[Completed] Crowns of the Levant

[Werther]

"Jean! Apologise to His Holiness Gilbert!", ordered Jean the Greek to his son. The young prince stood on the parchment-covered table in the middle of the study room and glared at his father.
​

Patriarch Gilbert du Puy du Fou and Prince Jean​

“Never!" he shouted in Greek. “This heretic dared to rebuke me, he should be whipped and hanged!”

“Jean!" intervened the Greek. “You speak of the patriarch of Jerusalem, I demand an apology!"

In response, the young terror jumped off the table and ran out of the room with a final insult.

"Go after him!" ordered Jean the Greek to his guards. “When you have caught him, do not raise a hand to him if you wish to keep it. But take him to my wife Theodora who will find a suitable punishment." The two bowed and then hurried off to find the boy.

"I am sorry, Your Beatitude," said Jean to the patriarch. “He is a strong head who does not realise the honour you are doing him by giving him lessons.”

“It is nothing, my prince," replied Gilbert. “He is a lively boy, as was your great-great grandfather Henri III. We were just talking about the lineage of his brother, the rebellious Hugues the Frank, who proclaimed himself king.”

“Is it extinct?" asked Jean.

“No," replied the patriarch. “It is even, after your line, the oldest male branch of the Montoires. The members of this branch have of course experienced hardship. After his defeat, Hugues the Frank spent the rest of his life in prison and his children chose exile. Some joined military orders, others became mercenaries. But they eventually settled in the far north. Thus Lambert de Montoire is now Count of Onega.”
​

Lambert of Montoire, Count of Onega​

Distractedly, Jean glanced at one of the parchments where a coat of arms very similar to that of the Montoires appeared. "Are these the arms of their house?”

“No, my prince. The Montoires of Novgorod have not changed their name or their coat of arms. It is the younger branch of the Montoires of Tathlith, founded by Prince Jean of Asir, third son of Henri III. The current head of the house is Duke Jean II of Asir.
​

The Montoires of Tathlith​

“My namesakes..."

This harmless remark delighted the patriarch. He seemed seriously interested in the history of the Montoire family.

"Absolutely! The first Duke of Asir was the first Montoire to be named Jean. Traditionally, the Montoires named their children Hugues and Henri, two Capetians names. Hugues was of course the first name of the French king Hugues Capet and it was in his honour that Hugues the Great, the founder of the kingdom of Jerusalem, was named. Henri was not commonly used among the Franks, but this name was chosen by the French king Robert II the Pious for his son. A way of defying the Germanic emperors. So it was in honour of his grandfather King Henri I that Hugues the Great named his son, the future Henri I the Wise.” The patriarch's eyes sparkled with joy, he seemed genuinely fascinated by these historical anecdotes. "The name Jean was chosen by Queen Eusebia Komnenos, the wife of King Henri III the Younger, for her third son. It was a Christian name that was very popular in the Greek Empire at that time.”

“Fascinating," said Jean, with a look that said the opposite. “So Emperor Hugues III chose the most Greek of these names for my father... It seems he had long planned to take Constantinople." Machinically, Jean grabbed another parchment with a coat of arms very similar to that of the Tathliths. "And this one?”

“The coat of arms of the Montoires of Gizeh. A house closer in the order of succession than that of the Montoires of Tathlith, as it was founded by the second son of King Henri III, Duke Henri IV the Diligent.”
​

The Montoires of Gizeh​

“The house of my relative Duke Guichard II I presume?”

“Absolutely, my prince.”

“So which house does this one belong to?" he said, pointing to a final coat of arms.

"A very young branch, the Montoires of Safaga, founded by Duke Onfroy, your first cousin once removed.”
​

The Montoires of Safaga​

“Is his brother André one of them?”

“No, the Duke of Oultrejordain has not founded his own house yet.”

“My prince?" Jean turned and found Jacques the Red waiting in the doorway. The knight bowed to Gilbert du Puy du Fou. "I am sorry to interrupt you in the middle of a history lesson, Your Beatitude, but I must take the Crown Prince to His Majesty.”
​

Knight Jacques the Red of Estouteville​

“Do, sir," replied the patriarch. “An Emperor does not wait."

Jean thanked Gilbert before taking his leave. He then followed Jacques through the maze of the Sage's palace.

“Have you finally got used to life in the Holy Land, my prince?" asked Jacques as he descended the stairs of Irene's tower.

“It's still a bit difficult, my friend," replied Jean. “But I'm getting used to it."

The arrival in Acre, a few months ago, had been a shock. The torrid climate, the spicy food, the Mohammedan dress of the lower classes, the strange Frankish customs of the nobles of the Holy Land... But it was when he visited Jerusalem that Jean had been completely disoriented. The crowded holy city seemed much more dynamic than Constantinople, a little too much so. Everything there was movement, smells and sweat. A chaotic city where a noisy cosmopolitan population was crammed together. If the Holy Sepulchre had amazed him, Jean had been much less impressed by the austere imperial palace.

Fortunately, the court had soon moved here, to the Palace of the Wise. Built high in the Judean Mountains, the building was a patchwork of different architectural styles and had obviously been extended several times since Henri I the Wise. Nevertheless, it was magnificent, as was the view it offered on the mountains. It was secluded and allowed for the peaceful enjoyment of a forest full of game. The cool climate was also ideal for Hugues III, whose health was declining.

"How is the siege of Antioch going?" asked Jean as they passed under archways decorated with statues of the kings of Jerusalem.
​

The Siege of Antioch​

“Oh, it's as boring as any siege," replied Jacques.

“I gave you a mission to occupy your time," said Jean. “Did you talk to my uncle?”
​

Prince Etienne​

“Yes, Your Highness," replied the Chevalier. “As you asked, I tried to worm information from Prince Etienne. But he is far too cunning to confide in me. Fortunately, the same cannot be said of some of his supporters, whose tongues quickly loosen after a few drinks.”

“And?" asked Jean anxiously.

Jacques the Red stopped abruptly. He looked around as if to make sure that no one was spying on their conversation. When he was finally reassured, he said in a low voice: "The rumours are true, my prince. Etienne seems to be attracting many disgruntled lords to him.”

“Who?"

“Lords from Syria, Jerusalem, Upper Egypt," the knight listed. “His supporters are even trying to recruit lords from Arabia. One of them has promised me wealth and land in exchange for my support.”

“Are my uncle and these lords conspiring against the emperor?

“No," replied Jacques. “Of course, there are those who grumble about the "Greek wars" or criticise the laws of the Glorious for encroaching on the "liberties of the nobility". But they are mostly loyal and will do nothing as long as your grandfather is alive. It is you they hate, my lord. Your father was accused of being perverted by the Greeks... but you are Greek.”

“I am the crown prince of Jerusalem," Jean took exception.

“Not for them. There are whispers that they would prefer to see your cousin Onfroy on the throne.”

“Not Etienne?”

“Your uncle is a clever one, my prince. He prefers to be the eminence grise of that idiot Onfroy. Why expose himself when he can control Jerusalem without unnecessary exposure?”

“I should have them arrested and executed!” said Jean.

“You're talking about princes of the blood," Jacques warned him. “Your grandfather will do nothing without proof, and I have none to give you. Keep this information to yourself, my prince. But be ready!"

Jacques the Red tapped him on the shoulder, as if to reassure him, and then set off energetically through the palace corridors.

Eventually they joined the emperor on a terrace which offered a magnificent view of the steep mountains where solid oak trees grew. Seated before a table covered with parchments, Hugues III sipped a cool wine. His drawn features, his dark circles, his thinness, all indicated that the emperor was physically diminished. His mind was nevertheless intact and he still exuded the charisma that so impressed his interlocutors.
​

Emperor Hugues III the Glorious​

“Ha, Jean!" he greeted his grandson. “Take this chair. Sir Jacques of Estouteville was going to report to me, but I thought it wiser for you to be present, so I sent him to fetch you."

Jean the Greek took his seat while Jacques the Red stood and began his report.

"The siege of Antioch is more difficult than expected and the Greeks refuse to negotiate with Prince Etienne. The army has no problems with supplies, but dysentery has taken its toll on our ranks. Apart from that, the men are bored.”

“Is it not possible to take the place by force?” asked Jean.

“That will be very difficult," replied Jacques. “The walls are well defended. The lack of wood has prevented Prince Etienne from building more than one tower, and the sappers are getting nowhere. Besides, our men don't seem particularly motivated and the prince seems in little hurry to make the assault."

The emperor turned to Jean. His penetrating gaze seemed to be gauging him.

“What do you think?" he asked.

“We just need to send more troops," said Jean.

“We have already mobilised 15,000 men for this siege," replied the emperor.

“Troops from the kingdoms of Jerusalem, Syria and some small Arab lords," the Greek listed. “We could bring in troops from Mesopotamia.”
​

The kingdoms of the Jerusalem Empire (the Hierosolymitan part of Algeciras is attached to Syria)​

“You seem to be confusing me with another Hugues III. I am not the king of Mesopotamia.”

“Hugues the White owes you obedience, you appointed him and you can remove him from that position.”
​

King Hugues III the White of Mesopotamia, son of Hugues the Dark​

“No," replied Hugues the Glorious. “I gave the crown to his father and Hugues the White inherited it. It is not just a despot's office that I can take back at will, but a hereditary king's title. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't take it away. And Hugues the White has good reason not to mobilise his troops. His lords like their independence, and they would reproach him for lying down in front of Jerusalem.”

“So let's bring in more Arabs, you are indeed their king."

It was Jacques the Red, himself a native of Arabia, who replied, "They will balk, my prince. The lords of Arabia have already paid a heavy price in the Greek campaign, and they do not feel sufficiently recognized. They are not wrong, they are despised by the other lords…”

“The Lords of Egypt?" proposed Jean.

“There is no more arrogant and proud man than an Egyptian lord," replied Hugues. “Those of Lower Egypt asked, despite being vassals of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, not to participate in this campaign. They claimed that they had to defend themselves against a possible attack from the Greeks in Sinai. In return, their rivals in Upper Egypt requested the same exemption.”

“So let them take Sinai! The Melissenos are just a small provincial family.”

“A small provincial family that twice brought the Greek Empire to its knees”, the emperor retorted. “Do not underestimate the Melissenos. In my youth, the name of Duke Zacharias was feared in Romania as in the Holy Land. The "Scourge of Jerusalem" inflicted two of our greatest defeats. At Katyaion he killed my uncle Jean of Asir, and at Farama he twice slaughtered our soldiers. My uncle Henri the Diligent was not tender, yet he was so afraid of Zacharias that he betrothed my brother Henri the Black to his daughter. The Scourge may be long dead, but many of us remember the danger of the Melissenos. The grandson of the Diligent, Duke Guichard of Cairo, remembers it, as do all the lords of Egypt.”

“Who cares about their fears, you are the emperor! Your word is law and they must obey you! They have a duty to you and the Empire!"

Hugues stared at him for a while, before smiling.

"You may be the heir to the Jerusalem Empire, but you are still Jean the Greek. The emperor took another sip of wine before heaving a sigh. "Do not be deceived by my title of emperor, Jean. I remain the ruler of Jerusalem, and Jerusalem is not Constantinople. I have dedicated my life to the restoration of royal and imperial authority. I have wiped out the concessions Henri III had made to the nobility. I put an end to the Black Years that tore the kingdom apart during my father's reign. But scratch that imperial veneer and you'll find the ambition of the barons. Oh, the old lineages have disappeared one after the other, swept away by the rebellions of the last centuries. But even today, the nobles remember. They remember that our ancestor Hugues the Great was elected by the assembly of the First Crusaders. They remember that the High Court was not always this empty shell but had a say in the affairs of the kingdom. For many of them, I remain the first of the princes, no more, no less. The Empire does not exist, there is only a pyramid of homages of which I happen to be the head. They consider that they have a duty to me because I have a duty to them. It is only my glory and my victories that make them bend for the moment and accept, however grudgingly, my demands for men and money. Never underestimate the influence of great families, Jean. The Greek nobles want to emancipate themselves from the emperor? But in Jerusalem, it is we, the kings, who have emancipated ourselves from the nobles! And it would only take a moment of weakness on our part for them to remind us bitterly of this."

Jean remained silent. Deep down, he could not accept this state of affairs. It went against his education and his world view. He promised himself that the day he came to power he would teach a lesson to these barons.

“As for Antioch," said Hugues the Glorious, "the game is not worth the candle. Conquering the city will not turn the tide of the war. It is useless to empty our coffers and spill the blood of our subjects and vassals." He turned to Jacques the Red. "Estouteville. You will leave tonight for Antioch and deliver a message from me to my son Etienne. Let him return, this war is no longer ours."
​

The end of the Siege of Antioch​

The emperor suddenly seemed most tired. He was seized by a powerful coughing fit, and when it passed, he waved his hand to indicate that it was time for them to take their leave. "You can go, I'm exhausted."

The two men were about to leave, when Hugues III added : "And Jean, talk to the patriarch. His history lessons may be a bore. But he will soon be of great help to you. He will teach you how to become a true ruler of Jerusalem."​

 

[Werther]

The young patriarch Gilbert carefully opened the vial. He leaned over the bed and dripped a few drops of holy oil on the old man's forehead.
​

Patriarch Gilbert du Puy du Fou​

"Per istam sanctam unctionem et suam piissimam misericordiam adiuvet te Dominus gratia Spiritus Sancti, ut a peccatis liberatum te salvet atque propitius allevet."

His calm and gentle voice seemed to come from far away. But it reassured Hugues III who wished to be cleansed of all sin before meeting his Creator.

“Thank you, Your Beatitude," the Emperor of Jerusalem managed to articulate.

“It was an honour to give you the last rites, Your Majesty," replied Gilbert, who seemed genuinely moved. “Would you like me to send for your kin? They are waiting on the doorstep.”

“Later," said Hugues in a breath. “The light assaults me, tell my servants to close the windows and leave me alone. I am so tired, I need..."

He woke up some time later, not knowing how many hours or days he had been in darkness. His room was quiet and dark. Someone was sitting on a chair at the back of the room.

“I ordered to be left alone," he said in a feverish voice.

“And you were obeyed, as always," replied a familiar voice. “I was never obeyed. No matter how many times I gave orders, no one listened to me, ever."

Hugues stared at the man sitting in the chair.

“You were weak, father," he said to Hugues II the Broken.
​

King Hugues II the Broken​

“I was," confirmed the spectre.

“A... a weak king despised by all his subjects and manipulated by those closest to him”, the Glorious continued. “A melancholic who spent his time moping in his seaside palace, leaving the reins of the kingdom to others.... An absentee.”

“A ghost," smiled the Broken.

“My entire reign was devoted to making people forget yours," said Hugues III in a harsh voice. “I have dedicated my life to making the return of the Balck Years impossible, to bringing the barons to heel and re-establishing royal authority…”

“And you have succeeded," replied Hugues II. “You are the most powerful man in the East, indeed in Christendom. And yet... in the evening of your life, you are as broken as I am. You are the ruler I never was. But as a father... Absent and unfeeling, you have walked in my footsteps, son. You have rejected your own to care only for yourself.”

“No," protested the Glorious between two coughs.” I only cared about Jerusalem and its prestige. I sacrificed my own family on the altar of its glory.”

“And so Abraham sacrificed Isaac, recited the Broken, and God rewarded him with Kingship. You are right, son, you are strong..."

The irony of these three words still hung in the room, when a young man emerged from the shadows and came to stand at the right of the late king.

"But I would have been much stronger.” It had been decades since Hugues had seen his half-brother, the Black Prince. He was still in the prime of youth, but his features were gradually being eaten away by the pustules of the Black Death. "Henry IV would have chewed up the barons by force and subdued the Empire of the Greeks in Jerusalem.”
​

Prince Henry the Black​

“Jerusalem would have broken under your grip, brother," replied Hugues with difficulty. “I have reconciled our subjects with our family.”

“All the more reason for the Empire to remain in the hands of the Montoires," said Jean of the Desert, who came to stand to the left of Father. Hugues's younger brother had been born three years after the death of the Black Prince, yet he looked much older than he was. "Your sons are of dubious origin. Onfroy or André should inherit.”
​

Prince Jean of the Desert​

“Jean!" Princess Anne the Maid was standing beside the bed of the Glorious. “That is not the way to talk to your brother and emperor!"
​

Princess Anne the Maid​

At the sight of his aunt, Hugues' heart sank. He held out his hand, which she took tenderly before smiling at him.

"I am happy to see you, Hugues the Little," she said, using the nickname of her youth. Although she was only 53 years old, he felt like a young man in front of her.

“I remember..." said Hugues. “I remember Tripoli. The happiest times of my life. I... I never thanked you for looking after me, I..."

She placed her finger over the emperor's mouth to interrupt him. "I know," she said simply. Then he fell asleep.

When he woke up again, there was no trace of his father, his brothers or his aunt. The room had taken on a gloomy, threatening appearance. In the centre of the room stood the person he was waiting for.

Maria.
​

Queen Maria Komnenos​

“I knew you'd come to visit me before the end," said Hugueses simply.

“I was not so lucky," says his ex-wife in Greek. “Nor my daughter Eunike.”

“She wasn't mine," he replied curtly.

“Like others who were more fortunate," she said as she approached the bed. “But she didn't deserve to spend her life locked in a tower and die before she was twenty.”

“It's Kyriakos' fault," he replied. “Without him we would have lived happily and so would our children.”

“No," she said coldly. “Kyriakos had nothing to do with it, he was nothing. It was him, but it could have been someone else. I didn't love him... Our children have been unhappy because of you. Look at Hugues the Dark…”

“He was a bastard!”

“How do you know?”

“He looked nothing like me, unlike Agathe.”

“Agathe was not yours," she said. Hugues felt as if he had just been pierced in the heart with a dagger coated with venom.
​

Agathe real father​

Maria walked slowly towards the bed. "You have always taken yourself for God, Hugues. Like the Lord, you have designated the good and the bad, the bastards and the legitimate. You have elevated the lie and shattered the truth, you…”

-Stop it!” he shouted, a tear slowly running down his cheek. “Stop..." he repeated more weakly. "You are cruel."

"You locked me up! You have deprived me of my life! You took my children! For these decades you've lived with everything I've lost and I am cruel? I could peel you like a pear and God himself would call it justice!” Despite these harsh words, Maria's face expressed no anger. She leaned towards him and kissed his forehead. "Hugues," she sighed simply and disappeared.

The emperor's vision became blurred. He felt as if he were gradually sinking into his bed, then into the depths of the earth. In the distance, far away, he saw Hugues and Jean looking at him, their faces inexpressive.
​

King Hugues II the Dark and Prince Jean the Heir​

"My sons," he said in a breath, before disappearing forever.
​

The death of the emperor​

 

[Werther]

With a torch in his hand, Jean walked through the crypt of the Holy Sepulchre. He couldn't help comparing it to the heroas of Constantinople where the Roman emperors were buried. And the comparison was not to the advantage of this narrow, dark, low-ceilinged corridor. Nevertheless, Jean was moved by this line of Montoire tombs. More than anywhere else, he felt part of a prestigious lineage.

The first part of the room was occupied by sarcophagi containing the remains of the unmarried princesses and the crown princes. They were simple and devoid of any superfluous decoration, simply displaying the family arms. This was not the case with the last three tombs, which were topped by magnificent recumbent effigies. These were reserved for the crown princes who died before their accession to the throne. Among them was that of Jean the Heir, before which Jean the Greek stopped.
​

Crown Princes Hugues, Henri the Black and Jean the Heir​

“Father..." he said, laying a hand on the recumbent. “Son of an emperor, brother of an empress, father of an emperor, but never an emperor. My heart bleeds at this injustice. I promise to do you honour, and to be the Jean I you should have been."

