Текст книги "The Heart of the Lion "

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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No, she could not tell her that. All she could do was comfort her.

‘There is always gossip about royal people,’ she said. ‘We look at a man or a woman and people immediately decide to bed us. Remember this, Berengaria. Stop fretting. Richard is engaged in a bitter struggle. You will hear from him as soon as he is free to think of us.’

‘I had hoped he would be thinking of me constantly . . . as I am thinking of him.’

‘My dear sister, he has a mighty war to fight. You have but to sit here with your embroidery. You must see the difference.’

‘Oh, I do,’ cried Berengaria. ‘I’m afraid I am foolish.’

‘You are inexperienced of the ways of the world and of men,’ said Joanna.

‘How grateful I am that you are with me. You teach me so much.’

‘I have been a wife and a widow, remember. These experiences tell.’

And while they sat in the garden they heard the arrival of horsemen.

Berengaria started up, her eyes alight with excitement.

‘It is messages from Richard at last.’

They went out into the courtyard and there seated on a horse was a very young girl, a child merely. Her dark hair, thick and luxuriant, fell about her shoulders; her deep set eyes were dark, black-lashed and at that moment apprehensive.

On either side of her rode two knights and one of them had a message from Richard.

He wanted his wife and his sister to take this girl into their household. She was a Cypriot Princess, daughter of Isaac Comnenus. They were to treat her well for it was no fault of hers that her father had deceived the King.

Berengaria laughed with pleasure. The newcomer was an innocent child.

‘Let the Princess dismount,’ she cried.

Joanna said: ‘We will ourselves look after her and see that she is treated in accordance with her rank.’

The girl stood before them and they were both filled with compassion for this poor child whose home was now in the possession of a conqueror. They determined to look after her. Indeed that was what Richard had ordered, but they would give her that especial care to make her feel she had nothing to fear.

Together they took her into the house. A room should be prepared for her near theirs. She should be their companion. They would tell her about their homes and she should tell them about hers.

The girl seemed comforted.

As for Berengaria, one sight of this child, so young and helpless, had dispelled the jealousy which had tormented her since she had heard that the beautiful daughter of Isaac Comnenus was in Richard’s hands.

She asked her: ‘Did you see King Richard?’

‘But briefly. I was taken before him. My father was there and he held me in his arms and begged the King not to harm me. Then King Richard ordered that I be sent to you.’

Berengaria said gently: ‘Have no fear. We will look after you and see no harm befalls you.’

‘There is my father . . .’ said the little girl, her eyes filling with tears.

‘Try not to fret. He had defied the King but you are not to blame. I am glad that my husband has sent you to us.’

Indeed she was, for the coming of the child had made Berengaria realise how false were the rumours. Later that day, Joanna heard her singing softly to herself, and the song she sang was one which Richard himself had composed.

The fever was passing, but it had left Richard emaciated and he was careful not to mingle too freely with his men. The image of superhuman being must not be tarnished. Of course that he could be assailed by illness and emerge as strong as ever was in itself worthy of him, but he would wait until he was full of the old vitality before he would let his humbler followers see him.

He was grateful to Guy de Lusignan. But for him events might have turned out differently. It was well to have near him someone whom he could trust and he fancied that it was not only because of the support he could give his claim to the crown of Jerusalem which had inspired Guy. Guy was a great warrior.

He must rest awhile. He must suppress the almost irrepressible desire to be up. He had suffered so many bouts of this fever that he knew the course it would take and that he must be careful that there was not a relapse.

And as he lay there messengers came from the King of France. Richard received them eagerly. News of Philip always excited him and he had been wondering what was happening in the French camp. Fervently he hoped that Philip had not succeeded without him; on the other hand he felt apprehensive as to his rival’s safety. Philip had declared to him when they parted that he would not take Acre until Richard joined him. It was to be a joint venture. This he had sworn, but Richard was wondering how far he could trust him. If the opportunity arose surely the desire to take the city and glean the accompanying glory would be too much for Philip to resist.

But apparently the opportunity had not occurred.

‘How fares the King of France? Is he in good health?’ he asked the envoys.

‘The King of France is in good health,’ was the reply.

‘And what military success has been his?’

‘There have been many skirmishes and he has made useful progress,’ was the guarded answer. Ah, thought Richard exultantly. He has not progressed far. He needs me beside him.

