by H A CULLEY
So it didn’t take much for Richard to rile Philip these days and he stormed out of the meeting to the delight of King Tancred of Sicily, who saw discord between his two unwelcome guests as a source for celebration. However, Richard soon wiped the smile off his face.
‘Good. Now perhaps we can get down to negotiations without that pompous ass butting in all the time. Here are my terms.’ So saying Richard threw a parchment scroll down on the table.
Tancred read through the document with increasing agitation. The terms demanded by Richard were harsh. When the King of England had arrived in Sicily he had found that Tancred had imprisoned Richard’s sister Joan, widow of the previous king, William II. Tancred had usurped the throne, being merely an illegitimate cousin of the late king’s. William’s heir should have been his aunt Constance, married to Henry Hohenstaufen, eldest son of the Holy Roman Emperor, Frederick Barbarossa. Tancred was therefore in a very weak position politically.
Furthermore he was small in stature, nicknamed the dwarf by some, so he felt physically intimidated by the King of England, who towered over him. In the end he agreed to release the dowager Queen Joan and pay Richard her original dowry, bequeathed by her husband, King William, in his will in order to help fund the crusade. In return, Richard would remove his banners from Messina and hand the town over to the Knights Templar to hold as neutrals in the dispute. They would then return the town to Tancred once the crusaders had sailed on to the Holy Land in the spring. He also demanded that Tancred’s daughter be betrothed to the three year old Prince Arthur of Brittany, the son of Richard’s dead brother Geoffrey, who Richard had nominated as his heir should he die without children. Tancred was to pay Richard a dowry for the betrothal of twenty thousand ounces of gold.
It had nearly bankrupted Tancred, but he had effectively gained England as an ally against Henry Hohenstaufen and secured his throne. However, antagonising Henry was something which was to have fateful consequences for the crusade and for Richard himself in due course.
Chapter Two – The Conquest of Cyprus - April 1191
On the tenth of April the two brothers, Tristan and David Cuille, leant on the rail of the transport ship and watched Sicily sink under the horizon. The older boy was squire to his uncle, Richard de Cuille, whilst the younger was the junior squire to Hervey de Keith, the Marishal of Scotland, who had joined King Richard’s contingent with the rest of the crusaders from Scotland. For perhaps the first time in the history of the two countries the kings of England and Scotland were more than allies, they were friends.
Warin of Otterburn, squire to Sir Miles, wandered over and joined them. He was the eldest of the three at fifteen but he didn’t flaunt his seniority. He was well aware that Tristan was the designated heir of his uncle Richard and the boys’ father, Edward de Cuille, Baron of Craigmor and Governor of Berwick upon Tweed, had named his second son David as his own heir. In due course Warin would probably depend on the patronage of one or the other.
‘Do you know where we’re bound?’ Tristan asked Warin, who shrugged.
‘Last month King Philip left for the siege of Acre so I can only suppose that we are headed there too. We would have departed when he did if the king’s new betrothed, Berengaria of Navarre, had arrived on time.’
‘Of course Acre is where we’re headed. Where else would be going?’ The scornful voice belonged to another squire, Gervaise, who served Sir Waldo Cuille. Gervaise was eighteen and Tristan was surprised that he had deigned to speak to them. He normally spent his spare time with the senior squires and treated the youngsters with disdain. However, there were only thirty knights on the transport with their squires, grooms and horses and nearly all the squires were younger than Gervaise.
‘Have you heard how the siege is going?’ piped up David who, at thirteen for a few more months, was full of youthful enthusiasm. Gervaise was torn between contempt for a stupid question and being flattered that David would think he knew. In the end contempt won.
‘How the hell would I know that? As far as I am aware our armies are sitting outside the walls and the heathens are sitting inside. I doubt if Guy de Lusignan or Philip Augustus are going to manage to take the town. It’ll all change when King Richard arrives though,’ he added with smug confidence.
