Spring, 1072 - Northern France
Four years had passed.
Upon learning that Juvenal had also seen the magical butterfly, Baldwin immediately promoted the African to be the new Marshal of his army, demoting brother Reinel. Together, Baldwin and Juvenal planned their upcoming adventure. They would need men...need supplies...need money...and all of this meant that they would need time.
The Muslims who occupied Jerusalem would be unlikely to allow two Christians to pillage their city for some cup, butterfly or otherwise. There would be a battle. And while King Phillipe would no doubt come to their defense, he would want to know why they needed defending in the first place. Again, cups and butterflies would not be enough. They would have to claim it was a holy crusade.
Juvenal seemed intensely interested in hearing every detail about Baldwin's encounter with the magical butterfly...nearly even more so than Baldwin was in hearing of Juvenal's encounter. Baldwin recoutned for his African marshal every detail he could remember. The snowfall, the butterfly flickering in and out of existence, climing the tower wall, trying to reach the gold item the butterfly had dropped, falling, hitting his...
With the mention of the gold item, Juvenal was nearly drooling. He wanted to see it, desperately. To have it, in fact. He seemed convinced that the butterfly's piece of gold could contain a hint as to the exact location of the Holy Grail. Baldwin had already considered this, of course, but his people who knew such things determined that it not only contained no such hints, but was, in fact, not even real gold. Just some other shiny substance.
But Juvenal could not be persuaded, and Baldwin...pleased to finally have someone to point out as being even crazier than he...finally just let him have the worthless sliver of metal.
But now...four years had passed. Four years of planning, of training, of recruiting, of fundraising. Four years. They were finally ready. Just a matter of loading the men into the ships and...
Somebody was coming.
Running straight at them, waving his arms.
"BROTHER!"
"Reinel! What is it? You look as though you've seen a ghost!"
"Brother, I..."
"Relax, Reinel. If it means that much to you, you can come on our trip."
"No, Brother, it's..."
"Yes?"
"I...I went to the dungeon. To give Annelies her weekly bread and water. Just as you've had me do every week for the past five years, Brother. But this time..."
Baldwin's face lost it's color, as the blood drained away. There was only one thing that could shake Reinel so badly.
"My God...she's escaped! The woman has escaped! JUVENAL! GUARDS! Annelies has escaped! She'll kill us all! SHE'LL KILL US ALL!"
"No...no, brother. She hasn't escaped. At least...not exactly."
"Oh...oh, praise the Lord. Oh, you gave me a good scare, Reinel."
"Brother...Annelies is dead."
Baldwin just stared at his baby brother, in silence. Could it be? Could Annelies really, truly be dead? Could this terrible woman who had been a threat to all Baldwin had...could she be dead? Could this evil, wretched woman truly and really and...
...
...
...
...
...
...his wife.
Good God, his wife was dead.
It was all his fault. She had done nothing but loved him...and in return, because of some God-damned butterfly that driven him insane...he'd locked her away in a dungeon for five years. The butterfly wasn't a sign from God...it was the devil! Just like the serpent in the Garden of Eden, Baldwin had been led to sin by an evil butterfly.
He'd killed her.
She'd done nothing wrong, and he executed his own wife.
Tears streaming down his face, he began to run towards the dungeon.
Counties away, birds scattered into the air, frightened by the primeval scream.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNELLLLLIEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSS!"
