Текст книги "The Heart of the Lion "
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 22 страниц)
Chapter V 
THE WEDDING IS POSTPONED
The water sparkled in the Bay which was dominated by the great peak of Vesuvius, and every morning when Berengaria awoke she looked at it and asked herself whether that day the message would come.
All through the winter she had waited and she knew that her future mother-in-law was also growing restive. Queen Eleanor hated inactivity. She would have liked to sail to Sicily without waiting for Richard’s commands but even she realised that could not be done.
Berengaria would sit for hours with her embroidery while Eleanor read aloud or played her lute and sang; but, although Berengaria was noted for her skill with the needle and Eleanor was a poet and musician, neither of these occupations could satisfy them.
Berengaria was filled with longing to be with her bridegroom elect; Eleanor yearned for activity – anything rather than nothing. She had had her freedom too recently not to wish to exploit it to the full and here she was confined in this house lent to them by a member of the nobility until such a time as Richard would send for them.
March had come. ‘It can’t be long now,’ said Berengaria as they sat together at the open window looking out over the Bay. ‘One day his ship will come and with it orders to take us from this place.’
‘I cannot think what is happening,’ grumbled Eleanor.
‘We can rest assured that as soon as it is possible he will send for us,’ said Berengaria.
Eleanor brooded in silence. What was happening at Messina? She had heard of course that Tancred had imprisoned Joanna and that Richard had quickly brought about her freedom. But why should the Kings of England and France dally there all through the winter? Of course they had to consider the weather and it would have been folly to set out in December. But surely they had known this and should have left earlier. What could it mean? There were whispers about the friendship of the Kings. How significant was this? Louis’ son Philip and her son Richard!
Oh God, she thought, how You have interwoven our lives!
She looked at the charming profile of the girl who was to be Richard’s wife. How innocent she was! She would have no idea of the dark passions which beset human beings. How different she, Eleanor, had been at her age. She laughed at the thought. But then she had been born worldly. Poor Berengaria! But should one say poor? Perhaps it was an enviable state of mind which enabled one to go through the world seeing good and evil clearly defined.
To Berengaria Richard was a noble hero. All he did was right; she saw him as a man dedicated to a holy cause rather than a soldier seeking personal glory. She thought he slaughtered for the sake of a cause not to satisfy some cruel aspect of his nature which gloated on the sufferings of others.
I must not disillusion her, she thought. She will be a better wife to Richard if she continues to believe he is some sort of god. She will need patience, poor child. She will need to keep her beliefs.
‘It may be that he cannot get his release from Alice,’ said Berengaria fearfully.
‘He is determined not to marry her. He is betrothed to you now. Have no fear he will send for us as soon as he is free to do so.’
‘The King of France is with him. Could they not settle the matter together?’
‘My child, powerful kings are not like ordinary men. They seek to take advantage of every situation and you can be assured that Philip is no exception.’
‘What will become of Alice? I feel sorry for her.’
‘Do not waste your feelings on her. She has had her day.’
‘It could never have been a happy day, could it? The King visiting her in secret . . . and the shame of it.’
‘Such as she revel in shame. You do not know what my husband was like. There was something overpowering about him.’
‘Then I daresay she found it hard to resist him.’
Eleanor laughed bitterly. ‘Well, she must pay for her pleasures. Philip will have to take her back and leave Richard free to marry you.’ Eleanor rose and went to the window and stood there watching. ‘Now that the weather is becoming more clement they will want to sail for Acre,’ she said.
‘Do you think I shall be married in Sicily?’
‘It seems likely that you will. I trust so because I wish to see you married and I must return soon to England.’
‘How I wish that we could all go there!’
Eleanor laughed. ‘Do not let Richard hear you say that. He is set on this crusade. It has long been a dream of his that he will be the one to drive the Infidel from the Holy Land and he believes God has chosen him to do this.’
Berengaria let her needlework fall into her lap and gazed to the ceiling. ‘What a noble ideal!’ she murmured.
‘He would not wish anything or anyone to stand in his way.’
‘Nor must they.’
Eleanor turned round. ‘Nay my child. We must both remember that. How I should love to go with him to the Holy Land. I did go once, you know, with my first husband, the King of France. You may have heard something of my adventures there. They were much talked of at the time.’
‘Yes,’ said Berengaria quietly, ‘I have heard.’
