let it out.”
“Why couldn’t I be like you or Raymonde. Why did I have to be born such a useless craven?”
“Shhh don’t talk like that silly. Just because your brother would not make the best of husbands does not mean I hate you. Why, marriage or no, I count us as close as sisters.”
“You really mean that.”
“Yes of course I do. Now I want to put all talk of politics aside. We are going to enjoy ourselves this Christmas. We are going to listen to music and watch jugglers and dancing bears.
“And eat good food. Don’t forget the food”, interjected Raymonde.




The grand hall was adorned in tapestries. The sound of music, the smell of food, from both the orient and the occident was enough to overwhelm the senses. The small children delighted in the antics of a dancing bear cub.
Melesinde sat on the bench next to Raymonde, chattering about her riding lessons. Raymonde listened along while munching on legs of fowl and mutton. “That’s a very fine thing Melesinde.”
“One day I’ll ride faster than you”, Melesinde declared haughtily.
Raymonde pointed her drumstick at the small Princess. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
Sybille and Philippa chattered amiably with their cousin Cecile.
Normally Maria’s youngest sister, Alix, would eagerly mix with her sisters and cousins. Yet tonight she brooded alone.
Maria took it upon herself to keep the girl company. “Alix, I thought you would be pleased to be a Queen.
The girl scowled. “And wed to my oaf of a stepbrother?”
“I will admit he can be brash, and petulant at times. But Hughes has a good heart. He’s a lot like you in that way. God willing, you can guide each other to being better people.” She sipped at a glass of wine and then laid it down, smiling. “Besides, you are not related by blood at all. If it weren’t for the late King Aimery’s, may God rest his soul, marriage to our mother, we wouldn’t even need the Pope’s approval. You are far less consanguineous than most noble matches.”
Alix scowled. “Oh forgive me, I am supposed to forget that King Aimery was the man we called father for nearly all our lives. You are practically the only one old enough to remember my and Phillipa’s father.”


Maria frowned. “If you have a problem with your marriage, you should talk to Grandmama. She is the one who arranged the match. I’m sure she’d be willing to take your concerns into account.”
“That’s just it”, Alix snapped. “You are the Queen. By rights, it is you who should be arranging marriages and making policy. Yet you just stand still as a statue while they decide your destiny for you.”
Maria shook her head. “What else should I do? I am a young girl, new to the world of politics. I doubt any match I could make for you would be better than Grandmamas. I have faith in her, faith in our Uncle Jean, and faith in the laws of our parents. I have no ambitions of my own. So long as those things are cared for. All I want in life is a family of my own to care for. I spent so long caring for you and my other sisters that I think I shall make a fine mother. And if mother taught me anything, it is that love can bloom in the most unlikely of places if you put your mind to it.”
“You’ll be an ideal wife.”
“Why thank you”, Maria replied cheerfully
Alix snorted in disgust. “That was not meant as a compliment.”
Maria showed no signs of offense. She took her sister’s hands and looked into her eyes. Whatever she said was something that needed to be remembered. “Alix, little sister that I love so dear. I saw enough of mother and father’s lives to know that Queenship is a duty to be borne, not a game to be played. Since God took our poor baby brother and parents, that duty has fallen to me. I do what I must for our family and kingdom, but taking joy in it goes against my very nature.”
“So you think I’m a failure as a woman? Just like everyone else?” Alix snapped.
Maria laughed. “Not at all. I love and admire our mother and Grandmother. You share their nature. But I do not. You are meant to be a woman in their mold. Celebrate the way God made you. Use your ambitions for what is good and right in yourself and the world.” She hugged her sister close and tight. Jean could hear the faint sound of sobs.
“I don’t want to go away”, Alix whispered as tears began to well. Mother, father, little Aimery. I miss them. I don’t know who will go next. Our childhoods are slipping by, one Christmas at a time.
“Oh don’t be silly sweet Alix. We are all still young. And even when we grow old, we will still enjoy Christmas together as we did as children. Every year, I promise, you and your husband can visit us.”
“And what if your husband says no?”
“Silly. I told you I only want a few things in the world. And spending Christmas with my sisters is near the top of the list. Only the most horrid of brutes would take that from me, and as I just told our good Uncle, I have no intention on wedding Baudoin.” The two girls shared a laugh.
“We’ll talk together and catch up on old times. And if Hughes gives you trouble, well, she smiled mischievously. I am sure I can find ways to make him miserable. All four of us girls, happy together for the rest of our lives. Is that not an ambition you can get behind?”
Alix nodded. The sisters huddled together and watched the performance. It was as if Jean could feel his wife’s warmth. Not the temperature of her non-corporeal body, but the state of gentle contentment she radiated to those around her. All that contrasted tragically with her current spectral form.
Jean cursed his own arrogance. He had been wed to a beautiful young woman with the blood and wisdom of the great Maria Komnenos, and he had viewed her as a mere stepping stone to political power. A token of his strength and renown.
He remembered what she had said to him right after they had said their vows. “I trust you, Jean.” She’d said the same thing as he’d held her on their wedding night, when he had promised to get rid of Savary, and when he had departed for Egypt. Trust was a very precious thing to Maria. And he had broken it. He had taken her for granted, and she had died because of him.
“I always treasured those Christmases. But what do you think of them husband? Were we celebrating it wrong this whole time?” Her inquiry seemed genuine. Yet Jean could not help but sense something biting in her words.
“No”, Jean said quietly. “No, you were not.”

