A Sister's Crusade

by Ann Turner

  ‘Ladies, excuse me. Lady Fulbert, my wife, has asked me to bring you to her, she feels unwell and requests your company while she rests,’ he said.

  Not suspecting his ulterior motive, she excused herself and followed Simon. Their route deterred from the cabin as he led her down the stairs towards the hold, where the provisions, including barrels of apples were stowed.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ Aubrette asked, nervously, her heart beginning to hammer in her chest.

  Taking her wrist firmly in his hand, Simon pulled her behind the barrels and pushed her against the side of one of them. He buried his face into her neck, kissing her fierily.

  ‘What in all heaven are you doing?’ she said, crossly, pushing him away.

  Panting, he stood back and looked at her. ‘Every day, I have regretted seeing you wed to Hugh Fulbert,’ he confessed.

  She looked shrewdly at him. ‘Why? Your master told you to give me to that man and you did not even try to stop it happening,’ she answered, bitterly. ‘Do you know how miserable I have been since my wedding day? I have to pretend that we are as one. People look at my husband and I, and they all know that our marriage is pretended – a cover to stop tittle-tattle. Yours and the king’s plan failed.’

  Aubrette pushed him in the chest, in an effort to force him from her. ‘Get away from me! I never want to see you again!’ she shouted, pushing him again.

  Simon stood firm as Aubrette pummelled his chest with her closed fists, cursing him and sobbing loudly for the pain he had caused her. He gripped her arms and held her firm as she struggled violently, screaming to be released. Tears of pent-up fury poured down her face, and her expression was twisted with anger and grief.

  ‘Richard is my prince and now my king, I could not disobey him. I wanted to say no, but he made it clear that it was not a request. You were necessary for his use and I could not disobey.’ Simon explained, pathetically.

  Aubrette stepped back to regard his sorry face. She wanted to escape back to the deck, to tell the ladies that Simon Fitzroy was a liar and a cheat. He had taken her away to ravish her and have his way with her. Then, to his sudden surprise, she jumped on him, flinging her arms around his neck and kissing him passionately on the lips.

  ‘I wanted to hate you every day since I was forced to marry Hugh, for what you have done to me! I should hate you,’ she breathed between kisses, ‘but I cannot. Quickly now, before you or I are missed. Have me now and remind me what I have missed.’

  Simon shuddered with pleasure, entirely stimulated. ‘You don’t know how long I have waited to hear those words since I saw you ride away with that man,’ he replied, flipping her around in lust-filled urgency. Freeing himself, he pulled up her dress and pushed himself hard against her, hearing her moan in ecstasy.

  Once over, Aubrette returned to the ladies on deck on Simon’s arm, telling them that Lady Fitzroy was sleeping now. She was feeling rejuvenated, having spent time with her half-sister and Sir Simon. These words were carefully chosen so as not to raise any suspicion about her brief absence. She hoped the glow of her cheeks and her sparkling eyes did not reveal her true feelings.

  During the voyage to Sicily, Simon and Aubrette conspired to come together. Once again unaware of what was happening in front of her, Rowena would speculate with Aubrette on their new mistress, what Berengaria would look like and what sort of woman she would be to serve. They had heard that she was small in stature, with black hair and brown eyes. She was very Iberian in her appearance and so the complete opposite of her future Plantagenet husband.

  30

  The coast of Sicily came into view and excitement reverberated throughout the fleet as they neared it. For many of the crusaders, this had been the longest they had been away from their villages and homes. Many had suffered from seasickness and they all thanked God that they had reached their first destination safely.

  As they sailed into the port of Messina, Richard strained to see his sister. There she was; slender and beautiful Joanna. She didn’t behave with the decorum of a dowager queen, standing noble and aloof. Seeing her brother, her Plantagenet passion got the better of her and she began to jump up and down, waving excitedly. Beside her, to cloud Richard’s pleasure, was King Philip of France. He had arrived at the island a week before and this irritated the English king. Philip stood quietly and regally beside the queen, not wishing anyone to know how pleased he secretly felt. These Plantagenets, Philip thought, listening to Joanna’s trilling exclamations at seeing Richard. Too excitable, and too prone to their emotions.