‘I was young and full of high spirits. There was much scandal. But this passes. If you go with your husband you will be very discreet, I know. That will be best . . . for you. You will be a good wife to Richard, Berengaria. Never question his motives. Always remember that you cannot understand all that goes on in his mind. Do not attempt to stop him when he wants to follow a certain course. His father and I quarrelled. We disagreed on everything. I could not bear his infidelities.’
‘I do not think I shall suffer so with Richard.’
Eleanor looked with pity at the girl. She did not know. Perhaps she did not understand these innuendoes about the King of France. Let her go on in ignorance. It was better so.
‘And because we disagreed,’ went on Eleanor, ‘I spent years in captivity and his sons went to war against him. We were neither of us very happy in our family life. Strangely now, I see how it might have been so different. But one must never look back. That is one of the lessons I have learned from life. You act in such a way because you want to. All very well but don’t whine when you are asked to pay the price such action demands. It is a good maxim.’
‘You are very wise,’ said Berengaria.
‘And old,’ said Eleanor. ‘Those who shared my youth are now dead or nearly so. Yet I go on.’
‘Long may you do so,’ said Berengaria fervently.
‘You are a good child and I wish you happiness. I hope our paths will someday lie together.’
‘Why should they not?’
‘Because, my child, you have a roving husband and I fancy that my duty lies in England. Indeed I fret about that land now. It is without a ruler. It was a mistake to leave it so soon. I shall have to return ere long. I have sent messages to Richard telling him that I have had uneasy reports. I shall have to go back soon.’
‘You will not leave me?’
‘Nay, child. But I must give you to your husband soon. I long too to see my daughter. Joanna was always one of my favourites. Such a pretty child she was. Her husband was delighted with her when she went to him and it was a happy marriage . . . and then he died and she became Tancred’s prisoner.’
‘That is over. Richard came and rescued her.’
‘Let us hope he will soon rescue us from this uneventful existence.’
Within a few days their wish was granted. A ship arrived to take them to Messina where Richard was awaiting them.
Philip came to the Villa de Muschet among the vineyards and Richard received him in his private chamber.
‘To what do I owe this honour?’ he asked.
‘To the fact that I have come to say I shall be leaving Sicily immediately.’
‘Why the hurry?’ demanded Richard.
‘Because, my dear friend, I have tarried here too long. Tomorrow I set sail for Acre.’
‘So you would take the city that all the honour might be yours.’
‘It is easy to prevent that by coming with me.’
‘My bride and my mother are on the way here.’
‘Divert them to Acre.’
‘What! To an enemy stronghold?’
‘We have dallied too long, Richard. I intend to go now. Come with me.’
‘What of my bride?’
‘What care you for your bride?’
‘You are mad, Philip.’
‘Is it mad to speak the truth? You and I have little time for women. Oh, we must get our heirs it is true and I was blessed in my consort. I would she were alive now. But I felt no yearning to be with her, even as it is with you and Berengaria. I wish you to accompany me, Richard. Have you forgotten our plans?’
‘Nay, I have not forgotten, but I cannot leave Messina now. I must receive my bride and my mother.’
‘Then perforce it is farewell.’
‘We shall meet before the walls of Acre.’
‘It may be that you will find the golden lilies flying over that town by the time you make your sluggard’s entrance.’
‘We shall see, Philip.’
‘Then you will not come with me?’
‘I see that you would force me to a folly that you might say: “See Richard of England cared more for the King of France than he did for his bride.”’
‘You wrong me. It is your company I crave, not what people should say of us.’
‘And I must say Nay. If you go now, you go alone.’
‘Then I shall see you at Acre.’
Richard nodded.
Philip came to him and embraced him. ‘Richard, mayhap you will change your mind.’
Richard shook his head. Philip turned away and went from the room.
In the bay the French fleet was preparing to leave.
It sailed out of Messina just as the ship bearing Berengaria and Eleanor sailed in.
Richard was on the shore to greet his bride and his mother. Eleanor came first, her eyes alight with pleasure to see her noble-looking son. Every time she saw him after an absence she was amazed at his good looks. She glanced at Berengaria beside her. The girl was bemused. What bride would not be at the sight of such a magnificent bridegroom?
How graciously he received them; he took Berengaria’s hands in his and gravely kissed her. Then he embraced his mother.
