Chapter 146: Chapter 146: Foundations and Futures
Jerusalem, February 3rd, 1181
The dawn light spilled through the narrow windows of the council chamber, illuminating the scattered parchments and wax seals that lay across the large oaken table. Baldwin IV stood at the head of the room, surrounded by his closest advisors, masons, engineers, and military officers. The excitement in the air was palpable — the plans for Jerusalem’s second curtain wall had moved from mere sketches to detailed blueprints.
Elias, the master mason, unrolled the latest parchment with the city’s outline meticulously redrawn. The new outer wall swept in a broad arc, embracing not just the old city but the surrounding hills to the north and west, enclosing new lands ripe for development. The line was thick and bold, punctuated by evenly spaced bastions and formidable gates.
"This," Elias began, pointing with a long staff, "is the strongest wall the Kingdom has ever seen. Using the new cement mixture, we can build walls far thicker and higher than before. The mortar binds the stones together so firmly that our constructions will withstand not only siege engines but the test of time itself."
Baldwin nodded slowly, eyes tracing the outer boundary with purpose. "And the foundations?"
"The foundations will be laid deep, cut into the bedrock wherever possible," Elias replied. "We shall quarry stone here and there from the surrounding hills to minimize transport. The cement will be mixed on-site in large vats — the lime and volcanic ash supplies are ample, and the workers trained to the task."
The architect next to Elias added, "We have identified suitable locations for five large gates, each fortified with twin towers and portcullises. Between the gates, bastions will rise every 150 meters, allowing crossfire on any attackers. The wall’s thickness varies from five to eight meters, tapering slightly near the top for battlements."
Baldwin’s gaze lifted to the ceiling, where the sketches of arches, aqueducts, and wide roads were pinned. "And within these walls?"
"The new districts you envisioned," the city planner replied with enthusiasm. "The Merchant Quarter will be nearest the southern gate, close to the roads leading to Jaffa and the inland trade routes. Warehouses, caravanserais for the traveling merchants, and offices linked to the banking houses will facilitate commerce and coin exchange."
"The Artisan District will stretch along the eastern side, where light and wind will aid the smiths and armorers. New forges with stone foundations and cement floors will reduce fire hazards."
"Foreign enclaves," the diplomat added, "for Italians, Byzantines, and Armenians will be clustered around the northeast, each with their own small churches and embassies. We will preserve their customs and languages while uniting them under the Crown’s protection."
"The Military Quarter will occupy the northwest, near the Tower of David. Barracks, armories, and stables for the royal guard — permanent, professional soldiers, not just the knights of the nobility."
Baldwin smiled, the vision coming alive before him. "And the Royal Forum?"
"Cleared space around the Tower of David, with new buildings of stone and cement.
Offices for tax collectors, scribes, and royal officials managing day-to-day governance.
Chancery / Royal Archives where official documents, charters, letters, and royal decrees are drafted, stored, and managed.
Council Hall / Curia A place for the kingdom’s Royal Court or council to meet.
Judicial and administrative functions happen here, including hearings, legal rulings, and governance meetings.
A palace for governance, and the Treasury where the Crown’s wealth will be secured."
The room hummed with approval.
As the meeting progressed, plans for infrastructure came under discussion.
"We must repair and expand the aqueducts," the engineer urged. "The springs at Ein Kerem provide abundant water, but the old stone channels are cracked and leaking. With cement, we can rebuild aqueducts to cross valleys on arches—stronger and more durable than before."
Baldwin interjected, "And the roads?"
"The main thoroughfares will be paved with stone slabs set in cement, wide enough for carts to pass in both directions. No longer will mud and dust hinder trade or troop movements."
The treasurer, Martin of Palermo, frowned thoughtfully. "These projects will require many men and considerable funds. We must recruit laborers, skilled masons, quarry workers, carpenters for scaffolding, and haulers for materials."
Baldwin’s tone was firm. "Begin recruiting immediately. Offer fair wages and lodging within the city. We will employ soldiers in downtime to aid construction. Every able man must serve in building the future."
Sir Godfrey of Ibelin, the Justiciar, added, "We must also ensure the safety of workers and materials. Patrols will guard quarries and roads. Theft and sabotage will be punished severely."
The council agreed on a plan to assemble a workforce numbering in the thousands, drawn from both Jerusalem’s population and nearby villages, supplemented by conscripted soldiers and skilled labor imported from Europe and Syria.
After the meeting dispersed, Baldwin remained behind, gazing out from a window over the city’s rooftops to the distant hills. His eyes followed the winding roads that led to Jaffa and beyond, then lingered on the Tower of David, standing like a sentinel over Jerusalem.
Years had passed since he returned to this time, this life. So much had been accomplished: the conquest of Syria, the reformation of the kingdom’s administration, the forging of alliances, and now the bold plan to remake the city itself. His vision was turning into reality.
Yet, as he stood alone, a familiar ache stirred deep within him. The weight of solitude pressed upon his shoulders. His illness, the cruel mark of leprosy, separated him not only from the vigor of youth but from the closeness of family and friendship.
The loneliness was sharpest when night fell, and the city quieted.
He thought of the legacy he wished to leave—a kingdom united, a Jerusalem rebuilt in stone and law. But who would carry that legacy forward? Who would remember the man beneath the crown when the walls he built outlasted his breath?
The thought gnawed at him.
He had wrestled with this in silence for months, pushing the desire deep beneath duty and resolve. Yet tonight, the yearning surfaced in the stillness.
What if he were to marry? To take a wife and father a child—his own blood to bear the crown, to safeguard his reforms, to continue the kingdom’s work?
The idea was both terrifying and vital. His illness cast doubt on his longevity, and yet the hope of a son, a heir who might one day stand strong in his stead, stirred a flame within.
Baldwin turned away from the window, the decision settling like a stone in his heart. This was a choice he could not delay any longer.
He would take a wife.
He would try to have children.
Not now — the time for action would come after careful thought and counsel — but the seed of hope had been planted.
For the kingdom. For Jerusalem. For himself.