The fleet consisted of over two hundred ships spread over so much of the sea that the rearmost were out of sight of the vanguard. King Richard’s contingent was far larger than either the small French army commanded by King Philip or the remnants of the armies of the crusader states in the Holy Land, all of whom had joined in the siege except for that of Conrad, Marquis of Montferrat, who stayed behind the walls of his city of Tyre to the north of Acre.
Miles had initially thought that it was his good luck to be placed in the same conroi as Waldo Cuille for the sea passage to the Holy Land, but it rapidly became obvious that Waldo was now on his guard and seemed to view everyone else on board with the deepest suspicion. He soon developed a reputation amongst the others of being aloof and unfriendly. Eventually de Keith, as the senior noble on board, decided to speak to him about his attitude.
‘Sir Waldo, we don’t know each other so forgive this approach uninvited’ he began. ‘As commander of this conroi I feel it is incumbent upon me to develop as strong a bond of fellowship and camaraderie as I can. However’ his voice tailed off as Waldo held up a hand.
‘I know what you are going to say my lord, but let me save you the trouble. I can’t imagine why I was shipped on this boat with a load of Scots and Northumberland knights but my place is with the other knights from Derbyshire and I intend to re-join them just as soon as we land.’ With that Waldo turned his back on the Marishal and looked out to sea once more.
By mid-April the worst of the winter storms were normally over in the Mediterranean but, five days out of Messina, dark clouds filled the sky and the wind began to get up. Two hours later the wind had reached gale force and gentle ripples had turned into mountains of water. The wind whipped the crests from these gigantic waves and deposited them on the deck. Everyone who was not a sailor had tied themselves to a mast or the bulwarks to avoid being dragged overboard. Most found it impossible to stay standing as the deck pitched violently this way and that and within minutes most had been violently sick.
Tristan thought that once he had emptied the contents of his stomach onto the deck, where it was washed away instantaneously, he would stop being sick but his stomach carried on heaving long after it had emptied itself of all its contents. He sat roped with his brother and Warin to the aft mast and prayed to die, so sunk in abject misery was he.
If he was having a hard time of it, the horses below deck were going mad with terror. Luckily the stalls were solidly built and so narrow that few horses injured themselves but the stench of manure, urine and vomit down below was almost unbearable.
By the time a pale watery sun lifted itself sluggishly above the horizon the next morning the wind had dropped to a stiff breeze but the waves remained some fifty feet in height. One moment the ship was in a deep trough and the next it was perched on top of the crest. If anything the motion now was even more uncomfortable than it had been last night. But the most depressing thing was that, even from the crest of a wave, there was no sign of any of the other two hundred and eighteen ships that formed the fleet.
Four days later nearly all the ships had limped into Rhodes. However, three ships were missing. These were the three in the vanguard which carried both Princess Berengaria and the Dowager Queen Joan, King Richard’s sister, and – perhaps even more importantly – the Vice Chancellor of England and the royal treasury.
Richard had twelve fast war galleys and he dispatched these to try and find the missing ships. Most of the transports had been badly damaged by the storm so these were beached for repairs. Fortunately, the transport carrying Hervey de Keith, Richard de Cuille and the others had only lost a few spars and two torn sails; damage which was quickly repaired.
~#~
Berengaria glared furiously
at the pompous official who had come aboard her ship anchored off Limassol. The town basked in the sunshine. The glare from the white painted houses with their red roofs almost hurt the eyes but it seemed that this was as close as she was likely to get to them.
The official represented Isaac Comnenus, the self-declared Emperor of Cyprus. Isaac had been appointed as the ruler of the island by his cousin, Isaac Angelos II, the Byzantine emperor in Constantinople, but Comnenus had then declared Cyprus independent. By all accounts he was an unpopular despot who ruled through fear and intimidation.
From where they stood Berengaria and Queen Joan, Richard’s sister, could see the wreck of the third of their ships stranded on the rocks of Aphrodite. Those of the crew who had survived were being led away in chains by Cypriot soldiers; even worse, they were loading King Richard’s treasure chests onto carts.
