The Heart of the Lion

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.

Peering through the rain, battling against the wind, calling encouragement to his men he endeavoured to raise the spirits of the crusaders who had come to the conclusion that there must be some among them who had incurred God’s displeasure to such an extent that He wasn’t pacified even by their vow to undertake a crusade.

‘We are lost,’ said one of his men.

‘’Tis not so,’ cried Richard. ‘We will weather the storm.’

‘The rest of the fleet, Sire ... they are lost!’

‘They will battle their way to Acre never fear ... or perhaps they will await us in Cyprus. We shall come safely through this storm, I promise you. All we must do is wait for the wind to drop.’

‘God is against us,’ was the despairing cry.

‘Nay,’ replied Richard. ‘He but seeks to test us. If we are to have His help in taking the Holy Land we must show ourselves worthy. This storm is sent to test us. We shall come through. The Grey Monks will be praying for us now. They promised me they would do this in our need and God must answer their prayers.’

His words had a sobering effect, or it might have been that quality in him that made all men feel that he was unconquerable, for a calmness settled on the men. The fleet was scattered; their ship was being buffeted by the wind; the oars were useless and it seemed that at any moment the waves would engulf them; but their leader was Richard, and he was certain that they would come through. He had a mission and was convinced that he would not die until he had achieved it.

Such was the power of his personality that he could make men believe this even as he did himself, so that they overcame their fears and went about their work calmly with the certainty that they would survive.

When in the night the wind dropped, a great shout went up from the decks of the King’s ship: ‘The storm is over.’

Richard shouted through his trumpet: ‘All follow me. I shall light the way we are to go.’

He had a large lantern placed on the ship and ordered that by night this should always be lighted so that the other ships could see where he was.

In a few hours the wind had become light, and billowing the sails favourably, and the ship went on without further mishap into Crete, there to discover what havoc the storm had wrought and how many of the ships were lost. It was now the Wednesday following Easter day so he had been a week at sea.

To Richard’s horror he discovered that the vessel which contained his royal treasure and that in which Berengaria and Joanna were travelling were not among those which had come through the storm to Crete.

He could not delay long. He must discover what had become of his gold and treasure and of course of his sister and his bride.

How frightening was the storm at sea!

Joanna and Berengaria had been advised to go below where they might not see the mighty waves pounding against the side of the ship.

They both felt ill but Joanna roused herself to comfort Berengaria.

‘These Mediterranean storms arise quickly and as quickly fade away,’ she told her. ‘Richard will bring us safely through.’

‘Alas,’ said Berengaria, ‘we are not sailing with him.’

‘But under his command,’ Joanna reminded her. ‘Lie down, Berengaria, and I will lie with you. ’Tis better so.’

They lay side by side holding each other’s hands for comfort.

Joanna talked of Richard and what success he had had in war.

‘There is always war,’ said Berengaria. ‘How I wish there could be peace!’

Joanna was silent. There were some who wanted peace – her husband had been one. But what would men such as Richard do if there were no wars? They were made to be warriors. War was the main force in their lives.

She was fearful thinking of his ship now and wondering whether it was following them. In storms fleets were often scattered. What a hazardous undertaking it was to travel by sea and it was amazing how often it was undertaken. If they had been on Richard’s ship she would have been much happier. This brought her back to the strange fact that Richard had not been in any hurry to marry. Joanna had thought a great deal about that. Why was it? she wondered. Berengaria was beautiful – not outstandingly so perhaps but still beautiful. She was eager for the marriage, ready to accept Richard as his mother and sister had presented him as the most handsome hero in the world. It was Richard who procrastinated.

He was not young. He should be getting sons.

And as the wind buffeted them Joanna could not help wondering whether the sea would claim Berengaria for its bride since Richard was reluctant to take her. Or how could they know what would await them on some foreign shore? Joanna had been a prisoner of Tancred and although she had not been ill-treated, to be a prisoner was not a happy state. One could never be sure when one’s jailer might decide it would be better to remove the prisoner altogether.

As she lay side by side with Berengaria and thought how innocent she was, she feared what might happen to them both if they were thrown upon some unfriendly shore.

They should have sailed in Richard’s ship for the hazards of the sea were known to be great. How could a lover contemplate allowing his bride to face, not in his care, the unpredictable elements when one short ceremony could have made it possible for them to travel together?

The same thought which had worried her mother kept recurring to Joanna: Was Richard regretting his promise to marry Berengaria?

