by Rachel Bard
Chapter 46
The prospect of going with the Crusaders to the Holy Land gave Joanna much to think about.
First there’d be the long sea voyage. What if she got seasick again? She’d never forgotten the extremely unpleasant journey from France to Italy.
Then they’d arrive in an unknown land. She thought of Palestine as one enormous battleground. Would they have to travel with the army? Would they live in tents? But surely Richard would lodge them somewhere safe, away from the fighting
Finally, there was the unknown quantity, Berengaria, her future sister-in-law. They’d be in constant, close contact. What if they didn’t take to each other? What if they couldn’t converse? What language did the Basques speak, anyway?
If only she could get Richard’s attention and ask him some of these questions. But he was far too busy.
The more she thought about it, the less she wanted to go. She’d begun to look forward to returning to England and then to France, to the familiarity and comfort of her mother’s palace in Poitiers where she’d spent so many happy childhood days. Everybody assumed she’d remarry. She knew better than to expect another William. That chapter was closed. Yet she might find someone she could respect and care for, with whom she could embark on a new life. If her mother presented a suitor who was such a man, who knows?
But her mother had decreed that she was to go to Palestine.
She asked Lady Marian if she thought it possible her mother could be talked out of the idea.
“Probably not,” said Lady Marian, not looking up from her embroidery, which had reached a critical stage. “Probably a waste of time.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” She sighed. “I suppose I shall just have to get used to the idea.” But as she stood there brooding, she began to feel anger and resentment instead of resignation. She stamped her foot.
“She treats me as though I were still the obedient eleven-year-old she sent off to marry a stranger for the greater good of England. But I’m twenty-six now. Old enough to have some say about my own life!”
Lady Marian carefully snipped a thread with her tiny silver scissors and looked up at the fuming Joanna.
“If you feel so strongly, my dear, perhaps you had better take it up with Queen Eleanor after all.”
Joanna decided she would do just that.
Shortly word came that Eleanor had left Reggio, just across the strait in Italy. Joanna pushed aside her misgivings as she realized how keenly she looked forward to seeing her mother after fifteen years. She gave instructions to be informed the moment the queen’s galley entered the harbor so she could be at the pier to meet her.
Word had spread throughout the city that the queen of England was coming. The citizens were almost as excited as Joanna.
Imagine—the renowned, the redoubtable Eleanor of Aquitaine coming to Sicily! The crowds who turned out to watch were nearly as numerous as those who had greeted her son King Richard, five months before. When the galley rounded the point of the hook where the lighthouse stood, they could see the same fluttering royal banners that had flown from Richard’s vessels, and the populace broke into cheers. But there was no trumpet peal, no regal, gorgeously clad figure standing on the deck, no glitter of spears and shields. Neighbor turned to neighbor and said, “Maybe it isn’t the queen’s galley after all.”
Only when the ship glided toward the long stone pier did the illustrious passenger appear from below. Those closest to the shore could see that this was a queen indeed: her crimson cloak, edged with white miniver, fell in stately folds to the deck. A dazzlingly white wimple covered her hair and was fastened at her throat with a ruby brooch. Her jewel-studded crown of state glowed and scintillated in the rays of the afternoon sun. She stood immobile as a statue, surveying the crowds and receiving their cheers in unsmiling dignity.
Joanna and Richard watched as the galley approached its mooring. Joanna was transported back to her childhood, when she and her baby brother John would be taken by their nurse to Winchester Cathedral on important holy days. She’d watched with awe while her parents in full royal regalia paced solemnly down the aisle after high mass, looking neither left nor right, their expressions magnanimous yet aloof, the personification of majesty.
“Just look at her, Richard! I may be a queen, but I shall never be able to act the part as Queen Eleanor does.”
“I doubt if anybody ever will. Our mother has made it her life work.” He stepped forward quickly to help Eleanor down from the galley. She embraced them both and presented her cheek, as cool and white as ivory, to be kissed. Eleanor had never been one for overt displays of affection, but these were her two best-loved children, and she was clearly pleased to see them. For a few minutes there was a flurry of claims and disclaimers.