After kissing his father's effigy for the last time, Jean continued to the end of the crypt where the royal tombs were located. There, under the emblems of Jerusalem and the Montories, were the recumbent figures of the kings and queens of Jerusalem: Hugues I the Great and Zoe Doukas; Henri I the Wise and Irene Comnenus; Henri II the Coward and Heliodora Komnenos; Henri III the Younger and his beloved Eusebia Komnenos. The recumbent of Hugues II the Broken was accompanied by not one, but three graves. The first two did not have statues as they belonged to his first two wives, who died before his accession to the throne. Only Jean's great-grandmother, Queen Rusudan Bagration, had the right to an effigy. A paradox, given the poor relations between the two spouses.
​

The first five kings of Jerusalem and their wifes​

Jean could not help but feel a sense of pride in these ancestors whose great history he would continue. One day, a stonemason would carve recumbents for him and Theodora, and their descendants would come to pay their respects before being crowned in their turn.

Jean stopped before the last statue, that of his predecessor Hugues III the Glorious. No queen or empress was buried beside him. The emperor had refused to allow Maria Komnenos to be buried in the Holy Sepulchre, and Athanasia Bryennios, the mother of Prince Etienne, had fled Jerusalem after her divorce. As for Zoltana Dory, the third wife of Hugues III, she was still young and had asked to return home to Emperor Dezso of Carpathia. Jean agreed, hoping to ease relations with the Hungarians.
​

Top: Emperor Hugues III the Glorious
Bottom: Empress Dowager Zoltana Dory returns to Carpathia
​

"The sculptor has done a fine job, Grandfather," said Jean thoughtfully. “You should have seen the reaction of the commoners when they heard of your death. The bells rang for several hours and the clerics organised great processions in which all the guilds participated. At your funeral, a mass of grieving pilgrims gathered outside the gates of the Holy Sepulchre to demand your canonization. Such fervour!”

Jean raised his head, looking determined. Without realizing it, he switched from French to Greek. "You were a great emperor. And now that the barons have finally arrived, it is my turn to be crowned. I will continue your work... I will go even further! I will break the dukes and make Jerusalem the third Rome!”

“Your Majesty?” Carried away by his oath, Jean had not noticed the arrival of the imperial guard commander Jacques the Red. “Patriarch Gilbert wishes to inform you that everything is ready for the coronation ceremony.”
​

Jacques the Red of Estouteville​

“Good," Jean replied, unable to hide his anxiety. He turned and headed for the exit, closely followed by the knight.

"You should not worry, Your Majesty," said Jacques. “The coronation is only a formality.”

“I know that," says Jean. “I'm more concerned about what comes next.”

“The High Court?" asked James. “The patriarch has organised everything. It will meet at the Imperial Palace after the coronation. Everything should go well.”

“I know that some of the barons won't like some of my announcements," said Jean. “Even less so the one about you.”

“Let them come," said Jacques bravely. “They can only submit to your will.”

“May God hear you, Jacques," said Jean as he climbed the stairs to the surface. “May God hear you."

At the top of the stairs, the two men arrived at Calvary. Located at the entrance to the Holy Sepulchre, the chapel marked the place where the Lord had been crucified. Although relatively small, it was beautifully decorated. Jean John prayed there entering the nave.

The Holy Sepulchre was no match for the gigantic size of Hagia Sophia and it was impossible to accommodate all those who wished to attend the coronation. The commoners waited outside, while the notables of the city were relegated to the Church of St Helena, outside the main building. Under the dome of the main nave, only the barons from the four corners of the empire were present.

The front rows were occupied by the ambassadors of Christian powers such as Pisa, Venice, Carpathia or Nubia. Agathe and the Greek Empire were represented by Duke Hyppolitos Doukas who was in conversation with Richard, the Grand Master of the Order of the Knights Templar. Finally, the most prestigious seats were reserved for members of the imperial family.
​

Top: the foreign dignitaries
Bottom: the Imperial family​

While Jacques joined the knights, Jean slowly made his way to the choir. In addition to the throne that had been installed there, there were the Omphalos Mundi, a stone marked with a cross that indicated the centre of the world, and the Stone of Anointing where the Lord’s body was anointed.

It was on the latter that Jean knelt and prayed towards the rotunda. This circular room extended the choir and housed the aedicula inside which was the tomb of Christ. It was from the rotunda that Patriarch Gilbert emerged, accompanied by the most prestigious ecclesiastics of the empire.
​

Patriarch Gilbert of Puy du Fou​

The patriarch stood before Jean and began the ceremony. Gilbert had spent several days organising it, taking great care to keep to tradition. Much to the patriarch's chagrin, Jean had nevertheless insisted on making some changes.

The anointing itself respected the ancient custom. The ampulla was carried by four bishops and handed over to Gilbert. The patriarch recalled the Lord's words to King David: "You will shepherd my people Israel, and you will become their ruler." Then, with his thumb, he took a little oil to trace nine anointings in the shape of a cross on the emperor's body while pronouncing the ritual words.

Jean then came to sit on the throne where he was given the regalia. The first changes desired by the emperor took place here. He was given the sceptre, the hand of justice and the ring, but he was also given a large purple cloak reminiscent of the Greek imperial colour.

The main change happened during the coronation itself. In 1253, Hugues III was only crowned as king of Jerusalem. His coronation as king of Syria and Egypt had taken place in 1261, and he had only become king of Arabia in 1273 at the imperial coronation. Gilbert had thus insisted on crowning Jean four times for each of the kingdoms and for the empire. The emperor refused, however, considering that only the imperial coronation counted. The patriarch had not liked this unitary concept, but Jean did not care. The empire was no longer a collection of kingdoms.

Above all, he had put aside the crown of Hugues III in favour of that of his maternal grandfather, Basileus Pantaleon I, which his mother had kept. It was therefore a Greek crown that was placed on his head.
​

The crown​

"Long live the emperor forever!" shouted the assembly when he was finally crowned. Again, Jean had changed the tradition. The acclamation was supposed to represent the election of the sovereign by the barons and normally took place before the anointing. If it was only symbolic, it was already too much for Jean, who had moved it to after the coronation. He did not owe his legitimacy to the barons, but to God alone.

After the acclamation, Theodora was crowned Empress of Jerusalem. They took the opportunity to show the crown prince to everyone. Jean the Younger could not stand still, and went so far as to kick Patriarch Raoul of Alexandria in the ribs.

When the ceremony was over, Jean, Theodora and Gilbert crossed the nave where the barons respectfully stood aside. The lords would wait for the emperor to come out and follow him to the imperial palace where the High Court would be held.
​

Left: Empress Theodora
Right: Patriarch Raoul of Alexandria and Crown Prince Jean the Younger​

Crossing the city was long and difficult. Hugues III had reigned for 55 years, and most of the Hierosolymitans had not known any other ruler. They were therefore curious to see their new emperor for the first time. Carrying olive branches, they crowded the streets to see the procession, which had the greatest difficulty in progressing.

"Is everything ready for the High Court?" asked Jean as they waited for the Imperial Guard to clear the way.

“Yes, Your Majesty," replied the patriarch. “The carpenters finished installing the stands this very morning.”

“Well, I can't wait to be done with this empty shell.”

“Beware, Your Majesty," said Gilbert. “The High Court is greatly weakened, but its authority and prestige remain important. As for the barons, they are susceptible and jealous of their power. If some of them support us, the malcontents seem to be numerous. Your uncle Prince Etienne seems to excite their passions. Some speak of a nobles’ party.”

"What do they call my supporters?"

"The court party, Your Majesty. But even these barons will not be happy with the reform of the High Court that you have decided."

"They will have to accept it. This is now the High Court of the Empire, not just the Kingdom of Jerusalem. And they should even rejoice. They, who are so proud of their kingdom, will finally be able according to their realm…"

"And vote by kingdom and not by head”, added Gilbert. “A clever strategy to prevent opposition from the majority of nobles, Your Majesty, but many barons will oppose such a decision…"

"They should be grateful that I consent to give them any role in the affairs of the empire," cut in Jean. The narrow street being cleared, he pushed his mount forward.

The sun was at its zenith when the High Court was finally assembled in the great hall of the Imperial Palace. Despite its impressive wooden framework and the magnificent tapestries hanging on the wall, the room retained the austere appearance that characterised the whole building.

From his elevated throne, Jean dominated the audience. Several members of the imperial guard surrounded him, including Jacques the Red, who kept his hand on his sword to ensure that no one approached the emperor. To Jean's right, the patriarch Gilbert was seated on a cathedra.

In front of the dais, five platforms were set up in a semicircle. Each was surmounted by the arms of one of the kingdoms of the empire, and each baron was seated according to his region of origin.
​

Top: the Empire of Jerusalem and the kingdoms
Bottom: the High Court​

The most important one was directly opposite the emperor and was reserved for the lords of Jerusalem. Jean noticed that some of the nobles had gathered around Duke André of Oultrejordain, a figure of the noble party in the kingdom.
​

The Kingdom of Jerusalem
From left to right: Duke Hamelin III of Amman, Duke Jean of Shammar, Duke Roger of Damascus, Duke André of Oultrejordain, Duke Alain III of Tiberias, Duke Barthélémi of Medina​

To the right of Jerusalem was the platform of the Egyptian lords. The latter were particularly divided. The lords of Lower Egypt, all of whom were of the court party, sat closest to the platform of the kingdom Jerusalem, of which they were theoretically vassals. Gilbert had had the good idea of integrating them into the realm of Egypt to counterbalance the turbulent lords of Upper Egypt. Unfavourable to the emperor, the latter surrounded Duke Onfroy of the Desert.
​

The Kingdom of Egypt
From left to right: Duke Payen III of Al-Said, Duke Onfroy II of Al-Wahat, Duke Guichard of Alexandria, Duke Onfroy of the Desert, Duchess Artaca of the Delta, Duke Guichard II of Cairo​

To the left of Jerusalem, the platform of the kingdom of Syria and Upper Mesopotamia had been installed. The latter region, also called Al-jazirah was not a realm, and Gilbert had wanted to attach his lords to Mesopotamia, which was more favourable to Jean. But Prince Etienne, one of the lords of Upper Mesopotamia and leader of the nobility, had obtained its attachment to Syria.
​

The Kingdom of Syria
From left to right: Duke Bathélémi of Diyar Mudar, Duchess Kamala of Aleppo, Duchess Charlotte of Homs, Duke Philippe of Palmyra, Prince Etienne of Diyar Rabia, Count Orson of Al-Haditha, Count Jacques of Hadithat-Ana, Count Adalbert of Rahba​

On their left sat the lords of the kingdoma of Mesopotamia. The Mesopotamians, who were more favourable to the court, were united behind their king Hugues III le Blanc and his uncle-advisor Prince Henri.
​

The Kingdom of Mesopotamia
From left to right: Duke Charles of Bassorah, Count Aubry of Kufa, King Hugues III the White, Prince Henri of Wasit, Count Payen of Kerbala​

At the exact opposite sat the lords of Arabia and Yemen. Although numerous, their weight in the affairs of the kingdom was negligible. Their fiefs were often poor and inhospitable, and their houses recent and founded by knights of modest origins. Duke Jean III of Asir was probably an exception as he was descended from a son of Henri III. He tried to present himself as the leader of the delegation, but the Arab lords were suspicious of him. In fact, only the disdain shown to them by the barons of the other kingdoms seemed to unite these very independent lords.
​

The Kingdom of Arabia
From left to right: Duke Aimery of Mahra, Duke André of Oman, Duke Charles II of Al-Jawf, Duke Evrard II of Yamama, Duchess Elodie I of Najd, Duke Sigismond of Al-Hasa, Duke Jean III of Asir, Duke Mursel of Tugrulid, Duke Manasses of Mecca​

When all the lords were finally seated, the heralds announced the start of the session. The barons then rose as one as Patriarch Gilbert blessed the assembly.

"Mylords," he said, "pray to Blessed Etienne, our patron saint and protector, to help you make the right choices for the good of the Earthly Jerusalem. Open your hearts to the Holy Spirit to guide you as he guided the Crusaders when they chose Hugues the Great as King of Jerusalem. It was this king, moreover, who established the High Court of Jerusalem to succeed the Crusader Council. For two centuries, it has confirmed and assisted the sovereigns in their difficult tasks. Emperor Jean, respectful of rights and customs, decided to gather the princes of Jerusalem to advise him."

"Nonsense! Tradition is not respected!" shouted André of Oultrejordain, provoking a wave of indignation among some barons, shocked to see him interrupt the patriarch. "As a Montoire and as the heir of the Dukes of Oultrejordain who have so many times led the High Court, I resent seeing the assembly divided in this way! This is the High Court of Jerusalem! Either all the princes sit and vote equally, or only the barons of the Kingdom of Jerusalem take part!"
​

Duke André of Oultrejordain​

Many of the lords shared the duke's fears, but his suggestion to exclude the other four kingdoms caused widespread indignation. Jean decided to exploit this mistake.

"My lords, my lords," he repeated several times to obtain silence. "Do you wish to exclude most of my subjects?" The shouts against Andrew redoubled and Jean had to wait to continue. "The Empire is not limited to the kingdom of Jerusalem, and I will not be the one to deprive my loyal subjects of their rights." Several barons loudly showed their approval. "In order to respect and protect your customs and privileges, I have decided to seat you according to your kingdoms. And to avoid the tyranny of the majority, I have also decided that all decisions will be voted by kingdom and not by head."

The news was this time coldly received by some of the barons who understood that this decision weakened their influence in the High Court. The tumult resumed, but the invective was now directed at Jean.

Fortunately for the emperor, it was at this point that Evrard II of Perche, Duke of Yamama, rose to speak on behalf of the Arab lords. This was not by chance. Before the session, Jacques had paid the Duke handsomely to make this request.
​

Duke Evrard II of Yamama
​

"Your Majesty," said Duke Evrard when silence returned. "If you wish to respect our rights, the lords of Arabia earnestly ask for a king who can guide them and serve you."

The news was rather well received by the Arab lords. The most surprised was certainly Duke Jean of Asir. The Montoire puffed up his chest, surely expecting to be appointed as king.

"I hear your request," replied Jean, "and grant it. Jacques of Estouteville will receive the duchy of Sana'a, which will be attached to Arabia, and will become your despot."
​

Jacques of Estouteville becomes Count and Duke of Sana'a and receives the Crown of Arabia​

As rehearsed, Jacques pretended to be surprised. He knelt before the emperor and thanked him before paying homage for the duchy. His coronation would take place later and it was as a simple lord that he went to sit on the platform of Arabia.

Some Arab lords were unhappy. Unhappy with the title, which was too Greek, with the low extraction of Jacques or simply with the fact that they had not been chosen themselves. Duke Jean of Asir clearly belonged to the last category.

But on the whole Jean knew he had done a master stroke. The majority of the barons were satisfied. First of all, Arabia was strengthened by obtaining a new sovereign and a part of Yemen. Secondly, the new king was neither a lord of the region, nor from a great house, so he did not upset the internal balance of the region and would have more difficulty in imposing himself on the barons.

As for Jean, while rewarding "his Errard", he had just placed a loyalist at the head of Arabia and won the support of the Arab lords. He would have liked to enjoy his victory, but it was then that his uncle Etienne decided to spoil his pleasure.
​

Prince Etienne​

"My lords," shouted the prince to make himself heard. "Allow me first of all to pay tribute to my father Hugues III the Glorious, who always defended the values of Jerusalem and did not hesitate to stand up to Greek tyrants."

A good number of the barons shouted their approval. As for Jean, he was boiling inside, well aware that the prince's last sentence was directed at him.

"I also wish to congratulate His Imperial Majesty, my nephew." Etienne suddenly changed his tone. "But unfortunately I cannot keep silent. If the lords of Arabia get a king. Why should the lords of Egypt, Syria... or even Jerusalem be denied that honour?"

A great uproar greeted this last proposal. Some of the nobles stamped their feet in approval, while others began to protest.

"And you would be this king, I presume?" asked Duke Guichard of Cairo in a tone full of irony.

"Of course not," protested the prince. "I cannot even consider it. No son of Hugues III can claim such an honour without endangering my imperial nephew... But a descendant of Hugues the Great, perhaps. My cousin Onfroy of the Desert might be quite suitable."
​

The faction to crown Onfroy as king of Jerusalem​

The noise increased, several nobles shouted at each other and the dukes of Tiberias and Damascus, though cousins, almost came to blows.

Jean felt anger rising inside him. He wanted only one thing, to put an end to this charade.

"Your Grace," intervened the patriarch, who was aware that the situation was about to get out of hand. "It cannot be. His Majesty has been crowned."

"Anointed and crowned emperor," replied Etienne, "not king. No one disputes his legitimacy as head of the Empire. But it is from the High Court that the kingship of Jerusalem proceeds, as you yourself have said. I say that this assembly must take a vote, and choose between my nephew and my cousin."

"But Your Grace," Gilbert replied as the great hall was once again plunged into chaos. "The Empire and the Kingdom of Jerusalem cannot be separated from each other."

"Enough!" Jean had just shouted at the top of his voice, bringing calm. "I will not allow anyone to insult me and challenge my authority. There will be no voting, so I have decided and ordered as Basileus!"

In his anger, Jean had just used a Greek term that sent a chill through the assembly. Etienne did not let such an opportunity pass.

"Basileus? Despot? Where are we, my lords? In Constantinople?"

"Nay! Nay!" several members of the assembly answered in chorus.

"Have we become Greeks?" continued Etienne. "Did our ancestors took the cross only to see their descendants become slaves of Oriental despots! We are Outremer barons, free lords whose rights must be respected by the crown."

"You are out of line, Your Grace," Gilbert warned him.

The intervention of the patriarch and the indignation of a part of the barons led Etienne to moderate his attitude.

"Please excuse me, Your Beatitude. I was carried away and my words went beyond my thoughts. I am a faithful servant of His Majesty and I do not wish to offend him or undermine his authority. I only wish to defend the rights of the princes of the Holy Land. If His Majesty refuses to allow the High Court to choose his king, I can only submit. But in Jerusalem, loyalty goes both ways, and I think he must demonstrate his willingness to respect the liberties of his vassals."

"And what do you propose?" asked Jean, glaring at him.

"My illustrious father, may he rest in peace, spent his reign defending the Empire and extending its borders. To do this, he established the Imperial Tax and the Great Levy. He also forbade the lords to wage campaigns against foreign powers. The barons willingly complied with these demands for the glory of Jerusalem. They poured their gold and blood to defend the Holy Land against the Mongols, to conquer Mesopotamia or to place my sister on the throne of Constantinople. But Jerusalem is no longer threatened, it is the head of the greatest empire in Christendom. It is right that you should revoke these laws and re-establish the liberties proclaimed by the good King Henri III."
​

The laws of Hugues III the Glorious​

Most of the barons, even from the court party, gave their approval. Jean was about to put an abrupt end to this assembly of renegades, but the patriarch approached him.

"Your Majesty," he whispered in his ear, "you must make a concession. Give them the vote."

Jean swallowed with difficulty. It took all his strength to raise his arm, a sign that he was accepting the vote.

The deliberations took some time, and then each kingdom appointed a representative. Jacques the Red, Hugues the White, Etienne, Onfroy of the Desert and André of Oultrejordain came forward and one by one announced the vote. Mesopotamia and Arabia voted against, but this was not enough against the other three realms.

"Thus, the lords will be able to wage war against foreign powers without imperial permission," announced the patriarch. "The general tax and the great levy are abolished."
​

The new laws​

The results were greeted with joy and elation by the barons. Jean, on the other hand, was boiling with rage and was on the verge of having his uncle and all his clique arrested.

"My lords!" shouted Etienne, trying to obtain calm. "My lords! This is a great victory for the barons of the Holy Land! And I hope His Majesty has heard us! To ensure that these laws are respected, we demand that the members of the council be appointed by the High Court!"

"You are overstepping your rights!" shouted Jean, but already the Assembly was pushing for the motion to pass. The emperor was now at a point of no return. Either he would confront the nobility... or he would fold.

He looked at the patriarch who seemed defeated. They had lost control of the situation. With a lump in his throat, Jean had no choice but to accept. For more than an hour the emperor watched helplessly as the High Court imposed its advisers on him. No Arab or Mesopotamian was allowed a place and the other three realms shared the positions. Jerusalem sent two advisers, the dukes Bartholomé of Medina and Jean of Shammar, who became treasurer and chancellor respectively. They were both close to Etienne, who obtained the marshalate. The only good news came from Egypt where the duchess Artaca of Delta was appointed chamberlain. This lady of Lower Egypt perhaps owed her appointment to the respect of the barons for her late father, the treasurer Guérech, or perhaps Onfroy had tried to win her over to his cause.
​

The new Council​

In any case, the noblest party and Etienne were triumphant. Jean, with a toneless voice, closed the High Court session and invited the lords to go to the banqueting hall.

