by Rachel Bard
“I believe you've heard from your brother, King Richard. I too have heard from him, requesting that I permit you to leave Palermo for Messina, and that I provide transport. Can you tell me what message he sent to you?”
Sibylla tapped Tancred on the arm.
“Oh yes, May I present my wife, Queen Sibylla.”
Joanna managed a smile. “I'm very pleased to meet you. I hope that...”
Tancred interrupted.
“And what did Richard tell you?”
“That I'm to join him in Messina.”
“And that was all?”
“No, he plans to talk to you about my marriage agreement with King William. You are to give me my dower and the inheritance due me, as I have twice requested from you.”
His thick lips curled in contempt. But he must have been expecting the request because his sneering reply came at once.
“You will receive what is due you. And galleys will be ready for you in three days.”
He gestured to Sibylla and was turning to leave when Joanna stepped down from the throne to stand between him and the door.
“One more thing, if you please.” She forced herself to speak firmly, but she was trembling with anger. “Will you see that there are suitable quarters in the galleys for Brother Jean-Pierre, my companions Lady Marian and Lady Mary, my maid Emilia, my page Federico, Sir Alan, two palace knights, my cook and several more maids and servitors?”
Ha! That stopped him in his tracks, she thought when she saw his surprise at this assertiveness. Sibylla was sidling toward the door, looking worried.
He recovered quickly. “Certainly, as you wish, with the exception of Brother Jean-Pierre. He will remain in his post as tutor to my sons.”
“Sir Tancred, Brother Jean-Pierre came to Sicily with me at my mother's instructions. She'll expect him to return with me. He serves Eleanor of Aquitaine, not Tancred of Lecce.” She walked out of the room before he could reply.
Three days later, as scheduled, a fleet of four galleys sailed out of the harbor.
Federico, who'd never dreamed he'd go to sea, was hopping with excitement. As the ship was rowed out of the harbor to catch the easterly wind that would fill the sails and carry them to Messina, he stood on deck, entranced by the waves that curled from the prow as it sliced through the water, the smooth strokes of the oarsmen, the view of Palermo growing tiny behind them. He was probably the only one in the party who was unconditionally happy.
Joanna stood beside him but she couldn't share his joy. She was worried about her future. She was anguished at leaving Palermo, perhaps for the last time. Most immediately, she was fearful that she might suffer from seasickness. But as time passed and she adjusted to the gentle roll of the ship with no discomfort, she began to enjoy the experience as much as Federico. The sky was a limitless expanse of azure blue, melting at the horizon into the deeper blue of the sea. A procession of innocent white clouds moved across the sky low in the south—like a flock of obedient sheep, Joanna thought.
“Are you thinking back to when we sailed along this coast in the opposite direction, my lady, all those years ago?”
Lady Marian had come on deck to stand beside her, leaning on her cane and holding fast to the rail.
“No, if I was thinking at all, it was about what happens next. Do you suppose Richard has sent word to my mother that I'll be coming back?” Her thoughts raced ahead to the meeting with Richard. Would he have changed much? Surely not—her brother would be as handsome and imposing as ever, even though fifteen years had passed since she'd seen him.
The wind was freshening. The captain signaled to the oarsmen to ship their oars and ordered the crew to raise the sail. Now they sped even faster. When the ship rose to meet an unusually large wave, then plunged down the other side, Federico squealed with delight. But Lady Marian staggered and clutched at Joanna's arm.
“Federico, will you come stand on Lady Marian's right and be ready to help her if she needs it?”
“I shall, with pleasure.” He ran to take his place, proud of the responsibility. Lady Marian laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “Well spoken and well obeyed. Federico, I'd say you're on the way to becoming a true knight, always ready to help a lady in distress.”
Joanna looked at them both with affection. Lady Marian had aged greatly since she'd entered Joanna's service. Her brown hair was now gray and her face had acquired an intricate network of wrinkles. Her knees gave her constant trouble and walking was painful. But she was as doughty, as sensible and as loyal as ever. She must be sixty, Joanna thought. How fortunate I've been to have her at my side all this time!
