Chapter 56: Whispers in the Halls of Kings
Date: Mid to Late April, 1179
Court of France — Senlis, Île-de-France — April 14th, 1179
The spring air outside the royal residence in Senlis smelled of rain and thawed earth. Inside the candlelit halls of the Capetian palace, King Louis VII of France sat upon a high-backed oak chair, the papal letter open before him.
Louis's once-vibrant beard had turned to gray, and the old scars of the Second Crusade still lingered in his memory like a wound that never quite closed. He ran a thin finger across the edge of the parchment. His advisors remained silent, awaiting his judgment.
"They say the King of Jerusalem has taken the field again," he murmured, his voice hushed with reverence—or doubt. "A leper, riding to war and winning."
Chancellor Stephen of Barres, one of Louis's trusted confidants, nodded cautiously. "Aye, Sire. Reports claim he defeated Saladin twice. Once near Jacob's Ford, then again while defending a new fortress overlooking the river valley. If the letters are true, the Saracens lost thousands."
Louis stared at the fire for a long moment. "When last I marched east, I was a younger man. The Crusade failed not because of faith, but because of disunity. Greedy lords. German arrogance. English delays. But now the Pope speaks of one commander." He tapped the scroll. "A single mind behind the sword."
"Would Your Majesty consider supporting such a venture again?" Stephen asked, carefully.
The king did not answer at first. "I may be old, but my son is not." He rose slowly and looked out the narrow window at the garden courtyard below. "Philip may yet do what I could not. If he bears the Cross, France will not be absent."
A messenger was summoned, and Louis dictated a reply—not yet a vow of war, but a promise to send envoys to Rome to assess this King of Jerusalem and the preparations being made. Support would come—but with conditions.