CHAPTER 167: CHAPTER 167 - THE SECOND ROUND OF NEGOTIATIONS

Palermo, June 8th, 1181

The great hall of the Palazzo dei Normanni had been arranged once more for solemn business. Golden light from the Sicilian morning streamed in through high arched windows, glinting upon the mosaics of saints and kings that lined the apse. Yesterday had been devoted to Baldwin’s envoys presenting the King of Jerusalem’s terms—his requests for knights, galleys, and gold—and Constance had listened, her face an impassive mask though her eyes betrayed flashes of calculation.

Today, the roles would be reversed. Today it was the lady herself who would name her expectations, and Baldwin’s men would need to answer.

Lord Humphrey of Toron adjusted the folds of his mantle as he took his place at the long oaken table. Beside him sat Lord Reynald of Sidon, sharp-eyed and restless, and Lord Reginald Grenier, his broad shoulders marking him as the soldier among them. The clerics had come as well: Archdeacon Matthew of Bethlehem, who bore the weight of representing the Church’s interests, and Brother Anselm, a Hospitaller with a calm demeanor that masked a probing mind.

The Sicilian court gathered in attendance, though most of the lords of the island had little part to play beyond observing. At the center of the chamber, upon a slightly raised dais, Lady Constance entered flanked by her ladies. She wore a gown of deep azure silk trimmed with gold thread, her veil drawn back to show the auburn glint of her hair. She walked with poise, as one accustomed to courts yet fully aware of the gravity of what was being shaped.

"Honored lords of Jerusalem," she said, her voice clear but not haughty, "yesterday I listened to your king’s desires, and I gave no answer but silence. For I deemed it right that such weighty matters be heard entire before I spoke. Today it is meet that you should hear mine."

A servant brought forth parchments, yet Constance did not glance at them. Instead, she raised her chin, speaking from memory—she had no need to read demands she had long pondered.

Constance’s Terms

"My first matter is this," she began. "If I consent to this marriage and to make Jerusalem my home, I shall not be a mere guest or ornament. I shall be Queen, with voice and counsel in the governance of the realm. What is more, should God grant that I bear a son, it must be established beyond all doubt that I, his mother, shall hold the regency until he attain his majority. Not an uncle, nor a cousin, nor any lord of the barons—but I alone."

The words carried across the chamber like a stone cast into still water. The Sicilian nobles shifted, but the envoys kept their composure, though Brother Anselm clasped his hands more tightly and Lord Reynald arched a brow.

Lord Humphrey, senior of the embassy, gave a grave nod. "My lady, the matter of succession is of utmost importance. His Majesty King Baldwin has made it known that at present, his nephew, Baldwin the Fifth, is heir to the throne. This remains unchanged. Yet," he paused, measuring each word, "His Majesty foresaw that such a question as yours would arise. If the Lord blesses the union with a son, the King agrees that you, his queen, shall hold the regency of the boy until he reaches the years of manhood. None other shall usurp that right."

Constance’s eyes glimmered with satisfaction, though she kept her face serene. "Then we are agreed upon that point."

She let the silence hang, then moved on.

"My second matter is my dower and holdings. If I am to cross the sea and bind my life to a new kingdom, I must not stand in want, nor may I be left without a dominion fitting my birth. I ask plainly: what lands shall be mine, to administer as queen, and to secure as my right if I am widowed?"

This was the moment the envoys had been instructed to hold until now. Lord Reginald Grenier leaned forward, his voice firm. "My lady, the King of Jerusalem has spoken clearly on this. Since the execution of Raymond of Tripoli, that county has been held in the King’s hand. His Majesty declares that in recognition of your noble station, and in honor of the bond he seeks with you, the County of Tripoli shall be granted to you as your dower. Its revenues shall be yours, its officers answerable to you, its fortresses entrusted with your authority."

Even the Sicilian courtiers murmured at this. Tripoli was no minor grant—it was a prize, a wealthy seaport and strong bulwark on the frontier. For a moment Constance did not reply, but her lips curved into a faint smile. She lowered her gaze demurely before raising it again with regal composure.

