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

by Rachel Bard

  Joanna was happy to see Alan waiting with the same white horse she’d ridden her first night in Palermo, still fitted with tinkling bells. It reminded her of the galloping white horses they’d seen on the shore as they sailed along the coast of southern France. This one wasn’t wild and free, but she seemed to have their same brave spirit.

  “Is she going to be my own horse from now on, Alan?”

  “I’m sure she is, Princess. Nobody else rides her, and she’s kept in a special stall in the same stable as the king’s favorite horses.”

  “Then I shall give her a name. What do you think of Belle Blanche?”

  Alan furrowed his brow and pursed his lips, giving the question due consideration. “Very nice. She’s beautiful, and she’s certainly white. But remember she’s a Sicilian horse. Maybe she wouldn’t answer to a French name.”

  Joanna was about to argue, but saw his barely repressed grin. She laughed. Still, he had a point. As they set off she considered names, but before long she was too busy trying to keep from being blown out of the saddle by a fierce cold wind that had sprung up. By the time they reached the palace, she was blessing Lady Marian for wrapping her up so thoroughly.

  Once inside the spacious entry hall, they found servants lounging about and gossiping. Those who paid any attention to the visitors looked with curiosity at this strange little mystery and her tall, sword-carrying bodyguard. But when Alan boomed out, “Some attention here to Princess Joanna, if you please!” they sprang into action. A man who appeared to be the house steward, elegantly clad in a purple tunic, ordered a maid to help Joanna remove a few layers. A page was sent running to inform Earl Hamelin of their arrival. Another guided them up a soaring staircase and down a long corridor with a high vaulted ceiling to the earl’s chamber. Here Alan, satisfied that he’d done his duty by the princess for the time being, told her he’d wait for her below in the hall.

  When Joanna entered her uncle’s room she found it in an incredible state of disarray. Garments, boots, bulging sacks, robes, a sword or two were strewn about on the bed, on the floor, in overflowing chests. Amid it all stood the distraught earl, giving orders to his valet and then countermanding them.

  “Oh, Joanna, I’m glad to see you. I apologize for the disorder, but I must have all my effects ready to be taken down to the port by tomorrow morning, and…no, no, Peter! The tunics go in the black chest, not that one. But you’re packing them in far too tightly, they’ll get all wrinkled. Maybe you’d better take them out and put them in the chest over in the corner, it looks bigger.

  “So you see, Joanna, we’re rather at sixes and sevens here. Was there something in particular you wanted to see me about? Did you come to say goodbye? Very kind of you.” He snatched up a white linen shirt from a pile of clothes that Peter had just stacked neatly on the bed, mopped his long worried face and threw the shirt on the floor.

  “Yes, there was something. Why don’t you let Peter get on with it, and we’ll go out and find a quiet spot? You need a rest from all this.” She took his hand. At first he resisted, looking doubtfully at Peter, then to her relief agreed.

  “Very well, perhaps I do need to let it go for a bit. Now Peter, remember what I told you about what goes where, and don’t let them take anything away until I have a chance to make sure everything’s as I want it.”

  Peter nodded but didn’t say anything. He intended to get the boxes and chests filled and fastened and out the door before the earl came back.

  Back the long corridor they walked, to where it gave onto a sunlight-filled gallery overlooking a courtyard on the lower level. Similar galleries, with tall rounded arches supported by slender columns, ran around the upper levels as well. Joanna walked over to the railing, looked up to see the blue Sicilian sky, looked down to the courtyard, an inviting space paved with colorful mosaics and dotted with palms in huge blue pots. She promised herself that she would explore it later.

  The earl sat down on a bench and stretched out his long legs. “This will do, Joanna. I must say it feels good to rest for a bit.”

  She sat beside him.

