Lionheart (31 page)

Eleanor realized then that Aliernus’s disquiet was actually the embarrassment of a man confronted with a duty he did not like. “My lord count?” she asked silkily. “I assume you come from King Tancred. Since he is allied with my son, the English king, I cannot imagine that any news from him would be unwelcome.”

“I have been instructed to tell you, Madame, that you may not sail from Naples. My lord king has decided that your entourage is too large to be accommodated in Messina, and you must continue your journey by land.”

There was a moment of shocked silence before the hall erupted in angry protest, William de Forz identifying himself grandly as the king’s admiral and André dismissing the count’s explanation as utter rubbish. It was Philip d’Alsace, though, who shouted the others down, demanding to know if this idiotic order applied to him, too.

The Count of Lesina seemed unperturbed by the hornet’s nest he’d stirred up. “No, my lord Count of Flanders, you may go wherever you will,” he said with insulting indifference. “My orders apply only to the English queen.”

By now Berengaria had moved to Eleanor’s side, looking bewildered but resolute, and the older woman gave her a quick glance of reassurance. The quarrel was heating up and Eleanor interrupted before it could get out of control. Drawing Philip and Richard’s men aside, she said in a voice pitched for their ears alone, “We accomplish nothing by arguing with this man. We need to learn why Tancred has issued such an inexplicable order, and only my son can do that. I think you ought to return to Messina on the morrow and let Richard know what has happened.”

This delay meant that they would arrive in Messina after the start of Lent and she would not be able to see Richard and Berengaria wed. It was a great disappointment, but she was not about to let anyone see that, for she’d had much practice at hiding her heart’s wounds. Instead of raging as she yearned to do, she said calmly, “Tell Richard that we are well and will continue our journey south whilst he resolves this matter with Tancred.”

RICHARD’S ASTONISHMENT gave way almost at once to outrage. He resisted his first impulse, which was to berate the Count of Flanders for not remaining with his mother and Berengaria; he could not blame Philip for his eagerness to reach the Holy Land and an overland passage would add another month to his journey. Instead he said, “How would you like to meet the King of Sicily, Cousin?” Not waiting for Philip’s reply, he beckoned to one of his knights. “Ride to Catania with all due speed, and tell Tancred that the King of England will be there by week’s end, if not sooner.”

CHAPTER 13

MARCH 1191

Catania, Sicily

Facing Tancred across a wooden trestle table was not the same as facing him across a battlefield, but the hostility in the chamber was unmistakable. Richard’s gaze flicked from the Sicilian king to his teenage son, Roger, and then to his counselors, the aged Matthew of Ajello and his two grown sons, Tancred’s brother-in-law, the Count of Acerra, the Archbishop of Monreale, the pirateadmiral Margaritis, and Jordan Lapin. While he’d arrived with a large escort, Richard had been accompanied into the council chamber only by his cousins, the Count of Flanders and André de Chauvigny, and by Gautier de Coutances, the Archbishop of Rouen. They’d so far remained silent, content to let Richard speak for himself. With Tancred, it was just the opposite; his advisers were doing all the talking, while he said very little, studying Richard through opaque, heavy-lidded eyes. While they were obviously on the defensive—it was difficult to mount a convincing argument for the claim that Messina could not have accommodated Eleanor’s entourage—they were not giving any ground, insisting that their king must act in the best interests of his own subjects. And Richard’s patience, always as ephemeral as morning mist, soon evaporated in a surge of exasperation.

“I have a suggestion,” he said abruptly. “At this rate, Easter will have come and gone ere we’ve made any progress whatsoever. Counselors always seem to have time to waste; kings do not. So it would be in our mutual interest, my lord Tancred, if you and I threshed out the wheat from the chaff by ourselves. Unless, of course, you feel more comfortable here in the council chamber. . . .”

It was a challenge few kings could have refused and Tancred was quick to accept it. Shoving back his chair, he got to his feet and said tersely, “Follow me.”

