by Rachel Bard
As soon as the boy had left, closing the door noiselessly, William resumed his justification of the Cyprus intervention.
“But don’t you see, this so-called emperor is illegitimate. He has no right to rule Cyprus. No one’s crowned him, except a pseudo-patriarch he created himself. But worse than that, he’s ravaged and impoverished the whole island. He’s plundered the rich and sent them into the streets and then raped their wives.”
“So you plan to send an army to defeat him, then you’ll declare yourself emperor in his place?”
“Of course not.” He poured them each a glass of wine. “Only the pope could confer such a title, and I wouldn’t want to waste whatever goodwill Pope Gregory feels toward me on such an unnecessary request. But if we rid the Cypriots of this impossible Isaac, we could establish some of our own people there to maintain order and govern with justice.”
He scooped up a handful of nuts and munched. She sipped her wine and waited, trying to look noncommittal. He resumed.
“And then, my dear, Sicily would have a huge advantage in whatever Mediterranean conflict comes next. Whoever controls Cyprus controls the most strategic steppingstone to both Byzantium and the Holy Land.”
“So you think there’ll be more trouble in the East?”
“There may well be. Constantinople seems calm for the time being, but in Palestine the Christians are barely hanging on by their fingernails. Saladin’s gathering more troops and making more forays all the time in the direction of Jerusalem. We, not to mention the rest of Europe, may be called on to drive him out.”
Joanna decided to change the subject. She’d learned how hard it was to argue with William when he’d decided on a course of action.
“God grant it doesn’t come to that. Now William, you are pleased that I’m studying Arabic, aren’t you? Doctor Ibn Hakim has been so helpful. He’s tutoring me in writing the script too, though I’m only stumbling now.”
“I’m not only pleased, I’m proud of you. I myself have never gotten very skilled at the writing. Maybe you’ll show me up.”
She laughed. “Insha’Allah!”
He stretched, leaned back and said lazily, “So good to be here again with you, my love.”
He sat up suddenly. “But I’m almost forgetting! A few days before I started home I came across the archbishop of Messina at the cathedral. He’d recently come back from Milan where he’d helped officiate at Constance’s wedding.”
“Oh, do tell me what he said! How did she seem? What was her wedding gown like? What did he think of her new husband, King Henry?”
“I’m afraid he hadn’t much to report on such matters. I should have thought to ask him. He did say there were many dignitaries in attendance, though not Henry’s father, the emperor. But at the banquet after the ceremony he had occasion to talk to Constance. He told her he’d soon be returning to Sicily and she begged him to deliver a message to us if he possibly could. It wasn’t much—just that she asked to be remembered to both of us, that she was very well, and that she’d soon be on her way to Germany.”
Joanna sighed. “That’s all?”
He wrinkled his brow, thinking. “Ah, now I remember. She also asked him to tell you that she’d write as soon as she’s settled.”
“I’ll look forward to that, then.”
After a knock, Mary came in. “They’ll be serving dinner soon, my lord King and my lady Queen. I’ve just come from the kitchen. The cook has been preparing roast suckling pig and some more of the king’s favorites and he’ll be in a state if he can’t serve promptly.”
Mary had never quite learned how or why she should curb her natural good cheer and chattiness when talking to her betters. William found this lack of servility refreshing. He smiled.
“Thank you, Mary. We promise to be there in good time, and you may reassure the cook. Have you perchance heard him drop a hint as to what else he’s cooking? I haven’t had a decent meal in weeks.”
“I believe there’ll be roast pheasant and onion tart.”
William’s eyebrows shot up in anticipation.
“And octopus, the little ones, stewed in wine with fennel and thyme.”
“Better and better,” said the king.
“Worse and worse,” said the queen, who’d never learned to abide octopus. “Oh well. Mary, will you please stay and help me with my hair while the king goes to change?”
While Mary was brushing out her hair, finding the silver-embroidered green stole, and giving the silver tiara a quick polish, it occurred to Joanna that she’d never gotten around to telling William her news—what she and Brother Jean-Pierre had been doing for the poor, and where Federico had come from.
But perhaps it was just as well. She was uneasy about his reaction to her going into the poorer parts of the city, as she’d done more than once since her first venture. It might be wise to wait to tell him when he was in a mood to be cajoled. Tonight, when they retired. She smiled to herself in anticipation.
Chapter 38
In October 1187 Jerusalem fell to Saladin, the dread sultan of Egypt and Syria, whose unshakable purpose was the unification of the Islamic world.
For eighty-nine years the Kingdom of Jerusalem had been under the control of European Christians. At its peak it embraced most of Palestine and the Syrian coast, including proud cities like Antioch, Tyre, Tripoli and Beirut. But fractures broke out in the Christian ranks. Saladin was quick to take advantage of the weakened condition of his squabbling enemies. After a victorious sweep through southern Palestine, Jerusalem was his.
When the shocking news reached Europe, Pope Gregory at once sent out a call for a Crusade, while reminding his Christian flock that though the enemy was sinful, so were they.
“The goal of those who profane the holy places is nothing short of sweeping away the name of God from the earth… But we should first amend in ourselves what we have done wrong and then turn our attention to the treachery and malice of the enemy.”