  “First, uncle, I know King William is sending you with a message for Richard and I’m glad he trusted you with something so important. But besides whatever he told you to say, I want you to tell Richard, from me, that it’s his duty to take care of Lady Beatrice and the child. He ought to be glad he can help them. Richard’s really a good person but sometimes he’s sort of irresponsible. He’s probably forgotten all about Lady Beatrice. Make him see how important this is. And tell him I want him to send word to me, soon, about what he’s going to do for them. He mustn’t put it off.” How she wished she could talk to Richard herself. She only hoped Earl Hamelin would pass on her sense of urgency.

  “I’ll tell him just what you said, Joanna. And I’ll remind him there are political reasons for doing his duty as well. He should remember that Beatrice is high-born and her family could make a lot of trouble for the kingdom if they think their daughter has been tossed aside like Richard’s worn-out plaything.”

  Joanna looked at him admiringly. “I hadn’t thought of that, uncle. How clever of you.”

  The earl struggled with his conscience, then admitted, “Actually that was King William’s idea. He told me to remind Richard that he might be king some day and he can’t afford to make enemies.” After a moment’s hesitation, he went on.

  “May I ask you to do something for me, Joanna? Will you be as kind as you can to Lady Adelaide? She’s rather unhappy, because as you know…I suppose you know…I may have led her to believe…”

  Joanna rescued him from his embarrassment.

  “Of course I will, uncle. And so will Lady Marian. I’ll get Lady Adelaide to go walking with me, and my goodness, with the wedding coming up so soon, there’ll be plenty to keep her busy.”

  “You’re a good girl, Joanna.” The earl rose and patted her on the head. “And when I get to England, I’ll be able to tell your parents that you’re doing very well indeed here. They’ll be pleased to know how you’re adjusting and acting like a proper princess.”

  She looked up at him gratefully. “Thank you, uncle. I’m not always sure whether I’m behaving the way my mother would like. But I think of her all the time. Will you tell her that, and tell her how much I wish she could come visit me?”

  On the way back to the earl’s room, both silent and thinking their own thoughts, they passed a substantial wood door with an elaborate golden lion medallion.

  “Isn’t that lion like the one on the coat of arms of the Sicilian kings?” Joanna asked.

  “Indeed it is. That’s the door to the king’s private study and reception room. Would you like to see it? He’s gone off to inspect his new abbey at Monreale, I understand, so he won’t be back for hours. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

  He opened the door a crack, poked his head inside to make sure the room was empty, then opened the door wider, gesturing to her to follow him. She was surprised. This room wasn’t like any of the other palatial chambers she’d seen. No delicately carved screens, no arabesques or curlicues, no color except dark red tiles on the floor and dark wooden furnishings. These too were restrained: a big table, two chairs, several cabinets against the walls, and that seemed to be it.

  Earl Hamelin walked around the table, pulled out King William’s chair and sat down heavily. He supported his head with one hand. She looked at him with sympathy, thinking of all the changes in his life lately. No wonder the poor man was worn out.

  Before either of them spoke, a door behind the earl slowly and noiselessly opened. A woman slipped in, smiling eagerly. She wore a soft violet gown that clung to every seductive curve of her slender figure. The crimson scarf thrown over her glossy black hair was contained by a gold circlet, worn low on her forehead. Olive-skinned, rosy-lipped, with dark eyes rimmed with kohl, she was, Joanna thought, like a vision escaped from some exotic Eastern land.

  The earl saw Joanna’s look of utter astonishment and turned around.

/>   By then the woman’s smile had faded. She clapped a hand to her mouth and her eyes widened. The other two stared at her, too surprised to say a word.

  The apparition spoke in hesitant, prettily accented French.

  “Oh! I heard someone come in and I thought it was the king. I beg your pardon. I shall leave at once.”

  And she did, as silently and as mysteriously as she had come.

  “Mother of God!” muttered Earl Hamelin.

  “Who on earth…?” said Joanna.

  They looked at each other, the earl uneasy, Joanna perplexed. After a minute he gathered his long limbs together and stood up.

  “Perhaps we should leave.”

  “I suppose we’d better.”