As the princes of the Holy Land left the room, the emperor remained petrified on his throne. His hand had just been twisted, he had been belittled, he had been humiliated.

And he knew. He knew that the nobles would not stop there.​

 

[Werther]

A hundred or so knights were riding through the canyon at full speed, leaving a great cloud of dust behind them. At the head of the column, the steward, the chancellor and the marshal of Jerusalem were pushing their beasts to their last entrenchment.
​

Chancelor Jean of Shammar, Marshal Etienne Mellent and Steward Barthélémy of Medina​

“With this heat, the horses won't last long," shouted Duke Bartholomy of Medina.

-We must hurry," replied Duke Jean of Shammar. “And we are almost there." He pointed to the Kerak Cstle in the distance.

The imposing fortress of the dukes of Outre-Jourdain was built on a rocky plateau from which it dominated the entire region. It was built by the first duke Gerard I to defend the heart of the kingdom of Jerusalem against the numerous Mohammedan raids. However, Kerak had not guarded the frontier for a long time and it had not been considered necessary to replace its square towers with more modern round ones. The castle was nonetheless impressive and could easily rival the most recent Krak des Chevaliers built in Syria.

The column of knights did not slow down at the foot of Kerak and moved into the gentle slope leading to the gates.

"The marshal! The marshal is here! Open the gates!" shouted the guards on the ramparts. They were quickly obeyed and the three councillors soon entered the fortress.

Etienne pulled sharply on his reins to bring his steed to a trot. He was pleased to discover a lower ward full of soldiers preparing to go on campaign. Not all of them belonged to Duke André, far from it. The prince saw the banners of the dukes of Amman and Tiberias as well as soldiers from Upper Egypt.

The three councillors left part of their retinue behind and then walked through the second wall to the upper ward.

In the centre of the latter stood a large gallows where a dozen men, women and children were swinging from a rope. In front of them were Princess Eve, Etienne's sister, and her son André the Giant, heir to the Duchy of Outre-Jourdain. The young man was a real colossus with hideous features.
​

Princess Eve of Montoire and her son André the Giant​

"We were expecting you earlier, my lords," said the Giant in a stern, deep voice as the councillors dismantled.

“We moved as quickly as we could, nephew," Etienne replied as he carefully removed a packet from his saddlebag. "It was difficult for us to slip away from the council without arousing suspicion. The Greek thinks we've come to levy the hosts in the south.”

“Don't mind my son, brother, he's a brute," said Eve, kissing him. “I'm glad to see you here.”

“And your husband?" asked Etienne.

“In the great hall with his brother Onfroy and the other lords who support their cause. They're probably stuffing their faces," she said with a look of disgust. As her thinness attested, Eve had always had a problem with food.

"Did you have any problems while raising the levies?" asked Etienne, pointing to the gallows.

“Yes," said André the Giant. “Some of the burghers were recalcitrant and one of them even insinuated that my father was not worthy of the Juliers. He had him and his family hanged. The others obeyed without making a fuss," said the colossus in a neutral tone, as if he were reporting a banality.

Eve rolled her eyes and sighed. "My son is no softie, and my husband even less so. There's a reason the peasants call him the Tyrant. The recalcitrant one had little sense, however. Mentioning the house of Juliers, folly! You know the unhealthy relationship my husband has with the mythical dukes of Outre-Jourdain. One day he admires them, the next he is jealous of them. To deny him the right to present himself as their heir is to condemn himself to a certain and painful death."
​

The Dukes of Oultre-Jordain​

The princess shrugged, then invited her brother and his companions to follow her into the keep.

Guided by Eve and André, the three councillors quickly passed through the residence of the dukes of Outre-Jourdain. The only originality of this austere building was perhaps the indecent number of coats of arms of the House of Juliers. They could be found in every room and decorated all the furniture and tapestries. Next to each of them, Duke André had added the Montoire coat of arms.

In the corridor leading to the great hall, the personal arms of each of the dukes had also been hung on the wall. Etienne noticed, however, that those of Robin of Franche-Comté had been removed. The fourth duke, grandson of Gerard III, was one of the Three Traitors. Eighty years ago, Robin and two other lords had rebelled against King Hugues II the Broken. The Traitors had not hesitated to crown Hugues the Frank, the king's uncle, hence the name of the First Frankish War. Etienne could not help but smile as this story resonated with the current situation.
​

The Three Trairots in 1225, to the right: Robin of Franche-Comté ​

His throat tightened, however, as he recalled the end of the story. The loyalists had won and the Three Traitors had been imprisoned. Robin had never seen the light of day again, except once, nine years after his rebellion, at the judgment of Nablus that had ended the Second Frankish War. Robin was dragged before Crown Prince Henri the Black and stripped of his lands. He was then sent back to the dungeon to finish his days. Etienne quickened his pace, determined not to end up like the Traitor.
​

Robin of Franche-Comté (left), at the Judgment of Nablus (1239)​

The doors of the great hall opened with a bang before Etienne. Two large tables had been set up on either side of the room and the lords stood up in respect. There were all the leading barons of the noble party.
​

Fron left to right: Duke Josselin of Homs, Duke Onfroy II of Al-Wahat, Duke Hamelin III of Amman, Duke Payen III of Al-Saïd, Duke Philippe of Palmyra, Duke Alain III of Tiberias and Duke Guichard of Alexandria​

The three councillors moved to the centre of the room, while Eve joined her husband on the dais. The Duke of Outre-Jourdain shared the high table with Duke Onfroy du Désert and his family.
​

At the centre of the high table: Duke André the Tyran of Oultre-Jordain and his brother Duke Onfroy of the Desert​

"Here you are at last, Prince Etienne," said the Duke of Outre-Jourdain without preamble.

“André!" laughed Onfroy. “Where are your manners? Our good cousin has surely been riding all day in this cursed heat. You should not blame him, but offer him a glass of chilled wine, I heard he loves it. And it will make a change from the Greek's goat's milk.""

He let out a long, fat laugh and some of the lords followed suit, probably out of pure sycophancy. Onfroy waved to one of the maids and took the opportunity to grab her buttocks.

The gesture hardly shocked his wife, Theocariste Komnenos, who was sitting next to him. Perhaps she was used to it, or perhaps she simply did not understand the situation. The result of generations of incestuous relationships, the duchess was sickly and foolish. Looking at their children, Etienne wondered if they would not have been successful at the fairs. Only Hildegarde was more or less normal, her sister Ermengarde was born with red eyes and white hair and her brother Baudouin was a dwarf.
​

Duchess Theocariste Komnenos and her children Ermengarde, Baudouin and Hildegarde​

“So?" asked Duke Guichard of Alexandria. “Has the emperor given up his foolish plans?”

“No," said Etienne. “He won't listen to reason. He plans to leave for Constantinople before Easter.”

“You should have insisted," said Duke André, "it is your role as Marshal. As I said, iI should have been chosen at the High Court a year ago. I'm sure he would have listened to me as Duke of Outre-Jourdain and hero of the Blachernae Gate."

Therein lay the root cause of Duke André's animosity towards Etienne. The three Gerards of Outre-Jourdain had been given the marshalate and he felt that the position was his. He also had a high opinion of himself and his - exaggerated - achievements during the siege of Constantinople.

"Allow me to doubt it, cousin," replied Etienne. “My nephew has a certain tropism for Greek affairs.”

“We must not bleed again to save the Greeks!" intervened Duke Philippe of Palmyra. From the battle of Constantinople, he had brought back a nasty wound and several scars. This was the reason why he had joined the nobles’ party.

"And even less for a bastard," said Duke Alain III of Tiberias. During the Greek campaign, he had become close to Onfroy, and never missed an opportunity to show himself as his most loyal supporter.

"Like many of the children of our late emperor," added Onfroy.

“Only the children of Maria Komnenos," said Eve, who clearly had no desire to be accused of bastardy. "As for Agathe, she deserves our respect." If Eve abhorred the other children of Queen Maria, she strangely had a certain tenderness for her hal-siblings Agathe and Henri.
​

Eve's friend​

"My brother did not mean to offend you, woman. No one here questions the legitimacy of Empress Athanasia's children," Duke André lied. In fact, many barons did not hesitate to regard children of the second marriage as bastards. Etienne and Eve's mother had been caught in bed with Duke Guichard of Cairo, and would have ended up like Maria Comnenus if she had not fled.
​

The Athanasia Bryennios scandal (1281)​

“As for Agathe," continued the Duke, "whatever her qualities, there is little doubt that she is an illegitimate child, as was Hugues the Dark.”

“And once again, it is for bastards and Greeks that we will have to fight”, said Duke Hamelin III of Amman.

“No," Etienne simply replied. He went to stand in the centre of the room so that he can address the barons.

"My Lords, if the Dukes of Shammar and Medina and I have gathered you here, it is not to join the imperial host. We decided it was time."

A certain tension fell over the room. Onfroy was staring at him. His eyes were shining with pleasure and he could not hold back a toothy grin.

"We suspected that the Greek would refuse to change his plans," continued Etienne, "but now we are certain. His heart is in Constantinople, so be it. But it is time for us to choose a true Outremer to guide us as king of Jerusalem.”

“You?" asked Duke André, who, unlike his brother, did not trust Etienne.

“No, my lord," the prince replied firmly. “I know that many of you have doubts about the legitimacy of the children of the Glorious, and I do not wish to become King of Jerusalem."

I prefer to leave that honour to a man less ambitious than me, he added to himself.

"Therefore, I, Etienne Mellent, renounce for myself and my heirs all rights to the kingdom of Jerusalem.”
​

The Mellent Branch​

“So who do you propose?" said Onfroy, standing up and walking towards the centre of the room.

“You, Sir! There is no doubt about your legitimacy, you are a true descendant of Hugues I the Great. Moreover, you are a true Outremerprince, and have never ceased to defend the interests of the barons.”
​

The faction for Onfroy​

He turned to the lords. "Duke Onfroy is without doubt the true heir to the crown. I appeal to you, lords of the Holy Land. Join this new Council of Crusaders and elect this gallant Hierosolymitan prince as the head of the Kingdom of Jerusalem!"

His words convinced the last recalcitrants, and the barons unanimously acclaimed Onfroy.

Jean of Shammar stood behind Onfroy and passed him a cloak with the arms of Jerusalem, while Barthélémy of Medina handed him the sword of Henri III. Etienne finally revealed the contents of his package, the crown of Henri I the Wise. He had stolen it that morning from the imperial palace. He placed it on Onfroy's head.
​

King Onfroy​

The lords stamped their feet and cheered the new king as Patriarch Leonard of Alexandria advanced towards him. It had been fortunate that his de jure and de facto lords, Guichard of Alexandria and Josselin of Homs, were, despite their rivalry, both members of the nobles’ party. The patriarch blessed Onfroy, eliciting another ovation from the barons.
​

Patriarch Leonard of Alexandria and his de lure lord Duke Guichard of Alexandria and de factor lord Duke Josselin of Homs​

When the lords finally calmed down, Duke André, who had not left his seat, asked sternly. "And the emperor?”

“We will inform him of the will of the Council of the Barons," replied Etienne.
​

Etienne's letter to Emperor Jean the Greek: To my liege lord, To rule over Jerusalem is a divine right that belongs to Duke Onfroy of the Desert, and we have the necessary backing to enforce it. Accept this fact peacefully or we will use force!​

“And if he refuses?”

“Then it will be war," said the prince as the barons drew their swords.​

 

[Werther]

"Andrinople is still supplied," Duke Narses announced. The imposing marshal tapped the map with his pudgy finger. "With the Usurper holding Thrace, her supporters have no trouble getting their convoys through the Eastern Gate.”
​

Duke Narses Taronites, Marshal of the Empire​

“Why not dig a trench to the east?” asked Agathe.

“We are already having trouble garrisoning our positions," replied the duke. “We don't have enough troops to surround the city.”

The empress sighed, then poured herself another glass of wine. This siege was never ending, but it was essential to retake the city in order to enter Thrace and break the encirclement of Constantinople.
​

The siege of Andrinople​

She was about to propose a new strategy when her aide-de-camp burst into the tent. The young man was out of breath and clearly panicking.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! The Basileus... He... The Basileus is here!"

No sooner had the aide-de-camp announced him than Philippos entered the imperial tent.
​

Emperor Philippos​

The emperor seemed embarrassed by the stench of the tent. After months of campaigning with rough soldiers of questionable hygiene, Agathe paid little attention to the filth. She herself had been wearing her mail for several days and must not have been very presentable. Philippos, on the other hand, seemed to come from a civilised and refined world. He wore beautiful silks, had neatly trimmed hair and beard and smelled of perfume.

"Agathe," greeted Philippos coolly.

“Philippos," the empress said simply. Then she turned to her aide-de-camp and her marshal. "Leave us." The two soldiers bowed to the couple before leaving the tent.

"I am surprised to see you here," said the empress, pouring herself a fresh drink. I didn't think you were capable of risking your life by crossing Thrace.”
​

Thrace​

“That's why I took a ship and landed at Pyrgos," Philippos replied. He pretended to look at the map. "I see the siege is going well.”

“No," said Agathe. “I have at best 5,000 soldiers, but I would need at least twice that number to take the city in time. I need more men.”

“Impossible," said the basileus. “We now control only one fifth of the Empire.”

“Let's hire mercenaries.”

“The coffers are empty," protested Philip.

“Let's borrow some money.”

“We are already up to our necks in debt. To pay back the Pisans we had to pawn the relics of the True Cross and tear out the gold tiles from the Great Palace.”

“If not to bring me swords or gold, why did you leave the comfort of Constantinople?”

“You know why I'm here."

The tension was palpable. Agathe was not surprised to learn that he knew about it, she had suspected it as soon as she had seen him here, far from the pleasures of the capital.

"So you heard about my negotiations with Isaac Komnenos ?" she asked.

“Like half the court," Philippos replied, not concealing his anger. Duchess Pulcheria, your own parakoimomenos, nearly choked on the news. She is threatening to withdraw to her lands and recall her troops. Are you really considering ceding half her lands to that barbarian Akab?”
​

Duchess Pulcheria Doukas, Head of the Household of the Empress (spymaster)​

“Her lands are already lost," replied Agathe.

“They can be taken back!" protested her husband.

“No, and you know it as well as I do. The East is a lost cause.”

“Jerusalem…”

“Will not intervene," Agathe cut him off. “You have heard the news. My brother Etienne and half the Empire have risen up in the name of my cousin Onfroy. My nephew has mobilised his troops and the last I heard, the Hierosolymitans are about to kill each other. We have nothing more to expect from the Levant.”
​

The Hierosomylitan Civil War​

“We must…”

“We must, but we cannot," Agathe said curtly. “You said it yourself, we're broke and I only have a handful of men to fight three rebels and an invader. I have to make a choice.”
​

The Greek Chaos​

“This choice is unacceptable.”

“This is what the previous marshal, Duke Elia of Spoleto, said. I sent him back to his lands and appointed Narses in his place.”

“Duke Elia was right!" Philippos retorted. “You're considering ceding half the Empire!”

“To save the other half! Akab wants land, but Helena wants my crown! And now Chancellor Hippolytos Doukas has betrayed me and risen for Dorothea!”
​

Hippolytos revolt for Princess Dorothea Komnenos, widow of Jean the Heir and mother of Jean I the Greek​

“Princess Dorothea denies supporting him.”

“Never mind the lies of my sister-in-law! All I see are two usurpers who want to take my throne! And I won't let them! Two brothers, a father's love and thousands of my subjects, I have sacrificed too much for this crown and I will do anything to keep it! If I have to tear out every last tile in Constantinople to do so, so be it!”
​

The three claimants for the crown: Dorothea Komnenos, Agathe of Montoire and Helena Komnenos​

“Armenia…”

“Armenia is gangrenous, and to save what is left, I am ready to amputate! I will concentrate my forces against those who want to seize what is rightfully mine!”

“And the Hungarians? Do you also want to give them a quarter of the Empire?”

“My mother-in-law managed to convince the Carpathian Emperor to intervene. He forced Duke Oscar to negotiate." She threw a parchment on the table. "Read! The Hungarians have agreed to end their aggression and keep the status quo. The Empire is saved.”
​

White peace with the Hungarians​

“A great deal! You save a town on the Danube from a Hungarian duke, only to hand over half of the Roman lands to an Arab peasant! “

“Akab is now king," says Agathe. “You are too late, Philippos. I have already given my consent. Nothing else matters but my fight against Helena and Dorothea."
​

Malik Akab and his kingdom​

An icy silence fell.

“You are playing with fire, Agathe," said the Basileus.

“No, Philippos," replied the Empress, downing her glass. “I play with ashes."​

 

[Werther]

From the hill where he could see the whole battlefield at a glance, Jean wondered who had been the first to flee. Was it a pikeman or a simple peasant? The emperor was too far from the battle to tell, but a handful of soldiers in the centre of the rebel army had just dropped their weapons and fled.
​

The battle of Nablus​

From a few dozen, the deserters grew to hundreds, then thousands. The enemy line was disintegrating rapidly, as if sucked into a growing gap. Soon only the wings were left to hold their positions. Faced with the risk of encirclement, they had no choice but to retreat in turn.
​

Duke Guichard II of Cairo, Emperor Jean I the Greek and King Jacques the Red of Arabia​

“It's over," said King Jacques the Red.

“Yes, it is time to start the pursuit," added Duke Guichard II of Cairo.

Jean nodded. He wanted to enjoy this divine spectacle for a few more moments. He wanted to savour his triumph. Look at me, grandfather! Watch me chastise those proud barons!

He drew his sword and turned to his knights who had been waiting for over an hour in the blazing sun. Many of them were eager to join in the carnage.

"Kataphraktoi”, he shouted. “Right here, my ancestors defeated the troops of the Frank, the usurper who wanted to seize the crown of Jerusalem! 71 years later, the army of another usurper is defeated! We have won the second battle of Nablus!” The knights cheered as Jean pointed his sword at the routed army. "Down with the rebels! Not a single one shall escape!"
​

Victory in Nablus​

Jean launched his steed into a gallop, and was quickly followed by the entire reserve.

It was a magnificent cavalcade. Flanked by King Jacques of Arabia and his relative Duke Guichard II of Cairo, Jean galloped across the plain, completely ignoring both allied and enemy foot soldiers. He only had eyes for the enemy cavalry.

The rebels were fleeing at full speed, but their horses were exhausted from a long fight while the loyalists' mounts were still fresh. It was not long before Jean and his companions caught up with them.

Far from surrendering, the Syrians dismantled and regrouped. They were prepared to sell their lives dearly and the emperor had no choice but to order a charge.

The melee was short, confused and brutal. Jacques and Jean were among the first to break the enemy ranks, but their ardour paled in comparison to the savagery of Duke Guichard. Thirsting for revenge since he had learned of the siege of Cairo, the Montoire killed no less than three rebels. He had more difficulty against a knight bearing the arms of the Imamaddin. The two men exchanged a few sword strokes before Duke Guichard took advantage of an opening to unleash a powerful thrust. The sword found the flaw in the rebel's armour at one of the joints, and sank deep into the knight's flesh, who let out a horrible cry of pain.
​

Left: Rebel knights killed
Right: The duel between Duke Guichard II of Cairo and Geoffroy of Tiberias​

The rebels' morale was low. They gathered around a man with a white beard who was defending a young knight as best he could.

"Mercy! Mercy!" shouted the old man who seemed desperate.

“Your Majesty!" shouted James the Red. “They are surrendering! You must stop the massacre!"

Damned Frankish custom! thought Jean, who with a gesture gave the order to stop the fight. It took some time for his knights to obey him, but they eventually disengaged. Surrounded, the twenty or so surviving rebels seemed to be in bad shape. Half of them were wounded, and at least four appeared to be on death's door.

“Who are you?" the emperor asked the man with the white beard.

