Roselynde (48 page)

Joanna assured him they were most comfortable, well-hardened
sailors. Perhaps, she suggested, since he felt he could not wrap his most
fluent and persuasive tongue around the foreign names, he would transmit a
letter from her to the foreigners and bring their reply. That was a poser. The
emissary's eyes shifted, but he was soon glibly assuring Joanna that nothing
could be more easy. Alinor sent a man to fetch her writing desk at once and
penned a careful note that merely announced their safe arrival and the
mendacious fact that the King was close on their heels and would arrive any
day.

Another week passed in this kind of fencing. Had they not been so
very worried about their compatriots, they would have been amused at the
ingeniousness of the excuses offered, the last being that all must wait on the
coming of the Emperor who had been notified of their arrival and was on his
way. Then they were left in peace, but no more gifts arrived either, and after
nearly a month on board supplies were beginning to run low. What was worse, the
weather grew steadily hotter, and the last rain that had fallen was on the
night they had nearly been driven ashore. The water remaining aboard was
beginning to stink and taste strange.

That night the anchor chain rattled. Three men-at-arms with arrows
set into their wound bows rushed forward. Others stood ready farther back, and
the sailors on watch drew their short swords and began to wake the sleepers. A
soft, exhausted voice called out to be taken aboard. A single, half-drowned
swimmer was drawn up. He bore a message from the men from the warped-in galleys
and the few who had escaped being murdered on the wrecked ships. They had been
induced ashore by lies and, coming to realize their danger, had shut themselves
into a fort somewhat inland. Now, however, they were starving. The next day
they would make a sortie and try to win to the port. If it would not endanger
the noble ladies, would they try to send a detachment ashore to help them
escape from the port? To give credence to his message, the swimmer wore the
signet ring of one Roger de Hardicurt.

A most anxious conference was held out of hearing of the
messenger. Joanna knew the signet, but what would stop an enemy from drawing
the ring off the finger of a dead man or tearing it by force from a prisoner?
Dared they risk their men in such a trap? Dared they not risk them and possibly
condemn an already tortured band of brave men to certain defeat and almost
certain death? The captain had no opinion. His sailors were not really fighting
men, although they could defend themselves aboard ship. All he could offer was
four small boats to take men ashore if necessary, but he warned that those
could easily be overturned or sunk.

"Not if we were in them," Alinor said suddenly.

"Alinor!" Joanna exclaimed impatiently, "that is
ridiculous. Possibly it would ensure the safety of the boats, but as soon as we
came ashore, our presence would merely endanger all the men. How could
they—"

"No, no," Alinor laughed. "I do not mean that we
should really accompany the men. However, by the sacrifice of a few garments
and headdresses it can easily seem as if there are ladies in each boat."

Beorn burst out laughing, and then apologized. He was not laughing
at the idea, which he thought excellent, but at the thought of certain of his
men garbed as women. "Most appropriate and fitting," he said, with a
wry twist to his mouth.

Lookouts kept a keen watch and, when a disturbance was seen moving
toward the port, the plan was put into action. It was a great success. Alinor's
men came safely ashore and so bedeviled the rear of those who were attacking
the escaping Crusaders that they broke through, taking possession of one of the
captive galleys and rowing it out beyond the ship the ladies were on. Beorn and
his men returned with some bad news, however. The recaptured ship was not
provisioned.

While Alinor and some of the ladies attended to the wounded,
Joanna supervised the division of the remaining supplies and water. Her heart
sank when she saw to what they were reduced. Later she admitted privately to
Alinor and Berengaria that, if Richard did not soon come, they would either
have to go ashore or set out to sea again with neither food nor water.
Meanwhile they must be more than usually on guard lest Comnenus, enraged by
their support of his captives, forget caution and attack them.