  Chapter 18

  After the earl’s departure King William mapped out a program that would introduce Joanna to two palaces, one cathedral, one abbey under construction and the tutors he had selected to improve her Latin and to give her a grounding in Arabic.

  “First,” he said, “I expect you’re curious about the royal palace. So we’ll start there, this afternoon. That is, if you wish?”

  They were sitting in the Fountain Room of La Zisa after the midday meal. Everyone else had left. The king was leaning back in his chair, taking an occasional sip from his wine goblet. Joanna was finishing a small dish of a light, lemony confection. The stream sparkled and talked to itself. Servants were quietly and deftly removing dishes from the tables. Joanna looked around and decided that there was nowhere she’d rather be. She was beginning to feel easier with William and less intimidated by his occasional reserve and his startling good looks. Today he wasn’t wearing his crown, and his hair fell in soft waves to his shoulders. In his unadorned blue tunic and leggings with a silver mesh belt, he could be any noble who took great care about what he wore.

  But not just any noble would look at her as William looked at her now, with a mixture of attention and affection. As the youngest and least (until John came along) in a large and boisterous family, she’d been used to being ignored. Now for the first time in her life she was being noticed—by a man she hardly knew, yet who she felt would in time be easy to talk to and confide in. Maybe she could even ask him about the mysterious woman. Or maybe he’d bring it up.

  “Is that what you’d wish, Joanna? To tour the palace today?”

  She realized she’d been daydreaming and hadn’t answered his question.

  “Very much. I saw a little of it when I went to visit Earl Hamelin, but I’d like to see more, especially that beautiful courtyard in the center.”

  “Very well, let’s be off.”

  A half-hour later they were walking up the same curving marble staircase she remembered from her previous visit and along the vaulted corridor.

  “We’ll go first to my private study.” He was leading the way and didn’t see her look of dismay. She wondered if he knew she’d been there before. She wondered if she’d pluck up enough courage to ask him about the woman they’d seen.

  When she entered the room, it was almost as though for the first time. She’d barely had time to take it in the other day.

  “Here’s where I spend my happiest hours,” he told her. Besides the big table that she remembered, she now saw the tall cabinets held books and rolled parchments on their shelves. Everything was well ordered and serene. She remembered that he’d told her he wasn’t much of a warrior and that she’d wondered fleetingly what he was, then. Studious, a scholar, apparently. She looked up to see him watching her appraisingly with just the suggestion of a smile.

  “Why so solemn, Joanna?”

  “I’m thinking how different this is from any of the chambers of our palace at Winchester. There’s certainly no quiet, out-of-the-way place there to read or study.”

  “Well, I suppose your father and mother are far too busy to engage in anything so prosaic and solitary as looking at old manuscripts. Fortunately my kingdom is at peace and I can indulge myself. Besides, a little learning about the past has helped me deal with events of the present. Sit down, Joanna, and I’ll show you something beautiful.”

  She sat down in his big chair and swung her feet, which didn’t quite reach the floor. He selected a parchment tied with a red ribbon, carefully unrolled it and spread it on the table. She looked at it, puzzled. He sat beside her.

  “It’s in Arabic, Joanna.”

  Then she saw that the letters were like those of the inscription over the entrance to La Zisa. They were graceful, precisely drawn with flowing strokes, and totally incomprehensible. She sighed and brushed a lock of hair out of her face.

  “William, I’ll never be able to learn Arabic. Brother Jean-Pierre says he isn’t even sure I’ll ever get very good at Latin.”

  “Of course you will. Maybe Brother Jean-Pierre he hasn’t been pushing you hard enough.”

  “Will Sir Walter push me hard?” That was the tutor William had selected for her.

  “Walter of the Mill? Yes, I expect he will. He wasn’t easy on me when he was my tutor.” He saw that Joanna was looking glum. “On the other hand, maybe he’s developed more Christian charity and forgiveness, now that he’s become archbishop of Palermo.”

  “Oh my! An archbishop for a teacher!”

  “It will give you a chance to get to know him before he officiates at our wedding.”

  “Will that be a very grand affair?”

