Roselynde (52 page)

At the feast of reconciliation later that day, a remarkable number
of stories of Richard's severity were told, some jokingly, others with sidelong
glances as of fear. A paid informer went further; he whispered that Richard
intended to seize Comnenus that night and throw him into iron chains. The next
morning it was seen that the seed thus planted had borne fruit. During the
night the Emperor had taken to horse and flown away. The sentries having
obligingly become deaf, dumb, and blind, there was not the slightest impediment
to his escape. Richard accepted this news with philosophical detachment, merely
remarking in private with a quirk to his eyebrow that he hoped it would not be
necessary to blacken his character again even in a good cause.

In fifteen days Cyprus was taken. Simon was pretty well satisfied
with the situation. There had been considerable fighting, but he had been
wounded only twice, not severely enough to incapacitate him, and he was a great
deal richer. Just as important, Richard had been in the best of good tempers
all through the campaign, except when some envoys of Philip of

France had appeared to tell him that he must abandon the
persecution of innocent Christians on Cyprus and come to the Holy Land to
assist at the siege of Acre at once. "To this message," Geoffrey de
Vinsauf the chronicler had reported, "the King replied in angry terms, by
no means suitable for insertion here." Simon had laughed so hard when
Geoffrey read that to him in his prim voice, that he had to hold his side. The
King's language had not been fit to be reported anywhere, except the annals of
Hell. Even Simon, accustomed as he was to the graphic richness of old King
Henry in a rage, had been impressed with Richard's fluency.

The reason for Richard's rage had not been so funny. It had been
the "innocent Christians" that set him off. Because Richard demanded
that the Greeks who did homage to him shave off their beards as a symbol of
their change in overlord-ship, Comnenus had ordered the mutilation of all the
prisoners he held. Some of those poor wretches, blinded or with nose, ears,
fingers, or toes lopped off, had been found. Richard was no more delicate or
sensitive about mutilation than any other reasonable man. Criminals were
naturally treated as they deserved by the removal of limbs or features, but not
worthy enemies. A soldier who fought honestly for his master, even if that
master was Richard's dire enemy, was not harmed once he was taken prisoner.

Richard had his revenge. Comnenus at last capitulated, his
fortresses having fallen one by one into Richard's hands. A good many
surrendered without a blow and with obvious relief at the change in masters.
The one condition Comnenus made was that Richard should not throw him into iron
chains. That reflection of the story that had been told made Richard laugh, but
he acceded readily to the condition. When the Emperor yielded himself,
silver
chains were fettered to his wrists and ankles. The jest made Richard quite
merry, but Simon noted that the King's brow became clouded every time the
return to Limassol was mentioned. Instead of leaving the field, he sent the
army back with instructions to repair the fleet for immediate embarkation.
Richard himself lingered for several days, gathering the treasure from the
captured strongholds and conferring with Richard de Canvill and Robert of
Turnham, in whose hands he was leaving the administration of Cyprus.

How long they might have wandered around Cyprus, Simon did not
choose to guess. Richard's delaying tactics were suddenly curtailed by the
information that Acre was on the point of falling. That news galvanized the King
into action. The idea that the city should be saved without his leadership was
unendurable. They hurried back to Limassol and Richard gave orders to load
supplies and make ready to put to sea.

"And the Queens, my lord?" Simon asked.

He was sticking his head in the lion's mouth, he knew. Probably he
should simply have made arrangements to embark the women on their own ship;
however, at the thought of again being separated from Alinor, his heart failed.
He was being a double fool for, by all repute, the passage between Cyprus and
Acre was usually smooth and easy.

To his surprise, Richard made a natural, easy grimace of distaste,
sighed, and said, "With us. I will not live over those weeks of guilt and
fear. But the two Queens and 'your Alinor' and a serving maid or two only. I do
not wish to be overwhelmed by a horde of caterwauling women."