————————————————————————————————————————
“It is good to see you showing humility Jean of Brienne”, said a crisp, familiar voice. Even after all the strange things he had seen, Jean still could not believe what he was seeing; Maria Komnenos merge from a curtain of mist.

 

[JSB217118]

Blanka is why Navarre dies so quickly in EU4. Jean truly has a chip on his shoulder. No Christmas story is complete without an innocent Maria.

She is the IRL reason Navare acquired so many territories in France. Her brother and older sister died without issue, and so her son Theobold inherited the country.

 

[Midnite Duke]

Jean married far above his station. Queen Maria would have been a fabulous Queen. She would have nudged you into doing her wont while you think that it is your idea. And now the Lady of Steel, Maria Komnenos . . .

 

[Lauron]

As a late joining reader, I currently finished chapter 6 and I do very much enjoy this. It brightens up my commute immensely!

 

[Eludio]

Oh, I do so love this turn for the supernatural, even if it does turn out to be just a dream after bad Christmas pudding! You are one hell of a writer!

 

[Eludio]

Hey @JSB217118, just popping in to say I've nominated you as the next Best Character WritAAR of the Week! Congratulation, and I can't wait to see where your story brings us next!

 

[Midnite Duke]

Congratulations @JSB217118.

 

[JSB217118]

“Grandmama!”, Maria cried in delight, running to her with arms outstretched. The old woman caught her, the frailness of life gone, and spun her around like a child of ten. The two women hugged and cried. Jean himself wanted to say something. She was, after all, his friend. Yet he couldn’t find the proper words. He finally settled on stating the obvious “Lady Komnenos”.
The ladies untangled from each other and turned to face him. “Your Grace, I see my sweet granddaughter has been keeping you company this Christmas Eve.”
Jean struggled to say something. “She has been most kind.”

The Greek woman frowned. “She always was. Perhaps a kinder guide to the past than you deserve. But then she was a kinder wife than you deserved.”

Jean bristled at the old Queen’s harshness. She had been blunt with him on political matters, but they had skirted around the topic of his fitness to be a husband to young Maria. When it had come up at all it had been in regards to his ability as a commander and statesman, not his character as a man.

“I don’t think any man could deserve a wife like her. But if you are getting at something else, then you never made those doubts clear to me. Nor did it stop you from arranging our match.”

“What you say is true, my namesake is an angel. And you are right, I never pressed you on this issue before. I thought it irrelevant to the Kingdom’s security. That was my folly. For I too am not without sin. I do so now out of concern for you my friend. If I hated you I would leave you to your own folly.”
Her words were harsh and carried a tone of exasperation. This puzzled Jean. When last they met, she had been friendly. What had he done to make her this angry?
“It is a great irony. I who spent so much time living in the past am now bound to be your Ghost of Christmas Present. Truly, it must be said that our Lord God has a sense of humor.”