AS THE MONARCHS APPROACHED the gardens, they were watched with curiosity and some amusement by the palace guards, for the two men could not have presented a more dramatic contrast. Even Richard’s enemies acknowledged that he looked like a king out of legend, tall and athletic and golden, whereas even Tancred’s most devoted supporters would admit that there was nothing regal about his appearance, for he was of small stature and very ill favored. But there was affection, not derision, in the smiles of the guards, for in the fourteen months since he’d claimed the crown, Tancred had displayed qualities that men-at-arms valued more than a handsome face and a royal bearing: courage and energy and tenacity.

Tancred would have been greatly surprised had he known the English king agreed with his soldiers. Richard had devoted most of his life to perfecting the martial skills that had won him such fame, but he did realize that he’d been blessed by the Almighty with physical advantages not given to all—uncommon height and strength and cat-quick reflexes. It was obvious to him that Tancred’s military prowess had been earned by sheer force of will, by his refusal to accept his body’s limitations and his willingness to risk all on the field of battle. To Richard, that made him a man deserving of respect, and he stopped as soon as they came to a marble fountain so Tancred would not have to struggle to keep pace, for his shorter legs required him to take two steps for every one of Richard’s.

Perching on the edge of the fountain, Richard regarded the other man thoughtfully. “We are both kings. But we are both soldiers, too, and I cannot believe that you fancy these diplomatic dances any more than I do. So let’s speak candidly. Unless I know your real reason for refusing to permit my mother to sail from Naples, we do not have a prayer in Hell of reaching any sort of understanding.”

Tancred continued to pace back and forth, keeping his eyes upon Richard all the while. “Do you truly want to reach an understanding?”

Richard blinked. “Why would I not? We are allies, after all.”

“Allies of expediency,” Tancred said bluntly, “dictated by circumstances. But who is to say what will happen if those circumstances change? And the death of Frederick Barbarossa is a great change indeed.”

“So you feel the need to take greater precautions now that Heinrich is stepping into his father’s shoes. You want to protect your borders. I understand that. But surely you do not see my aging lady mother as a threat, Tancred?”

Tancred was quick to respond with sarcasm of his own. “Come now, Richard. Your ‘aging lady mother’ is no matronly widow in her sunset years, content to embroider by the hearth and dote upon her grandchildren. In the game of statecraft, Eleanor of Aquitaine has been a high-stakes player for more than fifty years. You could not have chosen a better agent to confer with Heinrich. Did they reach an accord at Lodi? Or did she merely open the door so you could then pass through?”

Richard was more astonished than angry. “Is that what this is about? You think my mother was scheming with Heinrich? Their meeting at Lodi was happenstance, no more than that, and to hear my mother tell it, it was awkward for both of them.”

“Happenstance is like charity in that it covers a multitude of sins. Suppose I accept what you say—that their meeting at Lodi was by chance—however unlikely that seems. But that still does not explain your mother’s presence in Italy. She is well past the age to be crossing the Alps in winter unless she had an urgent reason for doing so. Why is she here, Richard, if not to strike a deal with Heinrich?”

Before Richard could reply, Tancred flung up his hand, for there was a relief in being able to confront the English king with the suspicions that had been so damaging to his peace of mind. “If you are about to remind me of the hostility between the Angevins and the von Hohenstaufens, spare your breath. Mutual interests can bridge the greatest of gaps, as we both know. At one time, you were considering a marriage with one of Frederick’s daughters, were you not? So is it so far-fetched that you and Heinrich could reach an accord at my expense? I have been told that he has offered you enough gold to buy an entire fleet and has promised to send German troops to the Holy Land, whilst your own mother has suddenly turned up in Lodi with that treacherous two-legged snake. Why should I not believe that I am about to be stabbed in the back?”

Richard was quiet for several moments, considering his options. “So you think Heinrich has bribed me to abandon our alliance? You are a brave man to say that to my face. But I will not take offense, for I think someone is playing a very dangerous game with us both. I am no man’s pawn, though, and neither are you. Let’s prove it by making a bargain here and now. I will tell you the true reason for my mother’s arrival in Italy if you then tell me who has been pouring this poison into your ear.”

