Christmas was fast approaching and they settled near Jaffa, in a ruined city that Saladin had himself destroyed to keep it from the Crusaders. There was still no word from Richard for his new wife, nor for his sister and Berengaria had come to the conclusion that he cared nothing for her, that he had achieved his goal in marrying her, an alliance with her brother and Navarre.
Christmas would be a very sad occasion for her and she now wondered what she would do when finally released from her confinement. She sometimes empathised with Princess Alys, thought she knew how that lady must have felt, if Richard neglected her in the same way, not knowing whether she had a betrothal or not. Berengaria wondered now if she really had a marriage. But she would not turn to another man, even should one present himself. She had sworn loyalty to her husband and she would keep that oath, no matter what.
On Christmas Eve he arrived, covered in dust and grime and stinking of unwashed man. He stood smiling at her, his eyes moving over her appreciatively. She wanted to run to him, to throw herself into those strong arms, but the memory of Acre held her back.
Joanna felt no such reluctance. She flung herself at him, pressed herself into his arms and kissed his filthy cheek, the dirt from his tabard staining her dress. She did not care; her dearest brother was back with the women who loved him and now all would be well.
“Now you’ve made me dirty,” she said, while trying to contain tears of joy. “I shall have to go and change.”
Berengaria watched her go, but still she made no move toward him.
“You look a mess,” she said.
“I know. I could not wait to see you.”
“Really?”
She wondered if that were true, or just words to tempt her. At last he came to her, his steps halted before her and he took her arms, pulled her close to him and kissed her lips, while keeping a space between them. She had missed those kisses, and now all she wanted was to forget the memories which were standing like a thorny bush between them.
“You could have stayed with us,” she said.
“No,” he answered with a shake of his head. “I needed to be with my men and with the other leaders. How would it be if I stayed in comfort with my wife, whilst they slept on hard earth without a woman? That is no way to gain their respect. I would not have been the crusade leader for long if that had happened.”
She made no reply to this explanation. She knew it made sense, but would it have been so terrible for him to spend a few minutes of his time with his wife?
“Without a woman, Richard?” She said. “That is not what I heard.”
He grinned sheepishly.
“There are always camp whores who follow the soldiers. That is not what I meant and I think you know that.”
“I will have a bath filled for you,” she said. “Then we can eat. You will be staying?”
“There is little point in going on to Jerusalem in the winter; we would have no chance.”
“And that is your only reason for staying?” She said bitterly.
He reached out and stroked her cheek with his calloused fingers.
“You know it is not,” he answered. “Are you trying to start an argument?”
Was she? She was unsure about that. She was pleased to see him, but things were different now. He had shown how brutal he could be, even cruel, and he had shown her that she meant far less to him than his battles. But those battles were part of a holy crusade; was it very selfish of her to want to be more important than God?
“No,” she said at last. “Come, let’s get you bathed and fed. Then the night will be ours.”
THEY LAY SIDE BY SIDE, hands entwined, just as they had that first time, on their wedding night, but something was different and they both knew it.
He reached over and stroked his hand over her stomach.
“You did not conceive?” He asked.
“No. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. My mother would have liked to hear that an heir was on the way.”
“If I should have a son, Richard, it will be for you, not your mother.”
Her voice had risen a little and she tried to control it. She had no wish to spoil this night; it could well be the only night.
He pulled her to him, held her close, felt her warm flesh against him and realised how much he had missed her. Many of the crusaders had made use of the prostitutes who followed the camp, but Richard had been far too busy planning each day’s strategy to even think of carnal pleasures. He would have liked to have told himself it was because he wanted no other woman but Berengaria, but he was not a man who could lie to himself. In truth, he had not given her a single thought since he left her in Acre, but there was no need for her to know that.
He could not lie to himself, but he had little difficulty in lying to others. He kissed her then, took her soft breast into his hand, moved his lips to her neck and felt her response.
If only she could recapture that first night, before the battles, before the massacre, before he brought mention of his mother into their marriage bed. She loved him still, but she felt the distance between them.
After, as they lay in each other’s arms, her head resting on his naked chest, try as she might, she could not keep her thoughts to herself.
“Richard,” she said. “Was it you who ordered the deaths of all those men at Acre?”
“Who else?”
“Why? Why did you do that? You promised them freedom.”
“I would have kept that promise had Saladin not reneged on his own promise.”
“Was that their fault?”
He moved away from her and sat up, turned to look down at her, his scowl fearsome.
“These decisions are mine alone, Berengaria. Please do not question me on military matters.”
“Are they military matters?” She asked.
“If you need to ask, then you are not qualified to argue the matter.”
Perhaps he was right. She had sworn to give him her loyalty and obedience. She intended to keep those vows, and he was the military leader, the great warrior, feared by all his enemies.