As they rode together to the lodging which he had prepared for them. Richard’s spirits were lifted a little. Berengaria was indeed elegant. She was exquisitely gowned, her hair was hanging loose and was covered by a mantilla-like veil; her long gown flowed about her slender figure and those who had come to watch her were enchanted by her grace.
At the house Joanna was waiting for them. When she saw her mother she forgot all ceremony. They ran to each other and Joanna was clasped in a loving embrace.
‘My dear dear child,’ cried Eleanor with emotion.
‘It has been so long since I saw you,’ replied Joanna. ‘Oh, Mother, you are still beautiful . . . in spite of everything. You always will be.’
‘And you too, my dear. Oh, it has been such a time and what events have plagued us both and now we are together for but a short time.’
‘Need it be so?’
‘I fear it. There is much I have to say to your brother and I want you here, daughter, for I think we shall need you.’
‘Everything I have is at your service and that of Richard.’
‘He has been a good brother to you.’
‘None could have been better,’ said Joanna fervently.
Berengaria and Joanna appeared to have taken to each other. Berengaria was ready to be delighted by any member of her new family and Joanna wanted to show her gratitude to Richard by being charming to his bride.
Eleanor, watching them together, was delighted. That they should be good friends was part of her plan.
She was very eager to talk to Richard and she wished to do so out of earshot of the two young women. She suggested that Joanna conduct Berengaria to her apartment and leave her a while with her son.
When she and Richard were alone she said: ‘Well, events are moving at last. It is time. I am deeply concerned about affairs in England.’
Richard looked a little weary. A fact which disturbed her.
She spoke to him somewhat sharply. ‘Never forget, Richard, that you are King of England.’
‘Indeed I do not.’
‘You have responsibilities there.’
‘I have one great responsibility at this time, Mother. I have sworn on my solemn oath to free Jerusalem from the Infidel.’
‘I know this well, but you have also been crowned in Westminster and sworn another oath. The English grow restive under Longchamp. Sometimes I think it was unwise to raise that man so high.’
‘He is clever and Hugh Pusey of Durham is his co-justiciar.’
‘They are quarrelling. Your father always said that Long-champ was a man to be wary of.’
‘I found him hard-working and devoted.’
‘He is unpopular. Appearances are important and he is far from prepossessing. Being deformed and lame is bad enough, but as his manners match his looks the people are against him. There is going to be trouble in England, Richard. Either you or I must be there without delay and if you will not go, then I must.’
‘Will you do that?’ asked Richard eagerly. ‘Only you can.’
‘I will, Richard, but you must know that each day could be important.’
‘Do you wish to leave us as soon as you have come?’
‘I must. As soon as the wedding is over I must go back to England.’
‘The wedding . . .’ murmured Richard. ‘It cannot be hurried.’
‘Hurried!’ cried Eleanor. ‘My dear son, we have been waiting weeks to get here.’
‘We are in Lent.’
‘Well?’
‘You cannot suggest we should marry at such a time. It would be a bad augury. It might affect the outcome of the crusade.’
She looked at him in dismay. Oh, God, she thought, he is reluctant for this marriage. Why so? Where could he find a more attractive and docile princess?
But he had never complained about the delay in his marriage to Princess Alice. The answer was, of course, that Richard was not eager for any marriage. The controversy over Alice had not disturbed him in the least. In fact he had been glad of it.
She could see at once that it would be unwise to press for an early marriage.
She did say: ‘The King of Navarre will expect his daughter to be married soon.’
‘So shall she be when the time is ripe.’
‘And I dare not tarry here, Richard. If you would hold England I must be there to see none try to snatch it from you.’
‘You are surely not thinking of John?’
‘I am thinking of any who might try to cheat you of your inheritance. I must be there, Richard. You know I am the only one you can be absolutely sure of.’
‘I know it well.’
‘Then I will leave for England.’
‘When?’
‘Within a day or so.’
‘Oh surely not so soon, Mother!’
‘It must be so. Berengaria needs a chaperon . . . until you marry her. Of course if the ceremony took place now while I was here . . .’
‘It is quite impossible. I have to think of the consequences of a Lenten wedding.’
She was silent. Then she said: ‘You must marry her, Richard, as soon as Lent is over.’
‘Indeed it is my wish to do so.’
