Down from the walls showered rocks, darts, and javelins, sending three bold knights into the arms of Christ. Peter Tireprete. Matthew de Saulcy. Radulph de Roverei. Such an impetuous defense could not hold. In less time than required to chant the matin service Richard overwhelmed Messina and ten thousand Englishmen occupied the streets, robbed, took what women they liked. Sicilians fled here or there. Many leapt off house tops, thinking they could expect no mercy. And very soon the Plantagenet standard floated from a turret. Then the English king, mistrusting his Frankish ally and citizens alike, had a wooden castle built to overlook the walls and named it Mategriffon, which is to say killer of Greeks. Those inside Messina now looked up at Englishmen forever watching.
But after long and stormy months when the season for travel approached these Franks and English became less churlish. They had loitered from the feast of Saint Michael until after Lent and all felt anxious to pursue the journey. Couriers brought news from Acre. Mahometans withstood the siege.
Both armies prepared to embark when news came of Richard’s mother Queen Eleanor hastening toward Messina. She would bring his love Berengaria, daughter of King Sancho VI of Navarre. From the time he was count of Poictou he had loved the Spanish princess. She was his heart’s desire.
King Philip, taking advantage of favorable wind, embarked on Saturday after the Annunciation of Blessed Mary. King Richard with his noblest peers accompanied the Franks some few leagues, but returned hastily to greet his love. Many think Queen Eleanor arranged this match. Who can look through centuries and be sure? After three days at Messina she sailed for England, charged by King Richard to administer the realm during his absence. And the king dallied with Berengaria, forgetful of all else, insensible to the fate of Jerusalem. Even so King Richard would linger beside his love, disdaining the journey.
Now there was a Cistercian abbot in Calabria, by name Joachim, who rushed to and fro with sword in hand, hair streaming, gibbering of Apocalypse, of seven heads of the dragon. Antichrist. Herod. Nero. Constantius. Mahomet. Melsemuth. Saladin. They say he was gifted with second sight and Richard summoned him to discuss futurity. To Messina came this prophet and they debated the substance of abomination, whether Antichrist would take up the guise of pontiff as Joachim declared, or Antiochene as Richard thought. Antichrist would emerge from the tribe of Dan to rule Jerusalem, Richard asserted, only to be hurled aside. He would cause persecution across the earth and by gifts, terror, and miracles would he elevate himself. Those who accepted Antichrist would be showered with gold. Those who rejected him would be conquered by horror, others led astray through malevolent signs.
But while they argued such matters a comet gleamed above Messina, signifying God’s displeasure. King Richard, knowing himself to be the instrument, prepared for embarkation. Berengaria he quartered on a stout dromond with trusted knights and servants to assure her comfort, his sister for companionship.
Before leaving Sicily he presented to King Tancred that sword which Britons know as Caliburne, Excalibur as others say, that once belonged to Arthur.
Wednesday after Palm Sunday the fleet departed. Rowing and sailing with a fair breeze they came out into the deep, yet after a while it slacked off so between Calabria and Mount Gibello they lay at anchor. Then He who commands the wind of His treasuries sent forth a welcome gift on the day of the Lord’s Supper. But soon enough the vessels met contrary wind. Waves beat together. Pilgrims dropped to their knees. Knights and sergeants felt much afflicted. Ships rocked back and forth on the restless face of the water and turned aside. Richard’s fleet was cast apart. Toward evening the fury abated, a soft breeze arose that helped their confidence and all could see in advance a thick wax candle burning in a lanthorn at the stern of Richard’s galley as was his habit in rough weather. So the vessels pressed ahead, not a sail lowered until they came to the harbor of Crete, equidistant from Messina and the Holy Land. Richard waited to count his ships. Twenty-five were gone. Because that dromond carrying his love Berengaria did not arrive he was much distraught.
Anon the wind rose high and with bending masts they put forth. They sailed across to Rhodes, city of Herod’s birth, where they paused. Remnants of majestic buildings lay strewn about since this is an ancient city not unlike Rome. Once there had been numerous monasteries on the island and societies of monks. Now for the most part everything stands deserted, making it a gloomy place, the inhabitants few and poor. Richard being taken by some illness, the fleet waited upon his health. Meantime they searched the horizon. And the king inquired about the Greek emperor of Cyprus, Isaac Ducas Comnenus, who was said to be cruel, often detaining pilgrims en route to the Holy Land.
