Lionheart (60 page)

Berengaria let him escort her to a marble bench, but Joanna couldn’t wait. “Richard said you were to interpret for the Saracen envoys, Lord Humphrey, so you must have been in the midst of it all. Was Saladin there? What went amiss?”

“We knew Saladin would not attend, but we’d expected his brother, al-’A
^-
dil, to speak for him. He did not come either, though, which was a pity, for we might have been able to reason with him. As it was, the message Saladin sent was an uncompromising one. He sought to impose new conditions ere he’d fulfill his part of the bargain. He wanted us to free the Acre garrison now instead of waiting until the final two payments were made. King Richard refused.”

“What else could he do? The Duke of Burgundy has not returned from Tyre with the hostages yet. Do you think Saladin knew this?”

“I am sure he did, Lady Joanna. Both sides have more spies than a dog has fleas. He offered to provide more hostages if the garrison were freed now, but wanted hostages from us if we insisted upon holding on to the garrison, saying he needed proof that we would indeed free them once all the ransom was paid. Your brother refused this, too. He reminded the sultan that Acre had surrendered to the Christian forces and the loser does not get to dictate terms to the winner. When he demanded that Saladin honor the pact as agreed upon, the Saracens went off to consult with their lord. He sent word back that he was not willing to turn over the Cross, the prisoners, or the money unless we either freed the garrison now or handed over hostages of our own. After that, the meeting ended in acrimony and mutual accusations of bad faith.”

“But we already have Saracen hostages—the Acre garrison,” Berengaria pointed out. “It does not make sense to release them and then replace them with other hostages. I do not see how that benefits Saladin. Do you, Joanna?”

“No, I do not.” Joanna had begun to pace. “But a delay would be very much to his benefit. The longer he can keep Richard and our army at Acre, trying to resolve these issues, the more time he has to refortify the coastal cities and castles. Richard thinks that is his real objective. You know the man, Lord Humphrey. Do you agree?”

As she looked intently into his face, Joanna was struck anew by how very handsome this man was; his dark eyes were wide-set, his skin smooth and clean-shaven, his full mouth shaped for smiles and songs. But he would not make a good husband for a queen; his beauty could not compensate for the lack of steel in his spine. He was a
poulain
, though, born and bred in the harsh splendor of the Holy Land, and she thought that made his opinion worth hearing.

Humphrey seemed to be weighing his words, like a man striving to be fair. “Yes, it is indeed in the sultan’s interest to delay as long as possible. He knows how desperately we want the True Cross, and he may well think that we will let him drag the negotiations out because there is so much at stake for us.”

Joanna’s eyes searched his. “Yet you still say he is a man of honor?”

“I do, my lady,” he said firmly, but then he gave her a charming, rueful smile.

“But it has been my experience that honor is often the first casualty in war. Saladin deserves our respect, is a finer man in some ways than many of my Christian brethren. He is still our enemy, though, and he is pledged to what they call the ‘lesser
jihad
,’ war against the infidel. I’ve always found it interesting that their holy men preach that Muslims who fight in the
jihad
will be granted admission to Paradise, just as the Holy Father promises that those who take the cross will be absolved of their sins.”

They both were staring at him. “Surely you are not equating Christianity with beliefs offensive to God?” Berengaria said, with unwonted sharpness in her voice.

“No, of course not, Madame.” Humphrey was accustomed to having to offer such reassurances, for his was a world in which intellectual curiosity was not viewed as a virtue, not when both Christians and Muslims were convinced that theirs was the only true faith. “I am simply trying to understand Saracen thinking. We are sure we are doing God’s bidding, yet Saladin is sure of that, too. He is not by nature a cruel or heartless man. But he will do what he thinks necessary to expel us from the Holy Land.”

“Just as my brother will do what he must to recover Jerusalem,” Joanna said proudly. “And he will prevail, for God truly
is
on our side.”

The women withdrew soon afterward, leaving Humphrey alone in the courtyard. He wished he could share their certainty. But he did not think Joanna and Berengaria understood how cleverly the sultan was boxing the Christians in. How could the English king give up an opportunity to recover the True Cross? Saladin could have found no better bait than the holiest relic in Christendom. Yet they could not remain in Acre much longer without jeopardizing the entire campaign. Moreover, if the Saracen garrison were not ransomed, what was to be done with them? He sat down on the rim of the fountain, watching as the sky began to redden. He would normally have taken pleasure in such a splendid sunset, for he had an artist’s eye as well as a poet’s soul. But tonight he could think only of the day’s troubling impasse and the danger it posed to his homeland.

THE NEXT DAY, the Duke of Burgundy returned from Tyre with the rest of the Saracen hostages, Conrad having grudgingly yielded to Hugh’s angry denunciations and Richard’s ominous threats. Two days later, Richard set up camp outside the city walls. Messages continued to go back and forth between the two sides, but their mutual mistrust prevented them from reaching an accommodation, and the stalemate dragged on.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 20, dawned with brilliant blue skies and sweltering summer heat. The men gathered in Richard’s pavilion were already sweating despite the early hour. The waiting had begun to wear upon their nerves, and there were several testy exchanges before Richard took command of the council, demanding silence so he could speak.

