by Jean Plaidy
‘Fortunate Joanna! How many of us can say that? Torn from our families as we are and given to men because they have a crown or some title, ours is a hard lot and when it turns out happily that means God and all his angels are with us. I am concerned for our young Berengaria.’
‘She will be happy, Mother. Richard will be good to her.’
‘He might be a little neglectful.’
Joanna looked startled, and Eleanor went on quickly: ‘Richard is a warrior. His great obsession now is with this crusade. He would not want it jeopardised in any way even by marriage.’
‘I have just met Berengaria but I am sure that she is gentle and kind and will be a good wife and that only Richard’s well-being will matter to her.’
‘I think this, too, but it is not of Berengaria that we speak, daughter. It is of Richard. I want you to stay with Berengaria. Be a good friend to her. I know you will be to your brother. She will have to accompany him to Acre. For some that might be an exciting adventure, but I fancy Berengaria would prefer a less eventful beginning to her married life. Go with Berengaria, Joanna. Be a good friend to her.’
‘It is what I wish with all my heart.’
‘You give me great comfort. Berengaria will help you and you will help her and I can return to England with an easier mind.’
‘You will surely stay to see them married, Mother?’
‘I had believed the wedding would take place immediately.’
‘Why should it not? There is no obstacle now.’
‘Alice is swept out of the way but it seems there is Lent.’
‘It could be a quiet ceremony. We could celebrate afterwards.’
‘Your brother thinks otherwise. He wishes to postpone the wedding until after Lent.’
‘Then stay with us until then.’
‘I cannot, Joanna. I know it would be unwise. I do not wish your brother to lose his kingdom. I must leave immediately.’
‘But you have only just come.’
‘I know, my child, but there is a kingdom at stake. I must go back without delay.’
Joanna was appalled. The fact that it was Lent did not seem an adequate excuse for postponing the wedding in such circumstances. She was saddened by the thought that her mother was leaving them so soon but at the same time happy to think that she could be of use to her brother and a friend to his affianced bride for whom she was already beginning to feel affection.
In some apprehension Eleanor took leave of her family and set out for England. She had been only three days in Sicily.
As she stood on the deck watching the land fade from sight she wondered how long it would be before the wedding did take place and if at the end of Lent Richard would find some other reason for postponing it. He must marry Berengaria. There would be war with Navarre if he did not. He could not afford to lose friends. None could understand the call of adventure more than she did but it was adventure enough for a king that he had a kingdom to govern. It was also a duty to marry and get sons.
All would be well, she assured herself. It was merely a postponement. The marriage would take place; the children would come.
She deplored the fact that she was growing old. True, she retained her energy. Most people of her years would have retired to a nunnery. Perhaps she should think of expiating her sins but it seemed to her that a better way to do this might be to devote herself to her family rather than piously to prepare a way to Heaven for herself. There were not many who would agree with her and perhaps when Richard was safely back in England, the Holy City captured for Christianity, Berengaria the mother of several lusty sons . . . perhaps that would be the time. And when would that be? She laughed knowing that the time if it ever came was years ahead.
When she reached Rome it was to find that Henry of Germany was about to be crowned Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire. It seemed to her politic that she should be present at that ceremony.
She quickly became aware that her reception by the Emperor elect was a cold one. And no wonder since his wife was Constancia, sister of the late King of Sicily, who considered herself the heiress of that island on the death of her brother. Joanna had suffered imprisonment for supporting Constancia’s claim but Richard had since made a pact with Tancred and had tactically accepted him as the new King of Sicily when he had offered his nephew Arthur as the husband of Tancred’s daughter.
Richard had congratulated himself that he had come out of that affair well. He had forgotten that while he made his truce in Sicily he was making an enemy of the powerful Emperor.
Eleanor believed that Henry would have been a more useful ally.
She attended the ceremony at St Peter’s Church and saw Henry and Constancia anointed and proclaimed Emperor and Empress. There was one moment during the ceremony when she was filled with secret mirth. The Pope, who was officiating, sat on the Papal chair, the imperial crown placed incongruously on the floor between his feet. The new Emperor, his head bowed in reverence towards this awesome figure, received the crown when the Pope sent it towards him with a movement of his foot and placed it on his head. To show that he could without preamble dispossess him if he wished the Pope then lifted his foot and kicked the crown off Henry’s head.
Poor Henry looked extremely discomfited in spite of the fact that this undignified gesture was an accepted part of the procedure.
One of the Cardinals then picked up the crown and replaced it on the Emperor’s head and the ceremony continued.
It was a thoughtful Eleanor who continued her journey back to England.
Berengaria was a little bewildered. She could not understand why her marriage should not take place. She knew that Eleanor had been anxious about leaving her although she had impressed on her the fact that Joanna would be a substitute for herself. The Queen of Sicily would be Berengaria’s companion and her chaperon, for although they were almost of an age – both being in their twenty-sixth year – Joanna because she had been a wife and was now a widow was more experienced of the world.