  The English king sprinted down the gangplank and his sister ran towards him. They met and enveloped themselves in a bear hug of a reunion. Then, remembering protocol, Richard turned to Philip and knelt before him as his vassal, paying homage to his liege lord. Philip raised him and they kissed each other on the cheek in a more formal greeting. Richard turned back to his sister; she was glowing pink with pleasure, knowing her predicament with her brother-in-law would soon be over.

  ‘Where is Tancred?’ Richard asked Joanna. ‘As the King of Sicily, is he not brave enough to face me here? What is his treatment of you, sister? I have heard the rumours.’

  Joanna waved a hand towards Sicilian guards close by. ‘He keeps me under lock and key, and permanent supervision, but does not treat me badly. He allowed me out under the protection of King Philip to greet you.’

  ‘Richard, I have been waiting for your arrival. We cannot linger in Sicily long. We must replenish and sail on to Acre – too much time has been wasted already.’ said Philip.

  Richard threw his arms round the shoulders of both Philip and Joanna, and laughed. ‘I have business here. First I shall release my sister from her captives – and, rest assured, Joanna, I shall get everything from your dowry back – and then my mother is bringing my bride to me.’ He felt Philip flinch. ‘After that, we shall set sail again.’

  Philip was not convinced. ‘Not my dear sister?’ he commented, tartly.

  ‘You know why I shall not marry Alice. My mother brings the Navarrean Princess Berengaria for me.’

  ‘Not until I release you from Alice,’ Philip replied, tersely.

  Richard smiled. ‘You will, Philip. You must release me from the contract and I repeat the reason why. My sister is my priority now and this cannot be hurried.’

  Joanna beamed with pleasure.

  The English set up their camp outside the walls of Messina, close to the French camp and immediately the tension began to rise.

  The French were a quarrelsome rabble and there were sporadic disputes between the two armies. The English, under the command of their king, were more disciplined and resisted the baiting by the French. Richard had set down laws that any of his men would be severely punished if they disobeyed orders and rioted, and they obeyed most of the time.

  One day, bored and starved of female company, and without any decent battles to sharpen the senses, the English burst into Messina and began fighting, pillaging, raping the women and breaking into wine cellars, before running riot through the streets. The Longobards and Greek merchants of Messina complained of the lack of discipline and morality of the English in their city, ignoring the risk that this might anger their king. Simon, Hugh and other generals attempted to quell the riots, but to no avail. The men, their blood boiling for fun at anybody’s expense, were out of control.

  Richard had been in talks with Tancred over Joanna’s dowry and what was to become of Sicily once they had departed. He was informed of the brawls and fights, and went out in an attempt to end the discord between his army and the men of Messina. Yet, instead of bringing peace, the Longobards turned on the king, threatening and cursing him, and laughing at his lack of power over his army. To be a laughing stock was alien to Richard and his temper got the better of him. He ordered his armour to be bought to him and for his warhorse to be saddled, and made ready.

&nbs
p; With his rebellious army now gathering behind him, Richard marched on Messina. Forcing his way through the city gates and into the streets, he and his army cut down and slayed all who stood in their way. Men were hacked to death, while children attempting to escape were trampled under the feet of English soldiers. The women, who had been raped in the first riot, had hidden in fear of their lives in houses, behind bolted doors or down dark alleys. The rabble found them, dragging them screaming into the streets and violated them – some in front of their children. They did the same to their daughters, regardless of their age, before slitting their throats.

  King Philip was wise enough to distance himself from the slaughter and kept his army away from the mayhem that was rampaging through Messina. He openly abhorred the conduct of the English, and that they were being led by their king.