‘Our lord frets at your dalliance and commands the Duke of Normandy to come to him without delay.’

Richard’s temper flared. It was always so when Philip reminded him that he was his vassal for Normandy.

‘Pray tell the King of France,’ he replied haughtily, ‘that the King of England will leave when it pleases him.’

‘The King of France was emphatic that the Duke of Normandy should come at once. His presence is needed at Acre. The King of France thinks that the Duke of Normandy forgets the purpose of this enterprise which is not to indulge in facile conquests on the way but to restore the Holy Land to Christianity.’

Richard rose; he tottered slightly. It was as much with rage as with weakness.

‘The King of France must learn that one of the reasons for the fall of Jerusalem is the hostile treatment crusaders receive on their way to the Holy Land. I have subdued Isaac Comnenus who was no friend to the Christians though he ought to have been. It is my belief he accepted bribes from the Saracens to delay us all he could. Tell the King of France that he robbed my sailors, stole my stores and imprisoned my men. Does the King of France expect me to allow that to pass? Perhaps the King of France would. Perhaps that is why the Christians were short of provisions and weapons and the Saracens had the opportunity to take the Holy City.’

The messengers were taken aback and did not know what to say, but they felt that they had Philip’s authority to remind Richard that as Duke of Normandy, he must bow to the wishes of his suzerain.

‘We but repeat the orders of the King of France,’ they muttered.

‘Then return to him and tell him that the King of England does not receive orders from the King of France and that he will stay in Cyprus until that time when he feels the island to be completely subdued. Thus it will be a port of call for crusaders in days to come. Here they will rest in safety and comfort. They will be provided with the rich fruit of this island and we shall not have men arriving in Palestine emaciated and sick from a long sea voyage. Nor shall we lose them to the greed and villainy of rapacious islanders. Go now and tell this to the King of France. Tell him I shall join him in my own good time.’

When they had gone he lay on his bed exhausted.

He smiled slowly, contemplating Philip. Philip wanted him there. He knew he could not take Acre without him. If he had been able to he would have done so. Philip wanted the glory of victory. The man who restored the Holy City to Christianity would be received with acclaim everywhere in the Christian world – not excluding Heaven itself.

It was an honour all crusaders sought.

But it was more than that. Philip wanted to see him.

And he wanted to stand with Philip before the wall of Acre. Together they would take it, just as they had planned a long time ago, when he had been a hostage in Philip’s hands during the lifetime of his father – and they had gone everywhere together, riding, walking, playing, dreaming and lying in bed together talking of the glorious deeds they would perform when they went on their crusade.

Times had changed – they were no longer king and hostage; they were two kings of countries where rivalry was inevitable. Was it possible for the King of England to be friendly with the King of France? Normandy stood between them. Philip could never forget it. He would, like all the kings of France, for ever remember how the Norseman Rollo had ridden along by the Seine and taken possession of that strip of land which became known as Normandy. Richard was of Norman stock. This stood between them now and it always would.

They were natural enemies and yet they were beloved friends. They yearned to be together but they must constantly seek ways of scoring over each other.

It was an exciting relationship.

And now Philip was commanding him to leave Cyprus, and for that reason he would stay longer than he had intended.

He talked the matter over with Guy who had become his constant companion. Philip would be jealous of Guy. The thought amused Richard. Philip had already set himself against Guy by offering his support to another candidate for the crown of Jerusalem when that city should be brought back to Christianity: Conrad de Montferrat. Why was Philip supporting him? Because he thought it would be to the advantage of France to do so. Always Philip thought of the good of France. Richard thought very little of the good of England. He was pleased to leave the governing of that country in his mother’s capable hands.

‘Guy,’ he said, ‘this island is now in our hands. Isaac is in his silver chains. His daughter is with the two Queens; the people like to live in peace and get on with their daily lives. We shall have no trouble here while Isaac is in captivity. It is merely a matter of appointing regents to hold the island in my absence.’

‘That’s so, Sire,’ replied Guy. ‘Have you any in mind for this task?’

‘There are two Englishmen whose conscientious work has singled them out to me. I would trust them. They are Robert of Turnham and Richard de Camville.’

‘I have noticed these men. I think they would serve you well.’

