Lionheart (38 page)

JOANNA’S COMPANIONS were convinced that her weakened state was due in large measure to her inability to keep fluids down or to get the rest her ailing body needed. Mariam had brought along a store of useful herbs and persuaded her friend to take a sleeping draught after drinking a cup of seawater, which was said to aid those suffering from
mal de mer
. Whether it was because they were now anchored in the relative calm of the bay or because she’d reached her breaking point, the draught worked and Joanna fell into a deep, dreamless sleep that lasted almost eighteen hours. When she finally awakened, she was surprised to discover it was now late afternoon on the following day and even more astonished to learn that she’d slept through a gaol break and a rescue mission.

Much to Joanna’s relief, she found that she needed a chamber pot for its proper purpose and not because she was overcome by nausea again. Beatrix and the young widow Hélène helped her to dress as Mariam perched on their clothes coffer and told her of the day’s eventful happenings.

“Whilst it was still dark and there were no sentries on the beach, Stephen had Petros rowed ashore. He seemed remarkably cocky for one going alone into the lion’s den, but young men ofttimes seem to have more courage than common sense. It was arranged to pick him up at nightfall, but he suddenly appeared on the beach in midmorning, astride a mule. He rode it right past the startled guards and out into the bay! At that point he and the mule had a difference of opinion, the mule wanting to return to shore and Petros to continue on. The mule won. But Petros slid off into the water and swam like a fish toward Hugh’s ship, which was closer than ours. I do like that lad’s style,” Mariam said with a grin before continuing.

“When he was pulled onboard, he said that he’d found our men being held in a house on the outskirts of Amathus, that village off the beach. It did not seem to him as if they were well guarded, and when he saw several of them at an upper window, he said he acted on impulse, yelling out in French that a second buss had dropped anchor offshore. Soon thereafter, he heard shouting and thumping and realized they were trying to overpower their captors, so he raced back to the beach, ‘borrowing’ the mule along the way. Stephen and Hugh at once ordered their knights and crossbowmen into our longboats and they rowed for shore, where they found the prisoners had broken out and were being chased by the villagers. Their arrival tipped the scales in our favor, and after some fighting which we could actually see from our buss, our men reached safety on our ships. That noise you hear is the victory celebration. It was,” Mariam concluded, eyes sparkling, “well done, Joanna, well done, indeed!”

Joanna agreed that it was, hoping that this bold sortie would raise morale. She did not ask about the missing fleet, for Mariam’s silence on that issue was an answer in itself. Instead, she managed to swallow a little wine and even a few bites of bread, the first solid food she’d had in days, and then ventured out onto the deck with Mariam unobtrusively bracing her on one side and Beatrix on the other.

Her appearance was welcomed with boisterous enthusiasm, and she had to listen again to an account of the day’s events, this one offered by the participants themselves. Petros was the hero of the hour, obviously enjoying his well-earned turn on center stage, and much praise was also lavished upon Roger de Harcourt, a Norman knight who’d managed to seize a local man’s mare, charging into the crowd of pursuers and riding down those who were not agile enough to jump out of the way. Now that they had an audience of highborn women, the men were only too happy to gloss over the very real dangers they’d faced and the blood spilled on both sides, dwelling instead upon the sweet taste of their triumph and the individual heroics of men like Petros and Roger. Joanna and Berengaria and their ladies played their part, too, with sincere exclamations of admiration and approbation and, for a time, all were able to ignore the realities of their plight, stranded in the domains of a man said to surpass Judas in faithlessness and Ganelon, the betrayer of Roland, in treachery.

The respite soon came to an end. While the men were laughing and teasing Roger for having ridden a mare, a mount deemed unmanly for knights, Stephen quietly drew Joanna and Berengaria aside. “Isaac knew of your presence in the fleet, and when the shipwrecked men were interrogated, they were asked many questions about you both. You can be sure he now knows that it is your ship out in the bay, for the people on shore will have told him they’ve seen women aboard. I daresay Isaac can scarce believe his good luck, and like as not, he is already wondering how much ransom to demand.”

Joanna was expecting news like this, but Berengaria was shocked. “Surely he could not be that foolhardy? He must know that even if Richard paid to get us safely back, he’d then wreak a terrible vengeance upon Isaac and Cyprus.”

“From what I’ve heard, Isaac Comnenus is both arrogant and stupid, a dangerous combination.” Stephen hesitated before deciding that they deserved to know the full extent of the danger they were facing. “I am sure he has heard what happened in Messina and he must be uneasy about the arrival of an army led by a soldier king. He may well be thinking that you ladies could prove to be very useful hostages. There have been rumors for years of Isaac’s clandestine contacts with the Saracens. What would King Richard do if Isaac threatened to turn you over to Saladin?”

Berengaria’s face was suddenly ashen. Joanna had not considered a threat like that, either. But she soon rallied her defenses and said briskly, “That will never happen. I have no desire to end up in a Saracen
harim
, which is likely even worse than a Sicilian one. Moreover, I would die ere I let Isaac use us as weapons against my brother like that. It is unthinkable that Richard should have to choose between rescuing us and recovering the Holy City.”

“I agree,” Berengaria said resolutely, and Stephen gave the women a tight smile that was both admiring and grim, assuring them that his men would fight to the death in defense of the king’s sister and betrothed. But after they were left alone by the gunwale, Berengaria said softly, “What now, Joanna?”