“Very well,” she agreed at last. “But tell me, please. I heard that Philip has returned to France, that your crusading army is depleted. Is that true? Or is that also a military matter I am forbidden to ask about?”
He lay back down, slipped his arm around her.
“Philip is a coward. A little heat, a little discomfort and he flees like a frightened rabbit. I cannot believe he was once a close friend. I have no patience with him.”
“But his departure puts you at a disadvantage and your brother is not a good ruler. I wonder if you, too, have thought of returning to England while you still have a kingdom to return to.”
“My mother will keep John in his place,” he said. “She will rule as my regent until I can get back there.”
“Your mother,” she said. “I have seen some of the letters she has written to Joanna. She still signs herself ‘Queen of England’. Did you know that? Do you allow that?”
“I hadn’t thought of it,” he replied. “She has been Queen of England for many years and you have not yet been crowned in England. When you are, she will no doubt be happy to defer that title to you.”
She said nothing, but she had her doubts. If Eleanor insisted on calling herself by a title which rightfully belonged to her son’s wife, that wife would have to find her own title in retaliation. From then on, she signed all her documents as ‘Humble Queen of England’ and hoped the sarcasm did not go unnoticed.
AFTER CHRISTMAS, WHAT remained of the crusaders pushed on to Jerusalem but they were greatly outnumbered now. Having realised the futility of the battle, Richard knew he would have to make peace with Saladin, but he needed to save face. He could not have it thought that he suffered defeat.
His solution to that particular problem was not one which was likely to gain favour with anyone, much less the woman involved.
He wrote to his wife to tell her she needed to prepare to leave th
e Holy Land and Berengaria hoped that at last, she would have her husband back and begin to build their future, perhaps even conceive that longed for child. She had no doubt that it was the worry of living almost on a battlefield and wondering if Richard might not return, that was preventing it.
She assumed they would be going to England, that the King would be crowned a second time and would have his Queen crowned with him. She had been crowned Queen in Cyprus, also crowned as Queen of that country, but she needed to have a coronation alongside the King for it to be properly recognised.
Berengaria could take up her rightful place as Queen of England and then they would see whether Eleanor was as willing to give up that title as her son believed.
“It seems we will be leaving here soon,” Berengaria told her friend.
“That’s good,” Joanna replied. “It seems it was all for nothing after all. The Holy City is still in the hands of the Infidel. But it will be good to get back to a more civilised life.”
When Richard arrived, her joy turned to fury.
“I have made peace with Saladin,” he told them. He wore a satisfied grin, as though he expected congratulations. “I have found a solution that will suit us both and cannot be called a defeat.”
“What solution is that?” Joanna asked.
He turned to her with that satisfied smile, strode forward and took her hand, ignoring his wife who waited patiently for some sort of greeting.
“An alliance between our countries. You are to marry his brother,” he told her abruptly. “And you will rule Jerusalem together.”
Joanna wrenched her hand away from his and used it to slap his face, hard enough to leave an angry crimson patch that could well turn to a bruise later. She stepped away from him, ready to slap him again, but he caught her wrist.
“How dare you?” She screamed at him. “How dare you think you can marry me, your own sister, to a Muslim? How dare you think you can order me to marry a man who is not even a Christian, without even consulting me? How dare you?”
“Calm down,” he said, his hand reaching up to soothe his injured face. “Something can be arranged, I’m sure. Perhaps he can be persuaded to be baptised a Christian.”
“Or perhaps I can give up my faith and follow his?” She shouted back at him. “No. I refuse to marry him. Have you not just fought a war which cost thousands their lives, just to chase the Infidel out of the Holy Land and here you want to condemn your sister to marriage with one of them? I cannot believe what I am hearing.”
“Neither can I,” said Berengaria. “Richard, what on earth are you thinking? You cannot expect your sister to marry a follower of Islam. I am quite disgusted with you.”
As usual, Richard did not think of anyone else when it came to doing what he wanted. It had never occurred to him to consult his sister, never entered his head that she might refuse. He had given her not a single thought, just decided it would be an acceptable solution to save face.
But he had not given up the idea. If Al-Adil could be persuaded to be baptised as a Christian, he might still persuade his sister to give him his way.
Finally, he turned to his wife, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then left the house.
“Now where is he going?” Berengaria asked. “He’s only just arrived.”
“I believe he has gone to ask the Infidel’s brother if he would be prepared to give up his faith. It will make no difference; I’ve always accepted that I would marry where I was told to marry, for the sake of my duty to the kingdom, but not this time.”
Richard’s scheme to save face was not to be.
“I will marry your sister, if she will have me,” was Al-Adil’s reply. “But I’ll not betray Islam for her.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
To Rome
THE CRUSADERS HAD LEFT, the Templars were sworn to protect pilgrims visiting the Holy City and Saladin had promised not to interfere with them. It was the best they could hope for, but now Berengaria prepared to go to England with her husband and his sister, together with the little Cypriot princess, who had become something of a burden.
