The Heart of the Lion

by Виктория Холт

  Richard nodded. He went to Joanna, pulled her to her feet and kissed her brow. ‘My dear sister, it is exactly what I have done.’

  ‘Who could it possibly be?’ cried Joanna.

  ‘It is Malek Adel, the brother of Saladin.’

  Joanna stared at him incredulously, and Richard hurried on: ‘He is a man of high rank and great charm. He is handsome; he is ...’

  Joanna cried: ‘He is a Mohammedan! A Saracen. You cannot seriously suggest that I should marry such a man!’

  ‘You have the familiar belief that these people are barbarians. Let me tell you that is far from the case. They are charming people; they are brave, cultured ... everything that a woman could wish.’

  ‘Not this woman!’ cried Joanna firmly. ‘You need time to grow accustomed to the idea.’

  ‘I need no time. I know immediately and without consideration that I would never marry a Saracen.’

  ‘You are being unreasonable. You have been listening to ignorant people. I know these Saracens. I have eaten with this man. Together we have listened to music. He is clever ... He is charming ... a man any woman would be proud to marry.’

  ‘A Saracen woman perhaps but not a Christian, not the daughter of King Henry of England and Queen Eleanor.’

  Joanna had changed suddenly. All the docility had dropped from her. There was no doubt in those moments whose daughter she was. She had no need to remind her brother. There was all the fierceness, the arrogance, the self-will of both her parents.

  ‘How many wives has this Saracen already?’ she demanded.

  ‘I doubt not he has a few but that is no problem.’

  ‘No problem! Not to you nor to me either, for I refuse to consider this matter for one moment.’

  ‘I must ask you to be reasonable. This is a matter of great importance. It could help to decide the issue of this crusade.’

  ‘Then the issue of this crusade must remain undecided.’

  ‘Men’s lives are involved.’

  ‘And so is mine.’

  ‘You are unreasonable.’

  ‘And you are arrogant. Would you take a Saracen woman to wife?’

  ‘If it were necessary.’

  ‘For you it would be easy. You could marry a wife and proceed to neglect her. You could indulge in your wars to such an extent that you would find excuse enough never to see her.’

  Berengaria gave a little cry and Joanna flushed a little, knowing how she had hurt her sister-in-law.

  ‘Richard,’ said Joanna, ‘I will not do it. You can tell your Saracens that I would rather jump from the towers of this town than marry a man who is not a Christian.’

  Richard said: ‘Perhaps we could persuade him to become a Christian.’

  Joanna burst into wild laughter. ‘Perhaps they would want me to become a Mohammedan.’

  ‘Nay,’ said Richard seriously, ‘I would not ask that!’

  ‘How kind,’ cried Joanna sarcastically. ‘How good you are to me! You would marry me to a savage, a man who doubtless has a harem of wives. You would send me to join them, but because you are so good and kind you would say, “Please will you become a Christian.” I can imagine how the man you have chosen for me would laugh at that.’

  ‘You are in an unreasonable mood.’

  ‘Aye,’ cried Joanna, ‘and shall remain there as long as you ask me to marry so. Let me tell you this, Richard, it is something I will never do.’

  Richard walked hastily away.

  Berengaria and Joanna looked at each other. They took a step forward and flew into each other’s arms.

  Joanna was half laughing, half crying. Berengaria was pale and sad.

  ‘Joanna,’ whispered Berengaria, ‘could he insist?’

  ‘Never,’ replied Joanna. ‘He knows I mean what I say.’

  ‘You would not ... kill yourself.’

  ‘Rather than marry such a man ... yes.’

  ‘Oh, Joanna. It is a terrible thing to be a Princess who is sent where others wish her to be. I used to think I was fortunate.’

  ‘And are you not, Berengaria?’

  ‘What is the use, Joanna? Why should we pretend? He does not care for me. He makes excuses to be away from me.’

  ‘Take comfort that he is not with other women.’