“I am Richard of Quragir," he replied. “Great-uncle and knight of Duke Josselin of Homs. And this is his son and heir, Josselin the Fine," he said, pointing to the young knight he was protecting.
​

Robert of Quragir and Josselin the Fine​

"Do you surrender, sir Richard?" asked Jean. It cost the empereur to not put the rebels to death, but such was the Frankish tradition.

"We are ready to surrender, Your Majesty, but first you must give us your word that you will not harm us and will treat us with the respect due to our rank. You are also obliged to care for the brave men who fought so valiantly today. Like poor Geoffroy of House Imamadin." He pointed to the knight whom Duke Guichard had pierced earlier. Bathed in blood, the poor man was writhing in pain and moaning pitifully.

“He is the heir of Duke Alain III of Tiberias," said Jacques the Red to the emperor.

“A son of a traitor!” roared Jean. “You are all traitors! How dare you ask for an oath from your legitimate Basileus? You perjurers, who did not hesitate to break yours! I will dispose of you as I wish, even if I want to organise a triumph and drag you behind my chariot through the streets of Nablus!"

This speech sent a chill through the ranks, including the loyalists.

"So what is said about you is true," replied Richard. "You are a Greek tyrant who respects none of our customs!"

Jean clenched his fist, ready to order his men to finish the job.

"Your Majesty," Jacques intervened again. “Even Prince Henri the Black spared his enemies after the first battle of Nablus.”

“He punished the traitors," replied Jean.

“At the Judgement of Nablus," added the Red.

Jean gritted his teeth so hard that he nearly broke his jaw.

“So be it," he finally said. I give you my word that no harm will come to you until you are judged, after my final victory over my uncle. Until then, you will remain my prisoners."

Richard surrendered his arms and was soon followed by his kinsman Josselin and all the rebel knights. The wounded were rushed to help, but it was already too late for Geoffroy of Tiberias.
​

The death of Geoffroy of Tiberias​

Several wagons were brought in to transport the prisoners, the wounded and the bodies of the most illustrious knights. When they were loaded, Jean and Jacques and some of the knights set off towards Nablus.

Despite his victory, Jean was in a sombre mood. He had once again been humiliated and his authority challenged.

“A great victory!" said Jacques the Red suddenly, as if to make the emperor forget the incident. “The Syrians will have no choice but to put an end to their offensive. We should take advantage of this to push further north and repel what remains of their forces.”
​

The situation in early 1310​

“It was only a third of the rebel forces”, Duke Guichard warned. Onfroy and Etienne de Mellent will soon leave Egypt and launch an offensive to the south.”

“All the more reason to prevent the Syrians from joining forces with the Usurper's troops," replied Jacques. “We must push our advantage and crush the threat from the north once and for all.”

“Why does it matter?" Jean asked sourly. “Even if I were to defeat the Syrians, I would not be more respected. I will not be allowed to punish them! How can I win the war with these outdated customs?"

Jacques looked at him in silence before answering.

"Respecting these customs will certainly not win you war, Your Majesty. But they will win you peace."​

 

[Werther]

The funeral of Duke André of Oultrejordain had lasted an eternity. In the heart of the Cathedral of St. Mary in Cairo, the former Al-Azhar Mosque, Patriarch Leonard of Alexandria praised the qualities of a man who was known as a tyrant. Perhaps the clergyman thought he would win the favour of the deceased's brother, King Onfroy. This was a miscalculation, as the king seemed to be unaffected by the death of his brother. Etienne had even caught him dozing off in the middle of the ceremony.

Some said that the king had already mourned his brother. It is true that André's death came as no surprise. The epidemic that had struck the army during the siege of the city had been deadly. Few of the soldiers who had fallen ill had survived, and few thought that the Duke of Oultrejordain would recover.
​

The death of Duke André I the Tyran of Oultrejordain​

For his part, Etienne had another explanation. Onfroy and André had always been allies, but they were linked only by blood and well-understood interests, not by real affection.

It was not until around noon that they were finally able to leave the cathedral and the procession, with the funeral carriage in the lead, set off northwards.

It was not long before they reached the palace complex built by the Fatimid caliphs. Built long before the Crusade, it consisted of two palaces. The small Western Palace was quickly abandoned after the conquest of the city by King Henri I the Wise. The dukes of Cairo preferred the Great Eastern Palace. And it was in this building that King Onfroy had settled after the capture of the city.

Between the two buildings was a large square, called Bayn al-Qaysrqayn by the Arabs, literally Between the Two Palaces. It was in the centre of this square that the funeral procession stopped. The patriarch blessed the body for the last time, and then the carriage continued on its way alone towards the Golden Gate.

"You are not accompanying your father's remains to Kerak?" asked Etienne to Andrew the Giant who was standing next to him.
​

Duke André II the Giant of Oultrejordain​

“Why?" asked the colossus, as if the question were incongruous. “I want to fight."

André the Tyrant was not even regretted by his brute of a son.

"My sister will probably need comforting," said Etienne.” I will send your aunt Beatrice to her." In reality, Eve had never liked her husband, and the prince wondered if she would not welcome the news with a touch of relief. Etienne was especially keen to get rid of his other sister, Beatrice. As the wife of Duke Guichard II of Cairo, she had been held captive since the fall of the city. Etienne had saved her from the dungeon and had managed to have her locked up in her apartments. But she kept pestering him to get her release. This trip to Kerak would do them both a world of good.
​

The Duchess Beatrice of Montoire​

The court then went to the Great Golden Hall of the Great Western Palace. The Mohammedan style of the huge room was a reminder that it had once been the heart of Fatimid power. The conquest of King Henri I the Wise had precipitated the decline of the Great Palace and the Great Golden Hall. Henri II the Coward and Henri III the Younger had ruled Egypt while they were still Crown Princes of Jerusalem, but they had preferred Damietta to Cairo.
​

The Montories of Gizeh​

The palace and the Great Golden Hall had nevertheless regained their former lustre with the installation of the Montoires of Gizeh branch. The founder of the house, Prince Henri the Diligent, was a particularly powerful man who had more or less ruled the kingdom for almost 37 years. The Diligent had marked his status by refurbishing his great hall, and while he had respected the non-figurative style of the room, he had not hesitated to add numerous hierosolymitan works of art and to install a throne comparable to that of a king. Even under the Glorious, the Gizeh family, as Princes of the Blood, had continued to exert real influence on the kingdom... until the scandal of 1281.

That year, Guichard I, the father of the present duke, was caught in bed with none other than Empress Athanasia, Etienne's own mother. Hugues III had not dared to have the duke arrested, but afterwards the Gizehs had fallen into disgrace and had never again returned to the court of the Glorious. Sometimes Etienne wondered if he was the son of Duke Guichard I.
​

The scandal of 1281
Athanasia remains silent and frozen, but I can see in her eyes that my fears were justified. I too am frozen, but my heart is beating fast.
The words finally come out of her mouth: "Please my dear husband, you must forgive me. I beg you! I... I will tell you everything. I shared my bed with your cousin the Duke Guichard. It only happened once, I swear!"​

The prince ended his reverie and came to stand behind the throne of King Onfroy, ready to give his advice to the sovereign.
​

Prince Etienne and King Onfroy​

The audience began with the homage of André II the Giant, the new Duke of Oultrejordain. He was so tall that even on his knees he was still a head taller than his uncle. Onfroy's hands did not even manage to clasp those of his nephew.

When this was done, Catherine of Batarnay, widow of Hugues II the Dark and mother of Hugues III the White, was summoned. Etienne and his sister-in-law had never liked each other and he wondered what she could possibly want from Onfroy.
​

Queen-dowager Catherine of Batarnay​

"Cousin," she said to the king, a clever spin that allowed her to avoid using his royal or ducal title. “I am glad to see you.”

“So do I, Queen Catherine," replied Onfroy, who was staring at her. “It is a long time since I had the honour of speaking to you. Wasn't it the day you left Egypt, when you were preparing to marry the Dark? Anyway, what brings you before me?”

“I am here to visit my brother Duke Guichard of Alexandria, one of your most loyal supporters. It would have been inappropriate not to introduce myself to you.”
​

The Batarnay family​

“Quite right, Madam," replied the king as his gaze lingered on her chest. “I am happy to welcome you to my court."

Clever, thought Etienne. But she thinks Onfroy to be more subtle than he is. He touched the king's shoulder, which allowed him to intervene.

"Is my good nephew King Hugues the White with you?" asked Etienne.

“I myself insisted that King Hugues III visit his maternal uncle”, Catherine replied. “But he did not wish to undertake the perilous journey from Al-Salman to Cairo. These are not safe times.”

“Perhaps he prefers Jerusalem?" insinuated Etienne.

“Your half-brother, Prince Henri, has indeed advised him to visit the Holy Sepulchre, but as I told you, he prefers to stay in Mesopotamia.”

“I am told that he has sent some of his vassals to the capital," said Etienne.

“Only a few," said Catherine. “He prefers to keep most of them with him... in case he is threatened."

The message was clear enough now, but Onfroy, whether he did not understand or did not care, thought it best to divert the conversation.

"They say that Hugues the White thinks he is a sultan. Is it true that he walks around with a Mohammedan turban on his head?"
​

King Hugues III the White of Mesopotamia​

The king and his sycophants burst out laughing, which was not to the liking of the queen dowager.

"At least he does not think he is a Greek, and does not sell Jerusalem to his aunt."

From Catherine's hateful look, Etienne finally understood why she, who did not appreciate the rumours of bastardy spread by Onfroy's supporters about her late husband, was so favourable to them. She didn't care about Onfroy and Jean. But by supporting Agathe, the emperor had alienated her. The rivalry between the two women was long-standing, but the death of Hugues the Dark to conquer Agathe's crown seemed to have reinforced Catherine's hatred for her sister-in-law.

"Your Majesty," said Etienne, careful to tickle his pride by using that title. I can assure you that my nephew has nothing to fear from King Onfroy. After his victory, he will receive all the honours that are due to him."

Catherine seemed satisfied, curtsied and withdrew.

The next applicant was none other than Duke Jean of Shammar. The former steward of the Empire seemed to have difficulty containing his anger.

"Sire," he began without bothering to kneel. “The governor of Aqaba has just informed me that bannermen of Your Majesty have presented themselves to him and requisitioned the fortress in your name."
​

Duke Jean of Shammar and Aqaba​

Etienne could not help but sigh inwardly. He had done everything to dissuade the king from taking Aqaba.

"Yes, my dear duke," replied Onfroy. “I remind you that these lands should normally have belonged to my father.”

“Infamy!" shouted the Duke. “This is a tyrannical act, not even the Greek would have dared! Yet I am one of your most loyal supporters. I did not hesitate to give up a place on the emperor's council to defend your cause, I have…”

“You obeyed your king," Onfroy cut him off.

“Your Grace," Etienne hastened to intervene to prevent the situation from getting out of hand. “As you know, since the peasant Akab has been recognised as king, he has forbidden us to cross the Sinai to please my sister. Aqaba is essential for our offensive against Jerusalem. The king has seen fit to take temporary control of this castle. You will be compensated and, I promise you, the place will be returned to you as soon as the war is over."

He hastened to touch the king's shoulder, who was about to deny it. Jean of Shammar remained suspicious, but he accepted after obtaining a large sum of money. When an agreement was reached, he withdrew.

The king was about to receive a new request, when a man in chain mail burst into the palace. Covered in sand and obviously exhausted, the man made his way to the throne.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! A most important message!" He completely ignored the line of petitioners and continued. "The Greek successively crushed the troops of Duke Philippe of Palmyra and Duke Alain of Tiberias at Busra and then Jarrash.”
​

Jean the Greek victories​

“Did they make it?" asked Etienne.

“Yes, my prince," replied the messenger. “The last I heard, the dukes of Palmyra and Tiberias had managed to gather the survivors and were heading north to rally the Duke of Homs and put Syria on the warpath. The Greek's men seem to want to launch an offensive in the north.”

“I had forbidden them to try anything after their defeat in Nablus!”, exclaimed Onfroy.

“Duke Philippe recalled it to Duke Alain, Sire," said the messenger, clearly uncomfortable. “But the duke of Tiberias wanted to avenge the death of his heir and…”

“A great deal!" said the king. “His honour is not cleared, his heir has not risen from the dead and we have lost several thousand men! I should leave them to fend for themselves against the Greek.”

“Your Majesty," intervened Etienne. “The fall of Syria would be a disaster.”

“And what do you suggest? To come to the aid of Dukes Philippe, Alain and Josselin?”

“No," said Etienne. “I think it's time. Time to march on the Holy City."​

 

[Werther]

Jerusalem had always been overpopulated. Its walls were like a youthful dress that this fat old lady insisted on wearing. The approach of the enemy army had only made matters worse. For several days, thousands of peasants and inhabitants of the suburbs had been taking refuge behind its walls. The narrow streets of the city were so crowded that it took Jean well over an hour to reach the Zion Gate, south of Jerusalem.

His wife Theodora and their eldest son, Crown Prince Jean, were waiting for him at this gate. Like any Greek, the emperor had learned to read with the Iliad, and he could not help but think of that scene in Canto 6, where Andromache and Astyanax bid farewell to Hector before he left to defend his city.
​

Empress Theodora and Crown Prince Jean​

“Father!" Prince Jean shouted as he ran towards him. “Let me come with you! I want to slaughter some rebels!”

“You are too young," Theodora intervened. “You are not yet old enough to abandon me like your father.”

“Your mother is right," said Jean the Greek, to the great displeasure of his son, who began to sulk. “You can still see the battle from the ramparts.” He pointed to the top of the walls where hundreds of onlookers had already gathered to watch the spectacle.

“You will have a front row seat to see your father killed," Theodora pursued her lips.

“You know that duty calls me, woman," said Jean. “The enemy is at our gates and I must repel them for the good of the Empire.”

“For the good of the Empire?" asked Theodora tartly. “For a kinglet’s crown, you mean? Onfroy doesn't want to be emperor. Is it worth getting killed, leaving me alone in this foreign land?"

This is quite different from the moving separation between Hector and Andromache, the emperor thought.

"I will win," Jean said simply before leaving her without a final goodbye.

After passing through the gate, the emperor quickly crossed the deserted outskirts of the city to the plain where the imperial host was already in battle order. He moved towards the knights in the second line. While some were adjusting their chain mail with the help of their squires, others were receiving communion from Patriarch Gilbert himself.

"Any movement?" asked Jean when he joined Duke Guichard II of Cairo and King Jacques of Arabia.
​

Duke Guichard II of Cairo, Emperor Jean the Greek and King Jacques the Red of Arabia​

“They haven't moved since dawn," replied Guichard.

“Are we ready?”

“Everything is in place," the duke assured him.

“Your Majesty," intervened Jacques, "I still think it's a bad idea. A very bad idea.”

“Are you afraid, the Red?" laughed Guichard, who had deliberately not used his title of king.

“It's not too late," Jacques continued, completely ignoring the duke. “We can still take refuge behind the walls and prepare the defence of the city.”

“You're like my wife," said Jean. “No, it's too late. I will not cower behind my walls like a coward. Onfroy's army is almost equal to ours, and I intend to crush it here and now. You will command the left and Guichard the right. I will take charge of the centre.”

Jacques James frowned, but as a good soldier, he bowed to his emperor. He and Guichard gave a few orders and then left to take up their position with some of the knights.
​

“I will pray for your victory, Your Majesty," said the patriarch, approaching the emperor.

“I thank you, Your Holiness," Jean replied. “Did you bring what I asked for?”

“Yes, Sire," Gilbert summoned a cleric carrying a large banner with the arms of Jerusalem. “It belonged to Hugues the Great himself. I have had the Greek Beta sewn into it, as you requested.”
​

Patriarch Gilbert and the Jerusalem banner​

Jean took hold of it with one hand and admired it for a few moments.

“Good, Gilbert," he finally said. “You should take refuge inside, it will soon become dangerous.”

“Yes, Your Majesty," replied the patriarch. “I will observe you from the ramparts. I want to witness your triumph so I can write about it in my chronicles.”

When the patriarch left, Jean went alone to stand before the army. Holding up the banner, he recited the speech he had prepared.

"Soldiers of the Empire of Jerusalem! Brutus and his cronies are here! They did not hesitate to betray me and insult the Empire! But today you will punish them! Like Caesar's legionaries avenging his death at Philippi, like Augustus' soldiers punishing the cursed Antony at Actium!"

His speech did not have the desired effect. The few men who heard him seemed not to understand a word he said.

"Whatever," the emperor grunted. He handed his banner to his squire and then joined his knights in the second line. He ordered them to dismount. The terrain was flat and ideal for a cavalry charge, but the latter might destabilise his own lines.

The two armies watched at each other for a while. The rebels sent out volleys of arrows, hoping to lure some loyalists. But not one of Jean's soldiers moved. The emperor wondered whether he should be proud of their discipline, or worried that they were so reluctant.

Onfroy's troops had no choice but to launch an assault. Jean had expected a complicated manoeuvre, worthy of the great ancient battles he had devoured since his childhood. But the enemy commander decided to rely on brute force, sending his centre and wings crashing into the loyalist lines.
​

The shock was violent. It was far from an epic battle between proud Achaeans and brave Trojans. It was a confused and bloody melee where the defenders tried as best they could to repel the enemy charge.

Jean took a little distance to get a better view of the situation. He sent a few reserves to reinforce the line at one place or another. But the carnage was so confused that it was hard to know whether he was winning or losing.

His men nevertheless held their ground. Without retreating, the rebels began to ease their assault. The emperor looked to his left and was pleased to see that Jacques was also managing to keep his troops together.
​

The batlle of Jerusalem​

Despite the noise of the fighting, he soon heard shouts coming from the walls. At first he thought the people were cheering for their soldiers, but he could hear a hint of panic in their shouts. He saw most of them looking to the west.

Enemy reinforcements had moved along the western wall and caught Guichard's men in the rear. The Duke of Cairo did his best to rally his men, but in vain. The right wing was being crushed.
​

Jean realised with horror that his army was about to be enveloped. He had no time to think, he rushed to his heralds to give the only order that still gave them a chance.

“Retreat!" he shouted. “In good order! We must regroup in the suburbs! The suburbs!"​

 

[Werther]

Jerusalem, sighed Etienne. What joy Hugues the Great and the Crusaders must have felt when they saw it for the first time! The dream of their lives, so close, ready to fall into their hands.

Of course, the Crusade had taken place over two centuries ago. In the meantime, the small Fatimid town had become the capital of a powerful empire and its suburbs now extended far beyond its walls.

As for Etienne's army, it was not preparing to liberate the tomb of Christ from the Mohammedans, but to fight good Christians.
​

Duke Jean of Shammar, Prince Etienne, Mayor Bérenger the One-Eyed and Duke André the Giant of Oultrejordain​

"Ten thousand, maybe twelve," said Jean of Shammar, pointing to the enemy army lined up in front of the southern suburbs.

“We have more men," said André the Giant.

“Not much more," said Etienne. “I still think we should wait for the Syrians or at least for His Majesty. My messenger left over a fortnight ago. If the king has heeded my advice, he should have abandoned the siege of Jaffa and should not be far from us.”

“No need," said Mayor Berenger the One-Eyed. The old man had that stern look typical of clerics and military men, which was quite fitting for a former Templar. The man seemed inflexible, and Etienne sometimes wondered why he had been excluded from the Order of the Temple. "Saint Etienne spoke to me in a dream and assured me of our victory. Do not doubt me, Your Highness.”

“I do not doubt you, Berenger," said Etienne, "nor your worth. Had I doubted you, I would not have insisted so much that His Majesty entrust you with the command of the army."

The One-Eyed's thin lips formed what must have been a smile. He may have presented himself as a paragon of virtue, but he was a proud man who was not difficult to flatter. In reality, Etienne was a poor commander and he knew it. He had no desire to lead his troops to defeat. The prince had nevertheless wanted to keep control of the situation, hence the appointment of Berenger, his vassal, to lead Onfroy's armies. But perhaps it is not necessary to tell the One-Eyed, the prince thought.