  The riot eventually died its own death. To ensure the inhabitants of Messina kept the peace, and refusing to acknowledge that he or his army held any responsibility for the mayhem, Richard had a wooden castle built outside the city walls. He named it Mattegriffon.

  Having seen the reprehensible anger of the English king, and the brutish behaviour of his army, Tancred rapidly entreated for peace and offered one of his daughter’s in marriage to Richard’s young nephew, Arthur of Brittany. He also agreed to return the dowager queen’s dowry in full. Richard was satisfied with the result and assured Tancred that he would name Arthur as his heir should he never father a son, as that could eventually make Tancred’s daughter Queen of England. On hearing this, Philip of France wondered who had come out with a more advantageous deal.

  The season was changing, which made conditions at sea too difficult for the crusaders to sail on. The decision was taken to winter at Sicily and they would sail for the Holy Land when Spring arrived. However, Richard’s mother was at sea and bringing his future bride.

  31

  Joanna stood on the quayside beside her brother waiting for the ship carrying their mother to dock. Richard looked apprehensive; this would only be the second time he had seen the woman who had been chosen to be his queen. He was not happy about it, as he could not remember what she looked like – all the women in the Northern Spanish region looked the same to him. Trust his mother! She was growing old in her body, but her mind was still as acute as ever. He did not want marriage; he was a soldier and a warrior, not a husband, but the position he now held as king dictated he must marry and produce an heir. This marriage was going to be difficult as showing any emotion was alien for him. Richard, instead, was known for his straight talking. To him, yes was yes and no was no. This was an asset and a curse for the king. He decided he would have to pretend to be pleased to see Berengaria and hope she would be innocent enough not to realise the falseness in him.

  Joanna was beginning to fidget with excitement beside Richard. The ship was nearing and she could see the dignified figure of her mother standing on deck, beside the smaller frame of the princess. Impatiently, she waited for the ship and the gangplank to be secured, so that the Dowager Queen and Navarre Princess could disembark.

  Queen Eleanor grandly stepped onto the jetty and waited for Princess Berengaria to follow. The princess, small and delicate, felt overwhelmed in the presence of the glorious and tall Plantagenets, whose reputations always preceded them. During the voyage from Navarre, Eleanor had instructed her on the language that she must speak once she was married to Richard. For this initial meeting, she had rehearsed a greeting that should please her future husband.

  She hung back, watching as Richard and Joanna knelt in front of their mother for her blessing. Both son and daughter had inherited the shimmering golden red hair that shone like halos in the Sicilian sun. The queen placed her hands on their heads and then both stood up, towering over their mother. Impulsively, as was her nature, Joanna flung her arms around her mother’s neck, forgetting that Eleanor was an old woman now – though her desire for life gave her a youthful vigour. Then, it was Richard’s turn to embrace his mother in a bear hug full of love, which lifted the old lady off her feet. How magnificent he is, thought Berengaria wondrously. And I am to be his. She involuntary trembled at the thought.

  Then, suddenly, as if she had been an afterthought, Eleanor turned and grabbed Berengaria’s arm and pulled her forward, bringing her face to face with Richard. The young woman blushed and quickly lowered her gaze, not feeling worthy to be in his presence. He looked down at her from his great height with impassive blue eyes. There was no emotion behind them – not even the pretence that he was happy to see her. Eleanor prodded Berengaria in the back to prompt her little speech of greeting. The princess flushed prettily, gave a small cough, twisted her hands together, drew a nervous breath and raised her face to look into his.

  ‘I… I am h… h… happy to meet y… you, my lord. I h… hope when we are ma… married we can… can be f… f… friends as well… well as husband and… and wife,’ she stammered, while Eleanor mouthed the rehearsed speech behind her. It was faltering, yet charming, and the girl would grow accustomed to talking in her adopted language as time passed.

  Richard took Berengaria in his arms, drew her close and kissed her cheeks lightly, making her blush again. ‘I am also happy to finally meet you, Princess Berengaria. You are everything my mother described,’ Richard replied, awkwardly, with no conviction.

