With You, I’ll Be Only Sibylla (Part 11)

Disclaimer: All the characters and events of Kingdom of Heaven belong to Sir Ridley Scott and William Monahan, and, of course, History. I’m just borrowing them and writing my own interpretation.

 

The walls and hangings muffled the sounds from outside. Many candles burned, but they did nothing to dispel the shadow which was falling over the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem. It took a while for Sibylla’s vision to adjust to the darkness of the king’s chamber. It had been so long since she had set foot in here. The scent of incense could not conceal the underlying smell of decay which permeated the room.

 

She approached the bed where her brother lay; a pitiable and wasted figure. One bandaged hand rested on his chest. The other arm was outstretched; it was in the same position which the physician had left it. The silver mask was still in place, however. It was the same cold emotionless face which he showed the world; the face which was supposed to hide weakness.

 

With a shaking hand, the princess reached out and rested it on her brother’s bandaged one, unsure of whether he would feel it or not. Baldwin stirred, and with what seemed like a great effort, opened his eyes. “Hello,” he said. His voice was breathy and weak, but Sibylla’s heart lurched at the sound of that benevolent tone. It was the same one which he had used with her all those years ago, before he had put on the silver mask.

With You, I’ll Be Only Sibylla (Part 9)

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. Kingdom of Heaven belongs to Sir Ridley Scott and William Monahan, and History.

 

Chapter 9: A Kingdom of Conscience

 

Doors were meant for protection; those leading to Sibylla’s quarters were made to keep out any unwelcome presence. Inside was her refuge; a place of peace and safety in the middle of Jerusalem’s dark undercurrents and courtly intrigues. The colours and hangings had all been chosen for the tranquillity they represented. The inner chambers were sheltered from the heat, but with the coming of evening, they would be graced for a short while, with the dying golden light of the sun as it set over the heart of Christendom.

 

The princess loved the security she felt when she was in her sanctuary; it was like being in the warm loving embrace of her old nurse, who had long since passed away. When she returned this afternoon, she expected to find her son there, playing or completing the tasks set by his tutor. What she saw gave her a most unpleasant shock. Guy had gone too far; he had invaded her haven and worse yet, he was with her son, telling her boy how he ought to arrange his pewter figures. The man had his back to her, but she could hear him quite clearly. “Always surround your knights with foot-soldiers,” he told the boy.

With You, I’ll Be Only Sibylla (Part 8)

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything that you recognize. It all belongs to Sir Ridley Scott, William Monahan, and History.

 

Chapter 8: To Offer the World

 

The city was cool and quiet, its inhabitants still slumbering. Balian walked with Sibylla down to the courtyard, where her servants were waiting with the horses. No one spoke. It was their master’s secret, and they had no desire for anyone in the court to find out. Godfrey had entrusted Balian to them, and they would keep him safe. It was all they could do to pay their old master back for his kindness.

 

“God keep you, my lord,” said Sibylla.

 

“God does not know me,” replied Balian. There was a gentle smile on his lips. He stood beside her horse and cupped his hands, allowing her to place her foot on them to boost herself up into the saddle. She longed to cup his face, to kiss him there and then in the courtyard, but she could not. That would almost be signing his death warrant.

 

***

 

Raymond was deep in thought, as always. Sibylla was a hard woman to predict. Even he, who had watched her grow up, still did not truly understand her. At the moment, she seemed to speak about Balian all the time, praising his virtues, as if no one else knew about them. In fact, it seemed as if she was in love with him. He knew she had visited his house; that was no secret. However, what did she really want?

 

The Marshal paced outside the king’s chamber. He could hear urgent murmurs, but he could not make out the words. It seemed as if Bishop Heraclius, Patriarch of Jerusalem, was in there with the ailing sovereign. What was that old fox trying to do? The murmuring stopped. The king had won the argument, whatever it had been about. Moments later, the patriarch emerged. He did not even deign to glance at Raymond. Perhaps he had not even seen the count; surely his mind was on more serious matters.

With You, I’ll be Only Sibylla (Part 7)

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything that you recognize. Kingdom of Heaven belongs to Sir Ridley Scott, William Monahan, and history.