“We do what Hugh de Neville did. We wait and we pray that Richard arrives ere Isaac does.”

JOANNA’S PRAYER was not to be answered. The next day, the men and women on the two busses spent hours staring out to sea, but no sails appeared on the distant horizon. In the afternoon, though, there was a sudden commotion on the beach. Riders were being greeted by the sentries, and so much deference was paid to a richly clad man on a spirited dun stallion that few doubted they were looking upon the self-proclaimed Emperor of Cyprus.

Hugh had rowed over to Stephen’s ship, and when they saw a small boat launched from the beach, he said bleakly, “Here is trouble on the way.”

It drew so close to the buss that some of the crossbowmen had itchy trigger fingers and exchanged looks of resignation and longing. As soon as it had dropped anchor, a man rose and made his way to the prow. His clothing and sword proclaimed him to be a person of rank, as did the fact that he addressed them in French. It was so heavily accented, though, that they did not find him easy to understand, and Stephen beckoned Petros to join them at the gunwale.

Delighted to be the center of attention again, Petros called out in Greek. The man looked both surprised and relieved, and the two engaged in a conversation that was utterly incomprehensible to those listening; the only words they could make out was the name “Isaakios Doukas Komnenos.”

Stepping back from the rail, Petros rolled his eyes. “What a pile of—” Remembering that the queen and queen-to-be were listening, he censored himself and said with a shake of his head, “He was amazed that there would be one amongst the barbarians who could speak Greek. He claims to be some highborn local lord, but I think he is one of Isaac’s lackeys, so I paid no heed to his name or title. This is his message from his august emperor; Christ keep me if he did not call Isaac
Kosmokrator
!” Seeing the blank looks, he said with a chuckle, “It means ‘master of the world.’ Anyway, Isaac wants us to believe that he knew nothing about the imprisonment and deaths of our men. He says he was greatly displeased to hear of it and will punish the culprits severely. I was hard put to keep a straight face at that point, God’s Truth!”

But when Stephen prompted him to relay the rest of the message, Petros lost his jaunty demeanor. “He wants you to come ashore, my lady,” he told Joanna. “You and the ‘Damsel of Navarre.’ He says he will put his palace at Limassol at your disposal and do all in his power to make your stay in Cyprus a pleasant one. It was like watching a wolf trying to coax lambs into his cave, but this wolf is not going away.”

“Tell him,” Joanna said, “that we are greatly honored by his kind invitation. But we are awaiting the arrival any day now of my brother the English king and his fleet. King Richard, known throughout Christendom as the Lionheart in recognition of his great prowess on the battlefield, will gladly accept the emperor’s hospitality once he reaches Cyprus. Whilst we wait, we wish to send some of our men ashore to replenish our water supply. As we are pilgrims on our way to the Holy Land, I am sure that one as celebrated for his Christian faith and generous spirit as the illustrious Emperor Isaac will gladly grant our small request.”

Petros had listened intently, committing her words to memory, and then nodded, giving her an approving grin. “Well said, my lady.” Leaning over the gunwale, he spoke at some length and with considerable animation. The other man’s face was grim by the time he was done speaking and his own response was terse. As his boat headed toward the beach, Petros turned back to his attentive audience. “I told him what you said, my lady, throwing in a few sweeteners by calling Isaac all the high-flown titles I could think of. The lackey was not pleased, as you could see. He said he’d tell Isaac of your request for water. He also said that he hoped you’d reconsider, for his emperor might well take your refusal as an insult. I got the sense,” Petros said somberly, “that he was speaking for himself then. I’d wager Isaac is not one for rewarding failure.”

It was quiet for a time after that. Hugh made a point of telling Joanna that he thought she’d refused Isaac’s offer very tactfully, and with luck, that might well be the end of it. They both knew better, though.

ISAAC’S MAN WAS BACK the next morning, this time requesting permission to come aboard their buss. He was conspicuously ill at ease, obviously fearing that he might be held hostage by these alien barbarians. Stephen would have considered it had he thought Isaac actually cared about the welfare of anyone but himself. But when Isaac had defied the Greek emperor Andronicus, the two kinsmen who’d stood surety for his good faith had been put to a gruesome death by impaling, and there was no evidence that their fate had weighed upon Isaac’s conscience. His messenger was bringing gifts from the emperor for Joanna and Berengaria: Cypriot wine and bread and ram’s meat.

Joanna had to stifle a hysterical giggle.
Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.
When he again urged the women to come ashore, she told him that they dared not, for they could not leave the ship without the permission of her brother the king. No man had ever looked at her as he did now, with utter and implacable hatred. Even though she knew he dreaded returning to Isaac with another refusal, she found it unsettling, nonetheless. He did get the last word, though, telling them brusquely that his emperor had refused to give them permission to replenish their water supplies, saying there would be water in plenitude in the royal palace.

After his departure, there was nothing to do but stare out to sea. But in late afternoon, a flurry of activity began on the beach. Men rowed out to the wrecked ships and began chopping at the broken masts. Others were bringing carts from the direction of Limassol, the nearest town, and whipping heavily laden small donkeys. As those on the ships watched, the doors of houses and shutters and planks were piled onto the sand, soon joined by barrels and fence rails and large shields, even benches. A barrier was being constructed out of whatever materials the Cypriots could lay their hands upon. Their barricade might be makeshift, but there was no mistaking the intent. These were preparations for war.