‘Then you endorse my choice.’

‘I do, my lord.’

‘Go and bring them to me that I may put the matter to them. I will explain their duties and that I trust them to be good servants. They will administer the island and make sure that crusaders can always be sure of fresh meat, fruit and wheat when they arrive here on their journey.’

‘You have already served the cause well, my lord. If you did nothing more crusaders would be grateful to you for ever.’

‘The King of France does not share your opinion. He thinks I dally here and am more interested in making conquests than sailing on to Palestine.’

‘The King of France is doubtless envious of your fame.’

‘That may be. But I will not take orders from him although he continually reminds me that he is my suzerain through Normandy.’

‘I doubt not that my lord reminds him that the King of England enjoys as great a name throughout the world as that of the King of France. Aye, and becoming greater every month.’

‘I intend it to be so, Guy. Well then, we shall appoint our regents and then set sail. The ships should be well stocked with the good things of this island. What a fruitful place it is! A paradise! I confess I could linger here awhile. But on the other hand I feel the urge to go forward. I long to be storming the walls of Acre.’

‘I doubt not, my lord, that you will soon have brought the siege to an end.’

‘That shall be my endeavour.’

In the next few days Richard had fully recovered his health.

He immediately gave a banquet to celebrate his possession of Cyprus. The people came out of their houses to cheer him as he rode by. They liked the look of him; he was stern but just; and they were heartily tired of Isaac.

Richard had seen little of Berengaria. He sent a message to her and to Joanna to tell them that he was very much engaged with preparations for departure, but would come to them when it was possible.

When he did arrive he embraced them both rather absent-mindedly and told them to make their preparations to leave.

Berengaria looking up at him adoringly said that she always looked for his own ship, Trenc-the-mere, when she was near the sea and she was delighted because now that she was his wife she would sail with him in it.

‘You cannot guess, Richard, the anxieties we suffered,’ she told him. ‘Not knowing where you were . . . whether you were dead or alive.’

Richard was thoughtful. ‘I have been thinking,’ he said, ‘that after all it would be most unwise for you to travel on Trenc-the-mere.’

‘Oh but that is where I want to be. I want to be with you, Richard.’

‘That is a good wife,’ he said indulgently. ‘But as a good husband I am concerned for your safety.’

‘My great concern is yours.’

‘Nay,’ he said firmly, ‘you cannot sail with me. What if already you are carrying our child, the future King of England!’

‘We have been so little together,’ she said mournfully.

‘Oh, it is enough. I have hopes.’

‘Could we not . . . ?’

His lips smiled but his eyes were cold. ‘I am a king, Berengaria. I have my duties. I am not even in my own country. Responsibilities are heavy on my shoulders. I have just conquered Cyprus, which is going to make a great difference to crusaders. Think of them hungry, racked by storm, all those days at sea and then coming to the haven of Cyprus where there will be fresh meat and fruits for them. They will bless King Richard.’

‘There are already many who have reason to do that,’ she said.

‘It may be. But my orders must be obeyed. I cannot have you or Joanna exposed to the dangers which could befall my ship. As we progress our journey becomes more hazardous. There is one whom these people will seek first to destroy. I am that one.’

‘Oh, Richard, let us come with you. The dangers will be nothing compared with our anxieties.’

‘Nay, the dangers will be great. You will obey my orders, Berengaria. I say that you shall sail in another ship. Do not look so disconsolate. Joanna will be with you . . . Joanna and the little Princess from Cyprus.’

He doesn’t want me, she thought sadly. Why? What is wrong with me?

Chapter VII

THE KING AND THE SULTAN

The June sun blazed down on the fleet of ships – one hundred and fifty of them. They were on their way to Acre and leading them was Trenc-the-mere. Shouting orders through his trumpet, commanding that none was to attempt to pass him, sailing close to the arid land, Richard’s spirits soared. He would soon be in Acre. Before he had left Cyprus he had heard that Philip had broken the siege and filled with dismay he had hastened his preparations to depart. It had been a great relief to learn that the news was false.

And now on to Acre, to Philip, to make their plans together, to bring about the realisation of a dream.

As they had sailed from Cyprus, Richard heard that one of his galley men wished to speak to him. This man told him that he had been in Beyrout and there seen a wonderful ship – the largest he had ever seen.