“What do you plan on doing with her, Richard?” She asked him. “She should be sent back to her people.”
“She should, but her father is still in prison and I have no reason to suppose there is anyone else who wants her. She will have to stay with us.”
“It is cold in England, is it not?” She asked, wanting to change the subject.
“It can be.” He paused, his lips twisted thoughtfully as though he had something to say but was not sure how it would be received. “I must return, if only to oust my brother from my throne and be sure everything is as it should be. But I would be grateful if you would go to Rome, represent me with the Pope there.”
Her eyes met his as she tried to read his thoughts. She was disappointed that he did not want her with him, but pleased that he thought her capable of representing him in such elevated company. She had begun to think he had no appreciation for her intelligence and education.
“I would be honoured to do so,” she said. “But the people of England will surely expect you to bring your Queen with you. We could go to Rome afterward.”
“I have another reason,” he answered. “Joanna doesn’t want to come to England. She is still angry with me for trying to arrange her marriage with Saladin’s brother. She says if she comes to England, as King I will likely marry her off to someone else without her consent.”
Berengaria laughed.
“Is she right?”
“Possibly. I have promised her it’ll not happen again, but I have a tendency to forget such promises when the occasion arises.”
“And what of your promises to me, Richard?” She said. “Will you forget those as quickly?”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“I saw nothing of you for months during the crusade, while the men in your camp took advantage of the women who followed them. You insisted on sharing their camp; did you also share in their pleasures?”
He pulled her to him, held her tightly; she could feel the rapid beating of his heart and knew she was about to hear a lie.
“Of course not, my love,” he said. “I thought only of you.”
She bit back a retort and replied without looking at him.
“I will do as you command,” she said. “But when will we meet again?”
“You will come to England when Joanna has recovered from her tantrum and when you have seen the Pope on my behalf. I think I angered him when I went to Rome on my way to Sicily, but made no effort to seek an audience with him.”
“Why did you do that? You must have known that would be unacceptable.”
“I was eager to get to Sicily and free my sister, retrieve her inheritance that Tancred stole from her. I was also anxious to meet up with the other leaders and begin the crusade. I had no time to fawn over him, but now I wonder if my neglect was a factor in the defeat.”
“It was hardly a defeat, Richard,” she said. “But I can see where you would need to make peace with His Holiness. I will go.”
He took her in his arms and kissed her, passionately, felt the warmth of her beauty against his body and stirred a little. He could have happily taken her to bed then, but in truth his mind was occupied with preparations to return to England.
THE TWO QUEENS, NO longer caged, were now free to enjoy not only their normal pastimes of riding, falconry and archery, but also each other’s company. They stayed in Rome for many months, making visits to the Pope, before moving on to other parts of the Angevin Empire.
After Richard’s blatant lie before their parting, Berengaria was in no hurry to meet with him again. And she was certain it was a lie. But it was during their travels that the letters from Queen Eleanor caught up with her and made her shiver with fear.
King Richard’s ship had been wrecked and he had been captured by the Emperor of Austria. He had feared something of the sort might happen; that was why he travelled disguised as a pilgrim.
; Berengaria studied the letter with a heavy heart, recalling her dread when Richard had torn down the Emperor’s standard in Acre and replaced it with his own. She knew then it would bode ill for him and for her.
Joanna was beside herself. Berengaria had never seen her so distraught, she was always such a strong woman.
“After what he did?” She asked her. “Trying to marry you to the Infidel, you can still shed tears for him?”
“He is my brother,” Joanna replied. “The only one who ever cared for me. Look what he did to rescue me in Sicily, to rescue us both in Cyprus. We must do something.”
“We will. We will gather everything we can to sell; that will be a start. Queen Eleanor is raising money for the ransom as well.”
“My mother will be devastated with this news. The people of England will give willingly to rescue their King.”
Yes, Berengaria thought. That is all the people of England ever were to him, a means of raising money.
“Sheep clippings,” Berengaria said.
“Sorry?”
“I will go to every farm and sheep shearer I can. I can beg for sheep clippings, the ones they don’t manage to catch, the ones that get thrown away. I can sell them to raise more money.”
“Berengaria,” Joanna replied. “You are the Queen of England.”
“Does that mean I cannot do everything within my power to save my husband?”
Joanna watched as she went to her bedchamber to find more things to sell and she knew, without a doubt, that if a Queen would lower herself to beg for sheep clippings for a man, that Queen must love that man more than she would ever care to admit.
The remainder of that year was spent travelling the Angevin Empire to raise money for Richard’s release. It was hard work, but they finally managed to gather a part of the demanded ransom. In the meantime, Richard’s captor had changed from the Emperor of Austria to the Holy Roman Emperor, Henry VI, so now they knew nothing of his whereabouts.
The Loves of the Lionheart Page 14