"And far be it from me to question the wisdom of our patron saint," continued Etienne. “I am not, however, in the habit of betting my head on a vision." And even less so on that of a one-eyed, bigoted commoner, he added to himself.

"This vision was however formal, our charge will break the Greek's army," replied Berenger who neither understood nor appreciated humour.

“Charge," said André the Giant, adjusting his helmet. That's a simple plan that works for me."

How surprising, thought Etienne.

"And if we can't break through the enemy line?”

“Then we will pray for Saint Etienne's help," said the One-Eyed.

“You mean Onfroy?”

-Same thing. If His Majesty arrives in time, we will owe it to God.

“Or to my messenger.”

“Whose sending was inspired by Providence.”

“You have an answer for everything.”

“Only God has the answer to everything," replied the old man.

“Enough theology for today," growled Duke André. “I take the centre, the honour of breaking the enemy army is mine.”

“I will command the right wing," said Jean of Shammar. Etienne had little desire to entrust him with this task. Ever since the king had tried to take Aqaba from him, the duke had never lost an opportunity to show his worth. Too much temerity could be dangerous on the battlefield. The prince could not say anything, however, as the noble's party was based on equality among the barons, and only the king had authority over the dukes.

“Well Mylords," said Berenger. "I will therefore take command of the left wing.”

“I will go with Duke André," Etienne announced as his squire handed him his weapons.

“You?" laughed the colossus. “You are not known for your valour with a sword.”

“I fought in the Greek campaign and was a marshal of the Empire for over a year," Etienne retorted. In reality, the prince had a lump in his stomach. In his youth, he had of course dreamed of great exploits, of becoming the equal of Roland or Duke Gerard III, he had even considered joining the Order of the Temple. Since then, he had grown up and understood that he would never accomplish any feats on the battlefield. He did his part, however, because the Frankish aristocracy remained a nobility of arms, and fighting was the surest way to keep the respect of his peers.

Everyone took their positions. The army that faced them did not seem to want to move. Etienne thought he saw a man holding a large banner move in front of the front ranks, but he gave no marching orders and soon moved back behind the lines.

The hostilities began with a volley of arrows fired at the imperials. Etienne hoped that some peasants would fall for it, but they did not react.

The prince remained at the head of the reserve while André launched the charge against the enemy army. For a while Etienne believed that the Imperials would give in, but the assault lost its momentum and the lines stabilised.
​

We do not have enough men to win. At best we will lose a lot of soldiers, and at worst... Saint-Etienne, if you want to intervene, it is now or never.

Had Berenger really had a vision? Was the patron saint protecting them? Had he listened to Etienne's prayer? In any case, it was at this very moment that a miracle took place.

From the west, hundreds of knights appeared. Bearing Onfroy’s banner, they charged the rear of the enemy right wing which was quickly swept away. The centre had no choice but to retreat and reposition itself to counter this threat. This created a gap with the left wing which, according to the banners Etienne saw, must have been commanded by King Jacques of Arabia. The Red soon gave up all hope of victory or even of taking refuge behind the city walls and retreated eastwards, pursued by the men of Jean of Shammar.
​

The imperial ost is in full rout.

It was so surreal that Etienne almost wanted to pinch himself. But it was no dream. The Greek's army was breaking up and only the centre was holding together, but was retreating towards the suburbs.

Oh, Father! What did you feel in Constantinople? Pride? Relief?

The prince ordered his men to charge. They came upon the few survivors who had been unable to retreat. Etienne's steed collided violently with an infantryman holding a Jerusalem banner.

Sadness?

The soldiers were promptly massacred and the nobles captured. Etienne then headed for the suburbs where the fighting continued to rage. Whoever was in command had made a good decision. There were plenty of alleys that could be easily defended by a handful of men, and even the main street leading to the Gate of Sion could be blocked with a few well-motivated pikemen.

When he entered the main street, Etienne discovered a real hell. The ground was littered with corpses and blood. Several houses had caught fire and he had great difficulty in calming his horse, which was frightened by the flames and smoke.

In the middle of the street, he finally reached André the Giant and his knights.

"Not too afraid to expose yourself, prince?" asked the colossus.

“You look like you could use some help," said Etienne, pointing to a hundred loyalist soldiers stationed in front of the Gate of Sion.

The Giant spat on the ground before lifting his war spear as if it were a mere twig.

"They are defending the gate so that the bulk of their troops can take refuge behind the walls. Several of our peasants have broken their teeth against these dogs.”

“Brave men," replied Etienne. “They are ready to give their lives to save their companions.”

“Fools," André retorted. “They should have closed the gate by now. When I have broken their line, I will enter the city and end this war.”

He lowered his spear and charged the defenders. Etienne lowered his visor and the world was soon reduced to this small opening. He launched his steed at full speed. The spear was heavy, but he concentrated all his strength to keep it in front of him.

The impact was extremely violent. His spear smashed through the skull of a churl but the impact made him drop it. He struggled to keep his seat. In front of him, the steed of André the Giant had just knocked down three men and was heading for the gate. Etienne got back on his saddle and followed him. They were so close... Archers were firing from the ramparts. So close... A knight on his right fell to the ground, pierced by several arrows. Close...

The portcullis closed abruptly Etienne heard the joy of the defenders, then the whinnying of a horse with its reins violently pulled and finally the crash of a knight hitting the portculliss. The prince managed to control his horse and turn back, as did André the Giant, who cursed the defenders, extending his huge fist towards them.

As Etienne moved away from the gate and the danger of the archers, he could only scream in rage. That portcullis had delayed the end of the war. They would have to lay siege to the city.

It was at this point that he heard cries of fright coming from the walls. A terror that contrasted with the joy that had seized his own men who were cheering and running through the streets.

“What's going on?" asked Etienne to one of the soldiers.

The man turned and smiled at him, revealing several snags. "Got him, m’lord! Captured him!"

Who? Etienne was about to ask, before realising that the question was unnecessary.

He knew who they had captured.
​

The defeat of Jerusalem and the capture of Emperor Jean I the Greek​

 

[Werther]

"Where are you taking me?" shouted Jean as he struggled. “Answer, traitor!" The guard ignored him and pulled on his irons to lead him down the stairs. They emerged into a small, dark corridor with an uneven floor.

"Let go of me! I am your emperor and you must obey me!” In response, the man opened a heavy wooden door and pushed him ruthlessly into a room.

"How dare you?" But the guard did not listen to him and closed the door violently. Jean rushed against it and hammered it with both fists shackled by the irons.

"By Saint Theodore! Open this door!"

He heard the sound of a key being turned in the lock. He only banged the door with more force, nearly breaking his wrists.

"Open up and I'll show you mercy," he pleaded, but there was no sound from behind the door. There was no one there.

Jean turned around and found a small, low-ceilinged room. The only source of light came from a narrow opening that let in the rays of the setting sun. The walls were made of rough white stone blocks and the earthen floor was uneven. There was a shabby bed, a rickety table and chair and a chamber pot in the corner of the room.

Jean would have been in one of the communal buildings found in every village in the Jerusalem area. They were under the responsibility of the raïs, the village chiefs whose title dated from before the Crusade. These buildings served as storage for the crops, as a meeting place for the council of elders or as accommodation for the agents of the crown who came to collect taxes. This room in particular seems to have been used as a cellar.

"Traitors!" shouted the emperor, kicking the chair as it flew across the room. “When I get out of here I will have you hanged!"

He continued to curse his jailers until the sun set. Exhausted, he finally sat down in silence on the bed covered with bedbugs.
​

Emperor Jean I the Greek​

With a blank stare, he inspected his breastplate, still stained with the blood of battle. He wondered how he, the great emperor of Jerusalem who was still facing the enemy on the battlefield this morning, had come to this point.

How long did he wait in the dark, with only his failures for company? He had no idea.

Eventually he heard a key turn in the lock. He stood up abruptly and tried to strike a proud pose.

The door opened to reveal two maids.

"I demand to be let out!" ordered the emperor. The two women were obviously frightened, but they ignored him and entered the room in silence. They placed a tray overflowing with food on the table, lit candles and laid clothes on the bed.

“Do you think an emperor would stoop to putting on peasant's clothes?" asked Jean to one of the girls, who took fright.

“You are wasting your time”, said a man standing in the doorway. Like many peasant women, this young lady doesn't speak a word of French. And you should put on those clean clothes. Sometimes it is better to look like a manant than a defeated emperor.”

The man entered the room and, with a gesture, led the two young maids out.

“Jean of Shammar!" cried Jean. “Traitor! What are you doing here?”
​

Duke Jean of Shammar​

“It is my men who are in charge of your... protection," replied the former Imperial Chancellor. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“My uncle or the usurper.”

-Prince Etienne and King Onfroy plan to see you tomorrow," Shammar replied as he stepped into the centre of the room. “First they want to make sure that Jerusalem surrenders, which should happen soon.”
​

“The Hierosolymitans will never accept the usurper! Unlike you, they have too much respect for the Empire!”

“The Empire means nothing to them," replied the Duke. “They follow the emperor, a man, not some abstract concept from the imagination of one of your Greek authors. And that man is a captive. They will not die for a prisoner.”

“Then they are traitors! As you are!”

“I have betrayed no one," replied the Duke. “It is I who have been betrayed, twice. The first of these betrayals is your work. Your despotic behaviour, your disdain for the barons, your fascination with the Greeks, even your ridiculous accent. You insult Jerusalem, its customs and its princes! You despise our laws, reject the Spirit of the Crusade, trample on the heritage of your forefathers! My mother's family has defended this kingdom since Hugues the Great, and my father's since Henri II. My ancestors sacrificed themselves for your family! And I should let you subdue their descendants? Despise their rights? Destroy their traditions? You are a traitor!"

The duke straightened the chair and planted it in front of the table. "Eat, you need your strength.”

“For my execution?" asked Jean.

“What execution?" sneered Shammar. “I told you, we are not in Constantinople. We don't execute our rulers. We don't blind them, we don't castrate them... we don't overthrow them. We even take care to preserve their honour.”

“By locking them in a cellar?”

“Your capture was a surprise to everyone, including us. And we have run out of beautiful residences to lock you up in. Don't worry, if you accept Etienne and Onfroy's conditions, you will soon be back in your beautiful palaces, your silks and your exquisite food. You are still the emperor, Your Majesty. You will soon be a puppet in Etienne's hands, but an imperial puppet."

The duke moved towards the door with a quiet step. "I must leave you, Your Majesty. I must inspect my men guarding the Tanners' gate. They tend to doze off or get drunk.”

“Shammar!” Jean pointed to his irons. “Am I supposed to eat and dress with my fists tied?"

The Duke turned and smiled at him. "Drink some wine, Your Majesty. A great vintage from Aqaba. You will love it." He turned on his heels and left.

Confused, Jean stared at the door for some time. Eventually, however, he sat down and grabbed a loaf of bread. At first he feared that it was poisoned, but his stomach tortured him and he took a bite. No sooner had he swallowed it than a bestial hunger seized him. Despite his chains, he threw himself on the bread and cheese and devoured them in an instant. When he was full, he grabbed the cup of wine and drank it down .... before he was seized by a violent coughing fit.

Poison, he thought, before realising that he had swallowed something cold and metallic. His coughing increased and he found it harder and harder to breathe. He put two fingers in his mouth and regurgitated his entire meal. Finally he was able to take a deep breath of air and thanked God for it. It took him a while to come to his senses, but when he felt better he discovered a key in his vomit.

He rushed at it and clumsily tried to open his handcuffs. In panic, he had to try several times, but finally freed himself.

No sooner had the chains fallen to the ground than he rushed to the door with the key. He tried feverishly to insert it in the lock... without success. It was too small.

He was about to collapse in despair when he remembered that he hadn't heard the lock click when Shammar had left. Holding his breath, he turned the handle... and the door opened.

Traitor, thought Jean. The emperor peeked through the doorway. He expected to find a guard posted in front of it... but the dark corridor was deserted.

He was about to run out the door when he remembered the Duke's words. Sometimes it is better to look like a manant than a defeated emperor.

Jean returned to the bed and got rid of his armour. It was not an easy task, but when it was done, he hastily put on the tunic. He now looked like any other villain.
​

The escape attempt​

With his heart pounding, the emperor ventured down the corridor. He moved slowly, taking care not to make any noise. He soon reached the stairs and climbed them without making a sound. When he reached the ground floor, he expected to come face to face with a room full of guards. In reality, there was not a soul in sight. He could hear singing and laughter, but it was coming from the upper floor. The guards must have been having a good time with the wine of Aqaba.

Jean hurried outside. He pulled his hood down tightly, but the village was almost deserted and the few guards he passed paid him no attention. He hurried into the shadows of the narrow streets and, stepping over some fences and palisades, soon found himself outside the village.

He ran breathlessly across the fields. When he thought he had gone far enough, he turned to look at the hamlet. He burst out laughing madly. He had succeeded, he had played with fate!

When he had finally calmed down, he turned towards Jerusalem. A huge army surrounded the city. For a moment he hesitated to turn back. Perhaps he could go west, to Jaffa or Ascalon? Or to the east, to find Jacques and the remnants of his army?

But he remembered what Shammar had said, if he was thought to be a prisoner, Jerusalem would surrender. And without the Holy City, he would definitely lose. He had to get in... but how? All the gates were probably well guarded by the rebels and...

Tanners’ Gate! The revelation made him burst out laughing.

Traitor, he thought as he set off.
​

"I am Free!"​

 

[Werther]

When the sun set, the streets were covered with blood. As a young man, Etienne had been marked by the description of the three days of slaughter that followed the capture of Jerusalem. The chroniclers described, with a mixture of horror and fascination, the rivers of blood that were shed. 212 years later, the scene was repeated.

“Was this really necessary?" the prince asked King Onfroy, who was walking ahead of him.
​

Onfroy​

“You know it was," said his cousin in a tone that showed no emotion. “My men have suffered for months, they must be rewarded. As for the inhabitants, they dared to resist and they must be punished. Rest assured, the soldiers mainly attacked the Jewish and Greek quarters. I have forbidden ransacking the churches and the looting will stop long before the notables suffer too much."

A small consolation, Etienne thought, as he looked away from a pile of bodies lying in front of a wealthy house.

They finally arrived at the imperial palace. The fighting had been particularly fierce at the entrance to the austere building, but Onfroy's soldiers, recognisable by the Safarga coat of arms sewn onto their surcoat, had moved the dead bodies and formed a guard of honour to welcome the king.

As he passed the door, Etienne remembered that it was here that his destiny had been decided.

His first eight years had been the best of his life. Father was so happy to have legitimate children that he had pampered Etienne and his sisters, granting them all the honours denied to their half-brothers and sisters. There were even whispers that the Glorious intended to disinherit the children of Maria Komnenos and designate the prince as his heir.

Then came that fateful day when, on the steps of the imperial palace, his mother hugged him tightly. He had not understood why she was sobbing so hard. He did not know about her affair with the Duke of Cairo, nor about her disgrace. And that day he hadn't realised that he was seeing her for the last time.
​

Empress Athanasia run away (1281)​

After the empress's flight, the prince's world fell apart. Suspicion had crept into the mind of the Glorious and Etienne was never nicknamed the Heir. The emperor turned his attention back to his two eldest children, Jean and Agathe, while Etienne, marked by the suspicion of bastardy and despised by his father, shared the fate of his half-brothers Hugues and Henri.

Look at me, Father. Look at me. See how the "bastard" has triumphed over your heir.

Despite his inner bravado, Etienne was not at ease as he walked through the Kings' Gallery. The rulers depicted on the tapestries seemed to be judging him. He brushed aside this thought as they pushed open the door to the great hall.

It was in a gloomy atmosphere that Onfroy and Etienne crossed the room to the imperial throne where Jean I the Greek was seated surrounded by the empress Theodora, the crown prince Jean and the patriarch Gilbert of Puy du Fou.
​

Empress Theodora, Corwn prince Jean, Emperor Jean I the Greek and Patriarch Gilbert​

The emperor wore all the imperial symbols, including the crown. He still exuded a certain presence, but his features were drawn and his shoulders hunched. It was an angry but broken man they had before them.

"Your Majesty," said Onfroy as he reached the foot of the throne. “It is an honour to see you at last after the tragedies that have befallen the Holy Land.”

“Tragedies of which you are the cause, Duke Onfroy," replied the Greek. “And you forget yourself by not bowing to your emperor.”

“I am a duke, Your Majesty," replied Onfroy, "but it is only fitting that you address me by my principal title, that of King of Jerusalem. Your respect for me will be paid in return by my submission, as well as that of my faithful followers.”

“Faithful?" Jean repeated mockingly. “Where is Jean of Shammar? He is the only one of your lords who could claim that quality.”

“I'm afraid we don't agree on that," said Onfroy. “Shammar has returned to his land... in Surrah, in Arabia. His... initiative caused him to lose Aqaba and Tamuk."

Idiot, thought Etienne, thinking of Shammar. He had always been quite close to the duke, and he had done everything possible to convince Onfroy to give up trying to seize his titles. And Etienne would have succeeded if Shammar had not betrayed the king.

“I owe this man and I cannot let you treat him like this," said Jean.

“And yet that's what you'll do," said Etienne. “You are no longer in a position to negotiate, nephew. And what has he done but prolong this war by a few months? This adventure was useless and without it, many brave men would be alive today.”

“Etienne, come on," said Onfroy with a smile. “You insult the exploits of our emperor. Such an adventure deserves its place among the deeds of our family. I am sure that His Holiness Gilbert will be pleased to write about it in his book."

Onfroy's smile faded as he slowly ascended the steps to the throne. "But the Prince is quite right in one respect, Your Majesty. You are no longer in a position to negotiate."

He stopped in front of the emperor, whom he towered over. "You have lost."

Hatred was not a foreign feeling to Etienne. He had seen men consumed by anger before, and more than once he had felt intense rage against those who had opposed him. But never in his life had he seen a look so full of hatred as the one the Greek was giving Onfroy. His nephew seemed to be making a heroic effort not to throw himself on the king and strangle him.

Instead, the emperor slowly opened his hands to welcome Onfroy's, who knelt down.

"Onfroy of House Montoire," said Jean in a trembling voice. “Do you wish to become my man without reserve?”

“I do," replied Onfroy.

The two men embraced, and then Onfroy declared, "I promise in my faith to be faithful from this moment on to the Emperor Jean and to keep my homage to him against all and entirely, in good faith and without deceit."

At last, Etienne thought. After so many years and so many sacrifices.

Emperor Jean released his vassal's hands and then, in a defeated voice, spoke the long-awaited words.

"Rise, King Onfroy."​

Defeat​

 

[Werther]

"Your Majesty?"

The servant's voice was soft and calm. To the emperor's ears, however, it sounded aggressive and boisterous. It broke the graceful melody of the waves crashing at the foot of the Palace of the Broken.

"Your Majesty?"

Since the capture of Jerusalem, Jean had not been able to sleep so easily, and only the sound of the backwash soothed him. So he spent most nights on the terrace facing the sea. The rolling of the waves lulled him, and sometimes he managed to fall asleep.

"Your Majesty?"

Why wasn't he left alone? Wasn't that the reason he had chosen to come and live here? His great-grandfather Hugues II the Broken had built this palace in the time of the Black Years to withdraw from the world. He too wanted to be alone, far from wars, plots and traitors...

"Your Majesty?”

“What?" asked the irritated emperor.

“The... the King of Arabia," stammered the servant. “King Jacques is here... he requests an audience."

Jean gave a long sigh in reply. With one hand, he beckoned the servant to let Jacques the Red in.

Jean heard the king of Arabia, but, with his eyes still fixed on the Moon whose rays made the waves glitter, he neither rose nor turned.

"Thank you for receiving me, Your Majesty," said Jacques in his deep voice. Jean did not answer. By ignoring his marshal, he still hoped that the latter would leave him in peace.

This was to misunderstand the king of Arabia who, far from admitting defeat, came to stand before the emperor. In his large hands he held a coffer decorated with the Montoires arms.
​

King Jacques the Red of Arabia​

“You are blocking my view, Jacques," Jean said simply.

“It is no longer time to lose yourself in your dreams, Your Majesty," replied Jacques the Red.