  “Oh yes, I’m afraid so. There hasn’t been a royal wedding in Palermo for years, not since my father brought his bride from Spain. The people are already looking forward to it. They love to celebrate, as you saw the night you arrived.”

  “How old was Queen Margaret when she married your father?”

  “I believe she was fifteen.”

  “Three years older than me.”

  “Yes.” He studied her sober face. “Joanna, I know for a twelve-year-old princess to come to Sicily to marry a man twelve years her senior must be unsettling. I’ve already observed that you’re a wise little thing, and more mature than one might expect. But you must be feeling rather uncertain, wondering what’s ahead for you. Am I right?”

  She nodded. He reached over, took her hand and looked down on it.

  “Such a little, soft hand, and still so white. When you’ve been here a bit longer you’ll be as brown as the rest of us.” He looked up into her eyes. “And you’ll be one of us. That’s my hope, Joanna. That you’ll learn to be a queen my people will love and respect. That's why I'll be taking you not only to churches and monasteries and palaces, but also to the towns and into the countryside. I want you and Sicily to get to know each other thoroughly.”

  She nodded again. It seemed rather daunting, though she did look forward to exploring this exotic island, still so strange to her.

  But there was more. He became very serious.

  “You’ll need to learn the language of the people. You’ll want a little schooling but it will come easily to you because it’s so much like Latin. At the same time, there’ll be Arabic, with Ibn al-Athir. I’d like you to learn as much Arabic as you can so you and I can read it together.”

  He’s beginning to sound like my father when he lays down the law, she thought. She snatched her hand away and looked down.

  “It sounds like a lot of work. Why can’t I just keep on studying with Brother Jean-Pierre?”

  “Much as I admire and respect Jean-Pierre, I fear he’s become more like your friend than your teacher. Let him continue to be your friend and counselor, and yield the teaching duties to someone else. I shouldn’t wonder but what he’ll be relieved.”

  She looked around the room, considering, then at William.

  “I’m just afraid you’re expecting too much of me.”

  “Nonsense, Joanna. I’ve an idea you’ve more aptitude for learning than you realize. Let’s give it a try and see how it goes. And I assure you, I’ll never ask you to do anything you really don’t want to do.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise. And that brings up another su
bject. Along with all your other uncertainties, you must be wondering what happens after our wedding. Has anybody talked to you about that, your mother perhaps?”

  “Yes, she did, a little. She said she hoped you’d wait at least two years before you… before we… before we started living together as man and wife.” She was blushing and not looking at him, stumbling over her words. “And she told me about that too.”

  William smoothed her hand. It was almost a caress and she found it comforting.

  “Good. Of course we’ll wait, until you’re quite ready. There’s no need to hurry. A couple of years will give us time to get to know each other better. In the meantime things will go on much as they are now. I’ll continue to live here and you in La Zisa. I’ll need to go to Italy sometimes, and maybe you’ll want to go with me.”

  Glad of the turn the conversation had taken, she asked eagerly, “Will we go to Naples? When I was there before I was in bed the whole time, except for one visit to the cathedral. All the others kept telling me what a beautiful city it was. I felt very sorry for myself.”

  “Yes, Naples and maybe Rome.”

  “Rome! Will we see the pope?”

  “Of course. He’s the only reason I ever go to Rome. It’s good diplomacy. I want him to think I need his advice about affairs here.”

  “And don’t you?”

  “Sir Matthew and Archbishop Walter manage between them to keep affairs of the kingdom and the church running smoothly without much counsel from the Holy See.”

  He stood. “But enough of this serious talk. Come. Let me show you the chapel where we’re to be married.” He helped her to her feet.

  While he rolled up the scroll and carefully retied the ribbon she looked around this severe room where he said he felt so comfortable. Maybe, she thought, he needs to get away sometimes from the palace and its decoration of every inch. She was beginning to understand how that might be.

  Her eye fell on the door behind William’s chair. As casually as she could, she asked, “Where does that door lead, William? To another corridor?”