Lionheart (71 page)

“Oh, my husband was a monster,” Sophia said, so blithely that Beatrix blinked.

“But I’ve seen enough of other marriages to realize that men, even the good ones, cannot be trusted with something as fragile as a woman’s heart. They are much too careless.” Glancing across the hall, she said dryly, “Lionheart is probably lucky, though, that his bride is still bedazzled. How many other queens would be so willing to become camp followers?” Beatrix joined in her laughter, and then they rose and made ready to play their parts, to act as if they shared Joanna, Berengaria, Alicia, and Anna’s eagerness to accompany Richard back to Jaffa.

CHAPTER 28

OCTOBER 1191

Camp of Al-Ᾱdil, Near Lydda, Outremer

Bahā’ al-Dīn had been with his sultan at Latrun. When he received the summons from Salah al-Dīn’s brother,he presumed it meant there’d been new developments in the ongoing talks with the English king. Once he was escorted into al-’ Ᾱdil’s tent, his surmise was confirmed, for it was to be a rare private audience; the only other person present was Sani’at al-Dīn ibn al-Nahhal. The latter was al-’Ᾱdil’s scribe, and so trusted despite his unusual background—he’d converted to Islam from Christianity—that he’d been the one conducting the negotiations on his lord’s behalf.

Ordinarily, Bahā ’ al-Dīn would have been offered a cooling drink, an iced
julab
. But this was the twenty-ninth day of
Ramadan
, their month of fasting, and Muslims were expected to refrain from eating or drinking from sunrise to sunset. So after greetings were exchanged, Bahā’ al-Dīn sat cross-legged on cushions and politely waited to learn the reason for his presence. They spoke casually for a time about various subjects: the welfare of their respective families, the escape from Acre of one of their emirs, who’d climbed down a rope from a privy window, and the troubling news that the local peasants were providing the Franks with large quantities of food. But al-’Ᾱdil soon got to the point of the visit.

“You are familiar with the first offer made by the English king?”

“I am, my lord,” Bahā’ al-Dīn assured him. Richard had sent a remarkably candid letter to Salah al-Dīn, saying that both sides were suffering great losses and they needed to find a way to end the war. He’d asked for the lands west of the River Jordan and the city of Jerusalem. He’d further argued that the True Cross ought to be returned, as “to you it is nothing but a piece of wood, but it is very precious in our eyes.” Salah al-Dīn had rejected all three demands, insisting that the Holy City was more sacred to Muslims, “for it was the place of our Prophet’s journey and the place where the angels gathered.” The lands in question belonged originally to them, and the possession of the cross “is a great advantage to us and we cannot give it up except we could thereby gain some advantage to Islam.” The talks had stalled after that and Bahā’ al-Dīn was quite curious to find out what the infidels were offering now.

“We’ve often agreed that the Franks are a predictable people,” al-’Ᾱdil said with a faint smile. “But that cannot be said of the English king, for he has come up with a truly surprising proposal. He suggests that we resort to a tried-and-true method of making peace—a marriage.”

Bahā’ al-Dīn was astonished. It was true that in the Christian and Muslim worlds, wars were often settled by marital alliances. But this was a holy war, both to the Franks and the Saracens. “Whose marriage, my lord?” he asked warily.

Al-’Ᾱdil’s dark eyes shone with amusement. “Mine. The English king has offered me his sister, the widow of the King of Sicily.”

Bahā ’ al-Dīn prided himself on his inscrutability; that was an essential skill for a diplomatic envoy and a useful one for any man who must deal with princes. But his discipline failed him now. He gasped audibly, his mouth ajar, so obviously flabbergasted that the other men burst out laughing. “Surely he was joking!”

Al-’Ᾱdil glanced toward his scribe, indicating that he should be the one to answer. “It is not always easy to tell with him, my lord, for he has a bantering manner, often speaking half seriously, half in jest. But I do not think this was a joke.”

“If so, it is a remarkably detailed joke,” al-’Ᾱdil commented. “The Lady Joanna would be crowned Queen of Jerusalem, which would become the capital of our realm. My brother would give me the lands between the River Jordan and the sea, making me its king, and Richard would give his sister the coastal cities of Acre, Jaffa, and Ascalon as her dowry. Jerusalem would have no Christian garrison, just priests and monks, but Christians would be free to visit or dwell there. The villages would be given to the Templars and the Hospitallers, and my wife and I would hold all the castles. Our new kingdom would still remain part of the sultan’s dominions. Their holy cross would be returned to them, and there would be an exchange of prisoners on both sides. And after the peace treaty was signed, Richard and the Franks from beyond the sea would return to their own lands. Presumably, then, we would all live in peace.”

