A Reed in the Wind: Joanna Plantagenet, Queen of Sicily

by Rachel Bard

  “We are pleased to see you again, Princess Joanna. And to see you looking so well.” He caught Bishop-elect Arnolfo’s eye. Both were amazed at how much she seemed to have matured and how at ease she was. This wasn’t the little girl playing dress-up they’d observed at the banquet in Winchester. This was a princess who was perfectly aware she would soon be a queen.

  “We bring King William’s respectful greetings and his wishes for a speedy and comfortable voyage until he can welcome you to Sicily,” said Arnolfo.

  “Thank you, Count Florian and you, Bishop Arnolfo. I hope for the same.”

  Earl Hamelin appeared with Adelaide, Beatrice and Charmaine. Now that Richard would be leaving them, the earl would be in charge of the expedition. He looked flustered already. His long pale face was flushed, and he kept brushing straggling strands of his sparse brown hair off his perspiring forehead.

  Richard frowned at this tardy arrival. “Where is Lady Gertrude, uncle? Why didn’t she bring the ladies?”

  “She declared this morning that she isn’t well enough for the journey and intends to stay in Saint-Gilles,” said the earl unhappily. “So there was nobody else but me to escort them to the boats.”

  “That may be just as well,” said Richard. With one of his characteristic quick decisions, he decreed that from now on Lady Adelaide, as the oldest and most experienced, would assume responsibility for the morals and safety of the two younger women. She blushed with pride at the news. “And be sure, Lady Adelaide, that you and the others serve my sister well.”

  The earl, visibly relieved that he was not to be demoted from majordomo to lady tender, wiped his brow with a huge blue silk handkerchief that he extracted from the pocket of his billowy cloak. Aiming for his pocket to put it back, he missed and the kerchief went flying through the air. He watched ruefully as it floated toward the pier, where it was caught and gleefully brandished by a small unkempt boy. The earl shrugged.

  Adelaide remarked, “Well, maybe he needs it more than you do.”

  “Thank you, my dear. A most astute observation.” He took her arm and followed the others as Richard led them below to inspect the quarters where Joanna and her ladies would be lodged.

  “Now you see, Joanna,” said Richard, “why they’ve made this galley so wide. Actually, it was probably at one time a merchant galley, meant to hold cargo. That’s why they’ve been able to fit in this commodious set of rooms here.” Behind his back Lady Marian sniffed. “Doesn’t look very commodious to me,” she grumbled under her breath. True, there were several separate cabins: one for Joanna, one for Lady Marian and Mary, and two even smaller ones to accommodate the three ladies in waiting. All had barely enough room to turn around and the ceilings were so low that they had to bend to enter.

  They trooped up on deck again, where six oarsmen were already seated, three on a side. Joanna looked at them with interest. She’d heard that oarsmen on galleys were slaves, chained to their benches. But these looked like any seamen one would see in a port, muscular and talkative. No chains were in sight. They were joking as they settled down for the task of pulling on the long oars to propel the craft downriver.

  Alan and Brother Jean-Pierre, who were lodged forward in the crew’s quarters, were talking to the captain.

  “So you expect to reach Marseilles within a week, do you?” Alan asked. The captain, a lean, sinewy, balding man with a short neat brown beard and a short way of talking, said, “Aye, the good God and fair weather willing.”

  “And Sicily? How long to Sicily?” asked Jean-Pierre anxiously. He was not a good sailor.

  “That’s to be seen. I’d hope by mid-January. That’s when I told King William to expect us. But we’ll have to stay close to shore and maybe put into port for shelter more often than I’d like. It’s November. The weather’s only going to worsen as we make our way.”

  Jean-Pierre groaned inwardly and resolved to say a special prayer for calm seas.

  Richard had heard the exchange and clapped the captain on the shoulder.

  “But you’re the canniest captain who’s ever sailed the Mediterranean, they say. I’ve no doubt you’ll make good time and be in Palermo by New Year’s.”

  He bent to give Joanna a peck on the cheek and a hug.

  “Goodbye, little sister.” He whispered in her ear, “And if those Sicilians give you any trouble, send for me.” He winked and she giggled. Trouble? That was the last thing she expected.

