The Heart of the Lion

by Виктория Холт

  Richard bowed his head. ‘Return to the King of France and tell him that I have nothing more to say on this grievous matter.’

  When Richard took his farewell of Philip, the King of France said to him: ‘You are misguided. This siege of Acre has taught me much and you, too, I doubt not. These enemies are fierce fighters. They are a match for your best. I believe that we are not in a position to succeed against them.’

  ‘How so? Have we not taken Acre?’

  ‘’Tis so. But we have seen what resistance these men show. They are fighting for what they believe to be theirs. They are as firm in their beliefs as we are in ours. They are a formidable enemy. Our men are emaciated from fever, and these Mohammedans can withstand the heat better than our people. It is natural to them. It is my firm conviction that we are not in a fit state to take Jerusalem. We need new troops, fresh supplies. It is enough that this crusade ends with the taking of Acre. If we were wise we would leave Acre well fortified. We have Cyprus as a stronghold. This is a good result of our crusade. Now we should return home and other men – and perhaps we should join with them – could prepare for the next crusade.’

  ‘You seek to comfort yourself,’ said Richard scornfully. ‘I tell you I shall not return until the Christian flag flies over the Holy City.’

  ‘Do not boast of that to any who do not love you as I do,’ said Philip.

  ‘You love me! Yet you leave me!’

  ‘Forget not that I have entreated you to come with me.’

  ‘I have let you see that I do not want you to go.’

  ‘Is it for myself you wish me to stay or because you fear that my departure may please the enemy? Or do you fear that I shall be in France while you are in Palestine?’

  ‘Before you go you must give me your solemn word that you will do nothing to harass my dominions while I am away.’

  ‘I will give you that word.’

  ‘You must keep it, Philip. You must remember our friendship, the oaths we have sworn to each other.’

  ‘Did you always remain true to yours, Richard?’

  ‘What mean you?’

  ‘I have heard that you have made friends with strange people, that gifts have passed between you.’

  Richard flushed slightly. ‘You refer to the Sultan Saladin.’

  ‘Our enemy I thought ... but perhaps your friend.’

  ‘He sent gifts as you know. It is an Arab custom.’

  ‘To sustain an enemy?’

  ‘It seems so.’

  ‘Can it possibly be that you have become his friend?’

  ‘How could that be so?’

  ‘I remember Tancred. You were very friendly with him, were you not?’

  ‘I made terms with him.’

  ‘As you now make them with the Sultan Saladin?’

  ‘I have made only the terms which we made regarding the ransom to be paid to us.’

  ‘Richard, is that all?’

  ‘I have made no other terms. You are of a jealous nature, Philip.’

  ‘You and I were once good friends.’

  ‘Let us vow always to be so.’

  ‘That would be a comfort to you would it not?’

  ‘Of great comfort.’

  ‘Only because you fear for the dominions you have deserted.’

  ‘I like not the term but I will say that in view of our vows to love each other which we once made I would be happier that these vows were kept rather than broken. Friendship is a good thing particularly so between those whom the world would call natural enemies.’

  They embraced.

  ‘It grieves me deeply to leave you, Richard,’ said Philip.

  ‘Then stay.’

  ‘I have my duty to my son and my country. I cannot afford to die yet. My son is not ready. I must remember my duty to France.’

  Richard could see that Philip had made up his mind. There was one matter which must be settled and this was who, when Jerusalem was captured, should reign there as King. This had been a matter of dissension between the two kings, Richard supporting Guy de Lusignan’s claim and Philip that of Conrad de Montferrat.

  Philip was so eager to be gone that he was ready to give way and it was finally agreed that Guy should be King in his lifetime and then the crown should pass to Montferrat.

  On the last day of July Philip sailed away from Acre.

  Chapter X

  JOANNA AND MALEK ADEL

  Richard missed Philip. His temper was more easily aroused. He was still feeling the after-effects of his illness and he suffered from the climate as Philip had. He chafed against the delay which kept him in Acre. Until the ransom was paid he could not leave. He worried a great deal about Philip and wondered what his action would be when he returned to France. He believed that when Philip was with him he cared for him; but when he was away from him he might well forget his affection and see only what was to be gained by Richard’s absence. Always kings of France had taken advantage of the difficulties of dukes of Normandy. Ever since they had lost that stretch of land it had been the unspoken law that no king should fail to take an opportunity to regain it.

  He must move on. As soon as the ransom was paid and the prisoners exchanged he would do so.

  Saladin’s army was drawn up on the heights not far from the city in which the Christians were now living in comfort. It was not good for them to remain thus. Many of the soldiers, starved for so long from what they considered to be the good things of life, had decided to make the most of them while they could. There was drunkenness and sexual orgies – neither of which was good for an army – yet Richard knew that to stop this could result in revolt against him. He was a strong ruler and he was stern and quick to punish those who broke his laws; but he understood soldiers. He himself at one time had indulged in such activities as were now taking place within the city of Acre. To expect men to endure heat, hunger and sickness and give them no rewards was unwise. Let them feel now that war was worthwhile and they would fight the better for it later. At this time they had forgotten that they were supposed to be engaged in a holy war. They were ordinary soldiers with the lust of conquest upon them. Very soon must begin the march to Jaffa and Richard knew that this was going to tax their strength, endurance and fidelity to the cause to the utmost of their strength. Therefore give them this relaxation now. Let them satisfy their lusts and dream of the next conquest as they marched.