"My lord Reginald," she said slowly, "that is a grant most generous, and one I did not expect. Tripoli is no trinket, but a jewel. If the King is truly minded to bestow it upon me, then I shall accept with gratitude. And I shall administer it with the diligence it deserves, for the good of his realm and mine."

Archdeacon Matthew interjected gently. "It is most fitting, my lady, that such a holding should be placed under your care. Yet, as the King’s servant, I must remind all present that the revenues of Tripoli, though your right, are bound to the defense of the Holy Land. They may not be wasted in vanity, but must be used to strengthen the kingdom."

Constance inclined her head with just the faintest smile. "Be assured, Father, that I know my duties."

Negotiations Continue

But she was not done. She leaned forward slightly, her tone sharpening.

"My third matter is the dignity of my household. I shall come to Jerusalem with my own companions and attendants, as is my right. I require that these be respected, not dismissed, and that I may maintain my Sicilian retinue within reason."

Brother Anselm answered, his voice calm. "His Majesty allows this, my lady, provided your household honors the customs of the Latin Kingdom. None shall forbid you your women and counselors, yet it must be known that Jerusalem is not Palermo. The Queen of Jerusalem must walk as a queen of Outremer, not only of Sicily."

"I am not blind to the difference," Constance said. "Yet I will not go as a stranger stripped of her roots. Let that be written into the treaty."

The envoys exchanged glances. Lord Humphrey finally nodded. "It shall be written."

Constance sat back, satisfied. She had measured them well: they were cautious, but they bent rather than broke, and when she pressed, they yielded ground.

On the Issue of Power

At last Lord Reynald of Sidon, who had remained largely silent, spoke up. His voice was edged, but courteous. "My lady, you speak with wisdom and with force. Yet you must know how the barons of Outremer may look upon these terms. A queen with Tripoli for her dower, a regency secured, and her own Sicilian household—that is no small share of power. Some may fear that Jerusalem will become a province of Sicily rather than Sicily a friend to Jerusalem."

All eyes turned to Constance. She did not bristle; instead, she answered with deliberate grace.

"My lord Reynald, I am not coming to be a governor for King William nor a vessel for Palermo’s schemes. I am coming to be a wife to King Baldwin, and, God willing, a mother to his heir. My loyalty shall be to Jerusalem, for there my marriage bed and my future shall lie. Sicily gains honor in this match, but it shall not rule. I will rule as queen, beside my husband."

The chamber hushed at her words. It was spoken without boast, yet the weight of conviction lay behind them.

Lord Humphrey inclined his head in respect. "Your candor does you credit, my lady. I believe our king shall not find fault in such loyalty."

The Closing of the Session

After further discussion, it was agreed: Constance’s Sicilian retinue would be permitted within limits; her regency over any son was to be written into the marriage charter; and the grant of Tripoli was formally acknowledged.

When the scribes had finished their notes, Lord Humphrey rose. "My lady, this day’s session has borne fruit. We have heard your heart, and we have answered with the mind of our king. I deem we draw near to an accord."

Constance smiled faintly, though her eyes burned bright with determination. "Near, yes. Yet the last word must be His Majesty’s. I shall wait upon him to seal what we have spoken."

With that, the session was closed.

Aftermath: Constance’s Private Reflections

Later, in the quiet of her chambers, Constance removed her veil and allowed her maid to undo the braid of her hair. She gazed from the window out toward the harbor of Palermo, where masts rose like a forest and the sea glittered beneath the setting sun.

Tripoli. The word lingered in her mind. To be queen consort was power enough, but to hold a county of her own, rich and strategic, would make her more than a consort. It would give her a foundation none could strip away.

And the regency—yes, that too mattered. If she bore a son, none would rob her of him, or of her power through him. She would not be another queen sidelined, forgotten, or used. She would be mother, regent, and ruler in truth.

She thought of Baldwin. A man already tempered by sickness and by war, and yet one who had carved victories out of despair. She did not fear him. In some way, she even respected him—this leper king who defied his fate. If they were to be joined, they might make something stronger than either could alone.

And so she resolved: she would go to Jerusalem not as a pawn, but as a queen prepared to shape destiny.