  Berengaria’s lips tightened. She stared straight ahead and said: ‘Perhaps there are others of whom I should be jealous.’

  Alas, thought Joanna, she has grown up and she finds the world is not what she thought.

  All pretence between them had disappeared. From now on if they remained together, there would be no necessity to placate Berengaria with excuses for all Richard had to do. Berengaria knew that he did not want her; that any relationship she would have with him would be because of a sense of duty to the crown.

  They were two unhappy women – Berengaria more so than Joanna, for Joanna had declared that she would never marry the Saracen and she meant it.

  The Cypriot Princess watching them sat so quietly that they forgot she was there.

  Yes, it was true, it was sad to be a Princess. She wondered what her own fate would be. Her father was in chains – silver ones – and Cyprus belonged to Richard. She had no home. Would she ever see her father or her old home again? Would a husband be found for her? Perhaps not, for homeless and with a father in chains, she was not important any more.

  * * *

  Richard realised that Joanna would never marry Malek Adel; he had a niece, however, who could take Joanna’s place and marry the Saracen leader. He sent a message to Saladin and Malek Adel telling them that before a marriage could be arranged with his sister Queen Joanna it would be necessary to get a dispensation from the Pope which would cause delays and difficulties. He therefore proposed that Malek Adel should take his niece.

  When Saladin heard this he laughed aloud. He had never expected for one moment that Richard’s sister would marry his brother. It had all been part of the bargaining, which was not to be taken seriously.

  He sent a message to say that Malek Adel could not consider anyone of lesser rank than the King’s sister; and Richard had to accept the fact that that idea could not be pursued.

  Saladin was not displeased with what had happened. The terms could never of course be considered seriously but at least the peace talks had delayed action and both sides were resting. The autumn was passing into winter and that was scarcely the season to wage a successful campaign.

  Leaving Berengaria and Joanna in Jaffa Richard with the army moved on to the town of Ramleh, which Saladin had evacuated when he decided that he would move back to Jerusalem and prepare for an assault on that town should it come.

  There was a conflict of opinion in the Christian camp. The fact that Saladin had gone to Jerusalem could only mean that he was building up defences there and as the peace talks had come to nothing it was clear that he was determined to defend Jerusalem with all his strength.

  Some of the crusaders wished to press on to Jerusalem and subject it to a siege. Richard knew very well that they were not equipped to do this and Saladin would be in a much stronger position than they were. They would be utterly defeated and they must remember that such defeat to them would be disastrous whereas the Saracens on their own territory could after a while get men and supplies for further attacks.

  The failure of the peace talks and the inability of Richard to arrange a match between his sister and Malek Adel had slightly tarnished his aura of invincibility, and there were some who questioned his judgements. As the majority of the crusaders wanted to press on to Jerusalem Richard gave way. He too wanted to see the Holy City; he wanted to crown the crusade with the ultimate glory. If he could set the Christian flag flying over that city he would die contented.

  It was the twenty-second of December when Richard left Ramleh on the march to Jerusalem. The crusaders had never seen such rain; it poured in torrents; the hailstones were the size of pigeons’ eggs and they felt that one of the plagues of Egypt was being visited upon them. From the mou
ntains the swollen streams became rivers and the paths were so muddy that men sank up to their knees.

  After days of disaster it became clear that no progress could be made. The army was miserable and dispirited. The only thing to do was to return to Ramleh.

  This they did, disgruntled and weary, blaming each other for the disaster. Richard did not know then that in the town of Jerusalem, Saladin, his army depleted, his stores scarce was fearful that Richard would continue the march to Jerusalem and that had he done so at that time he might have had a good chance of success.

  At Ramleh Richard discussed the position with the dukes and the knights. Those who knew something of the Palestine winter were certain that they must wait for the spring. An army could not progress through such rain as was customary in this land and the cold would be intense, also. Richard decided that they would spend the winter repairing the walls of cities which Saladin’s army had destroyed, while doing so making ready for the spring offensive.