Berengaria could not help but be happy in the change, for although she had had the utmost respect for Eleanor she had been greatly in awe of her. It was comforting therefore to have as her constant companion a girl who was not in the least formidable.
The greatest similarity between Eleanor and Joanna was that they both admired Richard almost to idolatry and this was very comforting to the girl who was to be his bride.
Joanna now had excuses to offer for the delay. Richard was devout, she said, and he would feel it was wrong to indulge in all the celebrations which his marriage would entail. It was for this reason that he was postponing the wedding.
‘It is only a delay of a few weeks,’ soothed Joanna. ‘You see, he has to be so careful for he must not offend Heaven by any act which could bring disaster to the crusade.’
Berengaria was only too ready to accept this explanation.
Joanna went on: ‘I doubt not the wedding will take place on Easter Day. What a lovely day for a wedding! It is almost certain that this is what Richard has in mind. Then we shall be sisters in very truth. I was so happy when I heard that I am to accompany you. Do you feel perhaps a little alarmed at the prospect of travelling with Richard to the Holy Land?’
‘It is not quite what my father thought would happen when he told me I was affianced. I think he thought that Queen Eleanor would take me back to England.’
‘Without Richard! That is no way for a bride to live . . . apart from her husband! You would hate that. Do you not think he is the most handsome man you ever set eyes on?’
‘I do indeed, Joanna.’
Joanna extolled his virtues, told of his brilliant feats in battle, his sense of poetry; she sang the songs he had written and made Berengaria sing them with her; they talked of him continually and each day they expected to be told that the wedding was to take place. But time was passing and Richard was occupied with preparing for the next lap of his journey. He saw little of Berengaria and only when others were present; then he was always gracious
to her although a little aloof, Joanna thought.
It was Joanna who decided to ask Richard what his plans were and she chose a moment when she could be alone with him which was not easy to do.
But Joanna was determined.
‘Richard,’ she said, ‘what of your marriage?’
He frowned slightly and looked her straight in the eyes.
‘What mean you, sister?’ he said. ‘My marriage . . . it will take place at the right time.’
‘When will the right time be?’
‘It cannot be here at Messina.’
‘But Richard, it is what we are expecting.’
‘Who is expecting this?’
‘Berengaria . . . Everyone.’
‘My dear sister, I am engaged on a holy crusade.’
‘But your marriage is important too, Richard. Berengaria has travelled far and has at last reached you.’
‘I know. We shall be married, but I could not allow the ceremonies to take place in holy week. You see that.’
‘I do, brother. I see that clearly but it will soon be Easter. We thought perhaps you had decided on Easter Day. We should like to know, for there are certain preparations we must make.’
‘Easter Day would be good indeed, but alas I must depart before that.’
‘Before Easter Day! But that is but a week away!’
‘I know it well. I must be sailing for Acre before that. The King of France is already on his way there and I have given my word that I will not delay longer. I waited here only for Berengaria’s arrival. I cannot remain until Easter Day.’
‘Then brother, should not the ceremony take place before you sail?’
‘Nay, I must have a public wedding and I cannot have it during Lent, and as I must leave Sicily before Lent is over I clearly cannot marry here.’
‘Could you not tarry a few more days?’
‘Nay, sister, I have already tarried too long.’
‘Then there will be no wedding here! Poor Berengaria, she will be so disappointed.’
‘Berengaria will understand that I am engaged on a crusade.’
‘Perhaps a quiet ceremony . . .’
Richard’s eyes had grown a little cold. Joanna had begun to notice that this was what happened when he was displeased and she had learned it was a warning to stop pressing the matter under discussion.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘we must needs wait. It means that you and Berengaria will not be able to travel in the same vessel since you will not be married.’
‘I shall know what custom demands, sister. You may safely leave such matters to me.’
She was disturbed. Richard was certainly no eager bridegroom. She remembered that her mother had told of his coronation which had taken place on the third of September which everyone knew was a date to avoid, yet he had not been superstitious then. It was not as though he did not know at that time that he was going on a crusade. Why should he be so concerned about marrying in Lent when surely a quiet wedding, in such unusual circumstances, could not have offended Heaven?
Joanna had begun to think that there could be only one reason.
Richard was so eager to postpone his wedding that he sought any excuse for doing so.
In the middle of holy week they set sail.
Crowds had gathered to watch the ships depart, for it was a magnificent sight as the two hundred vessels left the harbour and started their journey eastwards.
The three ships which were in the lead, equipped for battle, their towers being raised above the decks so that they could with ease fire on enemy ships, were known as Dromones. In one of these ships the King’s treasure was carried; in another were Berengaria and Joanna. The third, like the others, carried armaments and was prepared to go to the defence of any of the fleet should the occasion arise when it would be needed. These three were followed by thirteen troopships – the busses, two-masted vessels with strong firm sails. Richard brought up the rear with his war galleys – long slim ships equipped with rows of oars.