 

Warning: Implications of adult material

 

Chapter 7: A Princess’ Decision

The sight of Jerusalem greeted her; the open gates were like the jaws of an ancient monstrosity. She had no desire to go in, to be embroiled in that seething cauldron of politics again, but what choice did she have. Her blood had doomed her from her birth. She was a princess. She was a political pawn. Sibylla glanced at the still form of her brother on his litter. He had always been her shield, trying to protect her from all the dangerous intricacies of court life, but now he was dying. To whom would he pass this mantle of protector? In her mind, there was only one candidate. She risked looking backwards, past Guy, and at the unimposing figure of Balian. He gave her a small smile and then resumed his conversation with Tiberias.

 

His presence made Sibylla feel a bit safer in her own city. If she could have her way, then he would be her Champion. The noises and smells of Jerusalem washed over her, bringing her back to reality. The lords and knights began to disperse to go to their houses in the city. Balian and his men broke off relatively early to ride back to Balian’s house. The servants no doubt would be unprepared for their master’s arrival.

 

The palace was dark, even though the servants had lit all the torches. The king was quickly carried to his own chambers. The Saracen physicians, sent by Saladin himself, followed, along with Bishop Heraclius, the patriarch of Jerusalem. Sibylla was left alone to find her own way back to her apartments, not that she actually needed an escort. Guy brushed past her and disappeared into the dimness of the corridors. They had not spoken during the entire journey back to Jerusalem. She cared not. There was nothing to say. He had his way of life; she had hers.

With You, I’ll Be Only Sibylla (Part 5)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, the plot, or anything. All of Kingdom of Heaven belongs to Sir Ridley Scott and William Monahan, and History.

 

Warning: Implications of adult themes

Chapter 5: The World Will Decide

 

Sibylla lay awake, staring into the darkness. Beside her, Balian lay slumbering, his chest rising and falling with deep even breaths. The sheets were twisted from their lovemaking. The princess’ hair lay loose on the pillow. She glanced outside. A full moon had risen; pale, round, perfect, save for the darker smudges which marked its face. It was like the all-seeing eye of God.

 

What had she done? She’d committed adultery with a man she hardly knew. And yet, she knew very well that she loved him. How else could she explain her feelings? His very presence warmed her heart. He made her feel cherished, precious. He made her feel human, instead of just a figurehead or a pawn which was to be used in the struggle for power. Balian cared nothing for the power which a relationship with her would bring. She knew he loved her, even though he’d never told her.

On the Social Heirarchy

When I was eleven, I realized I was living in a social heirarchy; one which had been passed down from generation to generation ever since the time of the ancients. And I hated it. As a girl, growing up in a rather traditional Chinese family, I came to realize that respect is dealt out according to age, gender and status. Being of the younger generation, and a female, I was looked down upon. There were so many things that I couldn’t do. Swearing, or even talking in a less than ‘lady-like’ manner was a no-no. I wasn’t even allowed to say ‘Ew’ because it sounded similar to some cuss word in Cantonese. Women’s business was kept in the dark. Once my father saw sanitary pads in the bags of shopping, and then he did something which equated to making the sign against the evil eye in the Middle Ages. When he saw those, he said “Good fortune be on us!” I told him off soundly for that. Father or not, he had no right to hold the view that women were somehow lesser than men. It’s the twenty-first century! If not for us women and our menstrual cycles, there would be no more homo sapiens sapiens.

Perhaps this blatant male chauvinism is something which draws me to the Crusades. During that period, there were a lot of strong woman. Most famous of them all, Eleanor of Aquitaine, mother of Richard I of England. If not for her, England would’ve been in shambles, and Henry II wouldn’t have been quite so powerful either. Then there was Eschiva of Tiberias, who defended her castle against Saladin’s attacks, knowing that her husband would not willingly send troops to rescue her, no matter how much he loved her. (Raymond of Tripoli is also a character I’m quite fond of. He loved his stepsons, and his wife. That’s not really normal for a man of his time.) Even Sibylla of Jerusalem, although foolish, was a strong woman, because she braved the anger of the nobles to marry the man she loved. Subsequently, that led to the downfall of her kingdom, but that’s beside the point.