  He turned to Lady Marian and the three ladies in waiting and pressed each of their hands in turn.

  “Goodbye, ladies. Take good care of my sister.”

  “Oh, we will, Prince Richard. That will be our pleasure and our privilege,” said Adelaide.

  “And we wish you good fortune in your battles,” said Charmaine.

  Beatrice, who had not said a word since stepping onto the galley and who had avoided meeting Richard’s eyes, seemed to tremble when he took her hand. She looked up at him, her lips slightly parted as though she were about to speak. But no words came. Joanna thought she saw tears brimming in Beatrice’s lovely blue eyes. “How beautiful she is!” she thought. “How can Richard resist such an appeal?” But he did. After a quick glance at those pleading eyes he dropped her hand and waved a collective goodbye to all. He strode down the gangplank and to his waiting horse. In one swift, fluid, graceful movement he placed a foot in the stirrup, swung into the saddle, seized the reins from his groom and gave a final wave. Horse and rider disappeared up the winding street.

  The captain gave the order to raise the sail. Slowly the bulky vessel began to move out into the river as the oarsmen bent to their task. The big square sail flapped briefly and noisily, then caught the wind and held it in a taut embrace. The strengthening tide hastened the galley along to join the other vessels, all getting underway and almost filling the river from bank to bank before they settled into an orderly line.

  Joanna looked back at the town and the pier growing smaller by the minute. She looked around her and ahead at the brave fleet, flying southward like a flock of geese in the autumn. Though at the moment she was surrounded by friends, for the first time it was truly borne in on her: I am leaving everything I know and love. My mother. My brother. My England. Will I like King William? And what if he doesn’t like me? So many questions, and no answers.

  Back on the pier, the townspeople straggled off toward home and the day’s routine, chattering and laughing. The sudden, brief presence of these noisy, strange but well-paying visitors to Saint-Gilles had given them a winter’s worth of material for conjecture and discussion.

  Above it all, on the bluff overlooking the harbor, Richard had paused to watch the departure. He would miss Joanna. He wished her well, but he almost hoped the Sicilians would indeed give him reason to come save her from some peril. I wonder what Sicily is like, he mused. I would like to see a land different from the France I know so well. Maybe to do battle with a new foe. And maybe to have Beatrice again. She was sweet. Sweet and compliant, a little too compliant. But when she’s grown up a bit she might prove quite a spirited lass.

  His horse stamped a hoof, shook its head and snorted. Richard laughed and patted it on the neck. “Right you are, old Silvermane. Why do we stop here musing about what might be, when what will be is waiting for us over in Aquitaine? The sooner I get to Dax, the sooner I’ll take the city from that old rogue the Count of Bigorre.” He dug his heels into the horse’s sides and they were off.

  Chapter 10

  When the fleet sailed out from the Petit Rhône and into the open Mediterranean, Joanna was amazed at the endless expanse of blue water that reached toward infinity, with no land in sight except what lay behind them. She, and most others in the company, had never seen anything like this. When they had crossed the English Channel they’d been able to see not only where they had come from but also where they were going.

  Joanna was relieved to find this enormous, encompassing sea relatively unthreatening. At first it seemed Jean-Pierre’s prayer for a calm vo
yage had been answered. They made their way through waters ruffled by just enough wind so the sail could provide nearly all the power, and the oarsmen had it relatively easy. For some days the weather continued to cooperate. Even when the sun disappeared, the sky sent down no showers of freezing rain or blasts of frigid winds. Most days Joanna and her ladies could stand at the rail of the narrow deck, watching with fascination as the unfamiliar coastline rolled by.

  One morning Joanna came on deck early to find Beatrice already there, near the stern and gazing at the galley’s wake. Joanna had noticed that Beatrice, always quiet and reserved, seemed even more subdued lately. Joanna had a vague idea it had something to do with Richard.