  Eleanor smiled, satisfied. ‘Good,’ she said, firmly, noticing her son’s lack of feeling. But what royal marriage began with love? Few did. Her own marriage to Henry had exploded with passion – both were matched sexually and intellectually, and how they had loved and fought with equal avidity. This arranged match between her darling son and the shy princess would never be the firecracker her marriage had been, but so long as there were children it would be considered a success.

  Richard courteously offered his arm to Berengaria and led her silently from the jetty to Mattegriffon, where she would lodge until the wedding. There, Aubrette, Rowena and the other women were waiting, having been instructed by Queen Joanna on their the duties. The sisters curtsied to the petite, dark-haired woman with the big brown eyes as she walked past them, greeting each lady in a sweet voice. She was charming and promised to be a delight to serve.

  Richard, along with Eleanor and Joanna, left Berengaria and returned to the castle. The old queen questioned her son about the suitability of the Princess of Navarre, and his reaction was what she had expected. Any usual red-blooded male would have seen Berengaria for the delicate and desirable beauty that she was. Richard was dismissive. He would perform his royal duty, impregnate her, but nothing more was to be expected from him.

  ‘Whatever you think or feel about Berengaria, the wedding must take place as soon as possible, Richard,’ urged Eleanor.

  The king scowled. ‘Nay, mother, I cannot marry her yet.’

  ‘Why not? She is young and pretty.’ said Joanna.

  Her brother grimaced. ‘Too much is happening here for me to pay attention to her. Forget you not that I am still betrothed to Princess Alice, so I cannot marry her.’ It was a convenient excuse. Both women exclaimed their shock, but Richard continued. ‘I shall marry her, do not fear, but not yet.’

  ‘Leave Philip to me, my son. I shall speak with him,’ said Eleanor. ‘I shall get him to release you.’

  ‘I do not need you to fight for me, Mother. Berengaria will be my queen. I have vowed to wed her and wed her I shall. Just not yet.’ He refused to be drawn further.

  Eleanor saw the danger signs in his eyes, as she had seen so many times in her husband. Oh, those had been good times! thought Eleanor, remembering the fights that she and Henry had had during the early years of their marriage, and then the reconciliations. They had been so well-matched. When her son finally wed the princess, he would not be thrilled in bed by her. She would be meek and mild, willing to please. Eleanor would be content with their marriage, but only so long as a son was born from the union.

 
For the first weeks of her stay in Sicily, Berengaria practised speaking in the language of her new family until she felt competent to converse in it. Her voice retained a lilt of her native Navarre accent, but this only added to her charm. She had taken a great liking for both Aubrette and Rowena, and kept them close to her.

  She felt overawed whenever Queen Eleanor and her betrothed came to visit. Richard would be polite towards her and ask after her health, if she had everything needed to make her life agreeable and whether she was happy. The princess would reply that everything was satisfactory and that she was very happy, and waiting patiently for her wedding day. These words disturbed Richard, as he was still attempting to find excuses to delay the ceremony.

  Hugh was also hostile to the marriage, but kept his thoughts reserved for the private moments that he and Richard shared. He would refuse to accompany his master when he paid court to his betrothed, saying that he preferred to find entertainment with others in Messina. This behaviour pleased Aubrette, as it meant she would not have to be in the same room as her husband and would not have to pretend to be amicable to him.

  Princess Berengaria, in her naivety, did not realise the truth about Richard, his lack of desire for the marriage or his relationship with Hugh. She sympathised to Aubrette on the absence of her own husband, praising him for the loyalty shown to his royal master. Hugh rarely left his side, in fact, but was thoughtful enough to allow the king time alone when paying court to her. Aubrette would reply with some vague comment about being content not to see Hugh.

  In early 1191, the English and French armies were involved in more skirmishes. The men were getting restless; they had signed up for the crusade to free Jerusalem and make their fortunes. Instead, they had remained in Sicily all winter. This was not an adventure, and they were straining to get on.