Shield of Three Lions (52 page)

“Maybe you’re just not as Christian as they are.”

“That I’m not,” he agreed cheerily. “’Tis said King Richard canna be Christian because he’s from the pagan south, you and I canna be Christian because we’re from the pagan north, which leaves the field to those in the middle.”

“I’m
Christian,” I asserted, not liking the association, “even if the Scots are not.”

For the first time in days he laughed aloud. “Ye? Ye’re naught but a pagan Celt once removed, ready to worship a tree or a stone as quick as a saint, and believe in kaelpies and kongons.”

I didn’t want to argue the matter. Soothly I would agree that most of the Crusaders were more interested in lechery than praying, for our ranks were e’en now being depleted as the men broke to run to the port where ’twas rumored that boatloads of women from Tyre had just landed.

Also, I must admit that I was more intrigued by Richard’s reaction to his queen than I was by the reaction of any bishop. Berengaria rode a fine roan mare next to Richard on his Fauvel, and she had the bearing of royalty if not the beauty. Her sharp chin thrust upward, her close-set eyes dropped demurely downward. She gave no glance to her husband but I saw his uneasy eyes fall obliquely on her as the telltale muscle in his cheek quivered. A spiritual malaise cloaked his victory and subdued everyone’s joy.

IT WAS THE REST PERIOD AFTER Haute Tierce and the king was alone. Silk curtains gave his chamber a pearly luminescence and I had the giddy thought that the king looked like the scarlet streak of blood inside an egg.

“Come close, Alex, I’m not asleep.”

But he should have been, for his eyes were deeply shadowed. I placed the mail pouch beside him.

“Ambroise sent these, Your Highness. I believe ’tis mail from England.”

“Let me see.”

I noted that his new nails had grown back very pink after his illness, that his hands trembled.

“Ah, a letter from my queen mother. Suppose you read it to me while I rest.”

Breaking the seal on the rolled parchment, I watched him covertly. He had lost his symptoms but appeared under mental strain. Berengaria. Had she spurned him? ’Twas rumored around court that she preferred her ape Alphonso to the king. I didn’t believe it. If anything, ’twas the king who did the spurning.

“Alex, are you gathering wool?”

“I’m sorry, My Lord; I’ll read.”

“No, wait. Come here, love.” He held out a hand. “I daresay you think I’ve forgotten our conversation in Limassol, don’t you?”

“No, Your Grace, I know you’re much occupied, and now …”

“The queen is here,” he finished dryly. “Yes, just so. However, let me assure you that nothing’s changed, just postponed. And not for long. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“I pledge to give you fealty, disinterested affection, and now love.” His deep voice throbbed. “Tell me it’s the same with you.”

My lips parted, breath became shallow, heart raced. “Aye, just the same except …”

He frowned and waited. “Go on. Another confession?”

“Aye, in a way. Nothing important but it’s worried me since I want to be truthful, as you wist. My father thought I was too small for my age, too small for a boy that is, so he suggested that I say I was three years younger than I soothly was.”

“Three years?” The king grinned, more sunny than I’d seen him of late. “So you’re really …?”

“Thirteen.”

“Thirteen! I’m delighted and feel somewhat less guilty. Is that all?”

I nodded, my heart light.

“Then let’s kiss on it and you’ll read.”

I leaned over him and he clasped me so I fell upon his chest. We kissed over and over, a dozen, two dozen times, abandoned and happy.

Then he placed me upright again. “Now, read.”

“To Richard Plantagenet, King of England, etc.

“I plead with you to quit your Crusade and return to England.’”

“What?” The king leaned forward. “Let me see the script. God’s feet, ’tis Eleanor’s all right.”

“Shall I continue?”

“Yes.”

A bare foot touched the tiled floor as he propped himself higher.

“‘Come quickly before this once rustic isle disintegrates to a refuge for every scoundrel in Europe and turns to a nest for insurrection, banditry and usurpation.’”

“‘Usurpation’?” the king exclaimed. “She must mean John. Damnation!”

“‘But to specifics. The injustices of William Longchamps have pressed the common people to the point of mutiny against the Crown. Indeed, ruffians rule the forests and roadways in the name of “civil order” and many commoners are grown to prefer their rough justice to that of the appointed justicier.’”

