Chapter 152: Chapter 152 - A Princess’s Fury
March 11th, 1181 – Palermo, Kingdom of Sicily
The spring sun spilled gold across Palermo’s harbor, its light dancing upon the sea like a thousand molten coins. From the palace’s balcony, King William II could see the masts of merchant ships swaying gently at anchor, each one bearing the bright colors of trade—Venetian, Genoese, Pisan. Normally, such a view was a source of comfort for the young monarch, proof of his kingdom’s prosperity and reach. But today his mind was far from commerce.
Word had arrived early that morning: his aunt Constance, escorted by a discreet retinue from the convent was on the final approach to Palermo. He had ordered her summoned with an "urgent matter," though he had intentionally left the nature of the meeting vague. There were conversations that could not be written in letters.
He turned away from the balcony, the weight of decision heavy on his shoulders. The offer from Baldwin IV of Jerusalem was unprecedented—marriage between the King of Jerusalem and the heiress presumptive of Sicily. The more William considered it, the more he saw its brilliance and its dangers.
The gates of the royal palace opened just past midday, and the clatter of hooves upon the cobbles echoed into the courtyard. Constance of Sicily rode at the head of her small escort, her bearing regal despite the nun’s habit she still partially wore. At twenty-seven, she was a striking woman—tall, with a proud carriage and dark eyes that seemed to take in more than she let on. Years in the convent had not dulled her intelligence nor her awareness of the currents of power that surrounded her.
Dismounting, she accepted the hand of a groom and allowed her ladies to arrange her skirts before entering the palace. She was greeted by the chamberlain, who bowed low.
"Your Grace," he said, "His Majesty awaits you in the solar."
As she was led through the frescoed corridors, Constance wondered—not without a trace of irritation—what could be so urgent that her nephew had pulled her from her quiet life. William was unmarried, without heirs, and she, by all accounts, was next in the line of succession. The thought of succession always carried with it the shadow of danger.
William rose when she entered the solar, smiling warmly. "Aunt," he said, taking her hands in his, "it gladdens me to see you."
"And I you, William," she replied, searching his expression. "But your summons was... unexpected. What matter requires such haste?"
William gestured for her to sit. Servants poured wine and withdrew, closing the doors behind them.
"I will come to it directly," he said, his tone careful. "Two weeks ago, I received envoys from the Kingdom of Jerusalem—Balian of Ibelin and Brother Gerard of the Hospitallers—bearing a message from King Baldwin himself. They brought with them documents, medical testimonies, and a proposal... one that concerns you."
Constance arched a brow. "Me?"
"Yes," William said. "Baldwin seeks a wife. Specifically, he asks for you, Constance."
The words hung in the air like a blow.
Her eyes widened, and then—fury. "A leper?" she said, her voice sharp as a blade. "You summon me here to tell me you would hand me over to a man with that cursed disease? Do you take me for some pawn to be discarded on the altar of politics?"
She rose from her chair, her skirts sweeping the floor in a sudden rush of movement. "I have heard of Baldwin—his victories, his courage—but leprosy is leprosy. To bind myself to such a fate would be to court death."
William remained seated, hands folded, letting her words strike the air between them. When her anger subsided into sharp breathing, he spoke.
"Aunt, I understand your fear. And if I thought this proposal endangered you, I would never have considered it. But hear me out before you condemn the idea outright."
Constance crossed her arms but did not leave the room.
"Baldwin’s envoys brought with them evidence," William continued, "from Brother Gerard’s own work with sufferers of the disease. He swears—and has documented cases—that men in Baldwin’s stage can live many years, that they can marry, and—most importantly—that they can father healthy children, provided certain precautions are taken. Measures that would shield you entirely from contagion."
Her expression was skeptical. "Precautions?"
"No kissing. Care to avoid contact with any sores or lesions. And... certain coverings, even in intimacy. I do not pretend it is romantic, but it is safe. The physicians here are even now examining Gerard’s scrolls and testimonies."
William leaned forward, his tone now sharpened with political reality. "Constance, you are my heir. Should I die without a wife or child, the crown will pass to you. And I fear that if that day comes, Tancred—ambitious as the devil—will attempt to usurp your claim. He has allies among the barons. You will need a husband strong enough to protect your right."
"And you believe Baldwin would do this?"
"I know it," William said firmly. "This is the man who humbled Saladin in battle and brought Syria under Christian rule. He commands one of the most disciplined armies in Christendom. If you were Queen of Jerusalem, your authority would be doubled—both as my heir here and as his queen there."
Constance regarded him coldly. "And what of Prince Henry of the Hohenstaufens? The Holy Roman Emperor’s son. There has been talk—"
William cut her off with a shake of his head. "Talk, yes. But you know as well as I that the Pope and the Hohenstaufens are at daggers drawn. Such a marriage could plunge Sicily into chaos, setting Rome against us. I will not risk this kingdom in the games of the Emperor."
He rose now, walking toward the balcony, speaking over his shoulder. "Think, Constance—if you bore Baldwin a son, that boy would inherit both realms. Upon your reign’s end, Sicily and Jerusalem would stand united, a single power stretching from the heart of the Mediterranean to the Holy City itself. Our fleets would dominate every sea from Tunis to Cyprus. Our trade, our influence, our faith—all strengthened."
He turned back to her, his eyes steady. "It is not a proposal to be dismissed in anger."
Her breathing had steadied, though her gaze was still wary. "You speak as though it were already decided."
"I speak as one who must think for the realm’s future. But no decision will be forced upon you. I ask only that you keep an open mind. Meet with Baldwin’s envoys. Hear their proof. Judge for yourself whether the risk is real, or whether the rewards outweigh it."
Constance hesitated, her fingers tightening on the carved arm of her chair. "And if I refuse?"
"Then I will find another path," William said evenly. "But I would have you choose with knowledge, not fear."
She looked at him for a long moment, then exhaled slowly. "Very well. I will hear them. But I make no promises."
"That," William said, a hint of relief in his voice, "is all I ask."