The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 20 The Princess of Jaffa

Sibylla disliked Jaffa. The harsh sea breeze, carrying a salty stench, swirled endlessly around the harbor, and even the slightest touch felt like an offense.

She sat in her castle room, the doors and windows tightly shut, holding a scroll of Italian poetry in her hands, her gaze fixed on the monotonous Mediterranean Sea outside the closed window, lost in thought. She was only jolted awake by the maid's exclamation when half of the scroll was burned away by the candle on the corner of the table.

She slammed the burned scroll of poems to the ground and stomped on it twice, her brow furrowed with irritation: "How much longer are we going to have to stay in this stone prison? Why didn't the king send someone else? Why did it have to be me?"

The maid lowered her head, not daring to answer.

A servant arrived just in time to report: "Your Highness, Count Raymond's fleet from Tripoli has entered the harbor!"

Sibylla's anger vanished instantly: "Are you sure it's the Earl's banner?"

The servant replied respectfully, "It is indeed correct. Moreover... the Earl has been waiting for quite some time."

The princess immediately rose and instructed her maid, "Prepare a formal dress for me, one I can ride. Return to Jerusalem immediately after receiving the count." She glanced back at the room. "I don't want to stay here a moment longer!"

Jaffa, a port city directly under the king's control, was once given to her as part of her dowry, marking the political marriage orchestrated by Earl Raymond to William "Longsword." Now that her husband has passed away, although her power as the mother of the crown prince has risen, she is ordered by the king to remain there, awaiting the return of her former matchmaker, now a political enemy. The irony of this situation is like a fishbone stuck in her throat.

At this moment, on the harbor shore, Lyon glanced back at the laborers and sailors busy unloading cargo, then at the Earl, Jacob, and the knights standing solemnly before him, as still as statues. He gently tugged at Jacob's trouser leg and whispered, "What are we doing? Are we being punished?"

The priest's face was expressionless: "We're waiting for a lady, a lady with a rather bad temper."

Just then, the sound of military boots pounding the ground came from behind. Unlike the troops Lyon had encountered in Egypt, these footsteps were chaotic and disorganized. Dozens of light infantrymen, carrying spears, were gathering from the battlements toward the port. They wore helmets and simple cotton chainmail, and their steps were heavy and weak.

The infantrymen formed a sparse formation to greet the guests, parting the crowd. The princess appeared at the top of the steps, her black veil fluttering in the wind. The Mediterranean sun shone perfectly on her face, making her look like a living portrait of a saint—skin as white and smooth as mare's milk, thick black and red hair, and a pair of azure eyes that could see through people's hearts but didn't bother to look.

Lyon unconsciously stroked his non-existent beard—beautiful, pleasing to the eye, truly deserving of the title "a beauty that could topple kingdoms."

The princess stepped forward slowly and gave the count an impeccable curtsy, smiling as she said, "Your Excellency, you have had a long journey. His Majesty has kept me waiting for you in Jaffa for quite some time. He is eager to know about your diplomatic achievements. The court has prepared accommodations for you. Please set off for Jerusalem as soon as possible."

The count glanced back at the weary knights behind him, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips: "The princess is as hospitable as ever. It's alright, we'll go see the king now."

The princess's gaze swept past the count and landed on the man behind him, Jacob, and she asked with slight surprise, "Father?"

Yage bowed respectfully: "Good day, Your Highness."

"How long has it been since I last saw you? The last time I saw you, I was a little girl, sitting in church listening to your sermons."

"It's been almost ten years, Your Highness."

The princess nodded. "Time really flies." She looked at Jacob, then glanced at Lyon hiding behind him, and laughed. "Instead of reciting hymns under the feet of the Roman Emperor, why are you back with the Count? And with a child?"

"They encountered pirates, and by chance, the count saved their lives in Egypt, so they came back with them," Jacob paused, "The child is the orphan of an old friend."

The princess made the sign of the cross on her chest and smiled slightly. "Fortunately, God has protected you and this child." She then changed the subject, "I believe your sister will also help you obtain a respectable new position in Jerusalem."

Accord's expression froze instantly.

Having said that, she turned around briskly, took the reins from the maid, and casually instructed, "Remember to prepare some wine. Oh, and also some sweets, in case the little one cries on the way."

As the princess's procession gradually disappeared into the distance, the count silently waved his hand, and the knights behind him rushed to the stables to board the warhorses that had been kept at the Jaffa stables before leaving port. The city lord of Jaffa then brought a camel for Jacob, whether by the princess's deliberate instruction or because there were simply no spare horses.

Accord didn't mind, helped Leon onto the camel, and followed Raymond, who hadn't gone far ahead, riding alongside him. He whispered, "It seems our noble princess reserves all her kindness for God, but when it comes to you, all that's left is a polite blade. What on earth did you do to offend her?"

Raymond gazed ahead toward Jerusalem, his face expressionless. "She had the right to be harsh to me. If I were in her shoes, I would have done the same." He paused, his voice lowering. "Jacob, that marriage... I orchestrated it. I gave her, a teenage girl, like a beautifully wrapped gift to 'Longsword' William, a man she had only ever seen in portraits. My reason at the time was noble—for the kingdom, we needed the prestige and army of the Montferrat family."

He gave a bitter smile. "I didn't even ask her if she was willing. Then, a year later, William died, leaving her with an unborn child and the title of 'widow.' I personally shackled her with fate, so what right do I have to accuse her of hostility towards me now?"

Jacob sighed: "Why blame yourself so much, Earl? Political marriages are common, and princesses are not isolated cases. From Ireland to the Khitan in the East, which princess didn't suffer such a fate? It just so happens that you were the villain..."

Raymond raised his hand to interrupt Jacob's words of comfort, his eyes sharpening. "No, you don't understand, Jacob. I feel guilty, but I don't regret the decision itself. Jerusalem needed an heir, and it was the best option at the time. What I truly cannot reconcile with her is now."

He took a deep breath. "She has the ambition inherited from her mother, and now she is the mother of the crown prince. She wants power, she wants to shape this kingdom according to her will. But I cannot let the fate of the kingdom be tied to the hands of a woman surrounded by court favorites and religious fanaticism. What we need is stability, balance, peace with Saladin, not another... absurd experiment of women ruling and a rash military conflict..."

"So, Jacob, you see. I am an accomplice in her misfortune, and also a political enemy who must stand in her way. It is only natural that she hates me, and I... I can neither forgive myself with a clear conscience, nor can I stop to make amends to her."

He looked up at the elegant building, his eyes filled with weariness.

"We are like gladiators forced into the arena, all bound to the chariot of Jerusalem, destined to torment each other like this."