Joanna to Eleanor, “You haven’t changed a bit!”
Eleanor to Joanna, “Oh yes I have, look closer and you’ll see the wrinkles. Whereas you, my dear, are now a fine-looking young woman, not the gawky child I sent off to Sicily.”
Richard to Eleanor, “You seem to have withstood the voyage with no damage. And have you noticed how the people love you?”
Eleanor to Richard, “In my experience, any head that wears a crown is sure to receive a certain amount of foolish adulation. But Richard, you appear a good deal more substantial than I remember you. Are you eating too many Sicilian puddings?”
In the midst of this banter Joanna noticed a silent figure in a hooded traveling cloak standing behind Queen Eleanor. She was listening intently to the give-and-take.
“Mother!” cried Joanna. “You haven’t introduced us to your companion.” She took the stranger’s hand and drew her into the circle. “You are Princess Berengaria, of course. I’m Joanna, Richard’s sister. Welcome to Sicily!”
“Thank you. You’re very kind, and I’m glad to be here at last,” said Berengaria. Her French was flawless. She let down her hood to reveal an abundance of softly waving hazel-brown hair. She looks about my age, thought Joanna. And what a nice face. Intelligent, alert, with a calm, steady gaze from her green eyes.
“And this is my brother Richard.”
Berengaria smiled uncertainly up at him. Richard smiled back, the radiant smile that made whoever received it believe he was the most important person in Richard’s life.
“I believe we’ve met before, Princess. But you may not remember. You were very young.”
“Oh, but I do remember! I think I was about six. You came to Pamplona and you fought my brother Sancho in a tournament. And you knocked him right out of his saddle.”
“Indeed I did, and you were cross. You scolded me for being so rough with him.”
“Oh dear, did I? Well, it was the first tournament I’d ever seen. I didn’t realize it was just a game.” Joanna, who had been watching, was pleased to see them laughing like old friends.
“I didn’t think you’d remember me,” Berengaria went on. “You were so much older—you must have been fifteen—and you were so tall and handsome, and I was such a child. But you were kind to me, just the way my brother always was.”
“And now,” said Richard, “we meet again. Who would have thought that cross little six-year-old would grow up to be this beautiful woman?”
He tipped up her chin and regarded her quizzically. Suddenly he leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips.
“I for one look forward to getting better acquainted,” he murmured.
Joanna could read in Berengaria’s face her amazement and joy. Later, she realized she’d been a witness to the exact moment when Berengaria fell in love.
But Joanna knew her brother very well, his faults as well as his virtues. She knew how ephemeral his affections could be and how he dreaded the thought of marriage. She remembered Beatrice. She felt uneasy for Berengaria. Was this Richard the seducer, or Richard the prospective bridegroom?
At that moment Eleanor seized Richard’s elbow.
“Richard, don’t keep us standing here. I suppose we’re to lodge in the royal
palace?”
She had finished assembling her three ladies, whom Sir Alan had gallantly helped down from the ship. The ladies and their maids were huddled on the pier with their bags and chests heaped nearby.
“Indeed you are, mother, and the horses are waiting. I will be happy to escort you.” He looked dubiously at the mountain of baggage. “Though we may need to send for another half-dozen mules to carry all that gear! Come now lads, let’s get the ladies aboard their steeds.”
Several soldiers who had been waiting for orders sprang into action and shortly the whole party had been helped into their saddles. Off they moved up the avenue. Richard and Eleanor rode in the lead. The spectators cheered the queen, resplendent on her white horse, enveloped in her scarlet cloak and holding her crowned head high, and went home to their dinners. It had been a most satisfying spectacle.
Joanna and Berengaria rode side by side. At first, still shy with each other, they didn’t speak. But Joanna wanted to make Berengaria feel welcome.