Bahā’ al-Dīn found himself agreeing with al-Ᾱdil; this was exceptionally explicit for a joke. Surely it was not a serious offer, though. So what did the English king hope to gain by it? Was this a test of their will to continue the war? Or something more sinister? Were the Franks seeking to drive a wedge between the sultan and his brother? Seeing that al-’Ᾱdil was waiting for his response, he equivocated, saying with a smile, “But would you be willing to wed an infidel, my lord?”

“Well, this infidel is said to be quite beautiful,” al-’Ᾱdil said with a smile of his own. “And the
Qur’an
does allow a man to wed a chaste woman amongst the People of the Book, though a Muslim woman cannot marry out of her faith, of course. I do not know if the Christians’ holy book permits such marriages. I would be surprised if so. But all of this comes as a surprise, no? Say what you will of the English king, he is far more interesting than most of the infidels. Can you imagine Guy de Lusignan or Conrad of Montferrat making such an outrageous proposal?”

“They may not have available sisters conveniently at hand,” Bahā ’ al-Dīn pointed out, and they all laughed. He was not misled, though, by al-’Ādil’s wry, mocking tone. The sultan’s brother was a shrewd player in that most dangerous of games, the pursuit and acquisition of power, deftly balancing his own ambitions against his loyalty to Salah al-Dīn. He was not a man to be easily outwitted or beguiled, and was naturally suspicious of this extraordinary offer. But Bahā’ al-Dīn could see that he was intrigued, too, possibly even tempted by it, and why not? What man would not want a crown of his own?

“What is your wish, my lord?” he asked cautiously. “Should this be passed on to the sultan?”

“We have no choice. Even if we could be sure it was a ruse, we’d still have to inform my brother, for if nothing else, it is a revealing glimpse into the English king’s mind. I have summoned Alam al-Dīn Sulaymān ibn Jandar, Sābiq al-Dīn, and several other emirs to join us after the noon prayers so we may discuss it. Then I want you to go to the sultan and tell him this—that if he approves of the proposal, I will agree to it. But if he rejects it, say that the peace talks have reached this final point and he is the one who thinks they should not be pursued further.”

“I understand, my lord,” Bahā’ al-Dīn said, for indeed he did. Al-’Ādil was treading with care, as well he should. He was the sultan’s most trusted adviser. But he was also a potential threat, for he was far more capable than any of Salah al-Dīn’s sons, and despite the deep abiding affection between them, the sultan must occasionally wonder if his brother’s loyalties would be as steadfast after his death. “I understand,” he repeated, thinking that this infidel English king was more subtle than they’d realized and, therefore, more dangerous.

“YOU DID WHAT???”

“Joanna, will you let me explain? And for God’s sake, lower your voice.” It was not easy to find privacy in an army camp; Richard had done the best he could, seeking out his sister in her own tent and dismissing her ladies and servants. But his precautions would be for naught if she continued shrieking at him like a wrathful fishwife.

“Explain?” she echoed incredulously. “What possible explanation could you offer that I’d accept?”

Before he could respond, the tent flap was drawn aside. “Richard? Joanna? Whatever is wrong? I could hear the shouting all the way outside!”

Richard was not pleased by Berengaria’s intrusion, preferring to discuss this alone with his sister. But he could hardly dismiss her as he had Joanna’s attendants, and even if he’d tried to do so, he suspected that Joanna would, in her present contrary mood, insist that her sister-in-law remain.

“Do you want to tell her, Richard, or shall I?” Joanna glared at her brother, looking eerily like their mother in one of her imperial rages. “Your husband has bartered me to Saladin’s brother! He has proposed peace terms based upon my marriage to al-’Ādil.”

“Richard!” Berengaria was staring at him, horrorstruck. “How could you?”