  But not for long ... only until that ransom was paid.

  The day arrived when it should have been paid. Richard waited eagerly for the coming of Saladin’s emissaries, but all through that day and all through that night he looked in vain.

  Where were they? It had been their solemn agreement that the ransom should be paid. But where was it? Through the next day he waited.

  At last came Saladin’s messengers. They brought gifts – more grapes, dates and young chickens.

  Richard said: ‘We thank the Sultan for these gifts but we need the ransom.’

  ‘It will come,’ was the answer.

  Then the messengers came again with more gifts but still no ransom.

  ‘What means this?’ cried Richard. ‘It seems that Saladin would deceive me.’

  The messengers assured him that this was not so. The Sultan was merely asking for more time to raise the ransom.

  And so it went on. Three weeks passed. The Sultan is deceiving me, thought Richard. And he remembered that night when Saladin had come to his tent – if it had not been a dream – and touched him with his magic talisman. He had believed it was Saladin and that there was a special bond between them. Was Saladin laughing at him now? Was he mocking him? Was he saying to his friends: See how easily the King of England can be deceived? This is the great leader! He so believed in my magic talisman that he rose from his sickbed. Now when I promise him to fulfil the terms of our agreement he believes me.

  That Saladin should play him false, wounded him deeply – his pride and something more. He could not bear to think that he had been mistaken; and because he was
uncertain his temper flared against the Sultan and all his Saracens.

  He cried out in his wrath: ‘I will wait no longer.’

  He was glad that Philip had gone. Philip would have tried to restrain him. But he was not going to be restrained. He was going to show Sultan Saladin what it meant to attempt to delude Richard of England.

  It was the morning of the 20th August – three weeks after the departure of Philip. Through the gates of the city of Acre Richard rode on his favourite horse Fauvel which he had taken from Isaac Comnenus. He looked magnificent with the sun glinting on his armour. Behind came the army of crusaders. Richard led the way to the top of a hill, his men following him to the summit. He was immediately opposite Ayyadieh where the armies of Saladin were stationed. At the sight of the Christian army the Mohammedans were watchful.

  Immediately behind the King came the cavalry followed by the infantry with their bows and arrows. They divided and placing themselves so that the watching enemy could have a good view, they remained still while the two thousand five hundred Moslem prisoners were brought out. Their hands were tied behind their backs and cords held them all together.

  There they stood in wretched knowledge of their fate.

  The Mohammedans watched in incredulous horror while the cavalry advanced on the prisoners and drawing their swords, decapitated every one of them.

  Saladin called to his troops. This hideous spectacle enraged them; he gave the order to advance on the enemy, but before they could collect themselves for the advance every one of the Moslem prisoners was dead. Richard then shouted to his men to prepare for the battle.

  Saladin’s army and Richard’s armies met, but the attack was indecisive. Saladin was horrified by the result of his delaying tactics; Richard was remorseful. In a moment of fury he had commanded his men to do this bloody deed and he felt that it would live with him for ever. He must ask himself what Saladin would think of the man whom previously he had so much admired.

  The skirmish was over and the two armies retired to their camps.

  As was to be expected before long there was news that Saladin had slaughtered Christian prisoners as a reprisal.

  * * *

  Richard’s great desire was to leave Acre. Sometimes he believed he would never forget that place. He would never be able to get out of his nostrils the smell of decaying bodies; he would never be free from haunting memories of brave men who stared death in the face unflinchingly. Philip had perhaps been wise to leave.

  The men were sullen; they had not wished to leave Acre, where they had lived in comfort within a city. They had food, wine and women, and no doubt believed that all they had suffered was worthwhile for this spell of luxurious living. But it was not what they had come crusading for.

  They must march on. They had eighty miles to cover between Acre and Jaffa. It was not really a great distance, but when it was considered that Saladin’s army would harass them all the way, and they would be equally tormented by the heat and pests, it was a formidable undertaking.

  When Richard told Berengaria that his stay in Acre was coming to an end, she said: ‘I shall be glad to leave this place.’

  And he knew that she too was thinking of the slaughtered Moslems.

  ‘You will have to stay here,’ Richard told her. ‘It is unthinkable that you should undertake the march.’

  ‘Oh, no, Richard,’ she cried, ‘I want to be with you. You may need me.’

  ‘My dear wife, if you were with me, I should suffer such anxieties as would take my mind off my armies.’

  She was pleased at the implication, but sad because she was aware that he had made up his mind not to take her.

  ‘Nay,’ he said, ‘you will stay here in the palace. You will be well guarded. Joanna and the little Cypriot Princess will be with you.’

  ‘Oh, Richard ...’ she began sadly.

  But he waved his hand to imply that the subject was closed. He must move on with his armies. She must remain in safety.

