Lionheart (78 page)

“We prevailed,” he said bitterly, “because there were no French here to hinder us.”

RICHARD’S NEXT MOVE was an attempt to reach an understanding with Conrad of Montferrat, again asking the marquis to join the army. Conrad flatly refused to come to Ascalon. He did consent, though, to talk with Richard, and it was agreed that the two men would meet at Casal Imbert, halfway between Tyre and Acre.

ANDRÉ WAS NOT THERE to insist that Richard take a safe escort with him on his way to the rendezvous with Conrad. He’d been gone for more than a fortnight, having volunteered to make a risky January sailing to Italy. Since he could not fight whilst his blasted arm healed, he’d grumbled, he might as well do something useful and see what he could learn at the papal court. Richard was reluctant to let him go; in the parlance of soldiers everywhere, he and André had always had each other’s backs. But his need for information was urgent, especially now that Philippe was back in France, and he could not very well object to the dangers of the sea voyage when André faced equal dangers on a daily basis in Outremer. So he’d agreed, but his cousin’s absence was one more discontent in this winter of so many.

After passing a few days in Jaffa with his wife and sister, he headed north, accompanied by a large contingent of knights and a sizable force of Templars, for he’d learned that his nephew could be as blunt-spoken as André when it came to berating him for taking needless risks. Their coastal journey stirred memories of their march to Arsuf nigh on six months ago; to all of them, it seemed much longer.

By February 19, they’d reached Caesarea. Back in September, it had been deserted, its mainly Muslim population fleeing before the approaching crusader army. Salah al-Dīn had not ordered it razed, though, as he had with Ascalon and other castles and towns in Richard’s path, and they found that it was partially occupied again, some of those abandoned houses and shops claimed by the native-born Christians. It had once been home to five thousand people; it was only a ghost now of its former self, but the town was slowly coming to life and Richard’s men were delighted with its rebirth. For one night at least, some of them could sleep under roofs in real beds, even visit the baths and wash off the grime and muck of a very muddy road.

Henri was one of the first to enjoy the baths, luxuriating in the sweating room that was heated by a furnace, the hot air coming in through earthenware pipes. He’d quickly embraced the Frankish custom of frequent bathing, but he’d discovered he was more prudish than he’d realized and he’d never been willing to have a bath attendant shave his pubic hair as some of the
poulains
did; now he instructed the man only to remove his beard. Afterward, he wandered about the streets, for this ancient city had been founded before the birth of the Lord Christ. He went into the church of St Peter, and struck up a conversation with one of the canons, who told him the pagan temple of Jupiter had once stood on this site, and then a mosque that had been the scene of a bloodbath when the city had been captured by the Christians over ninety years ago; it was now the cathedral of the Archbishop of Caesarea. As he left the church, a light rain began to fall, and that dampened his interest in further sightseeing.

Despite the rain, Henri was in good spirits when he reached the castle, looking forward to food cooked in a kitchen instead of over a campfire. Unfortunately, Lent had begun, but he was assured they’d have fresh fish, not the salted herring that dulled so many Lenten appetites. They had just been served an eel pie, with oysters and scallops also on the menu, when the meal was interrupted by the unexpected arrival of Stephen Longchamp, brother of Richard’s chancellor and one of Acre’s co-governors.

He did not wait to be formally announced, hastened toward the dais and knelt. “Thank God I found you, my liege! We knew you were on the way to meet Conrad, but we did not know how far you’d gotten and I feared having to sail as far as Jaffa.”

Richard gestured for him to rise. He’d already pushed his trencher aside, for Longchamp’s news was obviously urgent. Knowing the other man’s weakness for verbosity, he said, “Never mind that. Tell me what is wrong, Sir Stephen.”

“You must get to Acre straightaway, my lord, for the city is under attack!” Richard’s gasp was echoed down the length of the table. He’d been braced for bad tidings, but nothing as bad as that. “How can that be? Saladin has dispersed the bulk of his army till the spring campaign!”

“Not Saladin, my liege. Acre is under siege by that whoreson Conrad of Montferrat and his lackey, Burgundy.”

By now the hall was in an uproar and Richard had to shout them down. Like his father, he could bellow with the best when the need arose, and a tense silence ensued as Longchamp began to speak again.

“You know how much animosity there is between the Genoese and the Pisans, my liege. They’re always at one another’s throats, eager to take offense at the slightest excuse. I think their feuding goes back to—”

“No history lessons, Sir Stephen,” Richard interrupted impatiently. “Just tell us what happened.”