  Neither Joanna nor her three ladies in waiting had tried very hard to be friends. Joanna found Lady Adelaide overly talkative and concerned with her impression on others, Lady Charmaine silly and simpering, and Lady Beatrice so withdrawn, especially since leaving Saint-Gilles, that it was impossible to make any overtures. Of the three, Joanna thought she preferred Beatrice. She knew what it was like to have feelings and thoughts that you kept to yourself and to have no taste for idle chatter. Once she had overheard her mother saying to her father, “Henry, how did we manage to produce such a solemn child in this family of show-offs and know-it-alls?”

  Now on this peaceful, quiet morning, she wondered if she could cheer Beatrice up, maybe by telling her that she missed Richard too. She walked aft to where Beatrice stood huddled in a gray cloak, holding it tightly closed at her neck, still looking back at the neat V-shaped wake that the galley cleaved in the sea. When Joanna put a hand on Beatrice’s arm the young woman, startled, turned, and Joanna saw how swiftly her expression of brooding unhappiness changed to one of closed composure.

  “Are you thinking about everything we’ve left behind, and wishing you hadn’t come? I felt that way sometimes too, at first. But now I don’t,” Joanna said.

  Beatrice’s lips parted slightly as though she were about to speak. When she didn’t, Joanna went on. “But I do so wish Richard could have come with us! He would have loved this galley, wouldn’t he? He’s never really been to sea. I do miss him—but I know he had important things to do in Aquitaine.”

  Joanna had to strain to hear when Beatrice replied, in a low voice and with her head averted.

  “Yes, I miss him too. But most of all I wish I’d never left Winchester.”

  At first Joanna didn’t know what to say to that. Though she’d been sorry to leave her mother, she couldn’t imagine wishing she were back in Winchester, now that they were truly on their way to Sicily. And so swiftly! She felt exhilarated. Her uneasiness about her future diminished with every stroke of the oars, with every wave that passed smoothly under the galley. She was almost afraid the voyage might end too soon.

  She still hoped to brighten Beatrice’s mood. “But if you’d never left Winchester, you wouldn’t be here now having this wonderful adventure. And there’ll be even more adventures when we get to Sicily. Maybe you’ll meet a handsome signore!”

  Beatrice tried to smile at that. “Thank you, Princess Joanna, for being so kind. Now I think I’ll go below. And I’ll try to look forward to Sicily, I really will.”

  Joanna wasn’t sure how much she’d helped. But she thought perhaps she and Beatrice had established the beginning of a friendship.

  For the next few days the coastline was quite dull: stretches of sandy, shrubby dunes, beyond which they could occasionally see what looked like lakes and marshes extending northward. Once, though, Joanna saw a scene she’d remember for the rest of her life. Leaping over the dunes and onto the shore galloped a pure white horse, mane and tail flying in the wind, and behind him, a dozen more. They ran in a line along the beach, as though they were showing off for the spectators in the galley and exulting in their freedom. Even the captain was impressed. He stood beside Joanna to watch. “Don’t see that often. Quite wild, they are. Usually they stay more inland.” For a while the ship and the beautiful horses kept pace with each other. Then, as though they’d put on enough of a show, the horses trotted up to a break in the dunes and disappeared.

  A few days later the galleys approached a gap in the coastline that led to what must have been a busy port, judging from all the vessels making their way in and out. Instead of sailing past, the captain shifted course and led the fleet into the harbor. It was long and narrow and bordered all around by stone wharves where ships were tied up. The galleys threaded their way among dozens of vessels, from seagoing ships like their own to little cockleshells that darted about like waterbugs. As they got closer they could see that market stalls were set up along the shore and crowds were milling about.

  Earl Hamelin and Brother Jean-Pierre came aft to where Joanna and the ladies stood, exclaiming and pointing.

  “Where are we, Brother Jean-Pierre?” Joanna asked.

  “Why, this is Marseilles, Princess. Or as some still call it, Masilia. It’s very old—goes clear back to Greek days. The captain says we’ll stop here to take on provisions. It’s the last big, sheltered port for a long time.”

  “Oh, I hope we can go ashore! May we, uncle?”

  “It would be heavenly to feel terra firma under our feet again,” said Lady Charmaine.

  “And I’d like to buy some lavender,” said Adelaide. “I’ve heard the very best comes from this part of France, and they say it helps against the seasickness.”