And Federico—dear Federico. It amazed her how he'd grown in only two years. He'd soon be as tall as she was. His face was no longer that of a plump-cheeked child. She thought she saw glimmers of the handsome, self-confident young man he would become.
And of course I've changed too, she mused. When I look in the mirror I sometimes wonder who that woman is. Often there's a serious, worried look in her eyes. Other days she's serene, even happy. On the whole, not bad for a woman of twenty-five. No wrinkles or double chins yet, and her hair's still brown as ever. And it shines, thanks to Mary's brushing. If Mary comes on deck, she’ll probably let me know how displeased she is that I took off my cap. But I love to feel the wind in my hair.
Mary came on deck. “My lady! Where is your cap?”
Before Joanna could reply they were joined by Brother Jean-Pierre and Sir Alan, who had been talking to the captain.
“The captain respectfully requests that the passengers move to the leeward side to keep the ship on an even keel. The wind is shifting to the south.”
“Why Sir Alan, you talk like an old sailor,” said Lady Marian. “But I believe I've had enough of this bracing sea air and I'll go below. Will you help me down the steps, Federico?”
The others reassembled at the rail on the other side. Joanna was still in a reflective mood. “I wonder who we'll find at Messina. Richard, of course, and all his army. And King Philip. I know so little about him, except that he was my father's enemy for years, and Richard wrote that he was making difficulties.”
“He may still be dealing with the loss of his wife,” said Jean-Pierre. “It was a tragic affair. She bore twin sons but they died soon after birth. And she succumbed too.”
Joanna was touched. So like my own sad story, she thought. Yet the queen of France died, while I live on. Why?
“The poor lady,” said Mary. For a few minutes they all pursued their own thoughts. Mary looked forward to Messina, where she'd never been. She hadn't had much time or opportunity for romance in Palermo, and she daydreamed of finding a bold Crusader who would throw himself at her feet and declare his undying love. It's not so outlandish, she thought. I've kept my looks in spite of reaching twenty-four. To be sure, she might not accept his undying love. But it would be nice to be asked.
Jean-Pierre was thinking about Jerusalem.
He'd always dreamed of making a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Now, perhaps, it could happen, if Richard would let him accompany the Crusaders. Yet did he owe it to Joanna to stay with her? Surely not; she was a capable, self-possessed woman and besides, the indomitable Eleanor would take charge of her daughter's life, probably find her a new husband. But perhaps Eleanor would have some new endeavor she wished him, Jean-Pierre, to undertake? I think, he said to himself, I would be well advised to stay with Richard.
Sir Alan had some of the same qualms. He greatly looked forward to seeing King Richard again, under whose leadership he'd fought long ago in Aquitaine. He hoped against hope that Richard would ask him to join the Crusade. In spite of his fifty-one years he felt as able to wield a sword as at twenty. Yet his loyalty to Joanna weighed against deserting her. She might need a strong arm after Richard left.
The sun was sinking below the mountains to the southwest. Palermo had disappeared long ago. Joanna suddenly felt tired—tired of standing so long and bracing herself against the unpredictable lurching of th
e vessel, tired of fruitless conjecture about the future.
“I think I shall go below,” she said.
Federico reappeared. “My lady, the cook asks me to tell you that he has prepared dinner, and if you want a hot meal you had better hurry because he has no proper stoves or ovens to keep things warm, only puny little braziers.”
In the other galleys, the knights and servants in the party had also been discussing what lay ahead. They were understandably perturbed at being uprooted from their familiar surroundings for who knew what fate. But they'd seldom been masters of their own destinies and waited philosophically to see what would happen.
On the fourth day they sailed into the harbor at Messina. Now all were on deck, straining their eyes to make out what lay before them. There was the lighthouse; there was the Crusaders' camp stretched along the shore, with campfires already alight and sending columns of blue smoke skyward in the quiet evening air. There was the pier, fast approaching.