“When I first rode up this way and saw the palace, I was completely charmed. It was so different from any palace I’d ever seen. The Normans built the ones in Palermo as fortresses, then when they’d conquered the enemy and everything was peaceful, the kings did what they could to soften them. But here in Messina, there wasn’t so much warfare. The Arabs didn’t need battlements and defensive walls so they built themselves a monument to ease and comfort—and they do love their comforts! You must be very tired after that long trip. We’ll be there soon; it’s just beyond the next bend.”
She realized she’d been chattering aimlessly and felt rather foolish. But Berengaria listened with interest.
“It sounds delightful, and different from the palaces I’ve been used to, too. I’m afraid the Basques take a dim view of too much comfort. And then, for the past year I’ve been living in a monastery, which was hardly the lap of luxury.”
“A monastery! Really! Were you thinking of taking holy vows?”
Berengaria laughed, and Joanna noticed she had a dimple in the middle of her chin.
“No, not at all. I was studying the art of calligraphy with the scribes there, so I could learn how to copy manuscripts.”
“But why did you want to copy manuscripts?”
“I had a good friend, a scribe, who used to visit my father in Estella. He told me that hundreds of rare manuscripts were languishing on the shelves of monasteries and abbeys, and that if anything happened like fire or flood, they’d be irretrievably lost. So I decided to do my bit to save them by making copies.”
Before Joanna could pursue this novel idea, the sound of approaching hoofbeats behind them broke in on their conversation. A panting horseman reined in at Richard’s side.
“My lord King!” he gasped. “I think you should go back to the harbor. King Philip and all his officers and troops are gathering there and he has ordered his galleys in to the shore. Men are already beginning to board and to stow supplies.”
Richard’s face darkened with anger. Without a word, he wheeled his horse and spurred it to gallop back down the road. Sir Alan took Richard’s place by Eleanor’s side and the party proceeded soberly toward the palace.
“What a strange way for Philip to behave!” thought Joanna. “To leave so suddenly, without a word of explanation.”
Berengaria thought it a most peculiar way for the co-leader of the Crusade to act, but she supposed it would all be explained in time.
“I never did trust that Philip,” grumbled Eleanor to herself. “What could have set him off this time?”
When the weary travelers arrived at the palace, Lady Marian took over. Mary and Federico were waiting at her side. With their help, Lady Marian shepherded Queen Eleanor’s ladies to their rooms. This took some time because of all the questions: When will dinner be served and where? Will someone order me a bath? Where is my little brass chest with my jewels?
Lady Marian sighed when the three of them were settled. “I’d quite forgotten what it’s like to be in the household of a queen with so many privileged and demanding ladies! Thank you, Federico. It helped that they found you so adorable.”
Federico was getting tired of being called adorable. After all, he was thirteen—practically a man. He decided he would stop smiling so much; that was what usually brought out the cooing and admiring whispers. “Will that be all, my lady?” he asked solemnly. At her nod he took his leave. She wondered why he looked so cross.
“Now Mary, I’ll take you to Queen Eleanor’s chamber and introduce you to her.”
They found the queen at a window that looked out on the palace entry. She’d changed from her royal garments into a velvet robe. She turned at once, went up to Lady Marian and took both her hands. “Ah, old friend. I knew I could depend on you to sort them all out. You always were a good manager. Now let me look at you.” Her searching gaze took in the sagging, deeply furrowed cheeks, the hair now completely gray. “Of course we’ve both grown older. But I see you’re still the same kind, wise Marian I trusted my daughter to. I hope taking her in charge all this time hasn’t been a burden to you.”
“On the contrary. Every moment has been a joy. Of course I had a great deal of help, especially from this good lady. She’s been with us from the start.” She took Mary’s hand and drew her forward. “May I present Queen Joanna’s newest lady-in-waiting, Lady Mary.”
“Lady Mary of…?”
Mary was confused and didn’t answer.
“Your family name?”
“Oh. Broadshares, if you please.”
“Broadshares? I’m not familiar with the name. It’s surely not Norman?”
“Oh no, my lady, we’re English through and through, all the way back to the Saxons, my father says. We’ve been farming the same land for hundreds of years.”
