by Jean Plaidy
‘There is always war,’ said Berengaria. ‘How I wish there could be peace!’
Joanna was silent. There were some who wanted peace – her husband had been one. But what would men such as Richard do if there were no wars? They were made to be warriors. War was the main force in their lives.
She was fearful thinking of his ship now and wondering whether it was following them. In storms fleets were often scattered. What a hazardous undertaking it was to travel by sea and it was amazing how often it was undertaken. If they had been on Richard’s ship she would have been much happier. This brought her back to the strange fact that Richard had not been in any hurry to marry. Joanna had thought a great deal about that. Why was it? she wondered. Berengaria was beautiful – not outstandingly so perhaps but still beautiful. She was eager for the marriage, ready to accept Richard as his mother and sister had presented him as the most handsome hero in the world. It was Richard who procrastinated.
He was not young. He should be getting sons.
And as the wind buffeted them Joanna could not help wondering whether the sea would claim Berengaria for its bride since Richard was reluctant to take her. Or how could they know what would await them on some foreign shore? Joanna had been a prisoner of Tancred and although she had not been ill-treated, to be a prisoner was not a happy state. One could never be sure when one’s jailer might decide it would be better to remove the prisoner altogether.
As she lay side by side with Berengaria and thought how innocent she was, she feared what might happen to them both if they were thrown upon some unfriendly shore.
They should have sailed in Richard’s ship for the hazards of the sea were known to be great. How could a lover contemplate allowing his bride to face, not in his care, the unpredictable elements when one short ceremony could have made it possible for them to travel together?
The same thought which had worried her mother kept recurring to Joanna: Was Richard regretting his promise to marry Berengaria?
None of this did she convey to Berengaria. And as they rocked in their bunk, clinging to the sides of it, now and then involuntary exclamations of dismay breaking from them, suddenly it seemed that the storm was abating.
Joanna said: ‘I believe we have come through.’
And during the fifteen minutes which followed it became obvious that this was so. They slept fitfully and as soon as the dawn came they went on deck and by the morning light were dismayed to discover that they and the other two Dromones which had left Messina together were alone.
‘Where is the rest of the fleet?’ cried Berengaria. ‘Where is the King?’
That was something which could not be answered. They could only wait and see what the day brought forth.
Battered and in sad need of repair they drifted on and at the end of the day they came in sight of land.
They had reached the island of Cyprus.
They dropped anchor.
What peace to be at rest! How wonderful not to feel the sickening roll of the ship under their feet! But they could not enjoy this peace so great was their anxiety, for Richard’s ship was nowhere to be seen. The Captain of their vessel came to them and told them that he intended to land at Cyprus. There it seemed certain that Isaac Comnenus, who was known as the Emperor, would offer them hospitality. They could rest there until they had some news of what had happened to the rest of the fleet.
Feeling very uneasy and visualising the many disasters which could so easily have befallen Richard, they prepared to go ashore, but before an hour had elapsed the Captain came to them to tell them that a small boat had come alongside with a message from Isaac Comnenus to the effect that he would not receive them. Such inhospitality was astounding, especially as he must know that Richard would be incensed at this treatment extended to his sister and his bride-to-be. It could only mean that Isaac believed Richard would never arrive at Cyprus.
A dreadful foreboding had settled on everyone aboard. They were at the mercy of the sea; their ships were in need of repair; the Emperor of Cyprus was refusing his help and the rest of the fleet with the King among it, had disappeared.
There was worse to follow.
During their first night off Cyprus a small boat rowed out to the ship and in it were several English sailors.
They had an alarming story to tell.
A few days earlier they had arrived at Cyprus in a very sorry condition. They had been helped ashore by seemingly friendly Cypriots who had assisted them in salvaging what they could from their vessel; and then, as soon as they and their goods were on land, had promptly taken the goods and cast the sailors into prison. By great good luck a few of them had endeavoured to escape and so had returned to the ship with the news.
This was very disconcerting, especially as the wind had risen again and was buffeting the ship as it lay at anchor. On one side were the unpredictable elements of the ocean, on the other the unfriendly Emperor.
The next day there was a turn in events. Berengaria watching for a sight of Richard’s ship noticed a small boat coming out to their ship.
She ran to Joanna and, with her, watched the boat come alongside and two men board the ship.
In a short time the Captain appeared.
‘There are messengers from the Emperor Isaac Comnenus who would speak with you.’
Joanna said: ‘Please bring them to us.’
The Captain came with the two men who bowed low and showed great deference to the ladies.
‘Our Imperial Lord sends his greetings,’ he said. ‘He fears there has been a misunderstanding. He now knows that the ships which were wrecked on his coast belong to King Richard of England. He has heard that you ladies have arrived and he wishes to offer you the hospitality of his country. If you will come ashore with us you will be received with all honours and the Emperor has had apartments made ready for your comfort.’
Joanna looked at the Captain whose expression was grave.
Berengaria was about to speak when Joanna pressed her hand.
Joanna said: ‘I beg you convey our thanks to the Emperor. We need a little time to consider his invitation.’