Berengaria and Joanna side by side on the deck could not help but be thrilled by the spectacle. The crowds on the shore were relieved to see the departure of an army which had brought trouble with it.
Berengaria, suffering from disappointment because their wedding had not taken place, was thinking how much happier she would have been had she been travelling in Richard’s ship; Joanna had comforted her but it was bewildering after all this time to be still unmarried. It was true that it might have been wrong to have married during Lent, but why did they have to leave on the Wednesday before Easter Day? Surely they could have waited four more days since Richard had been so long in Sicily? If it were not for the fact that she knew Richard was such an honourable man she would have had very uneasy doubts.
However Joanna was beside her and a very warm friendship was growing up between them.
‘Are you not thrilled, Berengaria,’ she asked now, ‘to be sailing with Richard’s fleet?’
‘Oh yes, but I wish we were in his ship.’
‘My dear sister, and you not married to him! That would be most improper and quite out of the question.’
‘We could have been married . . .’
Joanna put her arm through Berengaria’s. ‘It seems so to us, but how can we know all that is in Richard’s mind? It was so with my husband. He was a ruler and sometimes he acted in a manner which was strange to me. When we are married to men who hold high office we must be patient, for things are not always what they seem.’
Berengaria nodded gravely. ‘You are right, of course. How beautiful the island looks from the sea!’
‘And let us thank God for calm seas. We shall be in Acre very soon.’
They were both silent thinking of the Holy Land and the desperate battles that were going on and had been for so many years. Berengaria and Joanna were both convinced that Richard would be the one to save that land for Christianity.
Good Friday dawned. A strong wind had arisen and was sending the louring clouds scudding across the sky. Richard following his fleet in his galleys spoke on the enormous trumpet which carried his voice to the leading vessels.
‘A storm will break at any moment. Keep within hailing distance.’
They would do their best, but with the firmest of wills how could that be achieved in such a storm? Rarely had Richard encountered such violence. The sails were useless against the mighty wind and Richard’s voice, shouting through the trumpet, could not carry beyond his own deck. He realised that his fleet would be scattered. Briefly he wondered what was happening to Berengaria and Joanna. If their ship was wrecked they would drown, but an even worse fate might befall them if they were washed up on an alien shore.
Peering through the rain, battling against the wind, calling encouragement to his men he endeavoured to raise the spirits of the crusaders who had come to the conclusion that there must be some among them who had incurred God’s displeasure to such an extent that He wasn’t pacified even by their vow to undertake a crusade.
‘We are lost,’ said one of his men.
‘’Tis not so,’ cried Richard. ‘We will weather the storm.’
‘The rest of the fleet, Sire . . . they are lost!’
‘They will battle their way to Acre never fear . . . or perhaps they will await us in Cyprus. We shall come safely through this storm, I promise you. All we must do is wait for the wind to drop.’
‘God is against us,’ was the despairing cry.
‘Nay,’ replied Richard. ‘He but seeks to test us. If we are to have His help in taking the Holy Land we must show ourselves worthy. This storm is sent to test us. We shall come through. The Grey Monks will be praying for us now. They promised me they would do this in our need and God must answer their prayers.’
His words had a sobering effect, or it might have been that quality in him that made all men feel that he was unconquerable, for a calmness settled on the men. The fleet was scattered; their ship was being buffeted by the wind; the oars were useless and it seemed that at a
ny moment the waves would engulf them; but their leader was Richard, and he was certain that they would come through. He had a mission and was convinced that he would not die until he had achieved it.
Such was the power of his personality that he could make men believe this even as he did himself, so that they overcame their fears and went about their work calmly with the certainty that they would survive.
When in the night the wind dropped, a great shout went up from the decks of the King’s ship: ‘The storm is over.’
Richard shouted through his trumpet: ‘All follow me. I shall light the way we are to go.’
He had a large lantern placed on the ship and ordered that by night this should always be lighted so that the other ships could see where he was.
In a few hours the wind had become light, and billowing the sails favourably, and the ship went on without further mishap into Crete, there to discover what havoc the storm had wrought and how many of the ships were lost. It was now the Wednesday following Easter day so he had been a week at sea.
To Richard’s horror he discovered that the vessel which contained his royal treasure and that in which Berengaria and Joanna were travelling were not among those which had come through the storm to Crete.
He could not delay long. He must discover what had become of his gold and treasure and of course of his sister and his bride.
How frightening was the storm at sea!
Joanna and Berengaria had been advised to go below where they might not see the mighty waves pounding against the side of the ship.
They both felt ill but Joanna roused herself to comfort Berengaria.
‘These Mediterranean storms arise quickly and as quickly fade away,’ she told her. ‘Richard will bring us safely through.’
‘Alas,’ said Berengaria, ‘we are not sailing with him.’
‘But under his command,’ Joanna reminded her. ‘Lie down, Berengaria, and I will lie with you. ’Tis better so.’
They lay side by side holding each other’s hands for comfort.
Joanna talked of Richard and what success he had had in war.