  They had been together so little since their marriage. She knew of course that he had to devote himself to his armies; but could he not have spared a little time to be with her? She thought of the soldiers carousing with their women in the town. They had time for pleasure, why not Richard?

  Alone in his apartment he thought of Berengaria and wished that he could have felt more tender towards her. But soon he dismissed her from his mind and was thinking of the march to Jaffa. He must set out soon, for to delay was dangerous. He thought of Saladin’s armies which would be waiting for him. What had Saladin thought when he saw his fellow countrymen slaughtered? But he had promised the ransom; the date for its delivery had passed. He would have learned by now that Richard was a man of his word. And he had retaliated by slaughtering the Christian prisoners in his camp. How many lives had been lost in this dispute?

  Richard did not want to think of that. All the Christians who had died would now be in Heaven. And what of the Moslems? Had he sent them to Hell? Well, they would have gone there in any case.

  He wondered what Philip’s verdict would have been. He had to stop thinking of Philip, and what would happen when he reached France. But he knew he could not trust him.

  What was happening in England? A king should govern his own land, said Philip. But what if he had made a vow to restore the Holy Land to Christianity?

  He was perplexed and ill at ease. Then he heard the strumming of a lute and a high treble voice singing a song – one of his, Richard’s, own compositions.

  What a pleasant voice – so fresh, so young! On such lips the song sounded better than before.

  He rose and went to the anteroom. There on a stool sat a fair youth gracefully playing his lute as he sang the words.

  Suddenly he was aware of Richard. He started to his feet, flushing with embarrassment.

  ‘My lord, I fear my song disturbed you.’

  ‘Nay,’ said Richard, ‘it pleased me.’

  ‘’Tis a beautiful song, Sire.’

  ‘My own,’ answered the King. ‘I never heard it sung better.’

  The boy lowered his eyes; there was delight in the gesture. It was as though he feared to gaze at such a dazzling figure.

  ‘Come,’ said the King, ‘let us sing it together. You take the first verse and I will answer you in the next.’

  The boy lost his nervousness when singing, and together they harmonised.

  Richard patted the boy’s flaxen curls.

  ‘Tell me your name,’ he said, ‘that I may ask for you to come and sing to me when I wish it.’

  ‘I am Blondel de Nesle, Sire,’ answered the boy.

  * * *

  None who had taken part in the march from Acre to Jaffa would ever forget it. The heat was intense, being one hundred degrees Fahrenheit in the shade; armour became so heated by the sun that it burned the skin and gave additional torture to that suffered by the bites and stings of insects. The men’s dress was most unsuitable. The gambeson, a quilted garment made of linen, and sometimes leather, was padded with wool; over this was worn a hauberk with long sleeves and made of chain mail, attached to which was a hood which could be pulled up to cover the head. Beneath the hood a skull cap of iron was worn for protection and over this was a cone-shaped headpiece covering the wearer’s face with only a slit through which he could see. Beneath the armour was a long linen tunic, and in addition to these garments, the knight had his weapons to contend with. The sword, with its broad blade and square hilt, which was strapped to his side, was heavy; and very often in addition to his sword he would carry an iron hammer.

  To march so accoutred added to the soldiers’ discomfort, and the watching Saracens were delighted to see the enemy so burdened that their speedy elimination seemed inevitable. In their own loose flowing robes, and accustomed to the weather as they were, they believed they were much better equipped for victory.

  Richard, however, was not known as the greatest living general for nothing. He assessed the situation. His men would be protected in some measure
by their heavy clothing and armour and if they marched but two miles a day and rested frequently they could endure the strain. He sent orders to the galleys containing food and other stores to sail along the coast keeping pace with the army. Thus what was needed would always be available during the journey.

  No sooner had the march begun than the Saracens started their harassing tactics. To endure the terrific heat, the persistent thirst, the torment imposed on them by the insects would have been unbearable but for the courage of their leader who was always there to spur them on; and his knights seeking to emulate him were of great value to the King.

  The Saracens tried to break the line but they could not do so. The fact that the army progressed so slowly enabled them to keep close together; and the constant stream of Saracen arrows, although they found their targets, could not penetrate the mail and many a footsoldier marched along with arrows protruding from him at all angles, giving him the look of a porcupine. These men then became reconciled to their heavy equipment because they realised its life-saving qualities.

  By night they camped close to the sea where the galleys carrying food and ammunition were in sight to comfort them.

  Richard, knowing that many of them would be thinking of the recent riotous living in Acre and perhaps losing heart because of it, arranged for the heralds to go through the camp shouting ‘Help us, O Holy Sepulchre!’ to remind them that they were on a holy crusade. When they heard the heralds call every man would stand to his feet and raise his hands together and cry to God to help him.

  Each day the rising of the sun would remind the men that another day of discomfort and danger lay ahead before that blazing tormenter set again. But with the appeals to God ringing in their ears and the example of Richard and the knights and the belief that what they were doing would win Heaven’s approval, they were ready to march on. It might be, thought Richard, that their recent carousal in Acre would add zest to their days because they were in urgent need of a remission of their sins after the orgies in which they had indulged, so it could be said that the life they had led in Acre was a good thing after all.