The Leper King's Healer

Chapter 57

Philippa found herself standing resolute before a group of Lazarist knights afflicted with the scourge of leprosy. The air was heavy with the scent of flesh and blood, as the remnants of a once-mighty army gathered in a courtyard, their spirits dampened by the ravages of their ailment.

The courtyard of the Lazarist stronghold provided a stark backdrop to this scene, with weathered stones bearing witness to the trials endured by its inhabitants. The knights, their armor tarnished and their faces concealed by the shadows of their hoods, hesitated as Philippa addressed them with a fiery determination in her eyes.

Draped in a flowing gown that mirrored the colors of the sunset, Philippa addressed the knights with unwavering conviction.

"I have come here for peace!" she proclaimed, her voice cutting through the disquiet like a clarion call. As she addressed the knights, the atmosphere was charged with skepticism. The murmurs of doubt and weariness permeated the air, threatening to drown out Philippa's plea. Yet, undeterred, she lifted her voice with a determined strength.

"I have come here for peace!" Philippa's voice echoed, but the murmurs persisted. Undeterred, she continued, "I came here to ask for your help." The murmurs among the knights grew louder, discontent and skepticism lingering in the air. Yet, Philippa's determination, refused to be silenced.

Frustration etched across her face, Philippa gathered her composure and roared, "Shut it!" The courtyard fell silent, every eye fixed upon the queen. Philippa couldn't help but break into a comical grin, she whispered, "Well, that's better, isn't it?" The knights, caught between awe and astounded, exchanged glances, a moment of levity breaking through the tension. "I am Philippa of Antioch, the Queen of Jerusalem. I came here to ask for your help, to fight once more for Jerusalem."

As the knights digested her words, a sense of anticipation filled the courtyard. A few of them exchanged glances, their faces betraying a mixture of hope and disbelief. The sudden silence that followed Philippa's authoritative command hung in the air, and the knights exchanged uneasy glances. In that quiet moment, as if waiting for a cue, one brave Lazarist stepped forward, his weathered face bearing the marks of both battles fought and the relentless march of leprosy.

Sir Edmund, a seasoned warrior known for his unyielding loyalty and unwavering faith.his once-shining armor now tarnished by the ravages of time and disease, stepped forward.

His voice, though weakened by the leprosy, carried the weight of centuries of knighthood tradition. "Queen Philippa," he began, his eyes meeting hers with a spark of recognition. "We are but shadows of our former selves, our bodies weakened by this cruel affliction. How can we, who can barely stand, fight for Jerusalem once more?"

Philippa, sensing the knight's doubt, replied with a gentle yet firm tone, "What is your name good Ser? " She asked. " My name is Edmund, from the House of Krum, My Queen " He replied

"It is not your physical strength that I seek, Ser Edmund. It is the spirit that has kept you and your brethren standing against the tide. It is the courage that has driven you to defend the Holy Land, even when all hope seemed lost. That is the strength I need."

Philippa met their gaze, her eyes searching each knight's soul.

"We understand the gravity of this request," the Lazarist continued, "but we are no longer fit to fight, your highness.... Not with this body..."

Philippa's POV:

"Aren't you all the king's knight?" she questioned, my voice cutting through the despondency. "Aren't you Franks, the inheritors of valor and honor? Your leprosy may have stolen the strength from your limbs, but it cannot shackle your soul. My husband, your King, battled the same affliction and emerged victorious. He stood proud and tall, his spirit unbroken."

The Lazarist knights, initially resistant, shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "What more can we do?" they murmured, their voices barely audible over the rustling of the courtyard leaves.

My response echoed like a clarion call in the stillness of the moment. "You are the masters of your own swords, the architects of your destinies. Leprosy may hinder your bodies, but it cannot chain your spirits. I implore you to rise above the shackles of the flesh and fight for your King, for Jerusalem, for all that you hold dear."

As I spoke, the courtyard transformed into a stage for a stirring tale of resilience and unity. The knights, once doubtful, felt a surge of pride and purpose. "I only ask you to help him win this fight for Jerusalem, for all of you," I implored.

The Lazarist knights, initially resistant, questioned the feasibility of their involvement. Leprosy had taken a toll on their bodies, rendering them incapable of wielding swords as they once did. But Philippa, drawing inspiration from her ailing husband, King Baldwin IV, spoke words that transcended physical limitations.

"Long have you all stood by the side of our King, and as long you shall continue to do so....I thank you all for that.... " As Philippa lower her head and bend her knee and do a curtsy to the knights to show her gratitude. " Jerusalem is in our blood, as it is an honor to defend it." She continue

The knights, once hesitant, now stood tall, a collective resolve strengthening among them.

A murmur of agreement rippled through the courtyard as the Lazarist knights began to voice their commitment. "For King Baldwin! For Jerusalem!" they proclaimed, raising their swords, though hands marred by leprosy held them with an unyielding grip.

Philippa, undeterred, continued to stoke the flames of their dormant courage. "Long live the King!" she exclaimed, her voice cutting through the night like a clarion call. The knights, now invigorated by a surge of pride, took up the cry and raised their swords high, their collective roar echoing through the city.

Philippa's face softened, and a sense of gratitude filled her eyes. "Your loyalty and bravery do honor to the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Together, we shall face the challenges ahead and defend our home. We will march tonight! "

King Louis VII, gazing upon the spectacle unfolding in the courtyard below, couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and envy. He had heard tales of the young Queen's determination and strength, but seeing her in action was a sight to behold. She was indeed the spitting image of her mother, and there was no denying the resemblance to her father as well.

As the Lazarist knights marched towards the city gates, King Louis' thoughts drifted to his own role in this unfolding scene. Ser Gideon, his trusted advisor, approached him with a knowing smile. "Your Majesty, you must admit, Queen Philippa is awfully like her royal predecessors. Her spirit, her courage - it's a testament to the legacy her father and your previous wife have left behind."

King Louis nodded, his gaze still fixed on the scene unfolding below. "Indeed, Ser Gideon, she really looks like her mother, Eleonor but I doubt she knew about it. But what I find most remarkable is her ability to inspire others, even those who have been cast aside by society. She has given these Lazarist knights a purpose, a reason to fight once more."

As the cheers and applause from the crowd reached their ears, Louis knew that he had to act. He couldn't let this opportunity pass without offering his support to the Queen and the Lazarist knights. After all, their success would reflect positively on his reign as well.