Ten days later they embarked and came into the gulf of Satalia where opposing currents meet and great waves collide, until at length shifting winds drove them ahead. Beneath a placid sky they observed a buza returning from Jerusalem. King Richard inquired about the siege of Acre. Mariners on the buza replied that the king of France was constructing machines to break down the walls. They said he had erected petraries near the tower called Maledictum where his army camped. This news pleased Richard.
Once more the spirit of the storm rushed against them. Much time was lost beating back and forth amid the waves. Again the fleet dispersed. Unknown to Richard, three small vessels got to Cyprus before him, if not as they wished. Driven by fierce wind against the rocks they broke apart. Many drowned. Others by clutching timbers or through providence were flung on the coast half dead. Among the drowned was Roger, surnamed Catulus, bearer of the king’s signet. His body washed up before sunset on the vigil of Saint Mark the Evangelist.
Those who escaped the sea thought themselves fortunate and safe because Greeks on Cyprus were Christian. Instead, they were hauled before Isaac Ducas who ordered their heads forfeit, although they committed no wrong, but rather had journeyed in the name of God to cleanse the Holy Land. Yet through the grace of our Lord there was in Isaac’s service a Norman knight who felt distressed by this cruelty of the emperor. He rode hastily to where the pilgrims would suffer death and in the name of Isaac Ducas Comnenus he commanded those charged with execution to sheathe their swords. And because they knew him to be in the emperor’s service they obeyed. Then the knight addressed these pilgrims in French, bidding them hide themselves until the Messiah should come to their relief. And he begged them to pray for his soul because he knew Isaac Ducas would put him to death. Thus it happened. No more did Isaac learn of this perfidy than he ordered the knight’s head severed, which was done at once, willingly, because Greeks regard Franks as heretic and think God is pleased if they kill a Latin.
Also, that dromond carrying Lady Berengaria arrived at Cyprus. The master thoughtfully did not make port at Limassol but cast anchor some distance offshore, not wishing to hand up King Richard’s betrothed and his sister to the ruthless Greek who governed this island. Isaac Ducas sent gifts of ram’s flesh, bread, and Cypriot wine, which is alleged to have no match for quality anywhere on earth, and he urged the noble ladies to come ashore. They would not, which was prudent. According to Geoffrey de Vinsauf, this Greek surpassed Judas at treachery, Guenelon at treason, and wantonly persecuted any who professed the faith of our Lord. They say he was a friend of Saladin whose blood he tasted, as Saladin tasted his. Hence the dromond carrying these ladies rocked in the swells and waited. All on board kept watch for a glimpse of King Richard and wondered at the condition of his fleet while the ladies resisted Isaac Ducas by keeping him in suspense, responding to his importunities with ambiguous answers.
On the festival of Saint John two vessels appeared. Those aboard the dromond saw them black as two crows riding the summit of curling water. Now here came others and it was Richard and he put in quickly at the port of Limassol before the Latin Gate. By some accounts he landed peacefully and established camp among nearby gardens after being told that Isaac Ducas had fled to the mountains. Others claim that Isaac Ducas with a large army surrounded the port to engage King Richard, blocking up the entrance
with obstacles of every sort, benches, ladders, doors and windows from houses, timbers, casks, ancient galleys, whatever might impede the landing. Perhaps, as some relate, King Richard leapt from a barge, sword in hand, knights and sergeants after him baying like dogs because he had learned of Cypriot peasants looting his broken ships, taking half-dead mariners captive, plundering bodies. They speak of a peasant who rifled the drowned body of Roger Catulus, found the royal signet and hoped to profit by selling it to the king. As to this peasant’s fate, old narratives are silent.
It is known that Richard despatched three monks with a message to Isaac Ducas.
I do not understand why you have abandoned Limassol nor why you avoid me. I am a pilgrim in the service of our Lord and am keen to speak with you. Let us consult on matters to your advantage.