***

As a member of the younger generation, I could not speak out of turn, although that as a rule I broke often, and for my pains, I would be told ‘not to mind the business of adults’ when obviously, I knew what was right and wrong. And legally, I was an adult, just not of the right generation. I had to respect my elders simply because they were older, and not because they had done anything to merit my respect and admiration. Of course, I’m not that sort of obedient perfect daughter. These unfair expectations made me angry, and certainly did not improve my view of the male gender.

The thing was, when I talked to other adults, not Chinese, they didn’t seem to have this sort of heirarchical system. I was able to have proper discussions, and they would listen to my ideas. Whether they accepted them or not was another matter, but at least they listened.

This social heirarchy is one of the things which I feel is wrong in Chinese culture. Respect is all very well, but I believe that respect and status needs to be earned, not expected, as it seems to be with a lot of Chinese adults.

With You, I’ll Be Only Sibylla (Part 4)

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters. They all belong to the creators of the movie, Kingdom of Heaven, and God.

Warning: Implications of adult content

Chapter 4: There is Only Light

 

The rooms were simple, with only basic furnishing. Godfrey had not been a man for ornamentation, and his son was even less so. Sibylla smiled as she took in her rooms. Balian had given her the master suite. The lack of decoration was a refreshing change. There was no clutter here, no dark secrets. Ibelin was an innocent, just like its master. She had her maids bring in flowers to freshen the air. The room itself smelled of a man; of sweat, dust and masculine musk.

 

Youmna helped her to change out of her dusty travelling gown. Curtains were drawn around the balcony, veiling the princess from prying eyes as she bathed. Sibylla watched her maids bustling about, rearranging things to her tastes. Balian had said that they could do whatever they wanted with this suite. She sat with her feet in a basin of water with rose oil floating on the surface, forming a swirling rainbow. The sound of work and construction filtered in from outside; shouts of men, speaking both in Arabic and Latin. Sibylla stood. Making sure that her towel was wrapped securely around her naked body, she stepped over to the hand-carved windows, leaving a trail of wet footprints in her wake. 

With You, I’ll Be Only Sibylla (Part 3)

Disclaimer: This is based on Sir Ridley Scott’s brilliant film, Kingdom of Heaven. I’m just borrowing the characters and the main plot, and I get no profit, only enjoyment

Chapter 3: A Few Yards of Silk

Sibylla opened the door to the inner chamber just a little bit so that she could see her son. The boy had his back to the door. He sat amongst cushions, talking to himself as he moved his pewter soldiers around and fought imaginary battles. Arabic words were scattered through his speech. Love filled her. It hadn’t seemed so long since he’d been a tiny helpless baby in her arms. She stepped in as quietly as possible, so as to not disturb him, but her long silken dress got caught on one of his toys. Little Baldwin looked up when he heard his mother come in. He grinned and ran into her open arms. “Maman!” he said. “I thought you were dining with the lords.”

With You, I’ll Be Only Sibylla (Part 2)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters or the storyline. This story is based on Sir Ridley Scott’s brilliant film, Kingdom of Heaven.

Chapter 2: The Very Best of Wives

Sibylla was in a dream, or so she felt. For the first time in after her marriage to Guy, she found herself dreaming about a man. And it was not her husband.

The reins were loose in her hands, and she let her horse plod on. The animal knew its way back to the royal stables. In the meantime, she was happy to just savour the freedom of being out of the palace. The air was filled with the scent of spices, with the underlying taint of sweat and waste. In a sense, it was like the Kingdom itself. On the surface, everything seemed holy and perfect. They were the bulwark against the Saracens. They were God’s chosen people, dedicating their lives to fighting for Him and defending Christendom. But then, were they really fighting for God?

The First Crusade (my take)

Just then, I’ve had a history tutorial. Actually, make that two. The first one was on the First Crusade. I might not like the idea, but I’m fascinated by the Crusades, thanks to Kingdom of Heaven. We were discussing why Pope Urban II declared the First Crusade. My take on it was that he did it because the Byzantine emperor asked for help against the Seljuk Turks. If the Pope helped the Byzantines, then Byzantium would be indepted to him and he would be able to exert papal authority in the Christian East. It came to me just when the tutor asked. I’m sure it was the work of my muse. Such sensible arguments are just not my forte.