“Where’s John in all this?” the king exploded. “He’s the canker in the body politic.”

I waited, then continued.

“‘Obviously the only noble with sufficient stature to offset Longchamps’s acts is Count John. Need I recount his methods? He has seized Tickhill Castle, refused York entry into England and in various ways antagonized all the great barons who now see themselves caught between unacceptable factions.

“‘Therefore have the barons finally been forced to unite themselves as a third power in this triangular struggle.’”

The king interrupted grimly. “Those traitors!”

“‘My own fear resides with this last group, for I can see how you might defeat Longchamps or John when the time comes, but if your lords challenge the very concept of kingship, then that is a battle of new dimensions and one that will not easily be won.’”

“Which guarantees civil war for a hundred years!” Richard exploded.

“‘Such chaos must attract outsiders who will prey on our weakness. Therefore you cannot be surprised to learn that your brother Count John is in constant touch with King Philip. We have intercepted six of John’s letters confirming that they conspire against you, though unfortunately we know not the direction of their plans. Poor John is such a fool. To think that Philip would do aught for him, after his plots against Henry, his betrayal of you.

“‘Richard, the case is urgent. No one knows better than I your commitment to Jerusalem, but you have no choice. Send me word by the next ship that you come. Send me as well news that your queen is with child. Such an announcement is gravely needed in your beleaguered nation which sees itself threatened, with the king fighting a perilous war and no heir to carry on.

“‘I await your missive with God’s blessing. Yours…’”

And she signed off with the usual formalities.

I rerolled the parchment as Richard tapped his bare foot. I dared not look at him after the last directive. After a time, he sighed and spoke to himself.

“If I can get Berengaria with child, that should purchase me four months of grace. With God’s help, I could take Jerusalem in that time. Or at the worst, I could secure the coast cities for a later try.”

There was a sharp rap at the door.

“Court is convened, Your Highness,” a voice called.

“Help me with my shoes, Alex. Philip has chosen this ungodly hour to insist he has something of great import to relay. Would I could show him this letter.” He made a sour grimace.

As I followed the king, my own mind was tumbling with thoughts.
Only four more months if he could get Berengaria with child.

“Hssst, bairn, hssst!”

Startled, I looked o’er my shoulder and saw the Scot gesturing
wildly from a niche. I was at the end of Richards train as it marched toward the chamber to meet King Philip; I slipped away.

“What’s wrong?”

Enoch held a tin plate of cocky-leeky wrapped in fig leaves. “Did ye eat part of this?”

“Not yet. I had to read a letter to the king.”

He sighed deeply with relief.

“’Tis laced with monkshood.”

“But which—?” I gazed, comprehending now that ’twas not a single incident, but a plot.

“Quhich of us be the intended victim? Aye, that’s the question. Then we’ll know
who
. Put yer mind to it, Alex.”

“Aye,” I gasped. “I have to go now.”

I ran after the king and spent the first part of the next hour turning the problem in my mind.

TWAS THE LARGEST most ventilated chamber in the palace but ’twas oppressively hot at this hour, especially with so many people crowded together. All the great lords had been summoned for this auspicious occasion. They stood languorously, their eyes heavy, their hands waving palm fans to move the air. King Philip was already on his throne.

Kisses were exchanged between the monarchs, a prayer recited, and we all settled to see what King Philip would say.

“Richard, I am an ill man. Very ill. So say my physician and my astrologer.”

Richard’s disgust was palpable.

“I don’t want to contradict your stars, coz, but I tell you plain that your counselors do you wrong. However, if you think you suffer, please accept my sympathies.”

He then sat back and endured a long harangue of symptoms as courtiers buzzed around us. I heard one say that if Philip died in the Holy Land, ’twould be of fright. Richard looked inward as he waited, his face suspicious.

Suddenly Philip brought everyone back to sharp attention: “Therefore I have written to the pope.”

“To Celestine?” Richard leaned forward. “To send you an elixir for your gripes?”

“Don’t scoff Richard. I’m serious!”

Richard waited, alert.

“I asked a release from my vow to crusade.”

Richard leaped up, his face apoplectic! “I’ll kill you with my own hand before I permit such perfidy!”

Two bright red spots appeared on Philip’s cheeks but he sat firm.

