Roselynde (51 page)

The loot, he admitted, was well worth saving and well worth the
few bruises and scratches he had sustained. Simon ran a string of emeralds set
in sunbursts of gold from hand to hand, thinking how well they would look on
Alinor's white throat. There was a nice little chest full of similar gauds, a
considerably larger one packed with yards and yards of the most exquisite cloth
Simon had ever seen, and several bulging, clinking sacks of gold and silver
coin packed on the back of a mule as handsome as any horse. Simon's money
problems were over for some considerable time, and he had a bride gift that
would be well worthy of his wealthy wife.

When a fresh detachment of men had ridden out from Limassol to
count up what remained after the fifty who had fought with Richard had taken
what they wanted, Simon mounted a mettlesome black stallion and caught up the
reins of his own tired horse, the mule, and a gorgeous little Arabian mare he
had selected for Alinor. Sometimes in the past he had felt some compunction at
looting. This time he was merely pleased at having done so well. Those who
originally possessed what he now had did not deserve it. Temporarily his
distaste for the lush beauty available in this land was in abeyance.

Comnenus had fled toward the mountainous portions of the island.
The next few days were spent in administrative detail. Richard issued an edict
promising leniency to all who ceased to oppose him and set up a provisional
government which, although severe, was decent and honest enough to win the
willing cooperation of many of the natives. It was also necessary to gather
information as to where the Emperor had hidden himself. Simon was not concerned
with those matters, however. To him Richard had assigned the task of arranging
his wedding to Berengaria on the following Sunday. Although Simon knew nothing
whatsoever of such matters, he accepted the task with perfect calm and
willingness. Being no mean tactician himself, he dropped the whole matter into
Joanna's capable hands and spent three delightful days escorting Alinor while
she ran Joanna's errands.

Saturday he was summoned hurriedly from the palace to the port.
Three strange galleys had been sighted and Richard intended to go himself to
discover who they were. Simon cursed under his breath and went. He was not a
fearful man, but going armed aboard a small ship gave him a cold shivery
feeling. Death came to all men, but Simon did not wish to meet his in cold
water, weighted down by his armor so that he could not even struggle to help
himself.

The danger was never put to the proof. The galleys were friendly
emissaries from the Holy Land, carrying Guy de Lusignan, the deposed King of
Jerusalem, and the Latin princes Bohemund III of Antioch and Count Raymond II
of Tripoli. Richard greeted them with open arms. They were sent by God, he
asserted, so that his wedding would be attended by suitably noble guests.
Richard's mood filled Simon with alternate hope and despair. The King was very
happy, verging, in fact, upon the exalted. Some of the elevation of spirit
could be accounted for by the growing tale of wealth that was refilling
Richard's coffers and promising a successful Crusade, but most of it, Simon
suspected, came from Richard's feeling that he had conquered his base
inclinations.

The King's expansive mood just suited Guy de Lusignan's
personality and needs. He spun Richard a sad tale of conspiracy and treachery
by which the loss of his kingdom had been engineered by Conrad of Montferrat,
who was now close in the bosom of Philip of France. Richard assured him his
losses would be made good. Lusignan deplored his penniless state; Richard gave
him two thousand marks of Comnenus's silver and twenty cups from the Emperor's
plate. The only thing neither Guy nor Bohemund nor Raymond could wring from the
King was a promise that he would leave for the Holy Land at once. Richard
intended to celebrate his nuptials with due leisure and he did not waver in his
decision to make Cyprus his own.

The second determination had Simon's full concurrence. Although he
had little to do with the native population or the noblemen who had deserted
Comnenus and sworn fealty to Richard, it was clear to him that no promise or
oath would bind the Emperor. If Comnenus was loose on the island, he would
attempt to subvert it to damage the Crusaders' purpose.

