Lionheart (21 page)

JOANNA HAD NO TROUBLE reconciling her memories with reality; the nineteenyear-old brother who’d escorted her to Marseille and the waiting Sicilian envoys was recognizable in the thirty-three-year-old man who’d pried open the door of her gilded prison. But for Richard, those fourteen years had wrought dramatic changes in the little girl he’d remembered with such affection. “Are you sure you’re my sister?” he joked. “I have never seen such a remarkable transformation. Well, not since I last saw a butterfly burst from its cocoon!”

“Are you calling me a caterpillar?” Joanna feigned indignation, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow, so easily had they slipped back into their familiar family roles. “I was an adorable child!”

“You were spoiled rotten,
irlanda
, for you took shameless advantage of your position as the baby of the family. You managed the lot of us like so many puppets.” Richard paused for comic effect. “Though I suppose that was good training for marriage.”

“Indeed it was,” she agreed, for she believed that a woman with brothers had a decided advantage over other women when it came to understanding the male mind. “But I was not the baby of the family. That was Johnny.”

Richard did not want to talk about John, for he knew that would inevitably lead to further conversation about Hal and Geoffrey and then their father. So far he’d been successful in avoiding a serious discussion of their family feuding, but he knew sooner or later he’d have to answer her questions. Just not yet. He sensed she’d be hurt by the truth—that he’d detested Hal and Geoffrey—for she’d had an inexplicable fondness for the pair of them. She did not know how Hal had plotted with rebel lords in Aquitaine to overthrow him, how Geoffrey had twice led armies into his duchy, once with Hal and then with Johnny. He held no grudge against Johnny, for he’d been only seventeen at the time. But he was not sorry that Hal and Geoffrey were dead. Nor was he sorry that their father was dead, although he did regret that the ending had been so bitter. He’d not wanted it to be that way, had been given no choice. How could he expect Joanna to understand all this, though? A pity their mother would not be here for months. It would have been so much easier if he could have left the explanations to her.

To deflect any questions about their family’s internal warfare, he said quickly, “When I warned Tancred that you must be released straightaway, I demanded the return of your dower lands, too. Moreover, I told him to include a generous sum as recompense for your ordeal.”

“Did you truly, Richard? Very good!” By Joanna’s reckoning, Tancred owed her a huge debt, and she thought it was wonderful that she had so formidable a debt collector in Richard. “Tancred owes you a debt, too.”

Richard was immediately interested. “What do you mean?”

“William died without a will. But he meant to leave our father a vast legacy, to be used in freeing Jerusalem from the infidels. He would have wanted that legacy to pass to you now that Papa is dead, for the fate of the Holy City mattered greatly to him.”

“Do you know what he intended to bequeath, Joanna?”

“Indeed I do. A twelve-foot table of solid gold, twenty-four gold cups and plates, a silk tent large enough to hold two hundred men, sixty thousand measures of wheat, barley, and wine, and one hundred armed galleys, with enough provisions to feed their crews for two years.”

“Bless you, lass!” Richard swept her up into a jubilant embrace. “I bled England white for this holy quest, would have pawned the crown jewels if Maman had let me. A bequest like this is worth more than I can begin to tell you, and might well make your husband the savior of Outremer.”

“William would have been so pleased to hear you say that.” Tilting her head so she could look up into his face, she gave him a smile that somehow managed to hold sadness, satisfaction, mischief, and even a hint of malice. “And if Tancred balks at honoring the legacy, I might remember other items that William wanted to bestow upon you. Be sure to tell him that, Richard.”

Richard was laughing, delighted to discover that his little sister shared the family flair for revenge. But just then they were interrupted by one of his men with surprising news. The French king had arrived to pay his respects to Joanna.

PHILIPPE WAS NOT looking forward to his courtesy call upon Joanna, for he found it stressful to spend any time in Richard’s company. Moreover, he was bone-weary of the fuss Richard had made over his sister’s predicament, for he was convinced that the English king had an ulterior motive for his most innocent act. Since he found it hard to believe that Richard could still be so fond of a woman he had not seen for fourteen years, he’d concluded that the other man was using Joanna in a subtle attempt to make him look bad, wanting people to contrast Richard’s concern for Joanna with his own lack of concern for his youngest sister, Agnes. He found it very irritating. What was he supposed to have done—launched a war against the Greek Empire? Led an army to lay siege to Constantinople?

But like it or not, he felt obligated to welcome Richard’s sister to Messina, knowing that failure to do so would have made him seem petty and discourteous; she was a queen, after all. Accompanied by his cousin Hugh, the Duke of Burgundy, Jaufre of Perche, and Mathieu de Montmorency, he was in a better mood by the time they reached the convent, for they’d been cheered in the streets by the townspeople. The Messinians were showing far more friendliness to the French than to their English allies, and Philippe was gratified that they had not been seduced by Richard’s usual theatrics.

The abbess herself escorted them into the guest hall. The irrepressible young Mathieu came to an abrupt halt at sight of the woman standing by Richard’s side. “My God, she’s gorgeous!” Jaufre had taken the teenager under his wing, having seen how easily he irked Philippe, and he gave the boy a reproachful look, for lavishing praise on Richard’s sister was no way to regain the French king’s favor. But when he glanced toward Philippe, Jaufre was astonished to see that he was staring at Joanna with the same rapt expression as Mathieu. He was even more astonished when Philippe strode forward to greet Richard with impeccable courtesy and Joanna with outright enthusiasm.