‘It was a Saracen, Sire,’ he said. ‘Her sides were hung with green and yellow tarpaulins. I asked what this was for and was told that the Byzantine navy frequently use the deadly Greek Fire in their fighting and these tarpaulins are protection for the hull. Sire, this ship was being loaded with men and food. It was said that there were eight hundred Turks and seven Emirs to command them and they were on their way to Acre.’

‘If this be true,’ said Richard, ‘it is small wonder that the siege goes on. They must be constantly supplied with food and troops.’

‘And, Sire, that was not all. It was said that two hundred deadly snakes were being put on board the vessel and these were to be let loose in the Christian camp.’

‘By God’s eyes,’ cried Richard, ‘is this so then? I would to God I had the chance to meet such a ship.’

It seemed that his prayers were answered for between Beyrout and Sidon a ship was sighted on the horizon. Three-masted and flying the French flag, she was one of the biggest ships Richard had ever seen.

‘I never knew Philip owned such a ship,’ said Richard. ‘If he had, surely I would have seen it. He would certainly have boasted of her.’

Richard suspected that she was not French and as they came nearer he saw the green and yellow tarpaulins on her sides and sent for the galley man who had told him of the ship he had seen in Beyrout.

He did not wait to be asked. ‘That is the ship, Sire, the one I saw being loaded in Beyrout.’

Richard ordered one of the galleys to go forward and make contact with the ship.

The ship’s answer was a shower of arrows, javelins and stones.

‘’Tis true,’ cried Richard. ‘She’s an enemy. She must not be allowed to reach Acre.’

He gave the order to close in on her but the extreme height of the ship gave her the advantage and she was able to send down such a shower of arrows on to the galleys that the wise action seemed to be to retire.

Richard was furious. She was not going to escape. He could see that his men were losing heart for what they considered an unequal battle doomed to failure. But Richard never accepted failure. He was either going to capture or sink that vessel. She was not going to reach Acre with her reinforcements of men and food and her deadly serpents to wreak havoc in the Christian camp.

‘Are you such cowards,’ he cried to his men, ‘that you shrink from action with the enemy? She is one and we are many. Shall you, soldiers of the Cross allow her to carry succour to the Saracen? If you allow these enemies of God to escape you deserve to be hanged, every one of you.’

As ever his magnetism mingled with his personal valour had its effect. Those men who, a few moments before, had grumbled to each other that to attack was folly, were now straining for the fight.

Some of them even attempted to board the ship, and as they did so their hands or heads were cut off and the air was filled with their piercing cries as they fell back into the sea. When several men leaped into the water and tied a rope to the Saracen’s helm so that her progress might be impeded, this was more successful.

Then to the Saracens’ relief Richard gave the order to retire. It was but a respite. His mind was made up. He deeply regretted that he could not take the vessel, and the thought of all that treasure on board dismayed him. What he could do, what he must do was sink her; and that was what he was going to do.

The prows of the galleys were iron which made of these ships excellent battering rams. They could drive themselves into the sides of the Saracen with such force that they broke her up. This they did until the sea was darkened by the bodies of drowning men and the ship’s cargo. Richard tried to salvage some of the latter but without much success.

But the victory was Richard’s. The Saracen would not sail into Acre. The besieged who would be eagerly awaiting succour would be disappointed.

Surely, thought Richard, this action must have brought the fall of Acre nearer.

After such an engagement the fleet must put in at Tyre. At last he had reached the Holy Land. How enthralled Richard was at the prospect of setting foot on that soil. For so long he had dreamed of this; now fulfilment was at hand. He felt sure that ere long he would have captured the Holy City itself.

Flushed with victory he landed, but if he had expected a warm welcome, he was disappointed for the Governor came riding down to the shore. He bowed coldly and said: ‘My lord, I have orders from the Marquis Conrad de Montferrat that you are not to enter the town.’

‘What means this?’ cried Richard dismayed.

‘My orders, Sire.’

‘So I am to be governed by Conrad de Montferrat?’

‘He has the backing, Sire, of the King of France.’

‘Is this the Holy Land?’ cried Richard. ‘It is indeed, Sire.’

‘Know you what I have but a few days ago sunk a great Saracen who was taking supplies and men to Acre? My men are weary. They seek rest, lodging, food, relaxation.’