The wily Emperor guessed at their increasingly difficult
situation, however, and he could see no reason to lose men in a desperate fight
to obtain what must drop into his hand like a ripe fruit in a day or two. On
the day after the escape, he sent another ambassador with sweet words and just
enough fruit and meat and wine for the ladies' table. Men on short rations who
watched their betters dining richly and at ease often lose heart and begin to
murmur. Joanna was far too much her mother and father's daughter to be caught
in so silly a snare. She promptly emptied the wine into the shrunken water
barrels and bid the fruit and meat be cut up as small as would be practical and
distributed as far as it would go. Those who missed this time would have first
choice if another opportunity arose.

The expedient was of little help except to the spirits of the men.
By Saturday night, nothing but slime lay in the water casks, and when they
decided they must yield on the following day Alinor licked the tears she shed
from her cheeks and fingers for the sake of the little moisture they provided.

"Let us go only when we can bear it no longer," she
begged. "Let us at least hear Mass on ship. God will help us. God cannot
desert us utterly."

To this Joanna agreed, but she cast anxious glances at Berengaria
who seemed very frail and faint. It was a sad night, spent largely in prayers
for rain. Those prayers remained unanswered. The sun rose next morning into a
sky that showed not the smallest wisp of cloud. With dry and cracking mouths,
crew and passengers heard the chaplain whisper the Mass.

Then slowly reluctantly, a boat was made ready to send a messenger
to the Emperor. First he was to ask for water, if that was refused, as they
were sure it would be, he was to say the ladies would come ashore if the ships
were victualed. Then this possibility and that possibility were discussed. Then
the messenger was not fine enough. A richer cloak, another ring were sought
out. When he was fittingly bedecked all stood indecisively trying to find some
other cause for delay.

"Ship ho!" the lookout called. "Ship ho!"

Berengaria grasped at Joanna and Alinor. "Let us wait,"
she cried. "It is Richard. I know it is Richard."

"I told you!" Alinor exclaimed joyously. "I told
you God would not desert those who have the courage to help themselves."

The first man to leap aboard when the King's ship was brought
alongside was Richard himself. One step behind was Simon. Shaken out of his
normal attitude, Richard crushed his sister to him with one arm and his future
wife with the other. Simon had both arms for Alinor. It was just as well her
frame was sturdy or he would have mashed her to a pulp.

Horribly aware of the King's broad back only a few feet away,
Alinor pushed ineffectually at Simon. "Stop," she whispered urgently,
"the King will see."

Simon lifted his face from Alinor's headdress. "He
knows," he said softly. "When we heard your ship was missing, I was
beside myself. And I am afraid I was not overcareful before that, either."

Alinor's eyes glowed in her tired face. "Will he give me to
you, Simon?"

A shadow clouded Simon's joy. "Perhaps. I cannot ask him now,
Alinor. I cannot tell you why, but I cannot ask him for anything."

"My God, is the King angry with you, Simon?"

"No, no. Not at all." He glanced over his shoulder at
Richard, who was still engaged in listening to the tale Joanna and Berengaria
were eagerly telling. "Something happened that has, in a sense, put him
into my power. I could not—"

Alinor caught her breath with fear. There was nothing more
dangerous than a king who felt himself bound to a subject's caprice.
"Simon—" She faltered.

He read her expression and smiled. "Do not fear him. He is
the kind that trusts until reason is given him not to trust. That is why I
cannot ask. It is—" He clutched her closer again. "Do not be
impatient. Soon we come to war. Soon. I will win you on the field, beloved. I
will win you with honor, not as a King's favor, but as a prize of the strength
of my arms. Only a few weeks more."

Before Alinor could protest that he might as soon win death, that
he should be more cautious than brave, Richard had turned.

"Let go of that woman and look at her," the King
bellowed, his face flushed, his eyes blazing.

Simon's arms dropped, but his head lifted in affront and his color
also rose. Alinor grabbed for his wrist, though what she could do against
Simon's strength if he chose to resent the King's insult she did not know.

