Lionheart's Scribe (4 page)

But I cannot forget the monstrosity of it. Is this the reward that soldiers take in return for risking their lives? Is this the only way they can work off thebloodlust of battle? Perhaps it is fortunate that I am a cripple. I could never be a soldier. Perhaps that is just cowardice, but that is the way of it.

The eleventh day of November

Life in Messina has still not settled down to normal. I wonder if it ever will.

The thirtieth day of November

There is an uneasy kind of peace now. The townsfolk still cast nervous glances over their shoulders, but they are beginning to go about their business again. I am back working down at the harbor with Vulgrin. No one taunts the foreign soldiers anymore though, and people hasten to get out of their way whenever they appear. Vulgrin fawns in a most disgusting way over any of them who come to him to write letters. The two kings, however, now seem to be on the best of terms, at least in public. It is most odd. They are preparing for the Yuletide festivities and the priests are preaching the holiness of the crusade with even more fervor.

“It is God's will,” my priest says. He paints the most wondrous pictures of Jerusalem and of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, which is one of the most holy places in Christendom. He talks of the divine joy of walking the streets where Our Lord Jesus trod. When I listen to him my mind fills with glorious visions. I forget the horror of what happened here. I want nothing more than to be a part of it all.

What will it be like to watch the crusaders sailaway? To remain behind, with nothing to do for the rest of my life but toil away as a slave to Vulgrin?

The first day of December

I have started going back into the camp, and the spirits there are so high after their great victory that no one bothers me. All is preparation for feasts and celebrations. King Richard is a great lover of music and poetry, I have heard, and is even a poet himself. How strange that seems for a man of war such as he is. But it is true. A few times I have managed to creep close enough to his pavilion to hear the sound of minstrels playing and once I heard a lady laughing. I wonder if it was the Queen Joanna. They say she is a great beauty and a kindly lady.

King Philip keeps to himself. No one seems to have a good word to say for him. The talk is that he despises music and all kinds of learning. Considers them a waste of time for a man. He is jealous too of King Richard's victory.

The second day of December

I am back to working regularly at the stables and being beaten regularly by Vulgrin for arriving late in the mornings.

The fifth day of December

There is such a bustle in the camp getting ready for the Yuletide festivities. The excitement has spilled over into the city too and seems to be helping people forget what happened. Only the Christians are involved, of course, not the Muslims.

Mistress Matilde, the woman who rents my goat, is making cheeses at such a great rate that she doesn't even have time to talk. She lets her children run wild and keeps the youngest tethered on a long rope to a tree so that she doesn't have to keep running after it. It is a boy, I think, but so dirty and ragged that it is hard to know for certain.

King Richard is building a wooden castle outside the city, and it is said he will celebrate the festivities there. The framework already looms over the walls. I imagine King Tancred is not too happy with that, especially since the English soldiers boast that the name of the castle is Mategriffon, which means Greek killer.

There is plenty of fuel for the gossips down at the docks these days. Now it seems that King Richard and King Philip are at outs with each other. Vulgrin's friend, whose name is Audebert, but whom I secretly call Mouseface because that's what he looks like, says that King Richard was betrothed to King Philip's sister, the Princess Alice, but now refuses to marry her. There was a scandal involving the princess, who lived at the English court for many years, and King Richard's own father, King Henry!

These great people do like to make trouble for themselves.

The second day of January in the new year of our Lord 1191

What a Yuletide celebration! I left my goat with Mistress Matilde, abandoned Vulgrin completely and spent the whole time in the camp. The soldiersin the stables have adopted me as a kind of pet, and they let me sleep there during the festivities. I work as hard as I can for them and now tend the horses as confidently as they. The horses recognize me and each one greets me as I bring it food or curry its mane and tail. Indeed, it seems the animals are quieter and more at ease when I am around, and the soldiers realize this. They are happy to have me do the work and I am content to be so accepted. It makes for a much more interesting life than I have led up to now.

I have never feasted so well in my life. For the first time I had as much as I could eat every day and as much wine as I wanted. Of course, I gorged myself until I was sick and the wine, which I am not accustomed to, made my head swim and then ache, but it was worth it.

The first day of February

I have been so busy going back and forth between the crusaders' camp and Vulgrin's stall that I have not had time to write in this journal. Nor have I had skins. Vulgrin was so furious with me for deserting him over Yuletide that he has been at me constantly and I had no chance to steal any until today. My back is raw from the beatings I have taken, and my ears ring like church bells from being boxed so often.

This is no kind of life. I wish with all my heart that I could escape from it. But how? Where could I possibly go? This is an island. I would have to stow away on a ship, but I would most certainly be discovered and thrown overboard if Idid that. The only solace I get is from stealing off to King Richard's camp, no matter how many beatings I get for it. But when they leave I will not have even that.

The fifteenth day of February

The soldiers in King Richard's camp are getting impatient and the French even more so. The two kings have kept their armies busy building siege machines, and preparing for the voyage and the siege to liberate Acre that will come after it, but this is not what these men left home for. They talk freely now in front of me, and in spite of the gifts that King Richard has distributed among them to appease them they are angry. They want to get on with the crusade. The seas are not favorable yet, however. There are still too many winter storms. The waves yesterday were so high, they were breaking on the shore right up to the doorsteps of the merchants' houses.

Even though ships are not entering the harbor either, Vulgrin is never without work for me to do. I am finding it harder and harder to sneak away to the crusaders' camp.

The second day of March

King Richard still will not marry King Philip's sister, Alice, and the two kings will not even speak to each other.

This news courtesy of Mouseface.