“I am leaving Acre forthwith to return to Europe.”

“You may deceive popes,” Richard cried, “but never me! That you suffer from cowardice I believe! And of treason!” His voice had risen to a howl of rage.

“’Twas not
I
who threatened to kill
you.
” Philip shot back. “Nor was it I who bled my country of gold in order to purchase loyalty.”

“Are you speaking of Champagne?” Richard demanded. “Tell him, Henry, how he cheated you!”

Before Champagne could utter a word, Philip continued. “And the Pisanos, the Genoese. You bribed them to follow you.”

“
Paid
them, sir, when they’d gone two years without wages.”

“And you wasted weeks of valuable time and countless lives in order to plunder the Kingdom of Cyprus.”

“
Kingdom
you call it? A tyranny! As for plunder, it’s all going for the Crusade!”

“Truly? Then who purchases your splendid raiment that you wear like a peacock? What gold underwrites a fleet of hundreds? I, too, could sail in golden poops if I wished to be a pirate.”

Both men were now standing nose to nose, their counselors helpless to stop them.

“To what purpose would you sail so?” Richard cried. “You prefer to manipulate like slime. You order your puppet Conrad of Montferrat to thwart us at every turn! Did he not starve Acre last winter by refusing to send wheat? Why did the two of you refuse me entry into Tyre?”

“To force you to fight! You would tarry, would ride through streets with flourishes, anything to preen yourself with adulation.”

“Conrad is a usurper!”

“Be careful, coz,” Philip slithered his words with obvious enjoyment, “how you speak of your future partner. For I plan to put the French command in Conrad’s hands during my absence.”

King Richard stopped, astounded.

The Duke of Burgundy entered the fray with trembling dignity, tears in his eyes. “You surprise us, My Liege. None of us in your court knew of your plans to depart. We have no fealty toward Conrad, have never sworn him homage.”

“Of course you did, when you swore to me.” Philips milky eye wandered somewhat. “You will command in the field, of course.”

“Under my leadership,” Richard blazed, “but taking commands from Conrad. Is that your scheme?”

Philip smiled. “A necessary precaution, coz, for Conrad withstood Saladin’s attack for four years. We fear that you are too soft with your Turkish enemy while Conrad knows his true colors.”

“How soft? By taking Acre? By making stiffer terms than you wanted?”

“However, I assure you that I will take half our ransom gold and half of the True Cross.”

Again order dissolved.

“Half the Cross? A desecration!”

Richard waited, his eyes glinting.

“Answer, Philip, how am I soft on Saladin?”

“You took fruit and ice …”

“But gave nothing in return.”

“Have received a fine Arabian stallion.”

“Again without recompense.”

Philip sat on his throne again, his voice hardly above a whisper. “And you promised your sister Joanna in marriage to the sultan’s brother called Safadin, then offered this un-Christian couple governance of Jerusalem. Deny it if you can.”

Twas Philip’s biggest bolt and the effect was stunning. Richards own court reeled at the disclosure, none more than I. He
loved
his sister. How could he?

But Richard didn’t deny it. “So, still smarting in your poor rejected heart? How ironic, you long for Joanna, I flee from Alais—the
gods are sportive. Nevertheless, let it be on record that I tried to persuade my sister to wed you, France, but her mind is strong. However, she clearly understood how she might aid our Crusade. After all, Alexander wed ten thousand of his men to Arabs. Joanna agreed if Safadin would convert to Christianity and he refused.”

“The betrayal of our Crusade!” Philip cried.

“Do you take me for a fool, Philip? Do you think I don’t know your real reason for quitting our adventure?”

“My spleen, my bowels …”

“Put Greek fire in your bowels! How soon do you plan to attack England?”

Now Philip blanched; the court hummed ominously.

“Why would I want your miserable gloomy isle?”

“Why indeed? Except that you declared war on me and mine forever. Oh yes, we heard you in Messina but thought that we were safe for the duration of the Crusade.”

Philip’s mouth twisted in a derisive smile.

Richard now rose and signaled his court to do likewise. “We shall be in constant touch, coz, in hopes of dissuading you. In the meantime, let me assure you if you plot with my brother John to unseat us from our throne, you will not live out this year.”