Tancred’s mistrust was still obvious, yet he did not hesitate. “Fair enough.”

“My mother is bringing me a bride, the Lady Berengaria, daughter of King Sancho of Navarre.”

“I thought you were plight-trothed to Philippe’s sister.”

“For more than twenty years, surely the world’s longest march to the altar. I have valid grounds for refusing the marriage, grounds the Church will recognize. But that is between Philippe and me.”

“It is none of my concern, and I’ll be the first to admit that. Yet would it not have been easier to disavow the plight-troth and wed the Spanish princess whilst you were still in your own lands?”

“I dared not do that, for Philippe had not wanted to take the cross. In fairness, neither did my father, but they were both shamed into it by the Archbishop of Tyre. I knew that Philippe would seize upon any excuse to forswear his oath, and I would have given him a silver-gilt one had I revealed my intention to marry Sancho’s daughter. He would have refused to sail for Outremer, using my action as his pretext, for he cares naught for the future of the Holy Land. And then I’d have been faced with an impossible choice—to break my blood oath to liberate Jerusalem in order to defend my own lands, or to honor it, knowing that my domains would be overrun by French forces as soon as we sailed from Marseille. I chose the lesser of evils, and whilst I do not deny it was underhanded, I have no regrets.”

“You have even less reasons for regret than you think, Richard. Philippe is the one who has been ‘pouring poison’ into my ear. He insisted that you and Heinrich were conspiring against me, claiming that Heinrich has bought your support, and using the Lodi meeting to lend credibility to his accusations.” Tancred paused then, mustering up a small, abashed smile. “I suppose I was a fool to heed him. But he was very convincing.”

“I daresay he was,” Richard said grimly. “He has proven himself to be diabolically adept at taking advantage of other men’s vulnerabilities, using my brothers against my father with a puppeteer’s sure touch. In my case, I was using him as much as he was using me, and he had a rude awakening once he realized that. In truth, I think that is one reason why he harbors such animosity toward me.”

Tancred thought it was probably simpler than that; the two men seemed like fire and ice to him, so utterly unlike in every way that conflict was inevitable. The tragedy was that their bitter rivalry would continue to rage in Outremer, and that did not bode well for the rescue of Jerusalem.

TO THE SURPRISE OF ALL, including the two kings, Richard and Tancred discovered they found pleasure in each other’s company, and the brief confrontational visit stretched into a five-day sojourn, with excursions to Mount Etna and the holy shrine of St Agatha, with feasting as lavish as Lenten rules allowed, and an exchange of royal largesse. Richard presented the Sicilian king with Excalibur, the sword of the fabled King Arthur, discovered at Glastonbury Abbey. Tancred offered a more practical gift: fifteen galleys and four horse transports for the crusade.

THE NIGHT BEFORE Richard’s departure, a messenger had arrived from Philippe announcing his intention to meet him at Taormina, halfway between Catania and Messina. This came as no surprise, for Richard and Tancred did not doubt that his prolonged stay must be a source of growing unease for the French king, wondering what secrets were being revealed, what confidences exchanged. Tancred then decided to accompany Richard as far as Taormina, knowing such a gesture of royal goodwill would cause Philippe even greater disquiet. Before they rode out the next morning, though, he took Richard into his private solar, saying he had another gift for the English king.

Richard insisted that no further gifts were necessary, pointing out that nothing could be more welcome than those fifteen galleys. But Tancred merely smiled and produced a key, which he used to unlock an ivory coffer. Removing a rolled parchment, he held it out, still with that enigmatic half-smile. “You need to read this, Richard.”

Taking the letter, Richard moved into the morning light streaming through the window. He’d read only a few lines before he spun around to stare at the Sicilian king. “Jesu! Where did you get this, Tancred?”

“From the Duke of Burgundy. He brought it to me last October, just after you’d taken Messina. The seal is broken, of course, but it is written in Philippe’s own hand. Keep reading, for it soon gets very interesting indeed. Your fellow Christian king and sworn ally offers to fight with me if I decide to make war upon you.”