I’ve been trying to learn the second and the third crusades, but I know I am hopelessly biased for the Ibelin family. They sound like an interesting lot. The real Balian of Ibelin must have been attractive and charming in his own way, because why else would Maria Comnena, dowager queen and niece of the Byzantine Emperor, marry him? He didn’t exactly have distinguished roots, being descended from a rank and file knight. She lost power and influence in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem when she married him. From what I’ve read, they were happy together. I’m a hopeless romantic. Maybe someday, I will attempt to write a story about them. Not at the moment though. I’m still too stuck on the fictionalized Balian of Ibelin.

With you, I’ll be only Sibylla (Part 1)

Disclaimer: This is based on Sir Ridley Scott’s brilliant film, Kingdom of Heaven. I don’t own any of the characters.

Summary: The account of the end of the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, as seen from the point of view of the most important woman in the kingdom, Princess Sibylla of Jerusalem.

Chapter 1: Meeting the Baron

The hooves of her horse thundered beneath her. She could feel the animal’s powerful muscles bunching up. For a moment, she was free, one with the wind. Jerusalem loomed in the distance. Sibylla was reluctant to return. She had not had enough of her freedom, even if it was fleeting and pretensive. Her thoughts wandered back to the days when she’d been a naive girl; a stranger to the bitterness of this world. Oh, she’d been disappointed when her father had married her off to William de Montferrat, a man three times her age. Like any maid, she’d dreamed of a romantic marriage with a handsome young man who would love her and cherish her. William had been kind, but she’d viewed him as more of an uncle than a husband. And then, he’d died, leaving her five months pregnant with the potential heir to the throne.

Truths, Lies, and the Human Condition

It’s cold today. The sky is grey and dreary. I went to choir practise at church this morning, and then waited outside for my dad to pick me up. The icy wind was like the rush of an ethereal cavalry. It tore at my clothes. I stood still in the cold, wrapping my arms around myself. The sun was shining then, but it was a cold cheerless light, a lie, for there was no warmth, even though the sun’s rays were reflecting off the dark wet concrete. And the truth about this world is that it is full of lies. The media warps the truth so we can no longer believe anything that we read in the newspapers or hear on the news. I certainly don’t trust them anymore. According to them, my favourite actor would’ve had three marriages, all to the same person. He’s still a bachelor. According to them, a feudal system where the serfs were treated worse than slaves is better than a communist government that tries to bring the locals to modernity and expose them to the outside world.

The funny thing is, many people would rather hold onto those lies than face the truth, because they don’t want themselves to be shown in a bad light. We would rather die than admit that we were wrong. Is that not part of human nature? To humble oneself is such a difficult thing, but it is what we have been encouraged to do throughout the ages.

Speaking of this, the Church has always said that we must reconcile and forgive one another, and yet, so many people have committed atrocities in her name. The Crusades, for instance. No one has apologized for the massacres which occurred in that time. The hatred still lingers, causing a divide between the east and the west. The other day, I passed a billboard with an advertisement for an insurance company. It happily urged people to ‘join the crusade’. They seem to have forgotten that the crusades were not very noble at all. In fact, if I mention the word crusader to the average person in my city, they would most likely think of the local rugby team, the Crusaders. Why are the shameful parts of history so easily forgotten and covered up with lies or euphemisms?  True, some of the crusaders were honourable men, but we must remember that many of them were not. Those crusaders whom I admire were not honourable because they were crusaders. It was just part of their nature to be honourable.

***

I have not written anything today, except for a few reviews, review replies, and this blog entry. I know I ought to have gone through with my morning journaling session, but bed was very warm and good. It is the weekend after all, and I am allowed to go a bit slack on my routine. Anyway, there is a lot to study this weekend, because I have test on Monday.

The magpie hasn’t returned. I wonder what has happened to her. Yesterday I saw a pigeon. It was fluttering from window to window, as if it was trying to attract attention. It might be a very normal thing to see pigeons, but to be honest, I haven’t seen that many where I live. Albatrosses and seagulls are more common in the city square. It was special, and beautiful. I do like birds, and I would love to be able to fly. It seems so free. Then again, I am afraid of heights.