The notion of a lingering period of relative idleness to enable
the King to spend considerable time with his new wife did not sit as well with
Simon. Richard was thirty-two years of age and had doubtless made more than one
attempt to conquer his inclinations. From what Alinor said about Berengaria,
Simon doubted she would have the skill or patience or even the desire to keep
the King steady to his purpose. It would be easier for all if Richard were well
occupied with other duties and business, and had little contact with his wife,
except for formal meetings at feasts and entertainments. The night calls for
the duties of the marriage bed could be brief if he had the excuse of the need
to work or fight the next day. In that way he would not need to dwell upon what
he must do. If he spent nearly the whole day murmuring love poems to the woman,
the distasteful necessity of handling and using her body would never be out of
his mind.

Simon stared blankly at the wall of the King's chamber where a
graceful young man, totally unclothed as usual, fled from the outstretched arms
of a handsome, equally naked woman. An odd-looking chariot harnessed to four
white horses stood in the background. Richard had laughed at Simon's first
comment on the wall painting and had told him it was a most moral scene. The
boy Hippolytus was the woman's son by marriage and was fleeing Phaedra's
suggestion that he violate his father's bed. Simon shook his head and shifted
his position. His brain could consider the King's problem, but his bowels could
not comprehend it. Once in Alinor's bed, he feared neglecting his martial duty
far more than his marital duty.

The new position Simon took did not bring him much comfort.
Through a wide window that looked out on an inner court of the palace, he could
see Richard in close conference with Lusignan. As a man, there was little harm
in him. He was brave and honest enough. As a ruler, Lusignan was disastrous. He
was useless as a leader, stupid and stubborn, incapable of judging either men
or situations or of understanding when his own actions caused his misfortunes.
Thus he could never amend his own faults. Simon sighed. There was nothing he
could do about Lusignan except to hope that Richard would discern the man's
true worth before tragic consequences resulted.

If there could be dark stars, then two had fallen from heaven and
lodged in Berengaria's eyes. The brilliant glow brought a hope to Alinor that
she had misjudged her gentle mistress. It was impossible that Joanna would not
have advised her sister on what to expect. The only faint shadow on Alinor's
expectation was the Princess's total lack of nervousness about the marriage.
Alinor quelled the feeling. Berengaria was no coward. She had faced the
snow-buried mountains and the raging seas with great fortitude.

Joanna's work in arranging the wedding had been well done. Because
Richard was not marrying in his own domains, the number of nobles and prelates
who would witness the ceremony was relatively small, and the vows could be exchanged
in the chapel itself. Joanna wept quietly as she saw the bride and groom
joined. Both were radiantly happy. She remembered how frightened she had been
at her own wedding. William had been so much older, and she had been so
homesick. But it worked out well—all except her own barrenness. Surely this
union would be blessed with fruit, both bride and groom were so young, so
strong, so eager. Richard
was
happy and eager. Those odd little quirks
of his— It was only because he was more soldier than lover, and there was no
harm in that.

The King has convinced himself, Simon thought with relief. He is
truly filled with joy and eagerness. At least he will be able to take her
maidenhead. Simon's worst fear had been that Richard would find himself
impotent with a woman. That had happened a number of times when Richard had
tried previously to reform. The reiteration of those searing moments of shame
had been the most pathetic part of the King's delirious ravings. There could be
no doubt of Richard's confidence now, however. Perhaps because this union is
blessed by the Church it will be different, Simon thought. Previously Richard
had only been choosing between two sins, and it was possible that that idea
made the more heinous of the sins less awful in his eyes.

Hardly had the
Fiats
that acknowledged the marriage faded
into silence than a second ceremony began. Berengaria was to be crowned Queen
as well as wife this day. Simon had suggested the idea to Joanna on the grounds
that they did not know whether Comnenus would attack once his forces were
regrouped and it might not be possible to have the coronation later. Joanna had
accepted the reasoning without question so Simon had achieved his purpose
without having to admit that he wished to avoid another extended period of
idleness and celebration. The feasting could always be prolonged if things went
well.