“We can wait no longer,” he said, pitching his voice so all could hear. “Saladin is playing us for fools. He will continue to delay and equivocate and do all in his power to put off a reckoning, because every day we remain at Acre is a day we’ve lost and he’s won. He is using this stolen time to strengthen Jaffa and Arsuf and Caesarea, and could be expecting reinforcements from Egypt for all we know. In two months the rainy season begins, and I’ve been told campaigning is well nigh impossible then because the roads turn into quagmires. So if we do not move soon, we risk being anchored at Acre until the spring. You know what a setback like that would do to our army. If we let Saladin outwit us like this, they’ll say all those deaths in the past two years had been in vain. They’ll be loath to trust us again, and who could blame them?” He did not bother to elaborate, sure that his audience already knew what a detrimental effect a winter at Acre would have upon camp morale. How many would have any stomach for fighting after months of gambling, quarreling, whoring, and drinking?

He paused then, waiting for a response. No one disputed him, though, not even the French lords, who’d usually argue with him over the most insignificant trifles. None wanted to lose this God-given opportunity to regain the Holy Cross and free so many Christian prisoners. Nor were they happy to forfeit so much money, for Richard’s generosity was almost as legendary as his bravado and they’d been sure the ransom would be shared, enabling them to pay their men and cover their expenses. This was no small consideration, for many a crusader had bankrupted himself by taking the cross. But they were soldiers, too, and like Richard, they could see that remaining at Acre was not an option. Nothing mattered more than the success of the crusade, not even the sacred fragment of the Holy Cross or those unhappy men languishing in Damascus dungeons.

Richard let his gaze move challengingly from Hugh to the Bishop of Beauvais. Beauvais looked as if he were biting his tongue, wanting to protest from sheer force of habit. Hugh’s shoulders were slumped, his chin tucked into his chest, his slouching body proclaiming his bitter disappointment over the loss of the ransom. Feeling Richard’s eyes upon him, Hugh glanced up and said sarcastically, “Are you asking our opinions? That is a first. Naturally you’d choose the one time when only a half-wit could disagree with you. The fact is that we have no choice, and every man in this tent knows it.”

The Germans had either died in the siege or gone home with Duke Leopold. There were numerous Flemings still with the army, though, and Jacques d’Avesnes spoke for them now, agreeing that they could not afford to wait any longer. Guy de Lusignan, his brothers, the Grand Masters of the Templars and Hospitallers, a Hungarian count, and several bishops had their say then, echoing what had already been said, and Richard thought that this was likely the first and last time that they’d all be in such unanimity. He’d not really expected arguments, but was relieved, nonetheless, to be spared the usual rivalries and prideful posturing.

It was Henri who asked the obvious question. “What do we do, then, with the Acre garrison?”

“What can we do?” Richard said grimly. “There are only four choices, none of them good ones. We cannot spare enough men to guard nearly three thousand prisoners, and I am not about to leave them in the same city with my wife and sister unless I could be sure they had no chance of breaking free. Nor can we take them with us on our march south. We do not even have the food to feed several thousand extra mouths, for Saladin has deliberately devastated the countryside to keep us from living off the land. We cannot just turn them loose, not without risking a riot from our own men. Many of them were not happy with the surrender, feeling they’d earned the right to storm the city and take vengeance for the deaths of their friends and fellow soldiers. If we free so many Saracens to fight again without getting so much as a denier, they’ll be outraged and, once again, who could blame them? That leaves us but one choice as I see it—we execute them.”

None could fault his logic, but not all of them were comfortable with the decision, for the Saracens had fought bravely and surrendered in the belief that their lives would be spared. Henri was the only one to express these regrets aloud, though. “A pity, for they showed great courage during the siege. Had they not been infidels, I’d have been proud to fight alongside any of them.”

Some of the other men nodded in agreement, but Guy de Lusignan, the Templars, and the Hospitallers were enraged. Several of them began speaking at once, drowning one another out, until Garnier de Nablus prevailed by sheer lung power. Glaring at Henri, he said wrathfully, “Courage, you say? I’ll tell you about courage, about the two hundred and thirty-four Templars and Hospitallers who were butchered by Saladin two days after the battle at Ḥaṭṭīn. Not only did he put these brave Christian knights to death, he set their accursed holy men and Sufis to do it, men who’d never even wielded a sword before. Save your pity for them, my lord count, not for pagans whose hands are wet with the blood of our brethren!”

The vehemence of the Hospitaller Grand Master’s attack took Henri by surprise, but he didn’t back down. “I mourn those good men, too, my lord Garnier. But courage is worthy of admiration, and I think the Saracens who held Acre for two years deserve to have their bravery acknowledged, especially if they are facing death and eternal damnation.”

“I agree with my nephew,” Richard interjected before any of the other Templar and Hospitaller knights could chime in. “They are indeed brave men. But they are also our enemies and their lives were forfeit as soon as Saladin refused to honor the terms of the surrender.” He glanced then toward Hugh. “Half of these men were claimed by your king, my lord duke. Do you agree that they must be put to death?”

Hugh nodded. “I do not see that we have any other choice. But what of the commanders and the emirs taken when the city fell? Surely we are not going to kill them, too? Some of them might well be rich enough to pay their own ransoms.”

“I agree,” Richard said. “We will keep those men at Acre, for they can be used, too, to barter for some of our prisoners at a later date.”