Later Simon wondered if his personal terrors might be a cause of
open dissatisfaction between Richard and his wife. However, Berengaria proved
herself to be as staunch a sailor as Alinor and Joanna and the journey was very
pleasant. The crowded conditions obviated any chance of privacy for husband and
wife so that Richard could indulge himself with music and poetry and pretty
speeches.

The change that took place in Richard's mood had nothing to do
with his wife, initially. It began when Richard's vessel and the three galleys
accompanying him sought to put into Tyre, the first port they came to. Richard
courteously sent a party ashore to inform the governor of the city and the
commander of the garrison of his arrival. Instead of a joyous welcome, his men
were turned away. King Philip of France and Conrad of Montferrat had forbidden
the city to open its gates to him, the King was told. Simon looked at the walls
of Tyre and swallowed, scrabbling round in his mind for a method of dissuading
Richard from a suicidal attack. The King had also been looking at the walls of
Tyre. He did not choose to lose his temper.

"Philip and Conrad," he said softly, and left it at
that.

They spent the night aboard ship and in the morning set sail down
the coast toward Acre. Shortly after prime, a great transport with three masts
and high castles fore and aft was sighted. Upon being hailed, the captain
stated that it was a French ship out of Genoa heading for Tyre. Richard looked
at it and bit his lip. The ship was finer than any he had, any he had ever
seen.

"My lord, it is no such thing," a voice called from
among the oarsmen.

"What? Who speaks?"

The oarsman rose to his feet. "My lord, the French have no
such ships. Only the Turks build such vessels."

"Do you swear it?" Richard prodded.

Simon rubbed his nose. Richard, he would lay odds, did not care a
pin whose ship it was. He intended to take it. If it was Philip's, the King
would think the joke all the better after the insult cast at him at Tyre, but
he needed some excuse.

"You may cut off my head or hang me if those aboard are not
Saracens," the oarsman insisted.

"Turn," Richard bellowed at the captain. "Come up
with her. Arms!" he called to his squires.

The curtain across the door of the women's tent was pushed aside.
Berengaria stepped out. "Richard, what is it?" she asked.

The King spun around and glared, his color suddenly flaming.
Simon, who had been going for his own armor stopped and held his breath. He
wondered if he was too far away to interpose his own body between the King and
Queen if Richard lost control. However Alinor and Joanna appeared virtually on
Berengaria's heels.

"Damn all women!" Richard snarled, but his color began
to fade. "Do not lay us alongside," he said to the captain.
"Call to Peter des Barres to bring his galley up to her and test the truth
of what the ship is."

There was little need for much testing. As they approached,
missiles and arrows began to fly from the three-master. The other galleys came
around also. Since the larger ship had more speed, owing to its greater sail
surface, a dozen skillful swimmers dove under her and bound her rudder fast.
Once the ship was unmanageable, several unsuccessful attempts were made to
board her while Richard danced with rage and cursed his own helplessness, sure
that if he led the attacks in person they would have been successful.

"May I be rotted, may I be drowned, may I be damned if I ever
take a woman aboard my ship again," he raged.

In the end the ship was never taken. The great height of the sides
prevented a mass boarding, leaving the men who clambered up one by one too much
at the mercy of the vessel's defenders. Moreover, from the castles fore and
aft, the men on the lower galleys were clear targets. Seeing that the losses
being sustained would outweigh the value of the prize, Richard at last ordered
his galleys to ram. Drawing off far enough to pick up speed, the oarsmen drove
the iron beaks of the galleys into the helpless vessel repeatedly. Richard
watched her break up and sink with displeasure. He had wanted that ship for his
own.

His irritation was not a bit abated when he learned from a
prisoner they fished out of the sea that there had been important Saracens
aboard. Richard fumed again, thinking of the lost ransoms. Simon pointed out
that in spite of the misfortunes, Richard had dealt Saladin a severe blow. The
ship had been bringing a huge supply of arms and a large contingent of selected
reinforcements to Acre. Richard acknowledged the truth of that somewhat less
glumly. Before he had even landed, the King remarked, he had probably done more
to ensure the fall of the city than Philip and all his men. Nonetheless, he had
not forgotten what he considered the basic cause of his failure to take the
ship. As soon as the galleys were in position and they were set on their course
again, Richard disappeared into the women's tent.