  It was depressing. He had reckoned on taking Jerusalem before Christmas and here he was in January still far from achieving that purpose.

  They were in need of food and he believed that their ships would be lying off the coast of Ascalon so he ordered that they should leave at once for that town.

  The journey was even worse than they had anticipated. The men were blinded by the rain; again and again their baggage sank in the mud; they cursed the climate and asked themselves which was worse, the heat of summer or this devastating rain, snow and cold which seeped into their bones.

  Their spirits were not lifted when they arrived at Ascalon. The walls were in complete ruin, for Saladin, guessing they would wish to use this town, had done his best to make it uninhabitable. There was one hopeful sign. The supply ships had arrived but alas even in that they were thwarted, for it was impossible for the ships to land on account of the stormy weather.

  So there they were, a dejected army – with food and other supplies in sight but unable to reach them.

  Richard, always at his best in adversity, ordered them to occupy the town. They would take what was there, repair the walls and make the place habitable. The storms must subside at some time and then they would have their provisions.

  They settled in and to inspire his men he himself joined them in the manual labour of repairing the walls.

  Inspecting the men, taking a share in the work, he encouraged them to carry on and it was comforting to see a revival of spirits. He noticed however that Leopold, the Duke of Austria, was not working with the rest.

  Coming face to face with the Duke who was strolling in a leisurely manner close to the wall where men were working, Richard said to him: ‘I do not see you joining with us in this necessary work, my lord Duke.’

  ‘You do not see me because I do not do it,’ answered Leopold. ‘My father was not a mason and I am not a carpenter.’

  The Plantagenet temper boiled over. This was the kind of incident Richard was most anxious to avoid. The soldiers had suffered great hardship and he wanted them to know that this was understood and appreciated and shared by them all.

  In a sudden rage he kicked the Duke of Austria on the shin so fiercely that he fell sprawling on the ground.

  This affront to his dignity infuriated the Duke. He scrambled to his feet, scarlet with rage. Richard by now had stalked away.

  ‘A curse on you!’ shouted Leopold.

  A few days later he and his men, which meant the German contingent, had left the crusade.

  * * *

  That was a dispiriting winter. The departure of Leopold of Austria in high dudgeon was followed by that of the Duke of Burgundy who, finding himself short of money, had asked Richard to lend him some. He had believed, he explained, that he would have had his share of the ransom for the prisoners of Acre which he had been relying on. Now that it was lost, because in his wrath Richard had slain the prisoners of that city there was no money forthcoming from Saladin, and Burgundy, like many others, was finding himself in difficulties.

  Richard who had lent him money at Acre and not been repaid refused to help him. So infuriated was the Duke that he went off taking the French contingent with him and declaring his intention to join Montferrat.

  His plans going wrong, victory seeming far away, Richard longed for an end of inactivity.

  With the coming of the spring he would go forward to Jerusalem; surely this year would see victory.

  Letters came from Queen Eleanor. The news they contained was very disturbing. She expressed her fears with vehemence. There was trouble in England. The people deplored the long absence of their King. Philip of France was being over friendly with Richard’s brother John; and there was no doubt that John had his eyes on the throne and had a good chance of getting it if Richard did not come home to prevent him.

  ‘You cannot wish to lose your crown,’ wrote his mother, ‘and if you want to keep it you must come back to England without delay. There is no time to lose.’

  When Richard read those letters he was thrown into a state of terrible indecision. At one moment he was almost on the point of returning home; at another he was telling himself it would be folly to go now that he was so near to Jerusalem.

  While he was pondering on this Conrad de Montferrat asked for an audience and Richard immediately granted it.

  What hatred Montferrat harboured against him! He could sense it. He felt weary. This man had made a split in the crusaders’ army.

  ‘You came,’ said Richard, ‘not to fight for God but for yourself.’