“I suppose there is irony in my fate as well”, Maria said quietly.

Her grandmother gazed at her with mournful eyes. “What was done to you was wrong and I don’t care if saying so results in me sharing your fate.”

If Maria herself was saddened, she hid it with a modest smile. “I am at least as much at fault as He is. And I try to make the best of it. After all, I still have unfinished business in this world.”

The pale ghost of the old woman bowed her head. “You were always one for making the best of things, child.”

Maria smiled and gave a brief chuckle of laughter. “My mother taught me that was a woman’s fate in this world. I clung to that mantra right up to the end. I suppose you could say I wound up in this predicament because of that.”

Jean glanced back and forth between the two women as they spoke. Try as he might, he could not discern just what they were talking about. He was about to ask when all of a sudden the world around him began to Change.

—


They returned to the waking world via the torch-lit streets of the Holy City of Jerusalem.

Jean looked around at the familiar sights in bafflement. “What is this? Why did we not go anywhere?”

Maria Komnenos smiled wryly. “We are somewhere.”

“Somewhere quite familiar to me, as I was just there. Since then I have been wished off to many different places and times. I am not sure why you wanted to bring me here of all places, and at this of all times. Are we not meant to be exploring the past?”

Maria sighed. “Did you not hear me? I said I was to be your Ghost of Christmas Present. It is my task to show you Christmas as it is being experienced by your friends and companions. In doing this I hope you are able to realize the error of your ways before it is too late.” This was going to be like one of those times his nanny had asked him why he couldn’t be as well behaved as his brother. And he looked forward to it as much now, as he had then. Still, it wasn’t all that bad. He turned to the fair Maria of Montferrat, who had still not left his side.

“Grandmama can be harsh in her lessons but they always have a point to them. And she does so out of love for you.”

Maria Komnenos was as quick to pick up the implications on that as Jean. “My dear, there is and will never be anything between the two of us.”

“I believe you Grandmama.” She put her hand on her chin and tilted her head ever so slightly. “Though it is a shame. You two got along so well, in addition to being closer in age. I would not have been jealous in the slightest. Seeing you two happy would have brought me a great deal of peace.” Her sincere smile somehow rendered the whole statement even more absurd.

A lightning bolt of cringe rose up Jean’s spine.

Maria Komnenos just shook her head and laughed. “I am grateful you think me so fetching child, believe me, that is not a sentiment I heard often. But my chance for romance died with your grandfather.”

“Would you please send him my best wishes, when you meet again?”

“I will do so sweetling. And I will not mention how you suggested I replace him with a younger man. But if you will pardon, we must attend to the matter at hand.” Maria Komnenos then turned towards Jean, the so-called “matter at hand”, and guided him through the city streets to where a crowd of the wretched poor were throning. They were surrounding a group of men who were handing out food and coin. The dirty hands eagerly grasped these things and grasped to shake the hands that offered them. In the center of the group was a well-dressed man, his face obscured by the swarm of grateful well-wishers.
”I must admit he makes a fine example, though it is harder for men of the world such as myself to follow his example I'd like to meet this paragon of Christian charity “, said Jean of Brienne.
The invisible trio glided through the crowd close enough to see the face of their generous patron. What they saw put Jean into shock. Even the two Maria’ were taken aback, though it seemed more so from the sheer ugliness of the man’s face than his identity.
Hallel Erez Sender was walking the streets of Jerusalem with a bag of coins in his hands, giving them to the city’s poor and displaced. Jean recognized some of the men distributing bread as the cutthroat’s personal gang of toughs.
"But he doesn't even believe in Christ, ", and that did not even get into all the murder and extortion Hallel and his men had carried out. Of course Jean had ordered a good part of said murder and extortion. But at least Jean was a Christian and had not taken physical part in any of Hallel’s crimes.
“Looks can be deceiving. This cruel greedy man gave all of his hires the day off and has spent the day helping others." She smiled with the wonder of a child seeing some sort of exotic animal. “It really is a miraculous sight.”
Jean’s tongue fumbled about while his mind struggled to come up with a coherent response. “But this man is an infidel. A useful one to be sure. I admit he can even be amusing at times. But he does not believe in the word of our Lord.
"No, he does not. But the spirit of the day has pierced even his cruel heart. Ironically he is acting more in accordance with Christ’s teachings than many Christian I know“, said Maria Komnenos.