None of this did she convey to Berengaria. And as they rocked in their bunk, clinging to the sides of it, now and then involuntary exclamations of dismay breaking from them, suddenly it seemed that the storm was abating.

Joanna said: ‘I believe we have come through.’

And during the fifteen minutes which followed it became obvious that this was so. They slept fitfully and as soon as the dawn came they went on deck and by the morning light were dismayed to discover that they and the other two Dromones which had left Messina together were alone.

‘Where is the rest of the fleet?’ cried Berengaria. ‘Where is the King?’

That was something which could not be answered. They could only wait and see what the day brought forth.

Battered and in sad need of repair they drifted on and at the end of the day they came in sight of land.

They had reached the island of Cyprus.

They dropped anchor.

What peace to be at rest! How wonderful not to feel the sickening roll of the ship under their feet! But they could not enjoy this peace so great was their anxiety, for Richard’s ship was nowhere to be seen. The Captain of their vessel came to them and told them that he intended to land at Cyprus. There it seemed certain that Isaac Comnenus, who was known as the Emperor, would offer them hospitality. They could rest there until they had some news of what had happened to the rest of the fleet.

Feeling very uneasy and visualising the many disasters which could so easily have befallen Richard, they prepared to go ashore, but before an hour had elapsed the Captain came to them to tell them that a small boat had come alongside with a message from Isaac Comnenus to the effect that he would not receive them. Such inhospitality was astounding, especially as he must know that Richard would be incensed at this treatment extended to his sister and his bride-to-be. It could only mean that Isaac believed Richard would never arrive at Cyprus.

A dreadful foreboding had settled on everyone aboard. They were at the mercy of the sea; their ships were in need of repair; the Emperor of Cyprus was refusing his help and the rest of the fleet with the King among it, had disappeared.

There was worse to follow.

During their first night off Cyprus a small boat rowed out to the ship and in it were several English sailors.

They had an alarming story to tell.

A few days earlier they had arrived at Cyprus in a very sorry condition. They had been helped ashore by seemingly friendly Cypriots who had assisted them in salvaging what they could from their vessel; and then, as soon as they and their goods were on land, had promptly taken the goods and cast the sailors into prison. By great good luck a few of them had endeavoured to escape and so had returned to the ship with the news.

This was very disconcerting, especially as the wind had risen again and was buffeting the ship as it lay at anchor. On one side were the unpredictable elements of the ocean, on the other the unfriendly Emperor.

The next day there was a turn in events. Berengaria watching for a sight of Richard’s ship noticed a small boat coming out to their ship.

She ran to Joanna and, with her, watched the boat come alongside and two men board the ship.

In a short time the Captain appeared.

‘There are messengers from the Emperor Isaac Comnenus who would speak with you.’

Joanna said: ‘Please bring them to us.’

The Captain came with the two men who bowed low and showed great deference to the ladies.

‘Our Imperial Lord sends his greetings,’ he said. ‘He fears there has been a misunderstanding. He now knows that the ships which were wrecked on his coast belong to King Richard of England. He has heard that you ladies have arrived and he wishes to offer you the hospitality of his country. If you will come ashore with us you will be received with all honours and the Emperor has had apartments made ready for your comfort.’

Joanna looked at the Captain whose expression was grave.

Berengaria was about to speak when Joanna pressed her hand.

Joanna said: ‘I beg you convey our thanks to the Emperor. We need a little time to consider his invitation.’

‘Time, my lady? You must be weary of the sea. The Emperor has a luxurious apartment waiting for you. All he wishes is that you will both be comfortable in the one he has prepared for you.’

‘May we send you a message when we are ready?’

‘If it is your wish, but the Emperor is waiting to greet you now.’

‘We could not come at such short notice,’ said Joanna. ‘I beg you to convey our thanks to the Emperor and give us time to consider his kindness.’

The two messengers were persuasive. They enlarged on the delights of the island. The most luscious fruit grew there and the Emperor was very eager for the ladies to enjoy the delights it could offer.

Joanna however was adamant. Time, she reiterated. They must have time.

Finally the messengers rather ruefully retired. It was a relief for them all to see their little boat being rowed back to the shore.

‘I was afraid,’ said the Captain, ‘that you would agree to go ashore. That is something you must not do ... as yet. I don’t trust the Emperor.’

‘I remembered that some of our men had been lured ashore, robbed and put in prison,’ said Joanna. ‘What think you they would do with the Princess Berengaria and myself if we fell into their hands?’