‘But I cannot stay for the end of that season. By good fortune Joanna is here.’
‘Joanna yes. She shall be Berengaria’s duenna.’
Eleanor sighed. There were deep misgivings in her heart. Possible trouble in England, and Richard, after all the anxieties and difficulties of extricating himself from marriage with Alice showing no great desire for marriage with Berengaria.
She would speak to Joanna. Her daughter was wise. Then she must make her preparations to depart. It was imperative that Richard should not lose the crown of England.
Eleanor was desolate, she told Joanna. She had so recently joined her family and now she must tear herself away from it. Alas, this was a common enough turn of events in royal families.
‘My dearest daughter,’ she said, ‘how wonderful it is for us to be together and how sad that we soon must part. You have been more fortunate than most for, although you are a widow now, your husband was a good man.’
‘He was very good to me, Mother.’
‘Fortunate Joanna! How many of us can say that? Torn from our families as we are and given to men because they have a crown or some title, ours is a hard lot and when it turns out happily that means God and all his angels are with us. I am concerned for our young Berengaria.’
‘She will be happy, Mother. Richard will be good to her.’
‘He might be a little neglectful.’
Joanna looked startled, and Eleanor went on quickly: ‘Richard is a warrior. His great obsession now is with this crusade. He would not want it jeopardised in any way even by marriage.’
‘I have just met Berengaria but I am sure that she is gentle and kind and will be a good wife and that only Richard’s well-being will matter to her.’
‘I think this, too, but it is not of Berengaria that we speak, daughter. It is of Richard. I want you to stay with Berengaria. Be a good friend to her. I know you will be to your brother. She will have to accompany him to Acre. For some that might be an exciting adventure, but I fancy Berengaria would prefer a less eventful beginning to her married life. Go with Berengaria, Joanna. Be a good friend to her.’
‘It is what I wish with all my heart.’
‘You give me great comfort. Berengaria will help you and you will help her and I can return to England with an easier mind.’
‘You will surely stay to see them married, Mother?’
‘I had believed the wedding would take place immediately.’
‘Why should it not? There is no obstacle now.’
‘Alice is swept out of the way but it seems there is Lent.’
‘It could be a quiet ceremony. We could celebrate afterwards.’
‘Your brother thinks otherwise. He wishes to postpone the wedding until after Lent.’
‘Then stay with us until then.’
‘I cannot, Joanna. I know it would be unwise. I do not wish your brother to lose his kingdom. I must leave immediately.’
‘But you have only just come.’
‘I know, my child, but there is a kingdom at stake. I must go back without delay.’
Joanna was appalled. The fact that it was Lent did not seem an adequate excuse for postponing the wedding in such circumstances. She was saddened by the thought that her mother was leaving them so soon but at the same time happy to think that she could be of use to her brother and a friend to his affianced bride for whom she was already beginning to feel affection.
In some apprehension Eleanor took leave of her family and set out for England. She had been only three days in Sicily.
As she stood on the deck watching the land fade from sight she wondered how long it would be before the wedding did take place and if at the end of Lent Richard would find some other reason for postponing it. He must marry Berengaria. There would be war with Navarre if he did not. He could not afford to lose friends. None could understand the call of adventure more than she did but it was adventure enough for a king that he had a kingdom to govern. It was also a duty to marry and get sons.
All would be well, she assured herself. It was merely a postponement. The marriage would take place; the children would come.
She deplored the fact that she was growing old. True, she retained her energy. Most people of her years would have retired to a nunnery. Perhaps she should think of expiating her sins but it seemed to her that a better way to do this might be to devote herself to her family rather than piously to prepare a way to Heaven for herself. There were not many who would agree with her and perhaps when Richard was safely back in England, the Holy City captured for Christianity, Berengaria the mother of several lusty sons . . . perhaps that would be the time. And when would that be? She laughed knowing that the time if it ever came was years ahead.
When she reached Rome it was to find that Henry of Germany was about to be crowned Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire. It seemed to her politic that she should be present at that ceremony.
She quickly became aware that her reception by the Emperor elect was a cold one. And no wonder since his wife was Constancia, sister of the late King of Sicily, who considered herself the heiress of that island on the death of her brother. Joanna had suffered imprisonment for supporting Constancia’s claim but Richard had since made a pact with Tancred and had tactically accepted him as the new King of Sicily when he had offered his nephew Arthur as the husband of Tancred’s daughter.