‘Time, my lady? You must be weary of the sea. The Emperor has a luxurious apartment waiting for you. All he wishes is that you will both be comfortable in the one he has prepared for you.’
‘May we send you a message when we are ready?’
‘If it is your wish, but the Emperor is waiting to greet you now.’
‘We could not come at such short notice,’ said Joanna. ‘I beg you to convey our thanks to the Emperor and give us time to consider his kindness.’
The two messengers were persuasive. They enlarged on the delights of the island. The most luscious fruit grew there and the Emperor was very eager for the ladies to enjoy the delights it could offer.
Joanna however was adamant. Time, she reiterated. They must have time.
Finally the messengers rather ruefully retired. It was a relief for them all to see their little boat being rowed back to the shore.
‘I was afraid,’ said the Captain, ‘that you would agree to go ashore. That is something you must not do . . . as yet. I don’t trust the Emperor.’
‘I remembered that some of our men had been lured ashore, robbed and put in prison,’ said Joanna. ‘What think you they would do with the Princess Berengaria and myself if we fell into their hands?’
‘Like as not keep you as hostages,’ was the answer.
‘So I thought,’ said Joanna. ‘We must hold out against his invitations.’
That they were right was borne out by further events of that day.
Some of the sailors who had been shipwrecked were seen fighting their way to the coast. The captain of the ships which lay at anchor immediately sent out boats to rescue the sailors on the shore and when they were brought on board the story they had to tell was alarming.
Two of the busses had been driven ashore and immediately seized on by the rapacious Cypriots. They had been helped salvage what they could from th
e ships and then imprisoned in the fort of Limassol, and left there without food or drink, the obvious intention being to starve them to death. Fortunately some of them had smuggled in their bows and arrows and were able to fight their way out in the sheer desperation born of the knowledge that certain death would be their fate if they did not do so. Their joy was great when they saw some of their own ships at anchor and their cries for help brought immediate succour.
‘How right we were not to go,’ said Berengaria. ‘What do you think would have happened to us if we had?’
‘The Captain thinks that we should have been held as hostages,’ replied Joanna. ‘Richard would have had to pay dearly for our release. It would have been disastrous for him.’
‘He will be pleased with what we did,’ added Berengaria.
‘Yes, he will, when he comes.’
When he came, yes. But where was Richard?
For several days they waited. The weather was bad and they were in an exposed condition. Both Joanna and Berengaria were ill: and there was still no sign of Richard.
Joanna staggered on to the deck. On the island she could see that troops were massing and apprehensively wondered for what purpose.
Each day a small boat came out bringing the messengers who had approached them before. They were always courteous and so patient. The ladies should trust the Emperor, they advised. He was very angry with the first discourteous message they had received. It had been none of his doing to send such a message. He wanted them to give him a chance of showing how delighted he would be if they would but consent to become his guests.
Joanna replied that she and the Princess Berengaria thanked the Emperor but they were not sure of King Richard’s wishes and if the Emperor would but be patient with them, they were sure the King’s ship would soon appear and then doubtless he could share in this kindly offered hospitality.
The messengers went away once more defeated and Joanna went back to Berengaria, who looked pale and ill.
‘Oh Joanna,’ she said, ‘how much longer do you think we must stay here?’
‘It can’t be for long. Something will have to happen soon. They are massing troops on the shore. I think it may mean that they are planning to take the ships.’
‘Oh, where is Richard?’
‘If we but knew!’ said Joanna. ‘Oh, if only . . .’
But what was the use of bringing that forward again! Richard had been in no hurry to marry and because of this they were on different ships.
Two or three days passed. Joanna and Berengaria talked of their predicament.
‘What if Richard is lost,’ said Berengaria fearfully.
‘I can’t believe it,’ answered Joanna fervently.
‘But surely he would have come by now.’
‘It is not so long. We came here on Wednesday. It is now Saturday. Only three days.’
Three days of being buffeted by fierce winds, three days of uncertainty!
‘It seems like months,’ said Berengaria.
On Sunday morning Joanna had made up her mind. She talked it over with Berengaria. ‘We can’t go on like this,’ she said. ‘We are getting short of stores and you are ill.’
‘I shall be all right as soon as I am on dry land.’
‘That is what I feel. We cannot stay here.’
‘Then what shall we do?’
‘We shall have to go ashore.’
‘Trust the Emperor!’
‘It seems the only way. He has troops on the shore and we are getting short of provisions. Perhaps he really did repent of the inhospitality.’
‘And what of our men? Some of them are still held prisoner.’
‘He surely could not hold us prisoner. My mother would bring a force against him and so would your father. Besides . . . when Richard comes . . .’
‘Yes,’ put in Berengaria quickly, ‘when Richard comes there would indeed be trouble if he did aught to harm us.’
‘Then,’ said Joanna, ‘when the messengers come this afternoon, which it seems likely they will, we will go ashore with them.’
‘Anything,’ said Berengaria, ‘would be preferable to staying at sea.’
Not anything, thought Joanna, but during that morning they made their preparations.
It was about midday when the ships hove into sight.