‘Like as not keep you as hostages,’ was the answer.

‘So I thought,’ said Joanna. ‘We must hold out against his invitations.’

That they were right was borne out by further events of that day.

Some of the sailors who had been shipwrecked were seen fighting their way to the coast. The captain of the ships which lay at anchor immediately sent out boats to rescue the sailors on the shore and when they were brought on board the story they had to tell was alarming.

Two of the busses had been driven ashore and immediately seized on by the rapacious Cypriots. They had been helped salvage what they could from the ships and then imprisoned in the fort of Limassol, and left there without food or drink, the obvious intention being to starve them to death. Fortunately some of them had smuggled in their bows and arrows and were able to fight their way out in the sheer desperation born of the knowledge that certain death would be their fate if they did not do so. Their joy was great when they saw some of their own ships at anchor and their cries for help brought immediate succour.

‘How right we were not to go,’ said Berengaria. ‘What do you think would have happened to us if we had?’

‘The Captain thinks that we should have been held as hostages,’ replied Joanna. ‘Richard would have had to pay dearly for our release. It would have been disastrous for him.’

‘He will be pleased with what we did,’ added Berengaria.

‘Yes, he will, when he comes.’

When he came, yes. But where was Richard?

For several days they waited. The weather was bad and they were in an exposed condition. Both Joanna and Berengaria were ill: and there was still no sign of Richard.

Joanna staggered on to the deck. On the island she could see that troops were massing and apprehensively wondered for what purpose.

Each day a small boat came out bringing the messengers who had approached them before. They were always courteous and so patient. The ladies should trust the Emperor, they advised. He was very angry with the first discourteous message they had received. It had been none of his doing to send such a message. He wanted them to give him a chance of showing how delighted he would be if they would but consent to become his guests.

Joanna replied that she and the Princess Berengaria thanked the Emperor but they were not sure of King Richard’s wishes and if the Emperor would but be patient with them, they were sure the King’s ship would soon appear and then doubtless he could share in this kindly offered hospitality.

The messengers went away once more defeated and Joanna went back to Berengaria, who looked pale and ill.

‘Oh Joanna,’ she said, ‘how much longer do you think we must stay here?’

‘It can’t be for long. Something will have to happen soon. They are massing troops on the shore. I think it may mean that they are planning to take the ships.’

‘Oh, where is Richard?’

‘If we but knew!’ said Joanna. ‘Oh, if only ...’

But what was the use of bringing that forward again! Richard had been in no hurry to marry and because of this they were on different ships.

Two or three days passed. Joanna and Berengaria talked of their predicament.

‘What if Richard is lost,’ said Berengaria fearfully.

‘I can’t believe it,’ answered Joanna fervently.

‘But surely he would have come by now.’

‘It is not so long. We came here on Wednesday. It is now Saturday. Only three days.’

Three days of being buffeted by fierce winds, three days of uncertainty!

‘It seems like months,’ said Berengaria.

On Sunday morning Joanna had made up her mind. She talked it over with Berengaria. ‘We can’t go on like this,’ she said. ‘We are getting short of stores and you are ill.’

‘I shall be all right as soon as I am on dry land.’

‘That is what I feel. We cannot stay here.’

‘Then what shall we do?’

‘We shall have to go ashore.’

‘Trust the Emperor!’

‘It seems the only way. He has troops on the shore and we are getting short of provisions. Perhaps he really did repent of the inhospitality.’

‘And what of our men? Some of them are still held prisoner.’

‘He surely could not hold us prisoner. My mother would bring a force against him and so would your father. Besides ... when Richard comes ...’

‘Yes,’ put in Berengaria quickly, ‘when Richard comes there would indeed be trouble if he did aught to harm us.’

‘Then,’ said Joanna, ‘when the messengers come this afternoon, which it seems likely they will, we will go ashore with them.’

‘Anything,’ said Berengaria, ‘would be preferable to staying at sea.’

Not anything, thought Joanna, but during that morning they made their preparations.

It was about midday when the ships hove into sight.

Joanna shouted joyously to Berengaria and the two young women stood on the deck shading their eyes against the glare of the sun. There was the King’s fleet with his long lean ship to the fore. Their joy was complete when they heard his voice coming to them from the trumpet.

Richard had come. They had held out against the Emperor’s blandishments. Now Richard would decide what had to be done.