“I am honored to make your acquaintance, Madame. I do have a bone to pick with your lord brother, though, for he never told me how very beautiful you were.”

This was familiar ground to Joanna, who was an accomplished flirt. “My brother has indeed been remiss, my lord king, for he did not tell me how gallant you were, either.” And when Philippe offered his arm, she allowed him to escort her toward a window-seat so they could converse in greater privacy.

This was a side of Philippe that none had ever seen before, not even his own men, and they watched in amazed amusement as the dour French king was suddenly transformed into a courtier, ordering wine to be brought for Joanna, displaying so much animation that he seemed to shed years before their eyes, reminding them that he was but twenty-five and in need of a new queen to grace his throne and his bed.

Richard showed no obvious reaction to the French king’s unexpected interest in his sister, for he’d long ago mastered that most valuable of kingly skills—showing the world only what he wanted it to see. But those who knew him well were not deceived, and the Duke of Burgundy could not resist sauntering over to make mischief. “Our king and your sister seem right taken with each other, even smitten. Passing strange, the ways of fate. Who knows, mayhap there might be a double wedding in the future, you and the Lady Alys and my cousin Philippe and the Lady Joanna.”

Richard had long borne the Duke of Burgundy a legitimate grievance, for Hugh and the Count of Toulouse had joined forces with Hal in his attempt to lay claim to Aquitaine, hastily abandoning that sinking ship once Hal had been stricken with a mortal ailment. Richard had not called the duke to account, but he rarely forgave a wrong and never forgot one. He was not about to give Hugh the satisfaction of seeing his barb had drawn blood, though, and refused to take the bait, saying only, “Passing strange, indeed. Life is filled with turns and twists and we never know what lies around the next bend in the road.” All the while thinking that Hugh would one day find an unpleasant surprise awaiting him on that road, and thinking, too, that he’d see Joanna wed to Lucifer himself ere he’d let her marry Philippe Capet.

“JOANNA, WE NEED TO TALK. I think it is only fair to tell you that under no circumstances would I consent to a union between you and the French king. The man is sly, craven, and untrustworthy—” Richard got no further, for Joanna had begun to laugh.

“Philippe and me? Good Heavens, Richard, the thought never crossed my mind!”

Richard felt a surge of relief. “I am very glad to hear that, lass! The way he was doting upon you, I half expected him to make an offer for you then and there, and I was not the only one who thought that. But if you had no interest in him, why were you encouraging his courtship?”

“I was flirting with him, Richard, not inviting him into my bed! What was I supposed to do—publicly humiliate him by rejecting his overtures? Not only would that have been the height of bad manners, it would have been foolish, too. Offending a king is never a wise move, especially when that king is supposed to be my brother’s ally.”

He looked at her in surprise, for few people dared to speak so forthrightly to him. “You are right, of course,” he conceded. “Since Philippe can vex me merely by breathing, you can imagine how much I enjoyed watching him pant over you like a lovesick calf. I’d not trust him with the lowliest of sumpter horses, much less my sister!”

“I am glad that you value me more than a sumpter horse,” she said, seeking to match his playful tone, although she’d not been misled by it. She found it troubling that he was trapped in an alliance with a man he scorned; that did not bode well for their success in the Holy Land. But there was naught she could do about it. Even if Philippe was truly smitten with her—and she very much doubted that—it would change nothing. According to Richard, their father had saved Philippe’s kingship repeatedly in the early years of his reign, protecting him from his mistakes of youth and inexperience. And yet he had turned upon Henry without hesitation when the opportunity arose, hounding him to that wretched end at Chinon. A man so utterly incapable of gratitude was not one to be swayed by lust.

“You need not worry, Richard. Philippe let his guard down this afternoon, and I daresay he is already regretting it. I am sure he quickly realized that my charms could not compensate for the misery of having you as his brother-in-law.”

Richard blinked and then it was his turn to laugh. By God, she
was
her mother’s daughter. “I hope you are right. It would be awkward if he actually made an offer for you. To save his pride, I’d have to tell him you were already spoken for, and then I’d need to find a husband for you in such haste that any fool with a pulse would do.”

“It is reassuring to know you’ll have my best interests at heart, Brother,” Joanna said wryly. “But I’d rather you not be in such a hurry to marry me off. I do not know what the future holds for me. I am eager to find out, though.”

“I want to talk with you about that, Joanna. It is my hope that you’d be willing to accompany me to Outremer. I think your presence would be a comfort to Berengaria.”

He was asking a great deal, for life was not easy for women in the Holy Land, not even for queens. Just getting there would mean severe hardships and danger—and a daunting sea voyage. But Joanna did not hesitate, for how could she refuse him? If not for Richard, she’d have had no future at all. And she found it rather touching that he’d realized Berengaria would be in need of comfort; she would not have expected that of him.

“Yes,” she said, “of course I am willing, Richard. I owe you so much, welcome a chance to do something for you in return. Besides, it will be a great adventure!”

“Yes, it will,” he said, pleased that she understood that. “You are indeed a sister to be proud of, Joanna. And who knows,” he added with a grin, “mayhap we’ll find you a husband in the Holy Land!”

“So you think Saladin may be in need of another wife?” she riposted and they both laughed, for they were finding in each other what had often been lacking for the Angevins: a sense of family solidarity.