A blind man could see what she was getting at. If this ugly, immoral infidel was a better Christian than him, then Jean’s soul was indeed in grave danger.

“I know Hallel, and I know him to be a good soldier. But still, he is a cutthroat and a liar. A man in the very mold of Savary.”

Maria of Montferrat thoughtfully put her hand on her chin. “Perhaps I misjudged him. No. I think what happened was I failed to see another side to him. Your friend was indeed a brute and a murderer. But he at least was genuinely loyal. Why else would he come back to warn you? His soul was already dammed. He stands no chance of benefitting from whatever happens tonight.”

Jean could not believe his ears. “Hallel more Christian than me? And my dear wife saying there is a good side to Savary of all people? This is too much! The lesson you want me to learn is a simple one, and I have learned it! Now can we please leave!?” What was the lesson they were trying to teach me? Probably something related to how I am terrible no doubt.

Maria turned expectantly towards her grandmother. “We may depart, in time. But we still have business to attend to in the city. With that she turned to lead them on, not bothering to spare a glare back at them. Maria eagerly prodded after her grandmother. Jean groaned and followed after them.

They stopped outside an inn near the city walls. Inside was a gathering of men.
Attending this gathering were the commanders Anrol de Haifa and Amadee of Acre, alongside Chancellor Jean d Ibelin, and Jean’s Advisor Alphonse.
The men sat around a table, drinking and making merry. As Alphonse had said, it was a subdued event. The men served their own drinks, indeed there did not seem to be a single woman in the room, and there was an air of respectful comradely between the men. The soldiers had spent many hard months on campaign together and so Jean could understand their bond. But Ibelin was amongst them, toasting and jesting like this was his place.

“Alphonse you should savor this food. I promise you it is not poisoned.”

Alphonse scratched the back of his head and let out a nervous chuckle. “Forgive me my Lord, but I must ask, was the food prepared by one of your own men?”

“For the love of all that is Holy, it’s not poisoned.”

Alphonse shrugged. “I’m just saying, we are in a city that was until very recently held by the enemy.”

“An enemy that has since departed”, Baron Arnol reminded them.

That did not change Alphonse’s opinion. “Lord Ibelin, did you happen to see the Emir’s cook leave with him?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

They were interrupted by Mayor Amadee. “Sir Alphonse, if you are not going to eat your food you should give it to the needy folk of this city. Any bit will help. Why, our fellow commander Hallel is out there right now attending to them.”

“Hallel? Truly?”, asked Alphonse.

“Truly”, said Mayor Amadee. “I confess, I was surprised as you are when he told me how he planned to spend the evening”

“I am sure he is doing it for his own benefit. Men will do anything for the man who fills their bellies”, Ibelin added cynically.

Amadee sighed. “Well, whatever his reason, he is doing his part to feed these people That’s more than I can say of some in this army.”
Jean seethed. “Why are they cooing over this foolish dandy. My generals are like a gaggle of gossiping hens?”
“Careful with your words Brienne. I may respect you and wish for your success, but that man is my son. And, lest you forget, he is the man who secured your daughter’s rule over this city.”
A part of Jean knew that she was in the right. But another part would not let him admit it. “By talking with the enemy and agreeing to their demands. Where’s the manhood in that?”
Maria Komnenos daintily put her hand up to her mouth. “Oh, I am so sure the half-starved, disease-ridden host below the city walls was so saddened by not having to get themselves filled with crossbow bolts. I am not sure my tender woman’s heart can bear to think upon their grief.” She held her hand up to her heart and sighed sorrowfully.
“That’s quite enough out of you”, snapped Jean.
Maria postponed herself between them. “Whatever disagreements we might have surely we can put them aside. Please I beg both of you, for the love you bear me, for the love you bear my daughter, stop fighting!”
The old woman’s shoulders sagged. Jean made a smug little smile before it was chased away by a glare from the monarchy’s mad matriarch.
“Thank you”, Maria said in quiet relief.
——
“In any case where is our conquering hero? I haven’t seen the regent since the Church service.” Jean did not like the way Ibelin said the words Conquering Hero.