Unlike Jean, defeat had not shaken the King of Arabia. He still exuded an unshakeable strength. The emperor could not help but notice the look in his eyes. He could discern a hint of pity, disappointment and even disgust.

“What do you want, Jacques?" he asked in a weary voice.

“I wish to take my leave, Sire. Duty calls me to Arabia.”

“You don't need my permission to abandon me.”

“I am not abandoning you," Jacques retorted. “On the contrary, I intend to restore order among my vassals and prepare my troops for the day when you will need me.”

“Useless..." Jean gasped.

“Not useless," Jacques retorted. “We must react. You must react. Your place is not here, but in Jerusalem, in the Imperial Palace.”

“What would I do there?" asked Jean . “The traitors have left me the city... officially. In fact, 'King' Onfroy occupies the Imperial Palace and the imperial council is now an empty shell. Etienne and the royal council make all the decisions. I am only a puppet emperor in the hands of these traitors... barely good enough to put his seal on their decisions." Jean rubbed his eyes. He was so tired. "No, I do well to stay in the Palace of the Broken, to finish my life peacefully, like my great-grandfather.”

“Like Hugues II? Mocked? Scorned?" asked Jacques with a touch of disdain. “You must react!”

“How?" asked Jean in a breath. Gaza, Tripoli, Beirut, I lost all my counties. Even Jaffa! I practically had to humiliate myself to keep this palace. My income is barely enough to finance the court.”
​

The five counties lost by the emperor. The imperial domain is limited to the capital, Jerusalem​

“You still have your vassals.”

“All the lords of the Crown of Jerusalem, even those who had remained loyal to me, are now Onfroy's liegemen.”
​

King Onfroy of Jerusalem​

“You have allies. Your aunt is the head of the Greek Empire!”

“I no longer have any connection with Constantinople," sighed Jean. Etienne dismissed my ambassador and appointed Catherine in his place. She hates Agathe, conciliation with the Greeks is no longer on the agenda. And even if I did manage to contact Agathe, what could she possibly do? I am told that she has managed to make peace with one of her enemies, a certain Akab who proclaims himself king .... but this has cost her a third of her empire. My aunt has only a handful of soldiers left to put down my cousin and my mother who want to take her crown...“
​

The Byzantine Empire​

“At least she is fighting.”

“A futile resistance. She will learn it, as I did…”

“She shows courage and strength of character. She is the worthy heir of the Montoires, and it is you who should learn from her.”

Jean raised his head to look into Jacques' eyes.

“I don't like your tone or your insinuations," he said coldly. “You forget who I am.”

“What about you? Don't you forget who you are?”

“I will not allow you to speak to me like that. I am the emperor of Jerusalem!"

For the first time, Jacques smiled.

"So you still have an ounce of pride left," said the King of Arabia, clearly pleased. He handed him the coffer.

"What is this?”

“Open up," Jacques told him.

Inside it, the emperor discovered a crown full of decorations.
​

The High Crown of Jerusalem​

“My grandfather's crown," says Jean. “I thought it was in Jerusalem.”

“I asked a servant to take it when we left the capital.”

“Why? I already have a crown.”

"A vulgar Greek jewel," Jacques grinned. “It can in no way be compared with the High Crown."

Jean turned it over and over in his hands.

“Too busy, badly balanced," he said. “It looks like several crowns attached to each other.”

“Its value does not come from its beauty," sighed the Red, "but from what it represents for the Franks... “

“... the Empire?”

“Not only that," replied Jacques. “You are right in one respect. When he had it forged, more than 35 years ago, your grandfather Hugues III the Glorious asked that it combine elements of the Three Crowns of Jerusalem.”

“The Three Crowns?”

“Your ignorance of your own history never ceases to amaze me," Jacques said with a sigh. “The kingdom of Jerusalem has known three crowns. The first was worn by Hugues the Great himself when he was elected King of Jerusalem by the Crusaders. It was a gift, it is said, from his brother Philip, King of France. Is this true? I cannot say, but it is indeed adorned with the fleur-de-lis of the Capetian house.”

Jean admired the lilies that had been forged on the High Crown.

"Out of respect for the founder of your house, no other ruler of Jerusalem wore the Crown of the Great which was displayed in the Holy Sepulchre... until your grandfather crowned your aunt Agathe with it.”
​

The Crown of the Great​

“She still wears it," Jean remembered. “He must really love his daughter…”

“Or consider that a crown of a conqueror could only go to a conqueress." Jacques pointed to one of the rubies in the High Crown. "These jewels are supposed to represent the Crown of the Wise. Since Henri I did not want to wear his father's crown, he made a new one. Three other kings wore it.”

“Where is it?“

“This is the Crown of the Wise that your uncle stole to put on Onfroy's head."
​

The Crown of the Wise​

Jean felt a surge of anger. "And the last one?”

“The crown of the Glorious," replied the Red. “Your grandfather sought in every way to distinguish himself from his father Hugues II the Broken, so he had his own crown forged. The golden circle that adorns the High Crown represents it. He only wore it for about twenty years and gave it up when he was elevated to the rank of emperor. It was given to your uncle Hugues II the Dark. It now belongs to Hugues III the White, King of Mesopotamia. It is nevertheless represented on the High Crown by this golden circle.”
​

The Crown of the Glorious​

“Why are you telling me all this? What does it matter? It's just an object, a symbol.”

“A symbol of power. And symbols of power are power”

“So? It's an imperial crown, not the royal crown that Onfroy stole from me.”

“Have you been listening to what I've been telling you? This crown represents much more than the Empire. Hugues III asked for a crown representing his heritage, each of his predecessors, those rulers who came to the Levant to carve out a kingdom for themselves by force. The High Crown represents Jerusalem, Kingdom or Empire.”

“I am an emperor, not a king," Jean retorted.

“You are mistaken, Your Majesty. You are not merely Emperor of Jerusalem. Give up this imperial mirage that the Greeks have stuffed into your head. You are supposed to be King of Jerusalem. Onfroy did not usurp this title from you, you gave it up. Assume what you are, Sire! A Frankish prince!"

Jean answered nothing. He admired the crown, feeling an irresistible urge to wear it. He felt the desire to kill them all, the Frankish lords, Etienne, Onfroy... all of them!

But eventually he closed the coffer and pitifully lowered his head.

"Go, my lord," he breathed as he sat back down. “You already have my blessing to return to your lands."

Jacques did not move. Still standing before the emperor, he insisted.

"I had hoped to convince you to embrace your heritage and take back what is rightfully yours. I have not succeeded, but I will not allow your lineage to falter. If you refuse to listen to reason, then your son and heir is our only hope. I wish to take him with me. He is almost 9, and old enough to be my squire. I will make him a true Frankish ruler. If you wish to give up, so be it, but do not deprive your son of an education worthy of his ancestors."
​

Crown Prince Jean​

An icy silence fell over the terrace.

“The Empress will probably be opposed to it..." sighed Jean . “But so be it. I'll grant you this request. Now get out of here, I want to be at peace."

Jacques bowed and left the emperor alone on the terrace.

He tried to regain his composure by admiring the moon and letting himself be lulled by the waves... but his mind was irrevocably drawn to the coffer and its contents. The High Crown....

The most prestigious of the four Crowns of the Levant.​

 

[Werther]

Built on a hill only a few leagues from Philippopolis, one of the largest cities in the Empire, the monastery of Saint Erasmus was, in times of peace, a popular place for pilgrims. They came to adore its many relics and admire its architecture, which blends Greek and Bulgarian influences.

Today, however, the building looked gloomy and ominous, a feeling reinforced by the threatening sky and the thunderstorm that was rumbling in the distance. Agathe and her escort were alone on the road leading to it.

"I don't trust this place," said Pulcheria Doukas as they approached. She kept giving worried glances around, as if expecting an ambush. "You should have at least brought a bigger escort.”
​

Duchess Pulchreria Doukas, Head of the Imperial House​

“The conditions were clear," replied Agathe. “We cannot take more than two guards with us.”

“The place is too isolated, and we are so close to Philippopolis, the capital of Dorothea's supporters... it could be an ambush.”

“The monastery is more than two leagues from the city," corrected Agathe. “And this meeting is under the protection of the Jerusalem Empire, my niece will not dare to try anything against us.”

“You are quite confident, Your Majesty," replied Pulcheria in a reproachful tone. “I fear for your safety."

Agathe smiled. She was reassured to see Pulcheria so worried about her. Since the treaty with Akbar and the loss of her Anatolian lands, the head of the Imperial Household had been holding some grudges against the empress. Philippos kept warning her against Doukas and asking her to dismiss her from the council. Agathe, however, did not wish to alienate one of the most powerful ladies of the Empire and she had never had any complaints about her services.

"You should be more concerned about your cousin…”

“Hippolytos?" asked Pulchérie. “I told you, he is ready to take your side.”

“For good this time," she said, thinking back to the day when Chancellor Hippolytos Doukas betrayed her to join Dorothea.
​

The War of the Three Empresses​

They soon arrived in front of the monastery where the abbot and a handful of monks were waiting. They dismounted and Agathe ordered her two men-at-arms to wait for them outside. The empress and Pulcheria followed the abbot who led them to the chapter house where the meeting was to take place.

As she entered the vast, dark room, the empress was greeted by the announcement of a herald: "Princess Agathe of Montoire."

Agathe saw Pulchérie tense up, but she ordered her not to make a fuss. The empress did not want to spoil the talks over a title. She crossed the empty room and came to sit on one of the four chairs arranged around a large round table. Pulcheria stood behind her.

“Dear sister," said the man sitting on her left in a honeyed voice. “I am so happy to see you.”

“An unrequited pleasure, Hugues," replied the empress.

“Ougos," corrected his bastard brother, his eternal smile on his lips.
​

Ougos Antaolikos (Hugues the Bastard)​

“I am surprised that Helena sent you. I would have expected to see her, or at least Dorotheos Ouranos or another of her despots.

“The Empress and the Domestic of the Schools are far too busy to attend a princess meeting," Ougos cackled.

Agathe was about to retort when the herald announced the arrival of her niece.

"Princess Raymonde, daughter of the late Empress Dorothea, and the Logothete of the Drome Hippolytos Doukas."
​

Princesse Raymonde of Montoire and Duke Hippolytos Doukas​

Dressed entirely in black, Raymonde's features were marked by mourning, her complexion was livid, cadaverous. Agathe was no less struck by her resemblance to her brother the emperor Jean. The empress's niece came and sat down on the chair opposite her. Logothete Doukas remained standing, one step behind the princess.

Raymonde's arrival had only increased the unease and tension. Even Ougos did not dare to say a word, and the silence seemed to last forever.

They were saved by the herald who announced the arrival of the ambassador from Jerusalem: "Her Majesty the Queen Mother Catherine of Bartanay".
​

La reine-mère Catherine de Bartanay​

While Agathe had dressed in knitwear, her sister-in-law had not skimped on the silks. Her appearance was nothing short of regal, and her arrogant bearing spoke of how pleased she was with her new role. The look she gave Agathe was unmistakable in the hatred she still felt for her. The empress knew that Jean's defeat meant a weakening of her cause in Jerusalem, but she had still been surprised by the appointment of Catherine, one of her greatest rivals. The latter did not go to Constantinople immediately, but to Philippopolis. The political message sent by Onfroy and Etienne had at least had the merit of being clear.

Much more pleasant - and unexpected - was the discovery of the man of the cloth who accompanied Catherine. They had not seen each other for fourteen years and he was now a tonsured man, but she immediately recognised her nephew Hugues the By-Blow whom she liked so much. This feeling was shared by the big smile that lit up his face when he saw her.
​

Hugues the By-Blow​

Catherine sat down on the last of the chairs, while Hugues the By-Blow took his place behind a desk. He took a sheet of parchment and a quill, ready to take notes of the meeting.

“Dear friends," began Catherine. “I would like to begin by expressing the gratitude of King Onfroy and Emperor Jean to you. Their Majesties are grateful to you for agreeing to this meeting. An event that Dorothea Komnenos would surely have wanted. I would like to begin this day with a tribute to the mother of Emperor Jean. Her death was a tragedy, but her soul has now joined Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.”
​

The Late Dorothea Komnenos​

These few words seemed to touch Raymonde who, with her eyes closed and her hands clasped, said a prayer. Much less convincing was the mourning of Ougos.

"The death of this illustrious woman saddens us today”, Catherine continued. “But perhaps it will have a meaning tomorrow, by allowing us to obtain peace. This is in any case the dearest wish of Their Majesties Onfroy and Jean, who offer themselves as impartial intermediaries to resolve your differences…”

“Impartial?" laughed Ougos. “Your emperor is the brother of Princess Raymonde and the nephew of Princess Agathe…”

“And your nephew," added Catherine. “He is also cousin to the Princess Helena whom you serve. The Council of Jerusalem is neutral in this conflict for the Greek crown.”

“Raymonde," intervened Agathe, addressing her niece directly. “Despite our differences, the death of your mother, my own sister-in-law, has touched me. I know how much the Princess Do…”

“The Empress Dorothea," Raymonde cut her off curtly. “My mother, God rest her soul, was crowned by a bishop recognised by Germanos II, the only legitimate patriarch of Constantinople. And she did not recognise you, her crown must go to someone of her blood.”

“You, I presume?" asked Ugos with a smile.

Raymonde gave him a cold look.

"I respect the rules of succession of the Empire. I am its first born, but a woman.”

“If you wish to respect his will and the name of the Komnenoi, says Ougos, you should support Her Majesty Helena I, a true Komnenos, the offspring of your mother's brother and the legitimate granddaughter of Basileus Pantaleon. A woman who shares your faith and whose numerous troops are massed on your border.”
​

Helena I Komnenos​

“Is that a threat?" Raymonde asked coldly. “My mother's rightful heir is my elder brother, Jean."

A cold chill fell over the room, even Hippolytos Doukas did not seem comfortable.

“The masks are falling off!" said Ougos indignantly. “So the court of Jerusalem, supposedly neutral in this matter, wishes to turn our empire into a mere province of the Holy Land.”

“Sir," Catherine intervened, "the Jerusalem Council is firmly opposed to such a solution."

Raymonde frowned, clearly displeased with this refusal from Jerusalem.

“The rules of succession are clear," she said.

“Perhaps we can find a compromise," said Catherine. “The emperor cannot accept the crown of Constantinople... he can, however, accept the lands that Dorothea held in her own right, as well as all those who swore loyalty to her.”

“Ignominy," said Pulcheria indignantly. “The empire of the Romans does not follow the rules of the Latins! This is not a cake that you can cut up and distribute as you please!”

“Wasn't it your empress who offered a piece of it to that Arab wren?" asked Catherine with a cruel smile. The wound in which the Queen Mother was turning the knife was still painful, and Agathe sensed Pulcheria's anger.

"I refuse!" Everyone turned to Hippolytos Doukas. "With all due respect to you and your mother, Princess Raymonde, I cannot agree to recognize the suzerainty of Jerusalem." He walked around the table and dropped to one knee before Agathe. "If you are willing to grant me your forgiveness, I will recognise you as the true empress, and all the lords who have followed me."

Ougos laughed loudly. "Once a turncoat, always a turncoat. I refuse to take part in this charade for another second.” He stood up abruptly and walked away.

Catherine ignored the incident and turned to Agathe.

"Sister-in-law, do you accept the cession of Philippopolis to Emperor Jean?”

“What will I gain?”

“Support from Jerusalem.”

“Armed support?”

“You know well that this is impossible... understand that your cause is not viewed favourably in Jerusalem. Make this sacrifice and King Onfroy will not stand in your way."

Agathe pouted in disgust. She looked into Catherine's eyes.

"I see that your hatred for me has not been extinguished. Has the death of your husband, my brother, under the walls of Constantinople made this matter personal to you?"

For a second, Agathe saw a glint of hatred in Catherine's eyes. But she kept her composure.

“Childishness," she swept aside. There's nothing personal here, and even if there was, my husband's death for you and your crown should make me support your cause.”

“During the events in Jerusalem, you pledged allegiance to those who conspired against my cause. To the rebels…”

“To the authorities," cut in Catherine. “And you misjudge me, Agathe. The only thing that matters to me is my son. And King Hugues III the White is not your enemy... accept our help."

Hugues the By-Blow went around the table and handed a parchment to Raymonde who, without hesitation, affixed her seal to it. He then took it to Agathe who took it. She read the terms of the treaty with a heavy heart.

"I have no choice," she murmured, taking out her seal.

Pulcheria turned on her heels and stormed out of the room, while Agathe set her seal, ceding Philippopolis to the Jerusalem Empire.

A terrible decision. But she was willing to do anything to save her crown... even make peace with Catherine.
​

Emperor Jean inherits Philippopolis​

 

[Werther]

The great hall of Yamama had probably never hosted so many great lords. King Jacques' steward had done his best to fit them all on the dais, but some of the counts had to be placed on the tables below.
​

The lord of Arabia (from left to right) : Duke Manasses of Mecca, Duke Charles II of Al-Jawf, Duke Mursel of the Tugrulids, Duchess Elodie of Najd, Duke Sigismond of Al-Hasa, Duke Jean of Shammar, King Jacques the Red of Arabia, Duke Jean III of Asir, Duke Evrard II of Yamama, Duke André of Oman and Duke Aimery of Mahra​

Young Jean tried as best he could to weave in and out of the diners to serve slices of braised pork to each guest. An absurd and degrading Latin custom, unworthy of a prince, but the Red had insisted that his squire become a lackey.

This midget Duke Charles of Al-Jawf had only accepted a slice, unlike that simpleton Jean of Montoire-Tathlith, Duke of Asir, a glutton who stuffed himself like four. Duke Mursel had politely refused. An Arab dressed as a lord, Jean thought. He may have converted, but he'll never touch pork, any more than those musicians with their ear-splitting rabab.

He was about to serve Duke Manassès of Mecca when the latter rose to give a toast. "I believe I speak for everyone here in thanking His Majesty Jacques for his welcome to his magnificent citadel."

Peuh, said Prince Jean to himself as he served that fat lump of Evrard, Duke of Yamama. A rickety old tower in the middle of the desert. Even the latrines are bigger in Constantinople.

He was not sure that the Duke of Yamama shared his opinion. Instead of raising his glass, Evrard II inspected the room with a stern look, as if to check that no trinkets had been moved. The pile of stone had belonged to him before King Jacques requisitioned it to house his court.

Agathe of Montoire-Tathlith, wife and great-aunt of Duke Jean III of Asir rose in turn: "My husband and I also wish to congratulate you once again on your marriage to our dear relative Ermengarde. We are happy to welcome you to our prestigious family."
​

King Jacques the Red and Queen Ermengarde of Montoire-Guizeh​

All the guests imitated the duchess, congratulating the 17-year-old queen sitting next to her husband. She seemed overjoyed and madly in love with the King.

Jean stuck out his tongue in disgust. He liked the Red very much, but he was a son of a knight, almost a commoner. Ermengarde may have only been the daughter of Duke Guichard of Cairo, she was still a Montoire and made a misalliance

The prince was on his way to serve the Duchess Elodie of Najd, when a six year old boy stood in front of him.
​

Gauthier of Montoire​

“I'm the one who serves my grandmother!" bellowed the kid.

“I am Jean of Montoire, Crown Prince of the Empire of Jerusalem, I serve whom I wish.”

“And I am Gauthier of Montoire, and one day I will inherit the Duchy of Najd and the lands of my great-uncle Jean of Asir.”
​

The Montoires-Tathlith family tree​

“I knew the Duke of Asir was weak, but I did not think him incapable of impregnating his wife."

The kid didn't really seem to understand what Jean meant. To be honest, he didn't know either, but Jacques had promised to take him to the brothel to teach him.

“Grandfather," said the youngster, "says his nephew can't have children because his aunt is too old.”

“Never mind your stories of incestuous degenerates," replied the prince. “It is already an insult to my family that camel fuckers like you pride themelves on bearing our name." Jean took a chop and threw it at the boy's head. "For your fat cow of a grandmother."

The kid started to cry, which made Jean burst out laughing. But a hand grabbed him by the shoulder.