"We will not sail together again," he said abruptly to
Berengaria. "My need to protect you has cost me a priceless prize."

"I am sorry, my lord," Berengaria whispered. "Your
will is mine. As you direct, so shall everything be done."

Richard opened his mouth and closed it again with a snap. Alinor
silently ground her teeth. The King was angry and frustrated. He was a man with
a roaring temper. His soldiers had been loyal and fought hard; he could not
rage at them, yet he needed to rage at something. What Berengaria should have
done was curse her husband roundly, perhaps telling him something silly, such
as instead of blaming her he should have put shields over the tent and joined
the battle. Very possibly that would have gained her a few bruises because
Richard might have beaten her. That was nothing. It would also have gained her
the inestimable prize of being a safe outlet for her husband's emotions. The
King was no fool. If after giving him an excuse to vent his temper Berengaria
had soothed him with submission, he would have understood her value to him.

It was too late now, Alinor thought. Richard was saying coldly,
"I did but wish you to understand why we must be quartered apart. If once
we are engaged at Acre I dare not move for fear of endangering you, I will be
in sad case."

"But Richard," Joanna protested, "how can it be the
same thing?"

"To me it is the same," the King bellowed.

"As you will. As you will. Do not be angry, Richard,"
Berengaria placated.

That Richard had merely been spoiling for a fight and his wife had
failed him became obvious when they reached Acre. There were no safe lodgings,
no secure castles in which the women could be placed and guarded. Such places
could be found only inside the city itself, and that was held by the Saracens.
The Christian army was housed in pavilions, in rough tents, under raw hides, or
under nothing at all in a rough semicircle around the city. There was not even
the possibility of removing the women a safe distance from Acre because the
besiegers were themselves besieged. Beyond the Christian camp lay Saladin's
army, not in a compact body that could be attacked but in separate groups
spread widely over the surrounding mountains and valleys.

Richard instructed the captain of his ship to sail slowly so that
he could examine the disposition of the forces. When it became plain that the
city was still strongly defended and that Saladin would prove a worthy
foe—there had always been the chance that the Saracen successes were more owing
to the incompetence of the Latin princes than to their leader's
ability—Richard's temper improved. It was his arrival, not Philip's, that would
bring about the fall of Acre. He would be the one to lead the victorious army
on to free Jerusalem.

The greeting accorded them when they landed gave strong support to
Richard's expectations. Even the French rejoiced aloud. Trumpets were blown,
horns and pipes sounded, crowds rushed to escort Richard to his pavilion, to
cry aloud thanks to God as if a saviour had come. That night the whole camp was
lit with torches so that the Saracens in the hills came to alert, thinking the
whole valley was afire.

The next day Richard got down to serious business. All the leaders
met, inspected the camp, the war engines, the walls of the city. Not an hour
had passed before it was plain that, whatever the army in general felt, Philip
had reservations abut Richard's arrival. The French King was glad to see the
men and the supplies and to hear that more were immediately on the way and
still more would come on a regular basis from Cyprus. The only thing necessary
to make this news an unalloyed pleasure would have been the additional news
that Richard himself had drowned on the way over.

Not loath to match strength with Philip, Richard set about gaining
allies. This was not in the least difficult, owing to the chests obligingly, if
unwillingly, stuffed with treasure by Comnenus of Cyprus. The Pisans did homage
to Richard and a large number of soldiers who had been in Philip's pay joined
Richard's army when he offered higher wages. Matters were in excellent train
for a full-scale assault on the city when, as Richard was observing and
advising on the construction of a huge mangonel, he complained to Simon that
his armor felt heavy. By that evening the King could not stand and during the
night a raging fever took hold of him.