‘They may camp outside the city.’

‘I shall remember this,’ said Richard.

‘Not against me, my lord, I beg you,’ answered the Governor. ‘I but obey orders.’

‘Then I shall remember it against Montferrat and the King of France.’

‘If there is aught I can do for you, sire, outside the town . . .’

‘Nay,’ snapped Richard. ‘There is naught. We shall not stay long on your inhospitable shores. Have you heard what happened to one who was similarly churlish? He lost his island and now lies in chains.’

The Governor began to tremble and Richard thought: It is no use blaming him. He is not the enemy.

He shrugged his shoulders and turned away.

‘Set up the tents,’ he said. ‘We rest outside the city.’ And he thought: If this were not a Christian stronghold Tyre would go the same way as Cyprus.

But the men were weary and he was eager to get to Acre. There must be no more delay. And why had Montferrat backed by Philip behaved so to him? He supposed it was because he had sponsored Guy de Lusignan for the crown of Jerusalem when it was won. Well, Guy was worth a little friction. He did not regret favouring him one jot.

And now to rest.

The Queens came ashore – Berengaria with Joanna and the pretty little Cypriot maid.

‘We watched the fight,’ said Berengaria. ‘Oh, Richard, I was terrified. But I knew of course that you would win. You will always win.’

Joanna embraced him. ‘I was afraid for you,’ she murmured.

‘I am grieved,’ he answered, ‘that you were in a position to watch it. How glad I was that you were not in my galley!’

‘Richard is so wise,’ said Berengaria, but she spoke a little wistfully.

And the little Cypriot looked on with wondering eyes.

‘There is much to be done,’ said Richard. ‘I have ordered that you shall be comfortably lodged. I must now leave you. There is much to be done.’

Was that all? wondered Berengaria as Richard turned away.

It was an auspicious moment. There before him lay the walled city of Acre, its towers and minarets set against a blue and cloudless sky. To the south of the city stretched ten miles of golden sands with palm trees dotted here and there; and on these sands were camped the armies from all over the Christian world.

Richard gazed in wonder. At last after so many irksome months he had arrived. He turned his gaze to the thick walls of the city – strong, formidable. Behind them lurked the Saracen enemy, as determined never to be driven out of this stronghold as Richard was to take it, for since the fall of Jerusalem it had become the capital of the Holy Land. For two years those Christian armies had sought to break the siege and take the city which was the gateway to Jerusalem.

Why was it so difficult to capture the city? How could the men and women of Acre hold out so long? Surely God was on the side of the Christians! And when Richard considered the ship he had sunk and all the men and provisions which had been lost in the sea he was not surprised at the endurance of those people. If such stores were being brought to them regularly, they had nothing to fear from a siege.

But he was here at last . . . yearning for the battle and when the fleet came into sight there were shouts from the shore and as he came nearer Richard saw the people gathered there to meet him.

There was an august figure there on horseback surrounded by a company of men. Philip! He was looking eagerly towards the ships. Richard knew for whom he was searching.

When Berengaria was ready to go ashore Philip waded out to the galley and, so that she should not get her feet wet, himself carried her to the beach. This was a significant gesture indeed, for Alice’s fate was still undecided. It was characteristic of Philip to show the world that he felt no ill will towards Berengaria because she was now Queen of England in place of his sister.

But, wondered those who saw this gallant gesture, how true was his apparent acceptance of this state of affairs? With Philip no one could be sure.

Richard was the last to go ashore and there in view of all, he and Philip embraced affectionately.

‘At last you are here!’ said Philip. ‘What delays there have been!’

‘Necessary delays,’ replied Richard.

‘It seems years since Messina.’

‘What a goodly array,’ cried Richard. ‘Men from all over the Christian world! How can we fail with such a company?’

‘Come,’ said Philip, ‘I wish us to be alone together. There is much to be discussed.’

‘First,’ said Richard, ‘I would inspect the troops. I want to know what we have here. What a motley!’

It is true. There were French, and English of course, Germans, Italians, Spanish, in fact as Richard had said every Christian nation appeared to be represented.

As Richard rode round the camps, cheers went up. There could be no doubt that his presence was a signal for rejoicing. His fame had gone before him. He was the unconquered and unconquerable hero of the Christian world. There could be no failure with him to lead them. They had long awaited his coming and now here he was, and this must mean that ere long Acre would fall.