Isaac Ducas replied that he would come and speak with Richard provided he got safe conduct. Therefore a rich Norman, William de Préaux, rode up into the mountains where Isaac welcomed him and gave him presents and comfortable lodging. When this knight returned to Limassol he said that Isaac would bring his army and bivouac two leagues distant at the village of Kolossi. After which he would visit the king.
Richard chose a few men with dependable swords and tongues he trusted. Then out on the plain he rode, riding a mettlesome Spanish charger with high shoulders and pointed ears, long neck, matchless thighs, limbs so perfectly marked that no artist could imitate them. They say this animal would not be checked, by the alternate motions of its tense body seeming first to advance on hind feet, now on fore feet. Richard’s saddle glistened with red and gold spangles intermingled, across the hinder part two rampant gold lions challenged one another, reaching toward each other, mouths opened wide to devour. The king himself was handsomely dressed, wearing a rose-red vest ornamented with silver crescents that winked in the sun. His spurs were gold. The handle of his sword was gold, the mouth of the scabbard latched with silver. On his head a scarlet hat adorned with needlework cleverly depicting sundry birds and beasts. Thus accoutred he bounded into the saddle. Out he went to the plain where his tent was pitched, there to await the Greek.
When he saw Isaac Ducas riding toward him he left his tent and walked as far as a man could throw a stone. Then the emperor of Cyprus dismounted and bowed numerous times. King Richard also bowed. So they went into the tent where they seated themselves on a bench draped with silk. Richard by means of an interpreter addressed Isaac Ducas.
I am astonished that you, a Christian who well knows how Turks desecrate the Holy Land, have sent neither aid nor counsel to your brethren. Even now, with Acre besieged, you fail to help. Your hostility seems apparent because you oppress and injure many who come to assist those in need. Therefore I require you on behalf of God to make amends. I require you to come in person to the siege of Acre, bringing as many knights and sergeants as possible. In this way you will honor yourself and put an end to complaints against you.
The Greek replied that if he should leave Cyprus he would not be able to come back. For, said he, the emperor at Constantinople disputes this land. The people would rise up against me if I do as you require. But most gladly will I send five hundred men until Acre is taken.
And it is related that he promised indemnity of three thousand five hundred marks to conciliate those who were abused and plundered. King Richard declared himself satisfied at this. They exchanged the kiss of peace. Isaac Ducas then returned to his luxurious pavilion where he ate and lay down to sleep. But a certain doublehearted knight, Pain de Caiffa, whispered that Richard meant to seize him. In darkness the Greek crept out, mounted a favorite charger and fled, leaving behind all of his tents and possessions. When he got safely to Famagusta he despatched a monk to Richard ordering him to quit Cyprus at once, saying that if he did not he would learn how little he was loved.
King Richard, not a patient man, marshaled his army for pursuit. Isaac Ducas left Famagusta and fled into the woods, which were difficult to search. Richard directed that the ports of Cyprus be strictly watched to prevent him getting off the island.
Now here came the bishop of Beauvais and a high noble, Drogo de Mirle, who were ambassadors from the king of France, who exhorted Richard to cross the sea at once, saying that he expended himself on vainglorious duties while neglecting necessary matters, saying that by his campaign against Isaac Ducas he presumptuously harmed innocent Christians while the adjoining land bristled with more Turks than fleas, saying that King Philip Augustus waited on his arrival. To all of which Richard answered testily, saying he was busy enough punishing Greeks as they deserved and furthermore deemed it an obligation to subdue this island.
Then he marched toward Nicosia holding his army in close order, having learnt that Isaac Ducas waited in ambush. And here came a torrent of Cypriots shouting and growling like dogs, flinging javelins and darts. Isaac himself let fly two poisoned arrows at Richard, which so enraged the impetuous king that he laid spurs to his mount and tried to run through the emperor with a lance but could not because Isaac fled on a bay horse of such fleetness that no one ever saw its match. In a short time the ground where these Cypriots camped was strewn with swords, pennons, darts, and bloody coats of mail. Much fine stuff did Richard’s soldiers pick up from the ground and pluck from the imperial tent. Isaac’s bed and harness, silks, purple garments, silver plate. They took chargers that champed the foaming bit, splendid mules with embroidered cushions, agile and stubborn goats, ewes, rams, mares with foal. Not displeased at so much booty Richard moved on toward Nicosia whose citizens appeared to congratulate him as though he always had been their lord, a calculated piece of wisdom. To this he responded with grace but caused them to shave their beards in token of allegiance. And the emperor, when news was brought, mutilated every captive pilgrim to assuage his grief, scooped out eyes and cut off noses.
