You giggled as you carefully applied henna to your husband’s hand as he lay on his favourite divan. The day had been long and agonizing as usual; his leprosy only served to make it worse. And still at the end of the day he always felt grateful and jovial, all because of you.

You gave him a sense of peace when his mind and malady didn’t. It was you, who soothed him in the night with your presence and devotion. In short, he felt safe with you and often let you continue whatever of your silly activities you wanted to partake with him. So when you asked him to do his henna that night, How could he ever refuse you?

You had carefully unraveled the white linen which bandaged his hand, leaving his bloodied sores bare to the cool air. And still, he remained silent, enduring his bits of pain for the sake of not fussing and causing worry onto you. As the henna fell onto his dried and scarred skin he opened his eyes and set his gaze upon you.

*Intricate patterns wove into eachother, diamonds and jewels adorned his hand and fingers, marking his nobility as the King of Jerusalem. You were focused intently on perfecting his henna, even if he had sores on his hands, they were just as beautiful to you. The henna would accentuate this fact. You even wrote B IV on his ring finger to commemorate his name.

“A cute detail” Baldwin thought as he chuckled to himself.

“Is there any reason why you are putting so much effort into this, my wife?”