He was glad to see that besides the troops from the Christian countries there was a goodly number of the company of Hospitallers – necessary to any army. These people lived up to their name and tended the sick and wounded and were very skilled in their work. They knew the value of foods and which were good in the treatment of certain ailments; they had linen for bandages and wine in which to soak them because this appeared to have healing qualities. When it was necessary to amputate a limb, which was often, they could brew a concoction of opium and mandragora with which to numb the patient’s senses. They were an essential part of an army.

Richard’s spirits rose. He could not see how these armies could fail – with God’s help, and surely God would not deny that to men occupied in such a cause!

It was with great optimism that he came at length to Philip’s camp.

Philip dismissed all his men that he might be alone with Richard.

‘You should never have delayed as you did,’ he chided. ‘I’ve watched and waited and the days passed with still no sign of you.’

‘I dallied with good results. I got treasure from Tancred and the island of Cyprus is now mine.’

‘You did not come for personal conquests, Richard.’

‘Cyprus is now a haven for crusaders. They may refurbish their stores and rest there. The men can have a few days’ respite in delightful surroundings – fig trees, palm trees, beautiful flowers. It is an enchanting place. You will see how this will help us in our war against the Saracen.’

‘Well, suffice it that you are here. That gives me great satisfaction.’

‘Tell me, Philip, what has been happening in the last six weeks? I heard that you had taken Acre.’

‘No. As if I would without you! Wasn’t that a pact we made?’

‘Pacts are not always remembered.’

‘They should be between us two. Nay, we have had ill luck. These Saracens are fighters, Richard. Mistake that not. The climate here is terrible. We have been tormented by the hot wind from the south which they call the khamsin. It is horrible. There is sand everywhere. In one’s clothes, in one’s food . . . there is no escaping it. It is a case of sand and flies everywhere. I hate this place, Richard. I want nothing so much as to be out of it.’

‘How can that be? When Acre is taken we have to march on to Jerusalem.’

‘Do not imagine it is going to be an easy victory. There is one man whose reputation matches your own. It is said that he is undefeatable. He is the great Moslem hero; even as you are the hero of the Christians. His name is Saleh-ed-Din. He is known throughout the camp as Saladin. He is a sort of legend. Yes, indeed, he is to them what you are to the Christians. I know not what will be the result when you two meet.’

‘I shall be the victor, I assure you. I am going to take Acre within the next few days.’

‘It is not as easy as you think.’

‘It would not do to think it impossible to achieve.’

‘Nay, but do not turn your back on the difficulties. I assure you they exist and they are many.’

‘What happened while you were awaiting my arrival?’

‘I was determined not to make a general assault until you came, so I contented myself with skirmishes. There is a tower known as the Accursed Tower because it is said to have been built with Judas’s thirty pieces of silver. I thought this should be taken and we have battered it continuously but because we were using bores and battering rams our task was made impossible by the enemy’s use of Greek Fire.’

Richard was acquainted with this deadly weapon used so frequently by the Saracens. It was a mixture of sulphur, wine, pitch, Persian gum and oil. When these substances were mixed together and set on fire they were almost inextinguishable. The only substances which could reduce their fury were vinegar and sand. The Byzantine Greeks had perfected this as a weapon and because of their many skirmishes with them the Saracens had adopted it to good effect. From a great height they would squirt this fire down on an enemy thus destroying all the contraptions which were put into action.

‘Then,’ said Richard, ‘if they are using Greek Fire with such effect we must attack them from afar.’

He went on to tell Philip of the weapons he proposed to use. There was the tower which he had built in the Sicilian campaign, Mate Griffon. This he had brought with him and it should be set up again. It should be put on wheels and when the moment was ripe should be run up against the walls of the city and his men from its tower could step over the walls.

‘You will see that my dallying as you call it has not been wasted. Valuable experience came my way because of it.’

‘It was your presence I missed,’ said the King of France. ‘All has changed now you are come. The soldiers know it. And what is more important so does Saladin. Imagine him . . . encamped on the hills beyond the city ready to come in if we should take it, ready to attack us when we are most exhausted. I should like to know how he is feeling this day with the knowledge that Richard the Lion is here.’