"Beast! Fiend!" Richard roared. His eyes had passed from
Simon and stared shoreward.

"Not you, love!" Alinor hissed frantically, digging her
nails into Simon's wrist as she felt his body tense.

"No water!" Richard raged. "Comnenus denied the
women water!"

Then Simon really looked at Alinor as he had been bid. He took in
the dry mouth, the hollowed cheeks. His color rose further; his eyes, too, lit
with fury. Alinor clung to him with all her strength, fearing for a moment that
he would fling himself overboard the sooner to come to grips with Comnenus.

"For mercy, Richard," Joanna cried, "give us water
and food before you set out to kill him."

"Richard," Berengaria begged. "Stop and think. You
have only a few ships and men. Wait at least until the rest of the fleet
comes."

That caution was quite unnecessary. Whatever Richard's rage, he
was never a fool in military matters. While Simon hurriedly arranged for
supplies to be transferred from the King's ship to the ladies', Richard had
summoned Roger de Hardicurt and William du Bois from the recaptured galley.
From them he obtained evidence concerning the impounded ships. Then he
questioned Beorn and the captain regarding the false beacons and the two ships
that had been lost, grinding his teeth to suppress his blasphemies. Having
rewarded the men for their cleverness and devotion in keeping the womenfolk
safe, he set his mind to composing a series of demands that would be so
offensive that Comnenus would be constrained to refuse.

Twilight was drawing on by the time all business was completed and
all had been refreshed by sufficient food and drink and even water for washing.
Alinor feared that the King would retire to his own ship, taking Simon with
him, with the excuse that he needed to plan the order of battle, which it was
clear he was determined to fight. Instead, to her delight, he sent for his
chair and his lute, stretched his long legs, and, with an adoring woman seated
on cushions on each side of him, began to sing.

Farther back, Alinor, also seated on a cushion, leaned against the
ship's side with Simon's head pillowed on her lap. His eyes were raised to her
face, but the insane hunger was gone from them. Alinor played gently with his
hair, traced the curve of his lips with one finger. The King's strong, sweet
voice rose and fell as the light failed and, one by one, the brilliant stars
showed themselves and bejewelled the dark vault of the heavens.

"You are at peace, Simon?" Alinor murmured.

He knew what she meant. "I thank God, yes," he breathed.
"You may trust me again. I will do you no hurt by force."

"What happened?"

"I cannot explain. It had to do with the life I was living. I
felt—befouled. You were a sweet, fresh spring. I had to drink of you to cleanse
the filth from me."

Alinor made no reply, and Simon could not see her face in the
dark. Torches had been set behind the King, but their light did not reach so
far. Simon began to sit up; Alinor's hand held him still.

"Rest, beloved. Let me hold you for this little while."

The love in the voice was plain, but Simon could not tell whether
it hid hurt or anger, and the words were no guide. "Do not believe me
altogether at fault for what I did. I am no saint, but I am no lecher,
either."

That brought a low laugh. "So much I know. For lechery,
usually you are hastier to run away than to seize an offered opportunity.
Therefore was I worried when I saw you so changed. Is the trouble past, Simon?
I do not care what you did when I was absent, but I do not trust myself to be
so understanding when I am by."

"I think so. The King has sworn that he will marry Berengaria
at the first opportunity, and I believe him. In any case, I will not tread the
path to the stews again."

The conjunction of the King's marriage and the path to the
whorehouses finally clarified the matter for Alinor. A man who loved womanflesh
to the extent that Simon had exhibited was an unlikely partner in unnatural
vice. Moreover, since he was known to sleep always in the King's chamber, it
was equally unlikely that any other shameful partner could be invited to the
King's bed. And if men believed that some of the whores Simon paid had served a
higher purpose than his—why, that was no shame, a mere peccadillo. A
confession, an
ave
and a
pater
and one was absolved. Clever,
loyal Simon, Alinor thought, and bent to kiss him.