“You make it sound as if I offered to trade you for a couple of camels! All I did was to suggest that a marital alliance might be one way of ending the war. I did not—”

“You were outraged when Philippe flirted with me at Messina, would never have even considered a marital alliance with France. But now you are content to marry me off to an infidel, an enemy of our faith? I think you have well and truly lost your mind!”

“I never said I intended to marry you off to al-’Ādil! I simply said I’d suggested it to him. And as I tried to tell you, I have three very compelling reasons for making such a proposal.” Seeing that she finally seemed willing to hear him out, he said hastily, before she changed her mind, “First of all, Saladin is about eight years older than his brother and not in the best of health, so he likely expects to die first. Secondly, al-’Ādil has proved himself to be a man of great abilities, as skilled at statecraft as he is at winning battles. He is highly regarded by Saladin’s emirs and the sultan well knows it. Finally, Saladin’s first-born son is just one and twenty, his other sons much younger, and none of them have so far shown al-’Ādil’s gift for command. From all I’ve heard, there is a close bond between the brothers. But Saladin would have to be a saint, assuming Muslims have them, for him not to worry about what happens to his empire after his death.”

Pausing, he saw that his wife still looked aghast. Joanna, though, was listening. “Go on,” she said. “So you are seeking to stir up discord between Saladin and his brother. How does this marriage proposal do that?”

“Because it is not one al-’Ādil can dismiss out of hand, for it would make him a king. And you a queen, in case you’re interested.” Seeing that she was not amused by his attempt at humor, he continued, telling her of the peace terms he’d proposed to al-’Ādil. “So you see,” he concluded, “this marriage proposal is actually a trap of sorts.”

“With me as bait,” she said tartly. “You expect Saladin to accept this offer?”

“No, I expect him to refuse.”

“You’d best hope that he does, Richard,” she warned, “for I would never consent to it.”

“Not even to become Queen of Jerusalem,
irlanda
?” he teased, and she frowned.

“Not even to become Queen of Heaven. I am not about to join a
harim
. Yes, I know that Muslims can have four wives, Richard. I grew up in Sicily, remember?”

“But you’d be a queen, which would surely give you greater status than his other wives,” he said and ducked, laughing, when she snatched up a cushion and threw it at him.

While Berengaria was greatly relieved that Richard had not truly intended to marry Joanna to an infidel Saracen, she was troubled that he was treating it so blithely instead of with the seriousness it deserved. “I do not understand. Why would Saladin’s brother believe you could dispose of the Jerusalem crown as you pleased? And why would he believe that the other Christian lords would accept this?”

Richard patiently explained that no one but Guy wanted him to remain as king and Isabella could be said to have forfeited her right to the crown because of her bigamous marriage to Conrad. “And whilst some of the
poulains
might balk, most of the men who’d taken the cross would not, for they could then visit the Holy City and its shrines, fulfill their vows, and go home.”

Joanna had listened intently, her eyes narrowing. “So,” she said, “you offer al-’Ādil a crown, Saladin refuses it, al-’Ādil feels cheated, and they begin to regard each other with suspicion. Is that how it is supposed to go, Richard?”

“More or less,” he agreed. “Needless to say, this cannot become common knowledge. By the time Burgundy and Beauvais got through with it, they’d have me converting to Islam and launching a
jihad
to set all of Christendom ablaze.”

Joanna waited until he’d kissed them both and made ready to depart. “Just out of idle curiosity, Richard, what happens if Saladin and al-’Ādil accept your proposal ? What will you do then?”

He paused, his hand on the tent flap. “I’ll think of something,” he said with a grin and disappeared out into the night.

Once he was gone, Berengaria sat down wearily on Joanna’s bed. “Sometimes I fear Richard can be too clever for his own good,” she confessed. “I see the value in sowing suspicions between Saladin and his brother, but if word of this got out . . .” The mere thought of that was enough to make her flinch. “I expected the war against the Saracens to be so much more . . . straightforward. Instead it is like a quagmire, poisoned with petty rivalries, personal ambitions, and shameful betrayals. The French hate Richard. The
poulains
are at one another’s throats. Guy is not fit to rule, but Richard supports him anyway because of his feuding with the French king. Philippe not only abandoned a holy war, he is likely to launch attacks on Richard’s lands in Normandy in utter defiance of the Church. And Conrad is the worst of the lot, for he is actually willing to side with the infidels against his fellow Christians. It is all so ugly, Joanna.”