Berengaria tore her eyes away from the wreck and back to the little Greek official who was inviting her and Joan to come ashore as the guest of the emperor. Although she and Richard had not yet been married, as his betrothed she regarded herself as all but Queen of England and therefore senior to the Dowager Queen of Sicily.
‘Before we go anywhere I would like you to send us fresh water, provisions and medical help. We lost all our supplies in the storm and several of my men are badly injured,’ Berengaria told him in Latin.
The official conferred hurriedly in Greek with his minions before turning back to the princess. ‘Of course, my lady, we will make all necessary arrangements once you and Queen Joan are safely ashore,’ he assured her.
‘My lady, I think you should know that Isaac Comnenus plans to hold you to ransom. Luckily this idiot doesn’t know that most Templars speak Greek almost as well as they do Latin and French.’ The tall Templar who whispered in her ear was part of the chapter who were returning to the Holy Land with King Richard.
The Greek looked at the Templar suspiciously then smiled ingratiatingly at Berengaria.
‘Allow me to escort you two ladies ashore. The emperor is waiting to welcome you.’
‘I think not, sir. Once you have done as I ask and let us have what we need the queen and I will think about it.’
‘Are you sure about this, Berengaria?’ Queen Joan hadn’t heard what the Templar had said and was puzzled at her prospective sister-in-law’s attitude.
‘Quite sure, madam.’ She turned back to the Greek. ‘Please remind your master that my future husband will shortly arrive with a fleet of over two hundred ships and he is a man who only a fool would wish to offend.’
‘And don’t you forget that his much vaunted fleet is probably at the bottom of the Mediterranean by now. It is you who is the fool when you insult my emperor.’ With that the man climbed down the side of the ship into a gaudily decorated barge followed by his entourage.
‘Oh dear, what are we going to do now with no water and no food and a ship that can’t sail anywhere?’ Joan wanted to know. Their ship had lost its mainmast in the gale and the other ship that had survived with them had lost both main and mizzen masts. They had been driven onto the shore and had only survived because the two captains had the forethought to throw a sea anchor over the side which slowed their progress sufficiently for them to get their anchors to hold in the sandy sea bottom. The vice-chancellor’s ship had failed to get its anchors to dig into the sand and had been driven onto the rocks.
‘Don’t be so pessimistic, Joan. I’m sure it won’t be long before Richard finds us.’
‘That’s if he is still alive,’ Joan muttered gloomily.
~#~
King Richard was very much alive. He had taken two days to recover from a mild bout of dysentery when he arrived off Rhodes but, by the time that two of his galleys returned from Cyprus, he was fully recovered. The galleys had given the two disabled ships what water and food they could spare and then raced back to Rhodes. They had left the knights and men-at-arms they carried with Berengaria to supplement her own bodyguard and the conroi of Templars, just in case Isaac Comnenus took it into his head to try and capture them.
The king immediately set off with the two galleys and three of the fastest transports, of which that carrying Richard de Cuille was one. The king’s mission was to rescue his sister and his betrothed, but perhaps his greatest desire was to teach Emperor Isaac Comnenus a lesson in manners.
When the flotilla arrived off Limassol Richard ordered his ships to anchor offshore and went across to see his betrothed and his sister in a barge. Having heard how they had been treated and the Cypriot ruler’s plan to imprison them, he flew into a rage.
He returned to his own ship and was all for ordering an attack there and then but his council persuaded him to send an emissary ashore to give Comnenus, as a Christian, one last chance to behave properly and offer his support for the crusade against the Saracens. Richard looked around the deck seeking someone to send with an ultimatum to Isaac. He didn’t want to risk one of his close advisors but he needed someone he could trust. Then he spotted Richard de Cuille and Miles of Bryness leaning against the rail of the ship anchored three cables away. He remembered how they had fought beside him at Messina and saved his life twice.