“He’s resting”, replied Alphonse, curtly.

“You mean he’s gone up to his room to sulk about some slight or another. The man is an even bigger child than the Queen”, said Baron de Haifa.

“That’s unfair of you Haifa. Jean has led us to many victories. Why without his leadership we would not even have reached the city”, replied Alphonse.
“And let hundreds of my men die of starvation and disease outside the walls”, rethorted Haifa.
“And in the end, it was Count Ibelin who delivered the city to us”, reminded Amadee.
“Not that our most petulant of monarchs would ever admit it”, said Haifa. He continued; “Brienne detests you Lord Ibelin, we all know it.”

“I must say, Alphonse, I’m surprised that you're even here. Given how close you are to Jean, and how much he is suspicious of Lord Ibelin, I would assume that you would be convinced he was engaged in some sort of plot against you.”

“That’s the difference between you and me Amadee, I trust but verify. You just trust. I know both Jean d’Ibelin and Jean of Brienne to be good men in their own way. So I am friends with both, and so I seek to mend the rift between them.”

“A Cisiphestian task if there ever was one”, snarked the Baron of Haifa.

“Is he the guy who pushed the rock up a hill for all eternity?” Alphonse spoke haltingly. As if each word had to be mined from the earth like metal.

“See he has been learning”, Ibelin chirped joyously.

Alphonse nodded. “I learn what I need to serve my master. Until recently I was a simple soldier. But now that I am an advisor I need to mingle with the high nobility. So I must learn about Greek myths and other such things.”

“I confess to sometimes worrying about my place in the Kingdom, once the war is done.”

“You have no reason to fear Lord Ibelin. Jean made an arrangement with your mother. I believe him to be a man of his word. You will be kept in your post and your children and kin will be granted land and titles.”
Maria Komnenos’s shade eyed Jean with a piercing look that sent a jolt of cold up his spine.
Jean yelped in surprise. “I always intended to keep to our agreement.” He clumsily massaged the place where the pain had been most intense.
The Greek woman made a wicked grin. “Good. But one can always use a little reminder, lest one forget what he owes.”
His lady Maria looked at him with a pained expression but did nothing. “Why can’t we all just get along together?”, she murmured to herself.

The men of course made no notice of the spectral fracas outside of their window
“A toast to Lord Ibelin. For they say the pen is mightier than the sword. May the House of Ibelin prosper by both ink and steel!.” Cried, Alphonse.
“Pardon me my Lord Chancellor, but I heard your wife recently bore a son.”

“Indeed she did, my fourth born. I would have named him after you but my brother took that honor from me.”

“A fourth son is still a son, and no less worthy of congratulation.”

“Thank you. I don’t believe I had the chance to properly congratulate you on the birth of your own son.”


Alphonse laughed modestly. “If you had told me five years ago that I would have wound up with a beautiful highborn wife and a son of my very own, I would have thought you were playing a joke. But God has truly smiled on both of us this year .”

Brienne seethed silently. He cast a sullen glance at Maria, who in turn looked hurt. Jean turned away abashed.

The men broke into a cheerful discussion of their families. Many jokes were made at the expense of those not present, such as spymaster Balian, chiefly about how displeased he was about his daughter’s husband.

“A toast to our indomitable spymaster. May his pride heal quickly and with minimal infection.”

The men roared in laughter.

“If nothing else, staying behind has let me see Uncle Jean happy for the first time in so long,” observed Maria. She held her hands together and smiled as she watched that false-faced “diplomat” glad-hand her widower’s commanders.

Maria Komnenos also watched, smiling with contentment, before turning to Jean. “Indeed. You two share more than just a name. My son is always out to see slights to his dignity. Always looking for an excuse to complain or look down on others. It seems he has put that part of him away for a time. And your men seem to like this new side of him a great deal more than the old.”