Joanna shouted joyously to Berengaria and the two young women stood on the deck shading their eyes against the glare of the sun. There was the King’s fleet with his long lean ship to the fore. Their joy was complete when they heard his voice coming to them from the trumpet.
Richard had come. They had held out against the Emperor’s blandishments. Now Richard would decide what had to be done.
Chapter VI
THE FRUITS OF CYPRUS
When Richard heard that his men had been imprisoned and their goods stolen, he was enraged. He did not however, as might have been expected, let loose the notorious Plantagenet temper.
He was seriously studying the position. He had suffered considerable delay in Sicily and did not want the same thing to happen in Cyprus if he could help it.
He knew that Isaac Comnenus was no friend to the crusaders. Indeed it was said that he was in league with the Mohammedan Princes and that the favourable position of the island on the route to the Holy Land, the perpetual violence of the storms which blew up suddenly in the area and his unscrupulous nature had brought riches to him and disaster to many a pilgrim or crusader. It was even said that if the opportunity arose his people would lure ships to disaster that they might rob them; and that any survivors were hastily thrown back into the sea so that they could tell no tales.
This might have happened to other fleets but it was not going to happen to Richard’s.
His first act was to send a message to Isaac Comnenus demanding the return of all his seamen and reparation for the goods that had been stolen.
Contemplating the state the fleet must be in after battering its way through storms, realising that Richard’s men must be weary and many suffering from seasickness, Isaac was truculent.
He would not free his prisoners, he said. He would not return what he had taken. Anything that was washed up on his shore, he considered was his, and Richard should take care, for it seemed likely that he might soon join his friends in their prison and his treasure ship become the property of the Emperor.
No reply could have angered Richard more.
He spoke through his trumpet. He knew his men were suffering from fatigue but they would want to fight this arrogant Emperor, a friend of the Saracens who had been responsible for the death and imprisonment of many of their comrades.
‘We are a little weary after all that has befallen us,’ said Richard. ‘You are tired and so am I. But by God’s eyes, when I think of what this wicked man has done to those who trusted me and you, I am ready to go in and do battle as I never did before. I shall not rest until every living man who sailed with me is free and all that for which we have worked has been restored to us. You will follow me, I know, for God’s honour and your own.’
A shout of approval went up. Yes, they were tired, they wanted nothing but to feel the dry land beneath their feet, they wanted to sleep off their weariness, rid themselves of their sickness, but when Richard commanded them, they would always follow.
The battle had begun. It was brief, for the Cypriots were useless against the practised skill of Richard’s men. They quickly realised their inferiority and as they had little heart for the fight they dropped their weapons – which were only stakes of wood and knives – and ran.
Richard stepped ashore and, seeing a peasant with a horse, a sack, its saddle and stirrups of rope, he seized it and rode along the shore shouting to his men to follow him, for he saw at the head of a band of horsemen an impressive figure which he knew at once was the Emperor.
He shouted: ‘’Tis you then, Isaac Comnenus? Come then! You who have so boldly imprisoned my men and robbed them of their goods, come and we will joust. Fight me singlehanded.’
> Because Richard was to tall and because he had a bearing which none other could rival, because his fame had travelled before him, Isaac began to tremble with terror. Confronted by this man who was a legend he saw death staring him in the face for he knew that Richard would have no mercy on his enemy, particularly one who had insulted and ill-treated crusaders.
Richard exulted when Isaac turned his horse and fled. He would have liked to give chase but on such a horse he saw that was useless.
Soon his horses would be brought ashore and then he would tackle the Cypriots in earnest. It was however dark before fifty of the horses could be brought on land.
‘Enough,’ he said. ‘We will charge them with this small band.’
‘Sire,’ said a timid voice at his elbow, ‘they are a large force and we shall be but fifty.’ The voice belonged to a certain Hugo de Mara who was a clerk and had joined the crusade rather as a pilgrim than a fighter.
Richard turned on him angrily. ‘You are fit only for clerking,’ he said. ‘Go back to your scriptures and leave matters of chivalry to me.’ He turned and cried: ‘Who is ready to follow me?’
Cries of: ‘I am!’ came from fifty throats.
Exultantly, perhaps a little delighted that his force was so small, for theirs would be the greater victory, they rode to the top of the hill. Below them in the valley were Isaac and his men. Shouting his rallying cry Richard galloped downhill and with great uplifting of his spirits, a feeling which was always with him on such occasions – and there had been many – he had the satisfaction of seeing his enemies scatter in all directions and the Emperor himself take to his horse, with the one desire to put as far between himself and Richard as possible.
Richard did not follow them. He contented himself with capturing Isaac’s banner – a beautiful object wrought in gold. Nor was that all. The Emperor had left his treasures behind him, eager only to save his life. There were armaments and rich garments, food and wine. Taking these and several prisoners, Richard went in triumph back to the fort of Limassol.
There he made a proclamation to the people. He had not come in war. He had merely come to take back what had been taken from him. He had no quarrel with the people. Only with their Emperor. All citizens might go about their business in peace. If any of his followers subjected them to insult or ill-treatment, those of his men should be punished. He came in peace on his way to fight a Holy War. If the people of Cyprus showed friendship to him they had nothing to fear.