The fourth day of March

Tempers are running so high in this city that the streets are awash with men fighting and women screaming at them and at each other. I've seen two bodies floating in the harbor. The English soldiers fight with the French, and they all fight with everybody else in the city, whether they be Arab, Norman or Sicilian. An English soldier had an argument with a local woman baker yesterday and before anyone knew what was happening a riot broke out. I ran into it on my way home. Two men set upon me with clubs, but then they started arguing between themselves and while they were at it I escaped as fast as I could hobble.

There are too many people squeezed onto this small island!

The first day of April

King Philip has set sail! His ships were disappearing over the horizon as I made my way down to Vulgrin's stall this morning. I stood and watched them until I couldn't see them anymore. I felt such envy of the men sailing on them that I didn't even notice when Vulgrin greeted me with a harder than usual box on the ear.

Mouseface reported that King Richard is also making his preparations to leave, but is waiting for his mother, Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, to arrive. She is not to go on the crusade, but he must wait for her nonetheless. Mouseface raised his eyebrows and hooded his eyes and looked down his nose wisely when he told us this, as if to let us know that
he
knew the reason the king had to wait, but I do not believe he does.

I did manage to find out why Richard, a Norman, is king of England though. It seems that he was born in Aquitaine, his mother's land, but his father was King Henry II of England and he was a Norman. King Henry's great grandfather was William of Normandy, whom they call the Conqueror—because he conquered England, of course, and became its king. And that's why a Norman sits on the throne of England.

Mouseface informed me with great authority that King Richard preferred to spend his time in Aquitaine, where the court is famous for its troubadours and poets. He only went to England barely long enough to be crowned king after his father died. The king makes little secret of the fact that he detests the place and cannot speak English at all. I wonder what my mother would have thought of that.

The second day of April

Queen Eleanor arrived, and now we know why King Richard had to wait for her. She brought with her Princess Berengaria of Spain, and King Richard is to wed her instead of Princess Alice! Queen Eleanor and King Richard must have had it planned that she should arrive after King Philip had left. The king of France will have a fit of apoplexy when he finds this matter out. Princess Berengaria is to sail on the same ship as Queen Joanna. She and the king cannot marry before they go because it is Holy Week.

What a tangle these people make of their lives.

The seventh day of April

At mass this morning I listened to the priest blessing the crusade and I watched the crusaders kneeling there, so proud with their red crosses gleaming on their breasts and shoulders, and I could hardly sit still. I prayed to God to let me change this life of mine somehow. Was that a sin? I suppose I should accept the lot God has given me without question. That is what my priest says. It is the life hereafter that matters, not this one.

The tenth day of April

Sebrand, the soldier who is most friendly to me, told me not to come back again. They are leaving tomorrow. I am almost desperate with grief. I knew this day would come, but now that it has, how can I bear it?

The eleventh day of April

What a difference in my life one day has made. I read my last sentence, written only yesterday, and I cannot believe it. My whole world has changed in just that short space of time.

I am on one of the crusaders' ships—on Queen Joanna's own ship, in fact. And I am going on crusade!

This is how it came to pass. I must write it all down even if it takes me all night—it is such a miracle. Surely God
was
listening to my prayers at mass the other day.

I was down at the docks with the sunrise this morning, determined to see the English fleet sail off.

Vulgrin had not yet arrived, so I set up the stall and put out all the writing materials. Then I watched.

The harbor was in turmoil. I could see nothing of the king and the rest of the nobility. I supposed they were already on board their ships. The soldiers and common men were loading the ships amidst a flurry of curses and shouts. I could see crates and barrels of foodstuffs being manhandled onto the decks and lashed down, as well as a huge assortment of other goods. There looked to be supplies of just about everything a ship could need. I am so used to writing down lists that I began to make a list in my head of all that was being loaded onto the ships. There were rudders, anchors, canvas for sails, oars and ropes of every kind. I stared as long-handled iron-tipped lances were carried on, as well as shields, bows, crossbows, quivers of arrows and all the other equipment necessary for knights and soldiers. I wondered how the ships could hold so many things.

There was a smell of tar in the air that mingled with the salt of the sea. I sniffed it up in huge draughts. Gulls swooped and dove for the harbor garbage, screaming and fighting. The sea sparkled and beckoned. The wind blew through my hair and seemed to tease me.

“Come to sea,” it seemed to whisper. “Come to sea.”

Oh, how I wished I could!

As I was watching they brought up the horses. The soldiers led the massive beasts down to the shore where planks spanned the gap between shipand dock. I saw Sebrand lead King Richard's own stallion up to the plank. That one is my favorite horse of all. I have grown fond of it and I swear it is fond of me.

At the edge of the plank the stallion balked. Sebrand tugged at the bridle. The stallion tossed its head and I could see its eyes roll. Again Sebrand urged the horse forward, but then the beast reared. Its enormous hooves flashed against the sky and Sebrand ducked back just in time to avoid them. Then the rest of the horses lining up behind the stallion began to get nervous. As I watched they began to dance around and one or two of them reared up as well. In an instant a kind of madness spread amongst them.

Without thinking I ran forward. I grabbed the stallion's bridle, which was flying loose, and began to talk to the horse in the voice that I used in the stables. I had to dodge a flying hoof myself, but then the stallion seemed to recognize me. It calmed, and shuddered when I stroked its withers. Urging it on with gentle little noises I headed toward the gangplank. The horse followed me. As it put one hoof on the wooden plank it threw its head back and would have balked again, but I kept up my stream of comforting nonsense.

“Come on, boy. Don't be frightened,” I crooned. “Follow me, boy. Come on …”

I must admit I was hugely relieved when the animal took one step, then another, after me. I had acted without thinking about the consequences, only sure in my own mind that I could get the horseto do my bidding. Nevertheless, to be truthful, I was as surprised as the others when I actually managed to lead it on board.