It had been several years since the great hall of the imperial palace had hosted a major event and the servants had done their best to restore it to its former glory. A difficult task in times of war, when supplies were disrupted and the capital was short of everything. The hall looked desperately empty, most of the courtiers had fled or were supporting Onfroy.
Prince Henri of Bissy, Duke Jean of Shammar, Emperor Jean I the Greek, Princess Isabelle of Montoire and Patriarche Gilbert
Sitting on his throne, Jean sighed: "Was this really necessary?”
“In a way," replied Jean of Shammar. “Your Greek subjects appreciate all this decorum.”
“A waste of time and money," grumbled Prince Henri of Bissy. Jean had always been surprised by the physical resemblance between his uncle and his late father. The resemblance ended there, however. Unlike the Heir, Prince Henri was not a leader but a soldier, the right-hand man of his brother Hugues the Dark and then of his nephew Hugues the White. "We should be with Count Orson preparing the troops for the coming campaign.”
“My brother is a killjoy, don't listen to him, nephew," said Isabelle of Montoire. The emperor's aunt had been glowing since he had ended her exile. Jean needed to present the image of a united family. A lie, since all the children of the Glorious’ second marriage had sided with Onfroy. "We need their troops.”
“What troops?" replied Henri. “A few hundred men at most and no great lord. You just need your bastard.”
"Mylord!" protested Patriarch Gilbert. “That is no way to talk to a lady, and even less to your sister." The young patriarch seemed to like Isabelle, so much so that he took her daughter, Sister Beatrice of Eu, into his service.
“Enough!" scolded Jean. “Stop this bickering. They'll be here soon."
They did not have to wait long. The trumpets sounded and the heavy doors of the hall opened. The procession moved forward, flanked by two columns of Varangian guards bearing Roman insignia and the Chrism.
In the front row walked the Montoires: Catherine of Bartanay escorted from Jaffa by her son King Hugues III the White; then Marthe, Jean's aunt, and her husband Adrianos Ouranos; and finally Hugues the By-Blow, Isabelle's bastard son, who wore the tabard of the Order of Saint Etienne.
Hugues the By-Blow, King Hugues III the White of Mésopotamia, Queen-Dowager Catherine of Bartanay, Priincess Marthe of Montoire and Adrianos Ouranos Ouranos
Behind the members of the imperial family walked some Greek lords but no despots. They surrounded Emperor Philippos of Pera. The widower obviously took care of himself, his beard was finely trimmed, his clothes were woven from the finest silks and his crown was encrusted with magnificent jewels.
Emperor Philippos
"We hope you had a good journey," said Jean as the procession stopped in front of the throne. “We know that the journey to the Holy City is perilous in these troubled times. So our hearts rejoice to see you safe and sound before us.”
“Such an honour is well worth braving a thousand dangers, Your Majesty," replied Catherine of Bartanay, bowing.
“I don't know how to express my gratitude to you," Jean replied. “You have served me loyally. Even after the disappearance of my beloved aunt, Empress Agathe, you acted with coolness and discernment in the interests of Jerusalem."
Catherine of Bartanay did not hide her pleasure and pride. Jean turned to Princess Marthe.
"Dear Aunt, Jerusalem is delighted to see the return of one of her daughters.”
“I haven't seen the city for ages, it’s as noisy and smelly as ever.” Jean smiled, Marthe was known for her frankness. He had always liked his aunt. She was a loudmouth who was brimming with confidence. When she visited him at the palace of Ta Konsta, she did not hesitate to criticise mother, to shake father and never lost an opportunity to complain about Anatolia. "I can't say the same about you, nephew. What happened to the fearful little child of Constantinople? He has been replaced by a great and confident emperor."
“Brother Hugues," said the Emperor, turning to the By-Blow. “I am pleased to see that Grand Master Uthred has agreed to welcome you to the Order of Saint Etienne.”
“Ye... yes," stammered the bastard, his eyes fixed on his feet. “In Jaffa... he... finally... knighted me.”
“And you have earned it. You have done a great service to the empire.” Strangely enough, Hughes' uneasiness redoubled. "At the request of your mother and sister, I have asked the Grand Master to send you to Jerusalem to serve the Patriarch." The news seemed to soothe the Knight of Saint Etienne, who thanked him.
Jean sensed an unease in the Greek delegation. He had spoken in French, a language that most of them had not mastered. Worse, he had deliberately ignored protocol by not addressing Emperor Philippos first. This was not an oversight, Jean wanted to send a message: the Montoires had primacy.
Nevertheless, he eventually turned to the Greeks, but continued to speak in French, leaving it to the drogmans to translate: "Mylords, I am pleased to see you in the City." The term was normally used to refer to Constantinople, but only Jerusalem deserved such a title. "Especially you, Uncle.”
“A shared pleasure," Philippos replied in perfect French as he walked to the steps of the throne.
“Have we heard from the empress?”
“Unfortunately not," Philippos replied sadly. “I have sent emissaries to the four corners of the known world, in vain. Agathe has not been seen since she boarded that damned Genoese ship.”
“I share your grief," said Jean.” My aunt's disappearance is a wound that cannot be so easily healed.”
A silence fell over the room. Both Franks and Greeks had their eyes fixed on Philippos who seemed to hesitate.
"There is no longer any doubt in my heart that my dear and loving wife is no more.” His voice was as if strangled, and Jean wondered whether he was crying for his wife or for the decision he was about to make. Philippos took off his crown and fell to his knees. "I have come across the seas to put the fate of the Roman Empire in your hands."
Jean was as if frozen on his throne. Of course, he had expected this. Since Agathe's disappearance, Philippos had been holed up in his palace, contested by the entire Greek aristocracy. He had no choice, and Catherine had spared no effort to make him understand this. But to see him abdicate and hand over Constantinople to him...
“The crown of the Great disappeared with my wife," said Philippos, holding out his own headdress. “So I can only give you mine.”
“I accept it," proclaimed Jean. “I will not, however, wear it. I already have a crown."
As expected, it was the patriarch who came to take the crown from Philippos' hands.
"In the name of all Romans," said Philippos, "I implore you to come to Constantinople to be crowned by the two patriarchs. Your subjects need you, and your protection against their enemies.”
“I already have enemies," the emperor retorted. “Stronger, more dangerous, and I owe it all to the Empire of God. I plan to make peace with the Emperor of Carpathia and the Duke of Benevento.”
La paix avec le duc de Bénévent et l'Empereur de Carpathie
“But... they will take…”
"Two cities," cut in Jean. “Not worth sacrificing the Holy Land for.”
“The Greeks will not accept…”
“They will obey”, the reply did not suffer any contradictions. “I don't want my Greek subjects to worry. I have given it a lot of thought and I think I have found a solution that will satisfy them." He stood up. "But we'll talk about it when the war is over. Now that you're here, it's time to head east, to Maab where the Usurper and his followers are holed up. It is time to end this war!"
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