And there was Richard on the pier, raising a hand in greeting. To Joanna he looked as she remembered him, with his shock of red-gold hair and stalwart figure—perhaps just a little stouter.
The oarsmen brought the galley smoothly to rest against the pier. Sir Alan handed Joanna down to Richard's outstretched arms. “My little sister!” he cried. He lifted her up in the air and laughed. “Maybe not so little now as when we were last together, but see, I can still hoist you, just as I used to.” She hugged him and he set her down. She hugged him again. “Richard, I am so very, very glad to see you!”
She noticed a man standing near them who seemed to be waiting to be introduced. She straightened her cap and smoothed down her skirt. This must be King Philip. He didn't look like a troublemaker, in fact he looked quite pleasant, though shorter and darker and far less handsome than Richard. Richard said, “Joanna, this is King Philip Augustus of France, whom I don't believe you've met.” Philip smiled and bowed over her hand.
She smiled in return. “I've looked forward to meeting you. If you are a friend of Richard's, you are a friend of mine.”
“At the moment,” said Richard, “we are friends. But who knows what the morrow will bring?” He grinned at them both to show he wasn't in earnest, but Joanna wasn't sure.
“In any case,” said Philip diplomatically, “I am pleased to make the acquaintance of such a fair lady. Richard has sung your praises incessantly. I see now he had reason.”
She blushed slightly and turned to Richard. “Brother, we are all so weary and in need of a proper meal. Where do you propose to lodge us? Not in your camp, I hope.”
“No indeed, quarters have been prepared for you and your party in the palace. The cooks and servants have been instructed to see to all your needs.” He signaled to a groom who was waiting nearby. “Please bring the horses.” He hugged Joanna again and kissed her on the cheek. “We'll talk more tomorrow, little sister. Now get your rest. And welcome to Messina.”
As Joanna rode up the palm-lined avenue Philip appeared at her side.
“I too am lodged in the palace, though in the other wing, far from yours. But if you have any questions or requirements, I hope you will send word to me.” He rode on.
Hours later, when Joanna had bathed, dined and gone to bed, she expected to lie awake as usual, a prey to grief and anxiety. But the reunion with Richard had cheered her enormously. She sighed luxuriously. Just before falling asleep, she remembered how gallant King Philip had been. It was a long time since any man had admired her openly, and said so.
Chapter 43
“Griffons?” said Joanna. “Griffons are fighting with your soldiers, Richard?”
“Yes, that's what our men call the Greeks.”
“Oh, you mean the local people, the ones who follow the Greek Orthodox faith. But they're all Christians—both your English and the Griffons. Why can't they get along?”
He sighed, stretched out his legs, leaned his head against the back of the bench and closed his eyes, letting the breeze cool his face and ruffle his hair. They were in the courtyard of the palace in Messina. Joanna had been there two weeks, but only now had Richard found time to come see her for a proper visit.
He looks tired, she thought. And no wonder. Managing a huge endeavor like the Crusade, with his thousands of troops on the loose, without enough to do. There were a few creases in his forehead she hadn't seen before. She signaled to the palace servant who was on duty to bring refreshments.
Richard opened his eyes and sat up straight.
“Why do they fight? God knows. I suppose the Greeks have some grounds for complaint. Our men lord it over them and chase after their women. And then there's the cost of bread, gone sky-high with so many extra mouths to feed. So the Greeks take their anger out on our English.”
“Dear me. What a pity you can't just sail off to Palestine and leave all this behind you. Why can't you, Richard?”
“How I wish we could. But we can't, for three reasons.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “First, we're still waiting for more ships and troops from England. Second, about half the ships your husband pledged for the Crusade aren't ready. Apparently, after William died there was nobody to keep pushing the shipbuilders to finish them.”
“That doesn't surprise me. Tancred lost all interest in the Crusade as soon as he put on the crown.”
Two servants arrived, set up a small table before Joanna and placed on it a flagon of white wine, crystal goblets and a platter of tiny honey cakes dusted with cinnamon. They poured the wine. Richard watched them out of sight and then erupted.