"This is not the way a prince should behave," said Jean of Shammar. Ever since he had lost his lands in the Crown of Jerusalem and had been exiled to Arabia, the duke had never left the king's side. Jean did not like him and his black mood, but there was something about him that frightened him. "Shall I inform His Majesty?"
​

Duke Jean of Shammar​

Jean swallowed his saliva. Despite his humble origins, the Red did not hesitate to hit him. He lowered his head and mumbled an apology.

"My lords!” The king called out. “I thank you all for coming here. It is an honour to receive you in my humble home. Today, I am proud to be the ruler of the Crown of Arabia!" A clamour greeted his words. "I would like to..." he waited until it was completely quiet before continuing. "I would also like to toast to the overlord of us all. Long live the only Sovereign of Jerusalem, Emperor Jean!"

All the lords nodded loudly in agreement and downed their cups of wine before sitting down again... all except Duke Evrard II of Yamama.
​

Duc Evrard II de Yamama​

"I would also like to raise a glass to those who have supported you from the beginning. Who proclaimed you king in the High Court. To those who fought with you, in the battle of Jerusalem."

As he spoke, the Duke stared at Jean of Shammar who stood to the left of the King. The tension was palpable and, while most of the lords lowered their cups, they were not very enthusiastic about it.

When Evrard sat down, the music started again, but the atmosphere had cooled down. One after the other, the guests asked to leave to go to their apartments.

The king and queen themselves eventually greeted the lords and withdrew. Jean followed closely behind, escorting them to the donjon.

"I see you didn't just make friends at the banquet," said the king as Jean helped him off with his clothes.

The prince swallowed his saliva, wondering if Shammar had not reported the incident to the Red.

"A brat disrespected me. A subject who dares to contradict a prince in Constantinople…”

“You're not in Constantinople," Jacques cut him off. “And if you are really a prince, you must charm your future subjects. One day this brat will be one of your vassals, and your reign may well depend on his support. In the Empire of Jerusalem, the ruler serves as much as he rules. Remember this."

The prince mumbled his assent, then left the royal chamber. He returned to the small adjoining room where he had been installed. He hated it. Too hot during the day, it was freezing at night. It was also too small and unworthy of his rank. The only entertainment he had been left with was a few books selected by Patriarch Gilbert. All boring books about saints... and all in Latin! He had preferred to use the Life of Saint Stephen of Jerusalem to train with the sword.

Through the small opening he found himself admiring the vastness of the desert and the tide of Bedouin tents pressing against the fortress. He was about to spit at a guard on duty when he heard a high-pitched shout from the royal chamber.

Jean reacted quickly, grabbed his sword and stormed into the room.

He discovered his cousin Ermengarde naked as a glass and could not help admiring her breast. The queen was hysterical and pointed to the bed where the king lay bare-naked.

The prince approached slowly, sword raised before him. The king's empty gaze seemed to stare at the ceiling. His mouth was wide open, dripping a thin stream of drool and vomit. His complexion was as pale as the marble statues in the Grand Palais. Dead, Jean thought, fascinated... almost excited by the corpse.
​

The corpse of Jacques the Red​

A shout from Ermengarde snapped him out of his reverie. He saw why. From under the blanket he saw a large black scorpion emerge. He did not hesitate for a second, striking the beast with all his might. His blow missed and sank deep into the king's groin. The beast ran over the dead man's chest. Jean struck again and again, lacerating the Red's body but failing to kill the beast. The queen screamed horribly at each of the prince's blows.

Finally, he crushed the scorpion. He shouted in victory as the blood of the king and the beast splashed on the walls.

Too happy to have killed the scorpion and too fascinated by the dead man, he barely heard the guards coming up behind him.

A hand finally snapped him out of his reverie. "Come, Your Highness." He recognised the voice of Jean of Shammar pulling him back. "We must leave as soon as possible.”

“Where?" asked the prince.

“We need to get back to your father.”

-Why?" the prince asked as he followed the duke up the stairs. The latter turned back to Jean and looked into his eyes.

"This scorpion didn't get into His Majesty's bed by itself."​

 

[Werther]

"The members of the Council have asked me to convey their sincere greetings to you.”

Standing in the centre of the ceremonial hall, Etienne was resplendent in his silks and surcoat of arms. On almost every finger was a signet ring embellished with jewels. And that smile, muttered Jean inwardly. That satisfied smile... blessed the day I can make him swallow it. The Emperor readjusted his position in his seat. That day had not come, and he had to drink the poisoned chalice to the dregs and endure this charade.
​

Prince Etienne Mellent​

“What news from Jerusalem, Uncle?" he asked.

“The Council has met again. We have received news from Queen-Mother Catherine. Since your mother's death, Agathe seems to be in a better position. Helena Komnenos still dominates the battlefield but cannot achieve a decisive victory and her subjects are tired of war. As for Philippopolis and its region, it is now under our control. We have discussed which governor we should appoint.
​

Philippopolis​

“I had thought," Jean began, "of my brother Antoine. He was close to my mother, knows Philippopolis well and…”

“Too young and inexperienced," said Etienne. “And too Greek. No, the Council put forward these three names..." He handed the emperor a parchment. Jean was not surprised to find only Onfroy and Etienne's creatures on it. "You may, of course, choose freely among these faithful servants."

Jean handed him the scroll. "Do as you please…”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. The council appreciates the trust you have placed in it. By the way, the High Court has been convened.”

“I was not informed of this," said Jean. “No lord who has deigned to visit me has mentioned it.”

“Only a few lords of the Crown of Jerusalem participated. The Council did not see fit to summon those living far from the capital. And we know that you are very busy, Your Majesty, so King Onfroy stood in for you. The lords of the kingdom would like you to affix your seal to these new laws."

Jean took the parchment and quickly read the demands: lower taxes, reduced levies, private wars and inheritance for foreigners... he felt sick to his stomach.
​

The High Court's decisions​

"Is this a joke? No ruler in Jerusalem has ever accepted such a loss of power.”

“And yet, the good kings Henri II and Hugues II accepted similar conditions…”

“The Coward and the Broken? I will be in good company.”

“The Council supports these demands," announced Etienne, barely veiling his threat.

“So be it..." said the emperor with a flick of his lips before affixing his seal and handing the parchment to the prince.

"By the way, His Majesty Onfroy is pleased with the good cities of Beirut and Tripoli. A gift for which he can only praise you... nevertheless, the Council deems it time for you to hand over full suzerainty over these lands.”

“The Duchy of Lebanon..." translated Jean. “This title belongs to the Crown since ....”

“... far too long. The duchy is supposed to be an apanage. The current situation is an incongruity...."

“...and I'm going to end it," sighed Jean.
​

The Duchy of Lebanon is granted to King Onfroy​

Etienne bowed. "I thank you, Your Majesty. I will inform the Council of your wise decisions."

Without asking for permission, the prince turned and headed for the door.

"And the murder of Jacques of Arabia?" the Emperor asked, forcing Etienne to turn around.

“Murder, Your Majesty? According to our information, it was simply a scorpion sting, a tragic event, but common in these parts. It seems that your son has already tried and punished the animal.”

“Animal placed by Duke Evrard II of Yamama. To whom, if I am not mistaken, you have just handed over the king's former stronghold.”

“Yamama belonged to Evrard, it is normal, in the absence of a king of Arabia, that the place should revert to him. The Duke had nothing to do with the death of Jacques the Red. You're listening to Shammar a bit too much, Sire. You know what they say, once a traitor... Perhaps he hopes you will reward him with the title of the deceased. The Council should give you a list of lords worthy to wear the Arabian crown."

With a smile on his face, Etienne left.

Jean got up and came to stand in front of the desk where he worked.

“You have heard everything I presume?" asked the emperor without turning around.

“Not a single one of his insults escaped me, unfortunately," replied Jean de Shammar, slipping into the room.
​

Duke Jean of Shammar​

“Me too, dear duke, me too," said the emperor, admiring a coffer.

“You were quite calm in the face of such humiliation.”

“I think I'm past the anger stage, my lord.” He pointed to a scroll that lay near his chair. “Take this.”

“What is it?" asked the Duke of Shammar, unfolding it.

“A list of names. The members of my new Council which will meet next month.”

The chamberlain quickly went through the list of names while nodding his head, clearly satisfied.

"Shall I invite them to the Palace of the Broken, Your Majesty?”

“No," said the emperor, opening the box and taking out the imperial crown. “The council will meet in Jerusalem."​

 

[Werther]

An icy wind suddenly picked up and swept across the rocky promontory where the meeting was to take place. The delegation shivered as the white banner flapped over their heads. Agathe pulled her coat up to protect herself from the cold.

Four loyalists in a cold wind about to meet a usurper named Helena, the empress thought. I have a feeling of déjà vu...

Of course, the situation had changed considerably since her encounter with Helena II outside Constantinople. For a start, she was not before the walls of Theodosius, but a league away from Gallipoli, the stronghold of Helena I.

Secondly, none of the people who had accompanied her ten years ago were present today. Her brother Henri was living in Baghdad where he was giving advice to their nephew Hugues the White. Gilbert du Puy du Fou was now Patriarch of Jerusalem. As for her husband Philippos, he was holed up in the comfort of his palace in Constantinople. In their place were her faithful Pulcheria Doukas, her sister-in-law Catherine and her nephew Hugues the By-Blow.

Duchess Pulcheria Doukas, Empress Agathe, Queen Mother Catherine and Friar Hugues the By-Blow​

Above all, Father and his 20,000 men were gone. She could only rely on her own meagre forces against the far superior armies of Helena. Agathe could no longer afford a battle.

"I doubt she'll submit," she muttered as she watched the rebel delegation come to them.

"And yet," said Catherine. “I'm sure she will.”

“And why is that? My troops are so few compared to her.”

“These are not Helena's troops," replied Pulcheria Doukas. But despots, and they are tired. According to my informants, Ioannes Bryennios, the despot of Serbia, has returned to his own land and is reluctant to send reinforcements. Alexandros Palaiotes, the despot of Hellas, was one of the first to side with the usurper, yet he is one of the strongest supporters of these talks. His influence is growing at the expense of the hardliners led by your half-brother Ougos.”

The rebel despots: Despot Alexandros Palaiotes of Hellas ; Despot Ioannes Bryennios of Serbia; Despot Dorotheos Ouranos of Anatolia​

“And according to my own sources," added Catherine, "Helena's most loyal supporter, the despot Dorotheos Ouranos, is said to be in doubt. I tell you, they are ripe.”

“We'll see," Agathe said doubtfully.

The rebel delegation soon arrived. Like Agathe, Helena had put on a coat of mail and a crown. She was accompanied by two of her despots. Alexandros Palaiotes was all smiles, while the Domestic of the Schools Dorotheos Ouranos showed no emotion. Ougos, Agathe's bastard brother, came last. His dark look left no doubt as to how he felt about this meeting.

Despot Alexandros Palaiotes, Helena I Komnenos, Despot Dorotheos Ouranos and Ougos Anatolikos​

"Agathe," said the usurper simply.

“Helena", replied the empress.

The exchange had been colder than the wind that continued to blow.

“Every Roman," said the despot Alexandros Palaiotes in an enthusiastic tone, "should be delighted to see the empress and the princess meet at last.”

“I wonder," muttered Ougos, "who you consider to be the princess and who the empress.”

Catherine brought her horse forward.

"It is an honour to finally meet you, Helena. King Onfroy and Emperor Jean wish to express their deep respect for you and your family.”

“They would show me more respect if they stopped meddling in the affairs of our empire," Helena replied curtly, which made Ougos laugh.

“The rulers of Jerusalem," Catherine continued as if nothing had happened, "want peace.”

“And the empress must submit," spat Ougos.

“It's not...," Catherine began.

“My advisor is right," interrupted Helena. “Don't waste my time, you want me to submit. Why do you think I will accept? I have won all my battles.”

“And yet I am still here," replied the empress.

“With what? 5,000 men at the most. I have eight times that many!" Agathe noticed, however, that Dorotheos Ouranos, so far unmoved, seemed uncomfortable.

“These men belong to your supporters," she replied. “Supporters who have been fighting continuously for eight years. How much longer will they fight? Constantinople is still mine and 40,000 men cannot take the city.”

“Your father has done it.”

“We controlled the seas, you do not.”

“And while you are happily slaughtering each other," added Catherine, "your enemies are eyeing the Empire.”

“You are probably talking about yourself," replied Ougos. “Is Philippopolis to Emperor John's taste?”

“I was talking about King Akab.”

Malik (King) Akab the Peasant King​

“A peasant," said Ougos dismissively.

“A peasant, intervened Despot Alexandros, who has seized Epirus and threatens Serbia and Greece.”

“Akab also controls much of Anatolia," Agathe added, "and is eyeing up what's left.”

As she spoke, she did not take her eyes off Dorotheos Ouranos. Only he matters. Helena is full of arrogance, but without her despots she is nothing. Palaiotes is already in my favour and Ouranos is viscerally opposed to me. Everything depends on Ouranos.

“It has been many years since I left my lands...," said the despot of Anatolia after a long silence. “And my sister-in-law has indeed informed me of the Sultan's intentions.”

Princess Marthe of Montoire, sister of Agathe and sister-in-law of Dorotheos Ouranos​

“Princess Marthe is also the sister of the Usurper," said Ougos.

“Perhaps," said Ouranos, "but her arguments for peace did not fall on deaf ears.” He turned to Helena. “With all due respect, the Empire is more important than the Empress."

Bless you, sis, said Agathe to herself. It seems that Father had seen into the future when he married you to the brother of the despot of Anatolia.

With her eyes fixed on Ouranos, Helena seemed to be thinking. Ougos wanted to intervene but she cut him off with a gesture, then turned to Agathe.

"What do you propose?”

“An... acceptable compromise," said Agathe. “You and your supporters will receive letters of amnesty. You will retain your titles and lands and will all be under my protection. Your son Valerios will be made Caesar and Dorotheos Ouranos will enter the council as Marshall.”

“And the patriarch?”

“Patriarch Isaac, whom you appointed on the death of Germanos II, will be able to settle in Constantinople and will be on an equal footing with Patriarch Roubaud. The Union with the Pope will be postponed to a future council. In the meantime, all the subjects of the Empire will be free to take communion according to the rite of their choice and to honour one or other of the patriarchs during the mass.”

Bouchard, Latin Patriarch of Constantinople and Isaac Greek Patriarch of Constantinople​

“And in return?" said Helena.

“You will bend the knee and acknowledge me as the rightful empress.”

“Is that all?" asked Ougos tartly.

“No," said Agathe to everyone's surprise. “The amnesty does not concern Hugues the Bastard, here. He will be able to leave the Empire freely and settle wherever he likes, except in Jerusalem.”

“How merciful, sis!" laughed Ougos. I will see to it that you suffer the same fate the day the empress defeats you."

His laughter died as he discovered the serious expression of his empress. "Your Majesty, you are not thinking of..."

Helena I of the Komnenos house completely ignored Ougos. She took off her crown and gave it to Dorotheos Ouranos, then dismounted. She walked up to Agathe and then, after a short hesitation, bent her knee before her.

The surrender of the rebels : a white peace​

Helena was quickly followed by the two despots. Ougos refused to do so. He spurred his horse and disappeared, cursing them.

The exile of Ougos in the Malikat of Akab​

The empress was seized with a strong emotion. She looked at Catherine who was smiling at her. Agathe nodded her head, expressing her gratitude to her former rival.

She had done it, she had saved her crown.

She had finally obtained peace!

Peace!​

 

[Werther]

"Your Majesty, I'm sorry but I can't let you in."

The guard was probably no more than twenty years old and was clearly impressed by the emperor and the great lords who accompanied him. Nevertheless, he stood between them and the council chamber, his left hand on the hilt of his sword.

“I am the emperor of Jerusalem," Jean thundered. “I order you to go away!”

“I... I have," stammered the guard. “I have orders.”

“From whom?”

“Fr... from Prince Etienne," said the young man, pointing to the embroidered shield on his tunic.

A flush of anger swept over the emperor. "Count Orson!"
​

Count Orson of Haditha​

Armed from head to toe, the lord of Haditha stepped forward. "Sire?"

Although he was not much older than the guard, Orson had proven himself in the War of the Montoires as a knight and then a commander in the rebel camp. Despite his former allegiance, he had been one of the first to answer the emperor's call. Like all the lords of Syria and Upper Mesopotamia, he took a dim view of Etienne's rise and feared that he would crown himself king.

"Arrest this traitor who dares to threaten his emperor!”

“Yes, Your Majesty." Orson issued a command and several imperial guards drew their swords, forcing the young man to surrender.

"Go around the palace," the emperor ordered Orson. “Disarm and lock up my cousin's and uncle's guards and make others swear loyalty. Forbid anyone, including servants, to leave the palace until further notice. I don't want rumours to spread in the city.”

“It will be done according to your orders, Sire," said the count before ordering the imperial guards to follow him.
​

The Imperial Council​

The emperor and his advisors entered the council chamber and took their seats around the large table. Sitting on Jean's right, Patriarch Gilbert looked grim.
​

Patriarch Gilbert​

"It was a brave act, Your Majesty, but... rash," he said carefully. “The arrest of his guards might not sit well with King Onfroy.”

“I don't care about my cousin's displeasure," said Jean.

“I don't know why you have summoned us here," continued the patriarch, "but I am beginning to fear the reason.”

“I have summoned you, Your Holiness, to apologise to you all," Jean said to the surprise of everyone. "My lords, I have not proved myself worthy of the duties that have fallen to me. With my mind stuffed with a Greek upbringing, I have disregarded our customs and denied my predecessors and what they fought for. The Greek is the nickname I deserved. But worst of all, I have been a coward." A few councillors wanted to protest, but he silenced them with a gesture. "I was a coward. I hid in my palace for months. I abandoned Jerusalem and my rights. I abandoned you."

The emperor stood up: "A simple knight, a true Frank, has reminded me of my duties to you. So I swear before you to be the overlord you hope for and deserve. A true Frank, worthy successor to the Crusaders who came to the Levant to liberate the Holy Land."
​

Emperor Jean assumes his origins​

A servant came and brought the coffer and Jean took out the crown and displayed it for all to see. “I," he announced in a loud and clear voice. “Jean of the House of Montoire, descendant of Hugues I the Great, reaffirms my rights as Emperor and King of Jerusalem. I hereby order Onfroy of the House of Montoire-Safaga to renounce all his false claims to the crown of the Holy Land."
​

The emperor takes back the title of king of Jerusalem from Onfroy​

This declaration was received with enthusiasm by the councillors. Patriarch Gilbert rose and took the crown from the emperor's hands.

"Sire, under your patronage, I have been working for several years on the chronicle of the Montoires. I am delighted to see you finally accepting your heritage." He took the crown from Jean's hands and placed it on his head. "Long live the King of Jerusalem!"

A clamour greeted his statement. For the first time in ages, Jean felt pride.

When it was quiet and everyone had sat down again, the patriarch spoke again.

"However, Sire. With this proclamation you have crossed the Rubicon. King Onfroy will never submit, and many of the lords of Jerusalem will support him. I fear that civil war may once again descend upon the Empire.”

“The patriarch is right," says the chamberlain Jean of Shammar. “Although I do not share his fears and call for it, war is a certainty." The former rebel had become Jean's closest adviser and his most bellicose supporter. "The lords of Jerusalem will not follow you, including those who have supported you in the past. They have sworn loyalty to Onfroy.”
​

Left : Duke Jean of Shammar ; Right : map of the rebels (red) and loyalists (blue) in the Crown of Jerusalem​

“Even Duke Guichard of Cairo?”

“We had secured his support by marrying his daughter Ermengarde to Jacques the Red... but the death of the King of Mesopotamia has reshuffled the cards. He will not break his oath to Onfroy. At best we can hope that he will drag his feet.”