  ‘Who does not?’ replied Montferrat. ‘Some achieve great conquests like the Island of Cyprus. Others are content with less. And we do our duty to God at the same time as to ourselves.’

  ‘You must know that before the King of France left we made a treaty that Guy de Lusignan should be King of Jerusalem during his lifetime and then you and your heirs should follow him.’

  ‘I wish to be King of Jerusalem during my lifetime.’

  ‘And if I do not agree?’

  ‘Many of your men are already with me. I have the Dukes of Austria and Burgundy with their followers to swell my ranks. There are others.’

  Yes, thought Richard sadly, there are others.

  He curbed his temper and instead of shouting abuse at Montferrat which he might have done a short time before, he said: ‘I will consider this matter.’

  When Montferrat had left him he thought of the trouble in England and he knew that his mother was right when she said he should come home.

  What if he should reconquer Jerusalem and lose England?

  I will not, he assured himself fiercely; but something within him told him he could not have both ... not yet.

  So later when he was urged by his counsellors to forget his promise to Guy de Lusignan and bestow the crown of Jerusalem on Conrad de Montferrat he surprised himself by his agreement.

  He sent for Guy and wearily told him what he had agreed to.

  ‘But, my friend,’ he said, ‘do not despair. The crown of Jerusalem has yet to be won and it would have been yours but for a lifetime. I have a better proposition for you. Suppose you were King of Cyprus now, and your heirs followed you to the throne. Would that please you as much as the crown of Jerusalem?’

  Guy replied that spiritually nothing could compare with the crown of Jerusalem; but he believed he would please God best by pleasing his King, for his duty was to serve him while he was on earth. He would accept the crown of Cyprus and he could see that by bestowing the as yet unattained crown of Jerusalem on Montferrat Richard had taken from a treacherous enemy a reason for breaking away from the crusading army.

  Richard embraced Guy. He had always known that he could rely on him.

  Chapter XI

  THE OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAINS

  Richard firmly believed that, when shortly after this Conrad de Montferrat was murdered, this was by the hand of God who had no wish to see him reign over the Holy City.

  There was a strange company of men and women who live
d in the Lebanese mountains. They had a religion of their own and over them ruled a despotic dictator whom none of them dared disobey. Any who did so was instantly killed; and this did not only apply to those of his own sect. Occasionally they came down from the mountains and took a part in affairs which were likely to affect them.

  They were called the Hashashen; this implied that they took a certain drug which was reputed to give men twice their normal strength and to rob them of all fear.

  It was unwise to offend them – a fact which Montferrat had chosen to ignore, for while he was in control of Tyre one of the ships belonging to the Head of the Hashashen, who was generally known as The Old Man of the Mountains, had been in trouble off the coast. Instead of going to its rescue Montferrat and his men had refused help to the ship and had, moreover, robbed it of its cargo and allowed its sailors to drown.

  The ‘Old Man’ was a title which was handed down from one head of this Ismaelite tribe to another. It meant the supreme head, whose word was law. The tribe was notorious throughout the middle east, for it was one of the most powerful sects in that area.

  There were many legends about the tribe. They had existed it was said in the days of Christ and their way of life had remained unchanged through the centuries. Another legend – but this was said to be true – was that the Old Man had created a Garden which was a replica of the Mohammedan paradise. In the most exquisite setting were flowering trees and luscious fruit growing in abundance. Palaces of great beauty had been erected there. Among the trees wandered the most beautiful girls, to dance, to sing or to delight in any manner possible. Delicate perfumes wafted through the air. Everything that could enchant had been thought of.

  It was ancient custom to seek through the world certain young men whose characters indicated that they would best serve the tribe. These would be brought to the Old Man to sup with him and during the meal the visitors would fall into a heavy sleep. They would wake up in the garden and there they would live for several weeks until one day they would once more go into a heavy sleep, awaking from which they would find themselves shut out of the Paradise Gardens.