Eleanor’s nose wrinkled almost imperceptibly. “I see.” She walked to the window again. Mary had flushed to the roots of her red hair. Eleanor’s low opinion of her ancestry hadn’t escaped her.
“Lady Mary’s uncle is Sir Alan Broadshares, one of your son’s most trusted and able knights,” offered Lady Marian.
“Well, that helps.” Eleanor turned and addressed Mary. “I’m glad to have made your acquaintance, my girl. Now perhaps you’d better go see if Queen Joanna needs you.”
When Mary had left, Eleanor sank into a chair and sighed. “I suppose I hurt her feelings. But really, a farmer’s daughter!”
“If I may say so, she’s been of far more use and a better companion to Queen Joanna than those three highborn ladies who came out with us from England.”
“Ah yes. They didn’t last long, did they? But two of them to my knowledge have not turned out too badly. Lady Adelaide is still at Fontevraud Abbey and I see her whenever I’m there. She seems quite content with the cloistered life. And Beatrice married a Scottish lord and has produced several children for him. Bearing the king’s bastard apparently didn’t detract from her value in the marriage market.”
“And what of that child? He must be nearly grown by now.”
“Yes, Philip. He’s fifteen. I see him sometimes. Richard did right by him; made him lord of Cognac, and has seen that he gets proper training in knighthood. He’s in France now with his cousin arthur of Brittany.”
“And that leaves only Lady Charmaine, the silliest of the trio, I thought. I believe I wrote you that she married an older man, a minor noble from Messina. But we’ve heard nothing of her for years.”
“So she may still be here? I shall try to find her. It won’t do for Joanna and Berengaria to go off to Palestine attended only by their maids and this ‘Lady’ Mary Broadshares.” She grimaced as though biting into a lemon. “And you, of course.”
“I fear I’ve decided not to go, to my great sorrow. With my lack of agility and my regrettable tendency to fall down, I’d be more of a hindrance than a help. I haven’t told Joanna yet.”
“I understand. But that means you will be able to come back to France with me. I shall be very glad of your c
ompany. It will be like old times to have you in my service once more.”
She rose to look out the window again. The sun was low in the west and the glare almost blinded her, but she made out a horse approaching at a gallop, its rider bent over its neck urging it on. It was Richard at last. His hair streamed behind him like a banner. Within minutes he burst into the room, redfaced and fuming. Lady Marian, sensing this was a matter for mother and son only, departed.
“He’s gone,” rasped Richard. “I shouted and argued and did everything but raise my sword to him. Philip’s gone.”
“Now Richard, calm down. Come, sit here by me and tell me why he left so suddenly and where he’s going.”
He sat down heavily in the spindly gilded chair next to her, which creaked ominously. He took several deep breaths.
“As to where, he’s bound for Palestine. I reminded him we’d agreed that all the Crusading forces should arrive together—the French, the English and the Germans—so we could make a concerted and powerful assault. He brushed that aside and said he’d have the advantage of surprise and might get to Jerusalem before we even left Sicily. Wouldn’t listen.”
He bowed his head in his hands and groaned. “And if by some miracle he succeeds, he’ll get all the loot and all the glory.”
It was getting dark. Eleanor went to the door and asked the page to send for wine, and to come in and light the candles.
“Foolhardy, if you ask me,” she said, resuming her seat. “What possessed him?”
“His sister Alice, that’s what. His obsession with getting her married to me. When you arrived with the Basque princess, he was furious. Apparently he had no idea that you were bringing me a bride. He’s been more or less a recluse in his wing of the palace for the past week, nursing himself—afraid he was catching whatever it was that sickened Joanna.”
“Joanna was sick? I didn’t know. I have so much catching up to do. She seems very well now.”
“Yes, she is. But for a few weeks she was quite ill. And Philip, to do him credit, was very solicitous. But he was clearly terrified that he might fall ill too, and secluded himself. Then when you appeared with Berengaria, he accused me of breaking my word.”