Certainly all seemed to be progressing excellently. The feast and
entertainment could not be faulted nor could the delicate perfection or
blushing modesty of the bride or the magnificent, battle-scarred maleness of
the equally naked groom when they were shown to their noble attendants in the
bedding ceremony. The usual jests were made, although the time given to them
was not overlong; Richard was already displaying his readiness to do his duty.
In the general retreat from the nuptial chamber, Simon and Alinor found it easy
enough to meet. Without a word exchanged, they moved outside into the inner
court garden by mutual consent. Alinor rested her head against Simon's shoulder.

"I wish," she said softly, "that I were sinless
instead of marked by pride and lust and willfulness and, oh, so many things. If
I—"

Simon bent his head and kissed her, then laughed. "Whatever
has induced this unhappy soul-searching in you?"

But Alinor did not respond to his mood. The night was brilliant
with moon and stars. Simon could see the anxious expression on the face raised
to him.

"I wish it so that my prayers for them might be
answered," Alinor whispered. "Do you think they will be?"

Simon did not reply at once. He did not wish to think of the long
future. "There is hope," he said at last. "At least he will make
a woman out of a maiden this night."

The bloody sheets displayed on the following morning seemed to be
evidence that Richard had been thorough about his work. Simon's spirits lifted
when the King's joyous mood held through the next day. Nonetheless when
opportunity arose, he mentioned casually the chance that Comnenus might seize
this time to attack them, when he believed them to be off guard owing to the
happy occasion. Richard did not think it likely that the Emperor could summon
up the courage. Simon did not press the point. An hour later, however, he was
summoned to council to arrange watches and scouting parties.

From this, by natural progression, a discussion of when and how to
capture Comnenus arose. At this point the Masters of the Hospitalers of
Jerusalem stated that they were sure they could bring Comnenus to terms without
further battle and despoiling of the country. Richard looked at them blandly
and said with apparent gravity that, if terms that would suit his friends could
be arranged, nothing would please him more. A good part of the next few days
was given to setting up the terms. This was more difficult than simply demanding
impossible conditions in the most insulting manner. Since the Hospitalers were
mediating, an appearance of goodwill had to be maintained.

Despite the necessary delicacy, it seemed to Simon that the King
was devoting more time to the terms of the agreement than an eager bridegroom
should, but he held his tongue on that subject. His intention had been to
provide Richard with an excuse to avoid his wife's company, if he wished to
avoid it, that would arouse no comment. Simon was sorry to see that the King was
taking advantage of the opportunity, but it was better that his mood remain
sunny than that he should have no outlet and be driven to less acceptable
methods of relief.

The terms that Richard would exact from Comnenus had been
carefully leaked abroad so that there was a little surprise and disappointment
when the Emperor agreed to come to the conference. His acceptance of the severe
agreement was received with outward joy and inner distrust. It seemed highly
unlikely that Comnenus really intended to supply five hundred men to fight in
the Crusade, monetary indemnity to those who had been despoiled in the
shipwrecks, or to give the strong points and castles of the island into the
hands of Richard's men until his goodwill toward the Crusades could be established
fully. Simon knew that Richard was annoyed; the King intended to eat the whole
island and had barely had a little nibble of it. What was worse, everyone knew
that the day the main force sailed for the Holy Land the Emperor would
repudiate the agreement and attack those who remained, leaving his hostages to
their fate in Richard's irate hands.

The King's council convened without the King and put its anxious
heads together. Richard would not repudiate a military agreement—at least, not
without an excuse. The best excuse, of course, would be an attack on the King,
but no one entertained that idea for more than a moment. Some protested hotly
at the danger to Richard, others laughed because they did not believe anyone
could think of any way to inspire daring enough for such a deed in Comnenus or
his followers. That comment bore fruit in Simon's mind. He recalled to the
council Richard's irreconcilable rage against a gentleman who had absconded
after giving his parole. If Comnenus could be induced to flee—and that,
considering his proven cowardice, should not be difficult to arrange—the King
would undoubtedly accept such behavior as sufficient cause to abrogate the
treaty.