“And number three, and most maddening of all, there's Philip.” He gulped half his wine quickly and set the goblet down with such a thump that wine splashed onto the table. Joanna remembered how quickly he used to fly into a rage. Apparently he still could.
“What about Philip? I've been wondering about him. We haven’t seen him since that first day. I thought perhaps he'd left.”
“No such luck. He's still here, raising one difficulty after another. Right now he's threatening to back out of the Crusade unless I marry his sister Alice.” An angry red suffused his whole face. He drained his goblet.
“Alice!” exclaimed Joanna. “Yes, our parents arranged that marriage when the two of you were still children, didn't they? I hadn't thought of her in years. I’d supposed it was long forgotten. I remember she came to stay at the palace in Winchester when I was only five or so. She was a pretty girl but a lot older so we didn't get very well acquainted.”
“I suppose she was pretty then. Pretty enough to catch King Henry's eye anyway. And simple enough to yield to him. Which resulted in a child, of course.”
She drew in her breath. “Our father?”
“The same. And now Philip expects me to keep that old agreement and marry my father’s trollop.” He popped one of the little cakes in his mouth and chewed. “Hmm. Nuts. Excellent.” He took two more. “This all happened after you left, so you wouldn't have heard about it. Everybody tried to hush it up.”
“Our poor mother.” She remembered Lady Marian's guarded revelations of her father's infidelities, but she'd never mentioned anything as close to home as this.
“Indeed. She had a lot to put up with. And I'm happy to say that no matter how she's pushing me to get married, she's never once urged me to marry Alice.” He laughed, but without much humor. “Well, sister, enough of that. I didn't come today to reminisce about the good old days.” He filled both their goblets. “Let's drink to the future!”
“Gladly, though mine looks uncertain. Will it be England? France? Stay in Sicily and try to keep out of Tancred’s view? What do you think, Richard?”
“As to Tancred, I’ll take care of him. As soon as I have the time, we’ll parley and I’ll make sure he fulfils William’s marriage agreement with you and doesn’t meddle with your life.”
“Thank you! That’s been so much on my mind. When it’s settled, I believe I’ll pay a visit to our mother while I decide what to do next. I’ll send word to her that
I'll be ready to leave as soon as she tells me whether to go to Winchester or to her palace in Poitiers.”
“Very good plan. She’ll be glad to see you. And when you go I'll see that you have a guard of half a dozen knights. Not Sir Alan, I'm afraid. He has most eloquently argued that he deserves to join the Crusade, and I've agreed.”
He signaled for more wine, dispatched the last honey cake, and continued.
“However, it's the immediate future that’s on my mind. You may not like this, but I think for your own safety you will have to leave Messina for a few weeks. The disputes between the Greeks and the Crusaders are getting ugly here and may get worse. I'm afraid I'll have to take the army into the city and restore order. You and your people will be much better off well away from the scene.”
To Joanna this seemed unkind, just when she and her party had gotten nicely settled in such a lovely, luxurious palace. But she wasn't going to argue with Richard. If it weren't for him she'd still be imprisoned in Palermo. Besides, all her life she'd trusted his judgment. If he said they'd be in danger here, so be it.
“All right, if you think that's best. Where will we go, and when?”
“You'll be lodged in a monastery up in the hills at Bagnara, just across the strait in Italy. I've sent men to look it over and see if it's suitable, and to persuade the monks to accept you and your people as their guests for a few weeks. A purse of gold persuaded them very quickly.”
“That seems hard, to go so far. Aren't there safe refuges here in Sicily?”
“With all the unrest and ill feeling, I wouldn't vouch for your security anywhere on the island. Trust me, Joanna, this is for the best.” He stood up, and she rose to embrace him.
“Thank you, Richard. It's good to have my big brother looking after me. I've felt so alone ever since...” She was suddenly overcome. She buried her face in his shoulder.
He patted her head. “I understand. Of course you miss William. I wish I'd known him, he must have been a fine man. And I'm sure he'd agree that sending you across the strait is the wisest course.”