Richard had congratulated himself that he had come out of that affair well. He had forgotten that while he made his truce in Sicily he was making an enemy of the powerful Emperor.
Eleanor believed that Henry would have been a more useful ally.
She attended the ceremony at St Peter’s Church and saw Henry and Constancia anointed and proclaimed Emperor and Empress. There was one moment during the ceremony when she was filled with secret mirth. The Pope, who was officiating, sat on the Papal chair, the imperial crown placed incongruously on the floor between his feet. The new Emperor, his head bowed in reverence towards this awesome figure, received the crown when the Pope sent it towards him with a movement of his foot and placed it on his head. To show that he could without preamble dispossess him if he wished the Pope then lifted his foot and kicked the crown off Henry’s head.
Poor Henry looked extremely discomfited in spite of the fact that this undignified gesture was an accepted part of the procedure.
One of the Cardinals then picked up the crown and replaced it on the Emperor’s head and the ceremony continued.
It was a thoughtful Eleanor who continued her journey back to England.
Berengaria was a little bewildered. She could not understand why her marriage should not take place. She knew that Eleanor had been anxious about leaving her although she had impressed on her the fact that Joanna would be a substitute for herself. The Queen of Sicily would be Berengaria’s companion and her chaperon, for although they were almost of an age – both being in their twenty-sixth year – Joanna because she had been a wife and was now a widow was more experienced of the world.
Berengaria could not help but be happy in the change, for although she had had the utmost respect for Eleanor she had been greatly in awe of her. It was comforting therefore to have as her constant companion a girl who was not in the least formidable.
The greatest similarity between Eleanor and Joanna was that they both admired Richard almost to idolatry and this was very comforting to the girl who was to be his bride.
Joanna now had excuses to offer for the delay. Richard was devout, she said, and he would feel it was wrong to indulge in all the celebrations which his marriage would entail. It was for this reason that he was postponing the wedding.
‘It is only a delay of a few weeks,’ soothed Joanna. ‘You see, he has to be so careful for he must not offend Heaven by any act which could bring disaster to the crusade.’
Berengaria was only too ready to accept this explanation.
Joanna went on: ‘I doubt not the wedding will take place on Easter Day. What a lovely day for a wedding! It is almost certain that this is what Richard has in mind. Then we shall be sisters in very truth. I was so happy when I heard that I am to accompany you. Do you feel perhaps a little alarmed at the prospect of travelling with Richard to the Holy Land?’
‘It is not quite what my father thought would happen when he told me I was affianced. I think he thought that Queen Eleanor would take me back to England.’
‘Without Richard! That is no way for a bride to live . . . apart from her husband! You would hate that. Do you not think he is the most handsome man you ever set eyes on?’
‘I do indeed, Joanna.’
Joanna extolled his virtues, told of his brilliant feats in battle, his sense of poetry; she sang the songs he had written and made Berengaria sing them with her; they talked of him continually and each day they expected to be told that the wedding was to take place. But time was passing and Richard was occupied with preparing for the next lap of his journey. He saw little of Berengaria and only when others were present; then he was always gracious to her although a little aloof, Joanna thought.
It was Joanna who decided to ask Richard what his plans were and she chose a moment when she could be alone with him which was not easy to do.
But Joanna was determined.
‘Richard,’ she said, ‘what of your marriage?’
He frowned slightly and looked her straight in the eyes.
‘What mean you, sister?’ he said. ‘My marriage . . . it will take place at the right time.’
‘When will the right time be?’
‘It cannot be here at Messina.’
‘But Richard, it is what we are expecting.’
‘Who is expecting this?’
‘Berengaria . . . Everyone.’
‘My dear sister, I am engaged on a holy crusade.’
‘But your marriage is important too, Richard. Berengaria has travelled far and has at last reached you.’
‘I know. We shall be married, but I could not allow the ceremonies to take place in holy week. You see that.’
‘I do, brother. I see that clearly but it will soon be Easter. We thought perhaps you had decided on Easter Day. We should like to know, for there are certain preparations we must make.’
‘Easter Day would be good indeed, but alas I must depart before that.’
‘Before Easter Day! But that is but a week away!’