He went on to promise that once they had truly repented their misdeeds and vowed to undertake the perilous journey to the Holy Land, they would be granted indulgence for their sins and promised eternal life.
When King William heard of the fall of Jerusalem, he was so overcome that he retired to his private chapel to pray, reflect and repent. William was a truly pious man. But his piety was so closely intertwined with his zeal to right all wrongs against Christians that it was hard to tell where the one stopped and the other began. After a day of prayer and repentance he began planning Sicily’s response to the pope’s call. It would be on a massive scale. The expedition to Cyprus was cast aside.
Maybe he’d join the Crusade in person! The pope’s promise that those who took part would be forgiven their sins was a powerful incentive. If he did go it would be the first time he'd taken an active role in a war. But why not? It would impress his people. He’d sometimes worried that they respected him less because he never went into battle. But he hadn’t been brought up as a soldier, nor had his father before him. He preferred to rely on diplomacy and, when that didn’t work, to plan the campaign, set up chains of command and dispatch the forces. The fact that few of his campaigns had succeeded only spurred him to keep trying.
Whenever he’d had doubts about whether he should go or stay, Joanna urged the latter. “It’s very important for your people to have their king nearby and visible. It maintains their faith in the strength of the monarchy and keeps the nobles and bishops from getting wild ideas about usurping power.”
On the day after emerging from his retreat he came to her chamber shortly before dinner, intending to discuss his plans with her, though not the notion that he might go himself. He was prepared for her objections and looked forward to rebutting them. Usually this only strengthened his determination to do what he’d planned to do in the first place.
But this time Joanna was fully supportive of the ambitious scheme. She too had been deeply moved by the fall of Jerusalem. The loss of the most holy place in Christendom t
o unbelievers was unthinkable.
“Of course we must fight to get the Holy City back!” she said when he told her what he meant to do. “That wicked Saladin!”
She was standing so Mary could finish dressing her for dinner. William watched as Mary tied a sash around her mistress’s slender waist and fastened the clasp of the pearl necklace William had given Joanna on her sixteenth birthday. The pearls seemed to glow from within, and the necklace’s curve fell just above the rounded neckline of her gown. After Mary carefully placed the queen’s pearl-studded tiara on her head, she stood back in admiration. “What do you think, King William? Is she presentable?”
Joanna, still caught up in her enthusiasm for the Crusade, was glowing—rosy-cheeked, eyes shining, her whole being a bundle of suppressed emotion.
“Not just presentable—more beautiful every day.” He kissed Joanna on the ear. “And you, my dear Mary, are more invaluable every day, finding new ways to improve on perfection.”
Mary flushed with embarrassment. William didn’t often bother to express his gratitude. She managed, “Thank you, my lord King,” and was rescued when a piping voice was heard from the open door. “Word has been sent that dinner will be served in five minutes, my lord and lady.”
“Yes, we’re on our way, Federico,” Joanna called.
“But first, my love,” said William, “let me tell you what I intend to do. I shall send Admiral Margaritus at once to take as many ships and men as we can muster to defend the ports of the Holy Land. When Saladin tries to take those ports and control the coast, as he undoubtedly will, we’ll be ready for him.”
“Excellent! Such forethought. And the sooner the better.”
He took her arm and they stepped into the corridor. “Yes, the sooner the better. I’ll talk this over with my council after dinner today, so we can begin planning.”
As they made their way along the corridor, a small procession of courtiers fell in behind them.
William took up his remarks where he’d left off. “And then I’ll write to all the kings and princes in Europe and urge them to join me in organizing a mighty army to regain Jerusalem.”
She stopped so suddenly that those walking behind them nearly crashed into the royal couple. Joanna tightened her hold on William’s arm and looked at him eagerly.
“Does that mean you’ll write to my father and to Richard? I know my father will support the Crusade. He vowed years ago to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land before he died. Now that he’s so much older, he may not be up to it, but he’ll see that England sends an army. And I’m sure Richard will answer you. It’s just his kind of adventure.”
The stroll toward dinner resumed.
After the meal, William convened his inner council. They met in his study rather than in the more splendid setting of King Roger’s throne room. Besides William and Joanna, only four were present: the archbishop, Walter; the chancellor, Matthew of Ajello; the vice-chancellor, Count Florian; and the king’s new secretary, Umberto. The last was a mild-mannered man so retiring that one could almost forget he was in the room. But he paid attention to who said what and carefully wrote it all down.
Replete from dinner, the council might have preferred a siesta to this meeting. William’s study was illuminated only by two candelabra in corners and a single tall candle on the long polished table. The chairs were straight-backed and hard. “At least in King Roger’s throne room we’d have something soft to sit on and something bright to look at and keep us awake,” Sir Matthew grumbled to the archbishop. The aging chancellor suffered from gout. He grimaced and rubbed his throbbing leg. Umberto noticed, brought a padded stool from a corner and gently lifted the leg to rest on it. Sir Matthew was so surprised that instead of acknowledging the aid with his normal noncommittal grunt, he said, clearly enough for all to hear, “Thank you, Umberto.”