  “Do say yes, uncle,” Joanna implored.

  The earl pursed his lips, considering. It might be agreeable to escort Lady Adelaide in search of lavender. The captain intervened.

  “Most unwise. King William would never permit it. It’s not safe. You’d get no respect and maybe some unpleasantness from the ruffians who roam these piers. They’re just looking for somebody to rob or kidnap. Most unwise, Princess Joanna.”

  “My opinion exactly,” said the earl. “Out of the question, I’m afraid.”

  As soon as the casks had been filled with water and wine, and baskets and boxes of dried and pickled meat and fish were stowed on board, they sailed on. And on, and on.

  Gradually the winds increased. Some days Joanna found it too hard to keep her footing on the tilting deck and stayed in her little cabin. Beatrice and Charmaine also spent most of their time below. But Adelaide, at least on drier days, forced herself to go on deck so Earl Hamelin could congratulate her on her sea legs and explain to her the finer points of navigation.

  One relatively calm day he pointed to two coils of rope on the deck. “Now this one, Lady Adelaide¾the heavier one, you see?—this one is used to hitch onto the sail and raise it up the mast. You can understand that it has to be very thick and strong to raise such a heavy great sail. And this other lighter one is what they use to tie us up to the dock when we come ashore. It needn’t be so strong because when the vessel’s at rest, there’s not much pull on it.”

  “Do tell!” said Lady Adelaide, greatly impressed.

  A passing crew member who couldn’t help overhearing let out a “Haw haw!” and said audibly to his mates, “That’s a good one, that is. Doesn’t know a halyard from a hawser.”

  Joanna had just climbed up the steep companionway and heard the whole incident. Though she thought the earl was sometimes ridiculously pompous, she felt sorry that he’d been humiliated in front of Adelaide. She’d noticed how he sought Adelaide’s company. She supposed this was what they called courting. Will King William feel he has to court me? she wondered. Probably not. Everything is already arranged and we’ll have to get married, whether we like each other or not.

  As they approached Genoa the weather worsened. The little fleet was buffeted by terrifyingly high waves, and the ships swayed sickeningly. Sometimes the driving rains made a gray curtain all around them, hiding not only the other galleys, but also the shoreline that was the captain’s only tie to knowing where he was. Almost everybody was seasick. Joanna was more miserable than she had ever been in her life. All the way down the coast of Italy she wished she were dead, an
d begged Lady Marian to have her put ashore so she could die in peace. Her ladies suffered almost as much.

  The captain managed to find ports where the fleet could take on water and foodstuffs for the few who felt like eating, but he dared not linger. He knew worse weather was very likely to come and ran for Naples as fast as he could, peering into the mist and the spray for the first glimpse of the looming cone of Vesuvius.

  They safely reached the city under the volcano on December 20th, to find the rest of the fleet already there. At last the weary passengers could leave the cursed galley and walk without staggering to keep their balance. But Joanna was so weakened that she had to be carried on a litter up the hill to their lodgings in the Castel Capuano. The two ambassadors walked by her side. They had sailed in a different galley so she had seen nothing of them during the entire journey. Though she knew they were trying to raise her spirits, she hardly heard them as they explained that the castle had been built by King William I, her fiancé’s father, and that she would find it very comfortable.

  “It’s where our King William stays whenever he comes to Naples,” said Arnolfo. “And what’s more, since Naples is part of the kingdom of Sicily, from now on, while we are here and when we go to sea again you will be on land and in waters that are part of the kingdom of which you will be queen.”

  She knew she should raise her head and try to show some interest, but she was too weak. She groaned at the thought of going to sea again.

  As soon as they reached the castle Lady Marian directed the litter bearers to take the woebegone princess carefully up to their chambers. Earl Hamelin caught up with Lady Marian as she followed behind the litter.

  “Lady Marian, please come down as soon as you can. We must make some plans.”

  Ten minutes later the earl, Lady Marian, Brother Jean-Pierre and Joanna’s bodyguard Alan sat huddled in a corner of the great hall, worrying. It was only eleven in the morning but servants were already laying tables and preparing for the afternoon meal.