‘I know it well. I must be sailing for Acre before that. The King of France is already on his way there and I have given my word that I will not delay longer. I waited here only for Berengaria’s arrival. I cannot remain until Easter Day.’
‘Then brother, should not the ceremony take place before you sail?’
‘Nay, I must have a public wedding and I cannot have it during Lent, and as I must leave Sicily before Lent is over I clearly cannot marry here.’
‘Could you not tarry a few more days?’
‘Nay, sister, I have already tarried too long.’
‘Then there will be no wedding here! Poor Berengaria, she will be so disappointed.’
‘Berengaria will understand that I am engaged on a crusade.’
‘Perhaps a quiet ceremony . . .’
Richard’s eyes had grown a little cold. Joanna had begun to notice that this was what happened when he was displeased and she had learned it was a warning to stop pressing the matter under discussion.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘we must needs wait. It means that you and Berengaria will not be able to travel in the same vessel since you will not be married.’
‘I shall know what custom demands, sister. You may safely leave such matters to me.’
She was disturbed. Richard was certainly no eager bridegroom. She remembered that her mother had told of his coronation which had taken place on the third of September which everyone knew was a date to avoid, yet he had not been superstitious then. It was not as though he did not know at that time that he was going on a crusade. Why should he be so concerned about marrying in Lent when surely a quiet wedding, in such unusual circumstances, could not have offended Heaven?
Joanna had begun to think that there could be only one reason.
Richard was so eager to postpone his wedding that he sought any excuse for doing so.
In the middle of holy week they set sail.
Crowds had gathered to watch the ships depart, for it was a magnificent sight as the two hundred vessels left the harbour and started their journey eastwards.
The three ships which were in the lead, equipped for battle, their towers being raised above the decks so that they could with ease fire on enemy ships, were known as Dromones. In one of these ships the King’s treasure was carried; in another were Berengaria and Joanna. The third, like the others, carried armaments and was prepared to go to the defence of any of the fleet should the occasion arise when it would be needed. These three were followed by thirteen troopships – the busses, two-masted vessels with strong firm sails. Richard brought up the rear with his war galleys – long slim ships equipped with rows of oars.
Berengaria and Joanna side by side on the deck could not help but be thrilled by the spectacle. The crowds on the shore were relieved to see the departure of an army which had brought trouble with it.
Berengaria, suffering from disappointment because their wedding had not taken place, was thinking how much happier she would have been had she been travelling in Richard’s ship; Joanna had comforted her but it was bewildering after all this time to be still unmarried. It was true that it might have been wrong to have married during Lent, but why did they have to leave on the Wednesday before Easter Day? Surely they could have waited four more days since Richard had been so long in Sicily? If it were not for the fact that she knew Richard was such an honourable man she would have had very uneasy doubts.
However Joanna was beside her and a very warm friendship was growing up between them.
‘Are you not thrilled, Berengaria,’ she asked now, ‘to be sailing with Richard’s fleet?’
‘Oh yes, but I wish we were in his ship.’
‘My dear sister, and you not married to him! That would be most improper and quite out of the question.’
‘We could have been married . . .’
Joanna put her arm through Berengaria’s. ‘It seems so to us, but how can we know all that is in Richard’s mind? It was so with my husband. He was a ruler and sometimes he acted in a manner which was strange to me. When we are married to men who hold high office we must be patient, for things are not always what they seem.’
Berengaria nodded gravely. ‘You are right, of course. How beautiful the island looks from the sea!’
‘And let us thank God for calm seas. We shall be in Acre very soon.’
They were both silent thinking of the Holy Land and the desperate battles that were going on and had been for so many years. Berengaria and Joanna were both convinced that Richard would be the one to save that land for Christianity.
Good Friday dawned. A strong wind had arisen and was sending the louring clouds scudding across the sky. Richard following his fleet in his galleys spoke on the enormous trumpet which carried his voice to the leading vessels.
‘A storm will break at any moment. Keep within hailing distance.’
They would do their best, but with the firmest of wills how could that be achieved in such a storm? Rarely had Richard encountered such violence. The sails were useless against the mighty wind and Richard’s voice, shouting through the trumpet, could not carry beyond his own deck. He realised that his fleet would be scattered. Briefly he wondered what was happening to Berengaria and Joanna. If their ship was wrecked they would drown, but an even worse fate might befall them if they were washed up on an alien shore.