William, with Joanna at his side, sat behind the table, the others in front. He rose and his first words roused the group from any tendency to nod off.
“My lady Queen and gentlemen, we are about to launch the most difficult and ultimately the most rewarding endeavor in our kingdom’s history.” William’s tone was solemn, but his manner betrayed his excitement. He brushed a hand repeatedly through his hair until it rose to the occasion, tousled and disheveled. His words almost fell over each other in his enthusiasm.
“As you know by now, Pope Gregory has sent out a call to all Christian men to join in a Holy Crusade to free Jerusalem from the infidels. We have already sent word to him, expressing our intention that Sicily shall be in the forefront of those responding to the call and promising our diligent efforts to rally our fellow monarchs to join us. I shall send messengers to England, France and Germany to this effect. I welcome your counsel.”
For a half-minute no counsel was forthcoming.
“A difficult endeavor indeed, but as you say, with the potential for great rewards.” Archbishop Walter felt it was safe to commit himself to this extent.
Count Florian was more constructive: “Before we discuss the messages to your fellow monarchs, we should perhaps come to a rough estimate of what Sicily is prepared to provide in manpower and ships. The more substantial our commitment, the more likely they’ll be to be generous in theirs.”
“True,” said William. “And tomorrow you, Sir Matthew and I will meet to plan the extent of what we can muster.”
“And who will be in command of the expedition?” asked Sir Matthew. “I should think Tancred of Lecce would be the man.” He sent a venomous glance toward the archbishop, who returned it in kind. Neither had forgotten their bitter disagreement over whom William should name as his heir, Tancred or Constance.
“Yes, Tancred would be my first choice to lead the ground forces,” said William.
Sir Matthew concurred with a gruff “Very wise.”
“I believe Tancred will shortly return from Apulia,” William went on. “I shall send him a message at once. Will you begin composing the message, Umberto?” The secretary nodded, having just made a note to do so.
William then explained his intention to send Admiral Margaritus to patrol the coast of Palestine, even before any crusading armies were on the move.
“And I’m happy to tell you that this plan has my queen’s enthusiastic approval. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she asked if she could go too, perhaps as vice-admiral.” He looked at her with an affectionate smile and she replied, “Oh no, I wouldn’t aim so high. Maybe as cook. Though I’d have to learn to cook first, wouldn’t I?”
The others, unsure if they were meant to be amused, decided to laugh, though uneasily.
“It’s not such an outlandish idea,” said Joanna. “You may not know it, but my mother went on the First Crusade, while she was married to King Louis.”
“Yes, so I’ve heard,” said the archbishop. “And she came home unscathed.” In person if not in reputation, he thought to himself. The tales of how the beautiful young queen and her ladies had comported themselves had scandalized Europe, forty years ago. “But my lady Queen, I’m sure you’d be of much greater service if you stayed home and represented the king during his absence.”
“My opinion as well,” said William.
“May I bring up another matter, my lord?” asked Count Florian. “It’s none too soon to discuss the routes of the various armies and navies. This will be an enormous force, and it will be important for all the armies to meet and coordinate their plans so they can launch a concerted attack when the time comes. I’d suggest Brindisi as a logical meeting place.”
“I agree,” said Archbishop Walter. “It’s on the east coast of Italy, and the voyage from there to Palestine would be direct. It’s not too far from Rome. The Holy Father could come to bless the troops before they sail.”
“On the other hand,” said Sir Matthew, “Durazzo or Thessalonika would be even closer to the Holy Land, and I believe would offer much more space for the troops to set up their encampments than Brindisi. ”
“Ah,” said the arch
bishop. “Yes, perhaps. Though we’d need to be sure of the cooperation of Emperor Isaac in Constantinople. He still controls all that coastline. And not long ago he was our enemy. ”
William pursed his lips and considered. Umberto sat with his pen raised above his inkwell. Joanna spoke.
“May I make a suggestion? Wouldn’t the best launching point be Messina in our own Sicily? For the English and French at least, it would be far easier to sail here than to take the long overland journey to the eastern ports. Especially if they come soon rather than wait until winter when the seas can be so rough and dangerous. As I well remember.”
“And so do I,” said Count Florian. “I believe that’s a sound suggestion. Not only does it make sense logistically, but think of the honor it would bring to Sicily and to our king.” He turned to William. “My lord, it would establish you as the leader of the Crusade.”
”So it would,” said Sir Matthew, surprising all by his ready acceptance of an idea that wasn’t his own. “Not to mention the wealth it would bring into the country. Think of what we could make, supplying thousands of troops, building and outfitting ships, providing the stores to go into the ships’ holds.”
Even the archbishop gave grudging approval. After some discussion, it was agreed that King William would write at once to King Henry and Prince Richard of England; King Philip of France; Emperor Frederick and Prince Henry of Germany, urging them to join him in a Holy Crusade, suggesting Sicily as the staging area, and promising to send information soon as to what Sicily was prepared to offer in troops and ships while they considered their own contributions.
Finally he thanked them all for their wise and helpful counsel. “In particular I must acknowledge the valuable participation of Queen Joanna, who has shown again today how dear to her heart are the interests of Sicily.”