“Well, their latest street brawl got out of hand, and suddenly they were fighting in earnest. Bertrand de Verdun and I did what we could to restore order, of course. But—” Catching Richard’s warning eye, Longchamp hastily condensed his narrative. “The Genoese got the worst of it and barricaded themselves in their quarter of the city. What we did not know was that they’d sent one of their galleys up the coast to Tyre, seeking assistance from Conrad. And then Hugh of Burgundy arrived. The Genoese decided not to wait for Conrad and hurried out to the camp he’d set up outside the walls.”

He paused, rather enjoying being the center of such undivided attention. “Burgundy was only too willing to assault the city. The Pisans were too quick for him, though. As he was arraying his troops, they attacked him first. His horse was slain in the skirmish and he was thrown head over heels into a mud hole.” A reminiscent smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “The Pisans then retreated back into the city and slammed the gates shut. But the next morning Conrad’s fleet sailed into the outer harbor. We’ve held out for three days so far, and the Pisans entreated us to send word to you that we need help. So . . . I set out to find you,” he concluded. “The Caesarea harbor is so dangerous that I almost continued on, for I was not sure that you’d gotten this far yet. Thank God I did not pass on by!”

By now no one was paying any attention to him. Richard was already on his feet. At first incredulous, he was now so outraged that some of the men had begun to give him space, almost as if he were radiating heat. “Saladin will laugh himself sick when he hears this,” he said, practically spitting the words. His eyes raking the hall, he beckoned to Robert de Sablé, the Templar grand master, and to Henri, then glanced back at Longchamp. “I want you to return to Acre tonight, tell them that I will be there on the morrow.”

Longchamp’s face fell at the prospect of more hours onboard ship, but he dutifully agreed. After a moment to reflect, though, he frowned in perplexity and said to the closest man, who happened to be Henri, “How can he get there so quickly? It is nigh on forty miles between Caesarea and Acre.”

Henri looked wistfully at the tables holding the first course of their meal. “We’ll be riding all night,” he said with a sigh, and then hurried to catch up with his uncle.

AS HE PROMISED, Richard reached Acre the next day. But by then word had spread that he was on the way, and he discovered that the siege was over. Conrad and Hugh had decided discretion was the better part of valor and hastily retreated to Tyre. Richard set about patching up a peace between the Pisans and Genoese, and managed it by a combination of eloquence, logic, and threats. He then insisted that Conrad meet him at Casal Imbert as originally planned. Conrad had never lacked for temerity and agreed.

Richard’s success with the Pisans and Genoese was not repeated at Casal Imbert. Conrad again refused to join the army at Ascalon, and in Richard’s view, he added insult to injury by citing the defection of the French as one reason for his lack of cooperation. Richard returned to Acre in a rage and called a council, which deprived Conrad of his half of the kingdom’s revenues. This was an empty gesture, though, for it could not be enforced as long as Conrad retained the support of the French and most of the
poulain
lords. In fact, it would later backfire upon Richard, for Conrad would retaliate in a way that was far more effective.

Richard ended up remaining at Acre through March, wanting to make sure that the port city would not be vulnerable to another surprise attack. He also renewed negotiations with Salah al-Dīn, requesting that al-’��dil be sent to engage in peace talks, offering terms based upon a partition of the kingdom and the Holy City which were very similar to those he’d posed back in November; no mention was made this time of a marriage between Joanna and al-’Ādil. The talks were so amicable that just before Palm Sunday Richard knighted one of al-’Ādil’s sons, and Salah al-Dīn and his council were inclined to accept these terms.

But the talks were abruptly broken off when Richard left Acre unexpectedly in late March. His spies had alerted him that he was not the only one struggling with internal dissension. Salah al-Dīn’s troops were even more war-weary and disgruntled than Richard’s soldiers, for they’d been fighting much longer. More significantly, Richard had learned that Salah al-Dīn’s great-nephew was threatening rebellion, apparently on the verge of joining forces with one of the sultan’s enemies, the Lord of Khilāt.

Richard decided, therefore, to bide his time and see what developed, hoping that Salah al-Dīn’s increasing vulnerability would compel him to accept peace terms more favorable to the Franks, for he knew Ascalon was a huge boulder on the road to peace, with neither man willing to surrender claims to it. Stopping off at Jaffa, Richard collected his wife and sister and returned with them to Ascalon. Easter was the most important festival on the Christian calendar and he meant to celebrate it in grand style, setting up special tents to provide food and entertainment for his soldiers. But three days before Easter, Conrad exacted payment for that council condemnation, sending an envoy to Ascalon to demand that the remaining French troops join him and the Duke of Burgundy at Tyre.