A quarter of an hour later the king’s barge conveyed Richard, Miles and a herald carrying the royal banner of three gold leopards on a red field to the beach. They splashed through the surf which was breaking lazily on the bright golden sand, and started to walk towards the Cypriot army. Richard studied the massed ranks critically. They were drawn up behind barricades made up of doors, furniture and anything else that could be carried out of Limassol. He could see no sign of knights or mounted cataphracts – the heavy cavalry of eastern armies – and the foot soldiers seemed to be local peasants armed with spears in the main. There were some shepherd boys with slingshots and a few men with hunting bows, but no heavily armoured men-at-arms or crossbowmen as far as he could see.
However, there were a lot of them: perhaps five thousand compared to the sixty knights, fifty serjeants, some armed with crossbows, two hundred men-at-arms and a few longbow men that Richard had with him. There might be another hundred and fifty knights and soldiers on the two disabled ships and perhaps sixty or seventy squires in all, but they were non-combatants. Whatever the quality of the enemy, the crusaders were still outnumbered by more than ten to one.
Richard halted a third of the way up the beach and Miles and the herald came to stand behind him. Half a dozen crossbowmen covered them from the barge, which had now been turned around so it was stern on to the beach and ready for a quick departure, should that prove necessary.
Eventually the same Greek official who had been sent to see Berengaria waddled down to speak to him. He was followed by a standard bearer with a flag so large that he had difficulty in controlling it, even in the moderate breeze that blew onshore. It must have been heavy too as it was sewn with thick gold wire and encrusted in gemstones. A soldier dressed like a Saracen made up the trio.
‘What are you doing here, trespassing on the emperor’s lands without permission?’ the Greek demanded haughtily in execrable Latin.
‘Why have you brought a Saracen, the enemy of every good Christian, as part of your delegation?’ Richard began without preamble and in perfect Latin.
‘He is my lord’s senior advisor,’ the Cypriot emissary spluttered in indignation. Then he realised he had responded without thinking and tried to regain the initiative. ‘It’s no business of yours in any case. You may sail away now and the emperor will refrain from further punishment for your impudence. If you stay you will all be slaughtered like the swine you are.’
‘Is that any way for the ruler of one Christian realm to address another? Let me remind you that we are on a pilgrimage to retake the holy city of Jerusalem from the infidels and we demand you help us in our crusade.’
‘Why would his highness want to help the Franks?’ The Saracen spoke excellent Norman French. ‘They imprisoned him in chains for several years in Armenia and he has never forgiven them. Saladin
is his ally, not you.’
The Greek glared at him for betraying this piece of information, which went a long way to explain Isaac’s confrontational attitude. Miles then whispered in Richard’s ear.
‘Ah, yes. I have a message for the Emperor of Cyprus from the King of England. If the emperor frees the shipwrecked crew that he has imprisoned and restores the treasury he has stolen, including the great seal of England, then King Richard will say no more about it and we will carry on to the Holy Land.’
The Greek didn’t reply; instead he tuned and the trio started to plod their way back up the beach. Suddenly the man on horseback, who had been riding to and fro in impatience behind the Cypriot army, suddenly kicked his spurs into the horse. It plunged through the ranks, knocking men out of the way and trampling more than a few as it passed. Richard noted admiringly that the horse was a magnificent chestnut Arabian stallion with a yellow mane and tail. It was quite the most striking horse he had ever seen.
The rider jumped the stallion over the barricade and brought it to a skittering halt in front of the three Cypriot emissaries. After a hurried conversation the horseman rode down towards Richard and his companions, halting his horse less than two yards from them. If he expected them to flinch he was sadly disappointed.
‘Tell your miserable king that emperors do not treat with inferiors. He has one hour to leave or I will attack.’ With that Isaac Comnenus galloped away up the beach.
~#~
Guy of Lusignan was worried. The siege of Acre was dragging on and even the arrival of Philip of France in April hadn’t enabled the crusaders to breach the walls of the most important port in the Eastern Mediterranean. Worse, Philip had announced his support for Conrad of Montferrat, Lord of Tyre, as King of Jerusalem.
‘Well, he does have a point Guy’ Humphrey of Toron, one of his more important barons, told him. ‘Ever since Queen Sibylla and your children died in last year’s epidemic your claim to reign as king consort has been shaky, to say the least.’