The Leper King's Healer

Chapter 53

Philippa, her chest heaving with the intensity of her emotions, hastened her steps to catch up with Archbishop Henry. The corridor echoed with the resonance of her voice as she called out, "Archbishop Henry, wait!"

Henry slowed his stride but didn't turn back immediately, his clerical robes billowing subtly with each step. He waited, his expression a blend of calm reserve and poised confidence. Philippa, her demeanor a mix of urgency and determination, closed the gap between them.

"Your Grace," Philippa began, her voice steady yet tinged with a hint of urgency. "I implore you to reconsider. Baldwin's predicament is dire, and the safety of our realm hinges on our actions now."

The Archbishop turned to face Philippa, his gaze meeting hers with unwavering determination. "Your Majesty," he responded with measured calmness, "I understand your concern for our king, but the decision was made with the kingdom's best interests in mind. We cannot risk the stability of Jerusalem by overextending our resources."

Philippa's eyes reflected a blend of frustration and desperation. "But he is our king, and he fights for our very existence. Please, Archbishop, reconsider this decision. Lives are at stake."

Henry's expression softened slightly, though his resolve remained firm. "I sympathize with your worries, Your Majesty, but sometimes the greater good necessitates difficult choices."

Their conversation hung in the air for a moment, tension crackling between them. Philippa knew the weight of her appeal, yet Henry, with his convictions, stood unyielding.

Philippa's POV:

My voice quivered with a mix of frustration and desperation as I confronted Archbishop Henry in the dimly lit corridor. My eyes, pools of intensity and resolve, locked onto the cleric's unwavering gaze.

My frustration intensified. I felt the weight of her husband's absence keenly, and the walls closing in around me with each passing moment. "But he's out there! risking his life for us, for Jerusalem," I continued, my voice rising with each syllable. "I won't stand by while he fights alone!"

The air crackled with tension as Queen Philippa's voice resonated through the hallowed halls of the corridor. Her eyes blazed with a fiery determination as she confronted Archbishop Henry, her regal demeanor tinged with a ferocity rarely seen.

At the sound of her furious and dissatisfied voice, William, who had been searching the dark hallway for the young queen, hurried to her side. "Your Majesty," he said, shifting his attention from Philippa to Henry.

The Archbishop's stance remained resolute, his demeanor composed despite the charged emotions in the air. "We must consider the broader implications of our decisions, Your Majesty," he stated firmly.

With a raging rage underlying every sentence, Philippa's voice echoed through the hallways, "You talk like you really care about Jerusalem... but all you care about is yourself." Her breath came in short gasps from the intensity of her feelings, and she continued.

I said with the weight of unvoiced complaints and the pressure of the moment, "I know you're doing this because you never see me as your Queen, and I know you never liked me to begin with." Under a façade of dignity, my frustration simmered, and my hands clenched into shaky fists by my sides. "Is it because I'm a woman?"

The Archbishop's countenance remained inscrutable, a mask of stoicism that revealed little of his inner thoughts. His eyes, cool and composed, met my eyes, searching for any hint of vulnerability amidst my unwavering resolve.

"Your Majesty," Henry responded, his voice calm and measured, "it's not about how I perceive you. It's about the stability and safety of our kingdom."

William hurriedly approached Philippa, his eyes reflecting concern and urgency. He cautiously reached out, trying to soothe her escalating emotions. "Your Highness, please," he implored softly but anger is already evident to his eyes as he looks at Henry.

The Archbishop's countenance remained stoic, a mask of composure concealing the flicker of surprise at Philippa's vehement outburst. With measured words, he addressed the Queen, the tension in the corridor hanging thick like a storm-laden cloud.

"Your Majesty," Henry's voice cut through the charged air, his tone controlled despite the turbulent emotions swirling around. His words held a biting edge, laden with a weight that carried the centuries-old authority of the Church.

"That's right... I never considered you worthy to be our Queen, you are nothing more than a beautiful face seducing our king, and yet here we are..." he said with a laugh "You are nothing but a woman wearing a crown...and women in power go against societal norms and expectations...and we men never bow down to a woman..."

Philippa clenched her hands and stared at Henry, enraged.

"And for that King... even Our Pope, the Head of the Catholic Church, expressed little sympathy when writing about him, declaring leprosy a 'just judgement of God.' He has little time left... and it's wise to give it to someone more suitable... not you! Not your family!" Henry's voice boomed through the corridor, echoing off the stone walls..

Philippa's eyes dilated in disbelief and rage at the Archbishop's unrestrained words. Her breath caught for a moment before she could react. "And I suggest that the time has come for you to do your duty properly," he said, cynically smiling.

William, taken aback by Henry's statements, seized him by the collar and said, "How dare you..."

"Let go of me, William," Henry muttered as he pulled William's hand away from his. "We all know the king won't be around much longer... then perhaps we might better prepare Sibylla's son, the heir to his throne."

William angrily exclaimed, "He is still alive out there."

"He's as good as dead," Henry responded, "and the council has already spoken... " As he proceeded, William gently let go of his collar and stared at him blankly.

William turned to face Philippa again and said, "Your Majesty, let's think of another plan and go back for the time being."

Phillippa came to a halt as soon as they turned their backs on Henry, her hands balled into shivering fists. Her pride will not allow her to back down now... she has already lost her family and will not allow this to happen again, not in this lifetime. She turned to face Henry, went to him aggressively, and angrily punched him in the face severely.

William was astonished to see the Archbishop fall to the ground with a bleeding smashed nose, while he looked at Philippa and was dumbfounded.

The Queen's abrupt violent action caught Henry off guard. The young queen slammed her heel against his finger, and she looked at him with disgust, her words a flood that refused to be halted.

"How dare you... insult my husband, your King in my presence!" Philippa's voice boomed across the corridor, bearing both regality and rage. "I am still your Queen, and you are my subject," she asserted, her tone firm and commanding.

Philippa's voice resonated, her words breaking through the quiet with a booming roar. "If I demand to kill you right where you stand, there's nothing you can ever do! And if I order you to go to war you will abide... so Don't you dare test my patience... I don't give a damn whether you're a man of God! you will serve me as your regent!"

And I will make sure that you are in your proper place while I am still your queen. Do you get what I mean? "

The intensity of Philippa's comments reverberated off the walls, thickening the atmosphere. Her demeanour was that of a lioness guarding her pride, her stare locked on the Archbishop, her stance firm.

Philippa turned on her heel and stormed away, followed by William, leaving the Archbishop on the ground to mull over the echoes of her words and the ramifications of the tense confrontation that had just occurred within the halls of power.