Jean snorted in contempt but gave no real rebuttal.



Alphonse raised his voice. “I would like to raise a toast.”

The men gripped their cups, all eyes were on the old man at arms.

“To Lord Jean of Brienne. Without whom we would not have this city, and I myself would have nothing.”

The cups wavered for a time. Alphonse eyed each of the men with a steady gaze. Ibelin blinked first. “To Jean of Brienne. May he prove as…competent a regent in peace as in war.” The way the Chancellor said competent did not leave much room for doubt as to his true thoughts about Jean.

Those ungrateful weasels. I elevated them to command and yet they mock me behind my back. Yet Alphonse still defended him. Even after their many quarrels. Even when he was out of sight and had no way of knowing. Alphonse was always frightened of some plot or another. Yet, for some reason, he never seemed to harbor any conspiratorial doubts about the one man who could bring him to absolute ruin. I have misused a loyal man.
“That is quite correct. Though, I would add that you are far from the only General to do so.”
Jean glared at her. “Did you read my thoughts?”
She smiled. “You cannot say that it would be the strangest thing to occur all night.”
Jean scowled. “I liked you better alive.” That had sounded much better in his head.
“Oh, I liked myself much better alive. And younger and less filled with grief.”
“And I would have loved nothing more than to greeted you upon your return and introduced our daughter.”
Jean was too distracted to respond. Alphonse had stuck by his side even when others had mocked him. Jean had always thought of himself as the type of man that rewarded loyalty. It said uncomfortable things about him that he had thought so ill of his advisor just a short time ago.
It required Jean to face things he did not want to face.

“Can we please go somewhere away from the city of Jerusalem? I think I have grown tired of the place.”

“How odd, given the lengths you went to capture the place. Still, I shall oblige you this.”

 

[JSB217118]

Jean married far above his station. Queen Maria would have been a fabulous Queen. She would have nudged you into doing her wont while you think that it is your idea. And now the Lady of Steel, Maria Komnenos . . .

Indeed, he did, both in terms of rank and in terms of human worth. One of the many reasons I kept this start date was Maria's character traits were just perfect for her role in the plot. She is too good for this Earth, or CK2 game. She would have made an excellent traditional Queen consort. I mean this in both in game terms, her stats are pretty average but give Jean a nice boost, and in IRL. That said Maria has not, nor ever aspired to have been, to quote the Godfather a "wartime consilgiarie." Her pleas only work on Jean because while he can be a prick at times, and does display the ruthlessness, bigotry, and disregard of human life inherent in his societal role, deep down, he does have a heart. If Maria were alive in our world, she would choose to be a stay at home mom or take a caregiving job. In contrast, her sisters are far more ambitious, even though they never stood to inherit thrones. That's the irony of her whole life.

As a late joining reader, I currently finished chapter 6 and I do very much enjoy this. It brightens up my commute immensely!

Thanks. I hope you kept reading and liked the others. If you find the pace a bit slow than I apologize. I thought I would be starved for story during the regency, so I laid down a shitton of plot threads that I now have to close. But we are in the home stretch.

Oh, I do so love this turn for the supernatural, even if it does turn out to be just a dream after bad Christmas pudding! You are one hell of a writer!

Thanks. I just caught up to your AAR. Dear god, that atmosphere. I so want to spend more time on some of these events. Yet I admire how you seem to have found the most important scenes and done them. Meanwhile, I'm stuck writing 7 chapters about a single day (even if folks seem to be enjoying it.

Hey @JSB217118, just popping in to say I've nominated you as the next Best Character WritAAR of the Week! Congratulation, and I can't wait to see where your story brings us next!

Thank you so much, Eludio. Both for reading and for nominating me.

Congratulations @JSB217118.

Thanks for always sticking by this AAR. By the way I nominated you for best Character WritAAR of the Week!

A big thank you to everyone who's stuck with the story this far. And a shout out to @Midnite Duke , whose Avon Los Observas is the only AAR that is as batshit insane, and as full of emotion and story as CK.

 

[Eludio]

Thank you for the kind words JSB! There is truth in the saying about the grass always being greener: I often wish I could dig deeper in my AARs!