“You have nothing to expect from these traitors of Lower Egypt," spat Duke Payen III of Al Said. “But you can count on the lords of Upper Egypt. We have always been loyal to the Montoires and we will fight for you!"
​

Left : Duke Payen III of Al Said ; Right : map of the rebels (red) and loyalists (blue) in the Crown of Egypt​

To the Montoires, but which ones? Jean asked himself inwardly. Despite his boasts, Payen, like all the lords of Upper Egypt, had supported Onfroy, who was one of them. They had nevertheless been disappointed by the usurper, who had constantly courted the lords of the Delta. The prospect of fighting against the lords of Lower Egypt and of obtaining a place as chancellor on the Council, a first for a duke of Upper Egypt, had been enough for the lords of the south of the Nile to rally behind Jean.

"My mother Queen Catherine," intervened Hugues the White, "assures me that her brother the Count of Alexandria will also support you."
​

Left : King Hugues III the White of Mesopotamia ; Right : map of the rebels (red) and loyalists (blue) in the Crown of Mesopotamia​

Jean had not known his uncle Hugues II the Dark, but he had heard enough about this brave and irritable warrior to know that his son and heir was nothing like him. The king of Mesopotamia had fine, delicate features and pale skin that could not stand the glare of the sun. His hair was bright white and his moustache was carefully combed. He preferred the silks fashionable in Baghdad to coats of mail and always displayed refined manners.

He was still one of the most powerful men in the Empire. During the last conflict, he had remained neutral, which had cost Jean dearly. This is why he had gone to great lengths to win him over this time, showering him with honour and appointing him treasurer of the Empire.

"It goes without saying that Mesopotamia is behind you, cousin," said the white man, stroking his moustache.

"So is Arabia," added Duke Manasses of Mecca. The new marshal had been a loyal supporter of Jacques the Red, so he had been much less difficult to convince. A veteran of many wars and particularly appreciated by his peers, his appointment had pleased the lords of Arabia. Jean of Shammar was already on the council, but the Arab lords did not consider him to be one of their own.
​

Left : Duke Manasses of Mecca ; Right : map of the rebels (red) and loyalists (blue) in the Crown of Arabia​

“Except for Evrard de Yamama," says Jean de Shammar.

“I'm glad I'm not riding with a murderer," spat Manasses.

“This traitor will pay for his crimes," intervened Jean. “According to Count Orson, no lord of Syria or Upper Mesopotamia will follow Etienne. So only the lords of Jerusalem will oppose me.”
​

Map of the rebels (red) and loyalists (blue) in the Crown of Syria-Upper Mesopotamia​

“A formidable force not to be underestimated," Shammar intervened, "the Crown of Jerusalem is the most powerful and richest of all. And it is easier for them to gather and concentrate their troops.”

“We will still have a definite numerical advantage," announced Manasses. “And I took care to raise the levies before my departure from Arabia.”

“Our uncle Henri is already on his way with all the forces of Mesopotamia," said Hugues the White.

“And perhaps we can count on your aunt the Empress Agathe," Payen said. “The Greeks are only just recovering from their civil war, but perhaps I could…”

“I will send a message to my mother," cut him off. She will plead your case to our aunt."

Jean sighed. "Good. So the day has finally come. War, at last!"
​

War!​

 

[Werther]

The seal slowly sank into the hot wax. Etienne held for a few moments before removing it, then inspected the wax to make sure that his personal seal, an intertwined E and M, appeared. He blew on it to dry it, then handed the parchment to the banker.
​

Giovanni Bambone​

“It is always an honour for the House Bambone to do business with you," he says in French with a strong Italian accent.

“I don't think I need to point out that the matter is urgent.”

“No, Signor Stefano," replied the Italian in an obsequious tone. “My nephew Manfredo will sail tonight to..."

The Italian was startled when the door opened with a bang. Not in the least embarrassed, Duke André the Giant entered Etienne's study as if it were his own quarters. He made his way to the desk, completely ignoring the banker.
​

Duke André II the Giant of Oultrejordain​

“Alain of Tiberias has returned," he announced in his deep, monotonous voice. “The king has sent for you.”

“We were done," said Etienne, dismissing the Italian with a wave of his hand.

The latter bowed to the prince. Seeing that the Duke of Oultrejordain was looking at him like a tramp, he took care to go round him and to leave as quickly as possible.

“I hate those Genoese," said André, spitting on the floor.

“Giovanni Bambone is a Pisan," said Etienne, getting up and going out.

“All the same”, said the duke. “Arrogant parvenus. You can't take a step in Beirut without running into one of these parasites.”

“They have their uses," said Etienne as they entered a long gallery whose magnificent pillars were surmounted by an H crossed by an II. An untrained observer might have mistaken these initials for those of Henri II or Etienne's grandfather, Hugues II the Broken. But they belonged to the usurper Hugues "II" the Frank, who had the fortress rebuilt.

“In wartime?" asked André with a tone of full disdain.

“War is expensive, and they have money.”

“Wars are won with swords," André replied as if this were a biblical truth.

“They have swords, but we can't count on them. Nothing matters to the Italians but their interests. And their interests in the region are their trading colonies in Tripoli and Beirut, which they don't want to lose by betting on the wrong horse. They are ready to be accommodating with us, even to help a bit. But to commit themselves frankly to our side? That's risky, especially when you see this." He pointed to the hundred or so wounded soldiers being treated in the courtyard below. "Our defeat at Tiberias, though minor, has cost us some credit with the Italians."
​

The Civil War​

André merely nodded silently and the two men soon made their way to the former ceremonial room that Onfroy had converted into a council chamber when he moved to Beirut after the War of the Montoires.
​

Duke Alain III of Tiberias​

"This is a disaster!" Still clad in his chain mail, Alain III, Duke of Tiberias, was pacing the room, raising his nasal voice that echoed in the small chamber. "By some miracle, my mother-in-law Wulfhilde has managed to send me a message. The situation inside the fortress is catastrophic! The garrison will not last long against the Greek's forces!"
​

The Siege of Tiberias​

The king seemed almost amused by the scene. Slumped in his chair, he nonchalantly picked at a bowl of grapes.
​

King Onfroy​

"We must act, Your Majesty!" cried Alain.

“You gave us the same speech a few months ago," said Etienne, taking his seat at the council table. “And even though our troops were not yet all gathered, we tried to break the siege. You saw the result.”

“This time it will be different!" said Alain, glaring at him. “We have received reinforcements from Egypt!”

“Too few, and only a few levies, no knights deigned to come to us.”

“Not surprising from Guichard the Slow”, laughed King Onfroy.

“A traitor!" roared Alain, who was clearly not laughing at the joke. “The lords of Lower Egypt should be hanged!”

“I think we have enough enemies as it is," said Etienne calmly. “And Barthélémy?”

“The... The Greek refused the ransom for the Duke of Medina," said Alain.
​

Duke Bartélémy of Medina​

“It's not a bad thing," said King Onfroy. “Losing a battle against the young Count Orson, pathetic."

The remark displeased Etienne. The Duke of Medina was a close friend of his and had always been loyal to Onfroy. The prince did not like to see how his Majesty treated his followers in need.

“And if we are short of funds," continued the king, "we surely owe it to our dear Barthélémy, was he not my steward?”

“We should be more comfortable, Your Majesty, I have just met a representative of the Bambone Bank.”

“I see," said Alain, "while my ancestral home is burning, you're quietly discussing with Lombard commoners to get a few coins?”

“You should watch your tongue when you speak to a prince of the blood," said Etienne. “And I got a lot more than a few coins.”

“Troops?" asked Onfroy, completely ignoring the Duke of Tiberias.

“No," said Etienne. “But I have made our enemies lose some. We have enough to do with the Greek's troops in the south, I didn't want his countrymen to attack us from the north. I have removed the threat posed by my sister."

Onfroy gobbled a grain. "And by what miracle, my good cousin?”

“The Pisans are on good terms with Pope Alexander and, like him, are concerned about the Greek presence in Italy, even Genoa is under the theoretical suzerainty of Constantinople. It so happens that Duke Currado II of Benevento, a vassal of the pope, has his eye on southern Italy and needs financial support. Part of our loan is intended for him. He will soon attack the Greeks.”
​

Italy in 1312​

“Italy is far away... I doubt Agathe cares more about it than about her nephew…”

“That is why I also convinced Emperor Deszo of Carpathia to cross the Danube.”
​

The double offensive against the Latin Empire of Constantinople​

“Thanks to Catherine?”

“No, the Queen Mother seems to have double-crossed us and sided with the Greek. Probably to further the interests of her son. It so happens that the Pisans also have trading posts in the Black Sea. It was they who delivered my message.”

“I am very glad I am not your enemy, you are a dangerous man." Onfroy's carnivorous smile made Etienne shudder. The message is clear, he is suspicious of me.

The king stood up abruptly and clapped his hands. "Duke Alain is right, it is time to go to war again.”

“Finally," growled André the Giant. “My sword is rusting. Entrust me with the troops and I'll make sure to crush the Imperials once and for all.”

“A good idea," said Etienne. “There is no point in exposing yourself further, My King." To tell the truth, Etienne would have preferred one of his own men, but Berenger the One-Eyed, his most experienced commander, had been badly wounded during the battle of Jerusalem two years before, and had died a few months after the War of the Montoires. André was not one of his closest friends, but he had a good relationship with him and if he had many faults, cruelty not being the least of them, he was not ambitious.

“No," said the king. “I am not hiding. I must command the troops to wash away the affront of Tiberias.”

“Thank you, Sire," said Alain. “I knew you would not let my home fall into the hands of the tyrant!”

“Tiberias is doomed," cut in Onfroy. “I will not lose men needlessly to save your mother-in-law or your ancient terraces. No, I will march on Jerusalem."​

 

[Werther]

Never had the emperor witnessed such rage, such fury, such chaos. Around him, the world forged by his ancestors was consumed in hatred and blood.
​

The battle of Jerusalem​

The shouts of the soldiers, the neighing of the horses in panic, the sound of swords smashing the shields and the rattle of the wounded, the battle may have been deafening, but Jean could clearly hear the soldiers around him shouting the same name: "Jerusalem! Jerusalem!"

But which Jerusalem? Loyalists and rebels alike shouted the name of the same city, invoked the protection of the same Saint Etienne and raised the same silver and gold banner of Jerusalem.

The emperor was striking. To the left. To the right. But who? He had no idea. The horses' hooves raised huge plumes of smoke, turning both friend and foe into dark silhouettes that barely stood out against the setting sun.

A gust of wind swept across the plain of Jerusalem and for a moment, through the chaos of battle, Jean saw it. The banner of Onfroy. So close. So far away.

"Death to the usurper!" he shouted at the top of his voice as he spurred his horse. Several of his knights followed him in his mad charge across the battlefield.

"Protect the king!" shouted a rebel. Several knights formed up to absorb the shock.

It was violent. Jean saw Duke André of Sanaa skewer a knight. He himself disarmed one of his opponents but had to struggle not to fall. No sooner had he regained his balance than a rebel attacked him. The emperor was saved only by Count Orson, who managed to disembowel his attacker with a powerful blow.
​

Duke Andre of Sanaa and Count Orson of Haditha defeat their opponents​

"Onward!" shouted Jean, pointing at Onfroy with his bloody sword. So close! So close to victory!

But the last rebel square was increasingly compact and put up fierce resistance. The melee was of unparalleled violence.

A knight bearing the arms of House Azraq of Amman challenged Jean. Although stout, he fought like a demon.
​

Duke Hamelin III of Amman​

The emperor was so engrossed in the fight that he hardly noticed the giant charging at his uncle Henri and who knocked his horse down with a single powerful blow. Henri's life was saved only when one of his knights thrust his sword into the giant's side. The rebel let out a terrible cry of pain and rage but did not collapse, continuing to swing his sword left and right.
​

Prince Henri of Montoire (left) and Amaury (right) fight and wound Duke André II the Giant of Oultrejordan (center)​

For his part, Jean was foaming with rage. His duel was costing him precious time. The time he would need to kill Onfroy and put an end to this war.

On his left, the imperial marshal, Duke Manasses of Mecca, had his right flank ravaged by a spear. In an act of desperation, he threw himself at his opponent and they both fell to the ground. Manasses drew his dagger and plunged it into the chink of Duke of Damascus' armour. The rebel struggled for a few moments before expiring. Manasses, whose guts were spilling over the battlefield, finally collapsed.
​

Dukes Manasses of Mecca and Roger of Damascus kill each other​

As he avoided a parry from his opponent, Jean heard the dreaded call to retreat. Led by the wounded giant, the rebels were retreating.

Jean was seized with anger. He struck his opponent with such force that his shield was shattered.

"Mercy! Mercy!" the man shouted, raising his hands to the sky.

In the distance, the Onfroy banner had disappeared.

In rage, the emperor removed his helmet and grabbed Duke Hamelin. He wanted nothing more than to behead him here and now.

"Mercy, Sire!" the man shouted as Jean's sword grazed his throat.

“I am a true knight!" shouted Jean angrily before swinging his sword. “A true Frank!"
​

Emperor Jean captures Duke Hamelin III of Amman​

Today he had won a battle.
​

Victory​

But not the war.​

 

[Werther]

"Is she here?" asked Agathe, pointing to the small staircase leading to the crypt of the church of Santa Lucia de Pera.

"Y... Yes, Your Majesty," replied Hugues the By-Blow in a frightened tone. The empress wondered where the confident young man had gone. The one who, centuries ago, had dreamed of becoming a knight. "But she doesn't like to be disturbed, perhaps you could see her later?”
​

Friar Hugues the By-Blow​

“This is my last chance to talk to her," said Agathe. “Night has fallen and my boat is waiting for me to cross the Golden Horn. And tomorrow I will leave Constantinople to repel the Hungarians. But don't worry, Hugues, I'll go alone." She nodded to her faithful Pulcheria and the two guards, ordering them to stay with her nephew.
​

Duchess Pulcheria Doukas, Head of the Empress Household​

Hughes tried to dissuade her again, but she ignored him and went down the stairs. After pushing the door open, she found herself in a small, long, dark room. She passed between two rows of columns that led to a sarcophagus lit by two torches.

Kneeling before the tomb, Catherine de Bartanay murmured prayers. Agathe approached behind her back, and just when she thought the Queen Mother was absorbed in her prayers, she spoke, without taking her eyes off the sarcophagus.
​

Quenne-Mother Catherine of Bartanay​

"How did you find me?”

“Pulcheria told me that you were here.”

“She is well informed," said Catherine, sitting up.

“As head of my household, it is her role to be." Agathe stood in front of the sarcophagus where the following inscription had been engraved: HUGO II DEI GRATIA REX MESOPOTAMIAE. "But it is no secret that you often come here to pray.”
​

King Hugues II the Dark, husband of Catherine of Bartanay and brother of Empress Agathe, who died in the Battle of Constantinople​

“Yes, I come every fortnight. And yet I hate this place with all my soul.”

“Why?" said the empress.

“Why?" Catherine gave a sour little laugh, but did not look away from the sarcophagus. "Your brother... not that one, the eldest, Jean who was called the Heir. Well, Jean never ruled or even held a title. He spent his life here in Constantinople, far from your father. And he died in a skirmish to conquer a mere piece of land in the Caucasus... Yet his remains had the honour of resting in the Heroon, alongside the Greek emperors. And when the Glorious abandoned you and returned to Jerusalem, he took the body of the Heir with him and buried it in the Holy Sepulchre beside Our Lord."

Catherine's tone became harsher. "And my husband? A prince of the blood who spent his whole life fighting for Jerusalem. The conqueror of Baghdad. A king! Who gave his life so that his father could win his greatest victory, and make you an empress. He was only allowed a sarcophagus in the crypt of a small church in the Genoese quarter. No matter how much his brother Henri insisted, only his embalmed heart made its way to Baghdad.”

Her voice had broken and she seemed to be struggling to contain her tears. Agathe could not help but feel pity for this woman whom she had hated so much.

"I'm sorry, Catherine," she said, putting her hand on her sister-in-law's shoulder.

The Queen Mother wiped away a tear and took a deep breath.

“It’s all in the past," she said, standing up. “What about the future? Did your meeting with the Genoese podesta go well?

“The negotiations were difficult. We did not reach an agreement until after dark. The Genoese were very hesitant, but the alliance between Duke Currado and the Pisans worries them. They finally agreed to provide us with ships to transport the army to Bari. As soon as I have repelled the Carpathian emperor, I will embark for Italy.”
​

The wars against the dike of Benevento and the emperor of Carpathia​

“I beg you," said Catherine. “Give up this madness. You must support your nephew.”

“If only I could," sighed the Empress. “But my husband Philippos is right, I must defend the Empire if I want to keep my crown.”

“You will not keep it if the usurper wins.”

“Don't be so pessimistic, Catherine. Onfroy has been weakened since his defeat in Jerusalem. The siege of the city has been broken.”

“But not him," retorted the Queen Mother. “He has taken refuge in Kerak and spent the winter building up his strength. Every day he grows stronger, you must help the emperor! Just as your brother, my husband, helped you to obtain your own throne!"

Catherine seemed almost to implore Agathe, who was moved.

"I don't forget Hughes' sacrifice, I promise you," she murmured. "But..." She took a resolute tone. "But I must do my duty, I have no choice."

Catherine looked at her in silence, dipped her right hand into her left sleeve and sighed, "Me neither."

The blow was so quick that Agathe could not dodge it. As the dagger pierced her throat, she fell backwards and smashed her head against the sarcophagus.

She brought both hands to the dagger and withdrew it, letting out a blackish blood which she quickly stopped by applying her hands.

Her breathing was so difficult, she was choking.

"Pul... Pulch..." she tried to articulate, the blood rushing from her mouth preventing her from speaking.

"Pulcheria?" asked Catherine as calmly as possible. “Don't worry Majesty, I will call her."

Catherine called Pulcheria who entered the crypt followed by the two guards. They were in no hurry or panic, as if they had expected this sight. The two soldiers ignored the empress completely and moved towards the sarcophagus. As for Pulcheria, she was content to watch her die.

"Oh, don't look so surprised," Catherine laughed. Who brought you here? And Jean the Heir told you not to trust the Doukai. Especially not a Doukas whose lands you sacrificed to save your precious little crown."

The pain was unbearable. She struggled for the slightest breath of air.

“W... why?" she managed to articulate.

“Why? Why? Why? That's the only word you can think of.” Catherine leaned over her and looked her straight in the eye. "I don't like you, it's true. But believe it or not, there is nothing personal here. If you had agreed to defend the emperor, then maybe we wouldn't be in this mess. You want proof? I don't like Jean either, and yet I serve him. I serve him because what is good for him is good for my son Hugues. And their victory is now assured.”

Catherine put a finger over Agathe’s mouth. "I know what's going through your mind, you don't need to drown in your own blood to express it. No, neither Jean nor my son know about it. They are children, and this is not the kind of game they enjoy. If I had offered to get rid of you, I'm sure they would have refused, protested. The same reaction as your crybaby nephew." In the distance, Agathe could hear someone crying and praying.

"They... they will know..." said Agathe.

“No, no one will know. These two fellows," said Catherine, pointing to the guards who had just opened the sarcophagus, "serve the Doukai. As for your nephew Hugues, he may whine, but he will eventually accept his dream position as knight of Saint Etienne. As for the ship that took you to Pera, it will not cross the Golden Horn again, but will go to Caffa. Its captain will not return to Genoa for months, and its crew will have time to tell the little story of the frightened empress who flees by night to disappear forever into the barbarian steppes. Perhaps they will invent a marriage with a Russian serf or prefer to imagine you in the harem of some Mohammedan kinglet."

The two guards lifted her by the legs and arms.

"But the truth is far more glorious, sister-in-law. You will end up in the final resting place of a king. A real Montoire at that."

The two guards placed her in the sarcophagus. Lying in the cold tomb, Agathe was in a state of panic. She could feel her warm blood draining from her wound and struggled with all her strength to stay conscious.

"Don't worry, Majesty," said Catherine, leaning over her with both arms crossed over the edges of the sarcophagus. “You will not share this final resting place with anyone else. I have taken care to have my husband's bones removed. They will rest in Baghdad, next to my son.” She threw him something round and cold that rolled down his chest. "And don't forget your crown, you sacrificed so much for it."

The slab closed with a terrible noise.

Then darkness came.
​

The death of Agathe
(translation: disappeared without trace on 31 January 1314 at the age of 63 / Killer: Queen Mother Catherine of Bartanay)​