King Richard laid waste to Cyprus, nor hesitated nor shrank, but set about eradicating an evil root that he might plant a good strong seed of Roman Christianity. Every castle surrendered to him excepting those very difficult to attack such as Didemus, Bufevent, and Cherimes. He gathered up the spoil, golden cups, kettles, bowls, silver pots, scarlet robes, precious woven cloth with elaborate patterns, every manner of wealth. As much as Croesus possessed, Richard gathered.
At length he took the great fort of Cherimes. And here was the daughter of Isaac Ducas whom the Greek loved more than any living thing. They say Isaac howled and pulled his beard when told of her capture and thought to arrange peace, no matter what cost, for the pilgrim army had seized nearly all his forts and his people swore allegiance to the enemy with slight hope of resistance and they had got his daughter upon whom his soul depended. He sent word from the mountain where he hid, beseeching pity, vowing to keep aught for himself, not house nor land nor castle, pledging to lay all at Richard’s throne but asking one grace, that he not be cast in iron shackles. To this King Richard agreed.
Down came the emperor of Cyprus out of hiding. And Richard Lionheart, turning to his chamberlain Ralph Fitz Godfrey, ordered the tyrant dressed with silver chains. Also, he took Isaac’s magnificent horse Fauvel.
Some time after, having reflected upon Isaac’s misfortune, Richard bade the miserable Greek sit beside him and permitted him to see his daughter, which made Isaac as joyous as if he touched the right foot of God. An hundred times or more Isaac Ducas kissed the sweet child and wept, after which they led him off to captivity.
In the chapel of Saint George at Limassol, on the twelfth of May in the year of our gracious Lord 1191, King Richard married his love Berengaria. There were present numerous high lords, as well as the archbishop and the bishops of Evreux and Baneria. On this occasion he proved cheerful and jocose. And his Spanish love Berengaria, sang the jongleur Ambroise, was the fairest, wisest lady on earth. Thus the king reveled in his glory.
But one day while he loitered by the shore at Famagusta here came a vessel from the east showing a flag with five black crosses on a white ground, envoys from the kingdom of Jerusale
m. Philip Augustus wished to know why Richard dallied on Cyprus when troops were needed for the siege of Acre. Not long afterward Richard embarked, his men sailing and rowing as swiftly as they could since he had not traveled this far to be left without.
God defer the taking of Acre till I have gained the wall, said he.
That prize he sought is known to be among the oldest cities on earth, called Akka by some very ancient pharaoh. A while later Ptolemy named it Ptolemais to honor himself. Anon came Franks who christened it Saint Jean d’Acre. Save only Constantinople, no city boasted such wealth. Here was a very fine customs house where officers seated on handsome carpets dipped their pens into ebony inkwells. And on Sunday when church bells rang together the sound might be heard a league or more at sea.
What first met the gaze of Richard’s men when they ploughed across the water was the fort of Margat, then Tortuosa, then Tripoli and Nephyn. Afterwards they saw the tower of Gibelath. And off Sayette they chanced upon a dromond packed with Saladin’s Turks, eight hundred swarming over a solid vessel crowned by three tall masts. Nor was she an untidy piece of work but streaked across one side with green felt and yellow opposite until she resembled a fairy craft. She had meant to reach Acre but could not on account of the Christian army and now eased back and forth looking for another place to land, or glide into port by surprise. All stared in wonder, not knowing she was a Turk. No mark could be seen, Frank or otherwise, nor any Christian symbol. Then the king summoned Peter des Barres who commanded a galley, directing him to row speedily and find out who she was. Aboard the dromond was an interpreter who falsely cried out to Peter des Barres how they were Genoese bound for Tyre. But there was a galleyman with Richard who recognized the ship. Hang me or take my head, said he, if those are not Turks. And the king demanding if he was certain, he pledged his life.
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