The Heart of the Lion (19 page)

In the middle of holy week they set sail.

Crowds had gathered to watch the ships depart, for it was a magnificent sight as the two hundred vessels left the harbour and started their journey eastwards.

The three ships which were in the lead, equipped for battle, their towers being raised above the decks so that they could with ease fire on enemy ships, were known as Dromones. In one of these ships the King’s treasure was carried; in another were Berengaria and Joanna. The third, like the others, carried armaments and was prepared to go to the defence of any of the fleet should the occasion arise when it would be needed. These three were followed by thirteen troopships – the busses, two-masted vessels with strong firm sails. Richard brought up the rear with his war galleys – long slim ships equipped with rows of oars.

Berengaria and Joanna side by side on the deck could not help but be thrilled by the spectacle. The crowds on the shore were relieved to see the departure of an army which had brought trouble with it.

Berengaria, suffering from disappointment because their wedding had not taken place, was thinking how much happier she would have been had she been travelling in Richard’s ship; Joanna had comforted her but it was bewildering after all this time to be still unmarried. It was true that it might have been wrong to have married during Lent, but why did they have to leave on the Wednesday before Easter Day? Surely they could have waited four more days since Richard had been so long in Sicily? If it were not for the fact that she knew Richard was such an honourable man she would have had very uneasy doubts.

However Joanna was beside her and a very warm friendship was growing up between them.

‘Are you not thrilled, Berengaria,’ she asked now, ‘to be sailing with Richard’s fleet?’

‘Oh yes, but I wish we were in his ship.’

‘My dear sister, and you not married to him! That would be most improper and quite out of the question.’

‘We
could
have been married . . .’

Joanna put her arm through Berengaria’s. ‘It seems so to us, but how can we know all that is in Richard’s mind? It was so with my husband. He was a ruler and sometimes he acted in a manner which was strange to me. When we are married to men who hold high office we must be patient, for things are not always what they seem.’

Berengaria nodded gravely. ‘You are right, of course. How beautiful the island looks from the sea!’

‘And let us thank God for calm seas. We shall be in Acre very soon.’

They were both silent thinking of the Holy Land and the desperate battles that were going on and had been for so many years. Berengaria and Joanna were both convinced that Richard would be the one to save that land for Christianity.

Good Friday dawned. A strong wind had arisen and was sending the louring clouds scudding across the sky. Richard following his fleet in his galleys spoke on the enormous trumpet which carried his voice to the leading vessels.

‘A storm will break at any moment. Keep within hailing distance.’

They would do their best, but with the firmest of wills how could that be achieved in such a storm? Rarely had Richard encountered such violence. The sails were useless against the mighty wind and Richard’s voice, shouting through the trumpet, could not carry beyond his own deck. He realised that his fleet would be scattered. Briefly he wondered what was happening to Berengaria and Joanna. If their ship was wrecked they would drown, but an even worse fate might befall them if they were washed up on an alien shore.

Peering through the rain, battling against the wind, calling encouragement to his men he endeavoured to raise the spirits of the crusaders who had come to the conclusion that there must be some among them who had incurred God’s displeasure to such an extent that He wasn’t pacified even by their vow to undertake a crusade.

‘We are lost,’ said one of his men.

‘’Tis not so,’ cried Richard. ‘We will weather the storm.’

‘The rest of the fleet, Sire . . . they are lost!’

‘They will battle their way to Acre never fear . . . or perhaps they will await us in Cyprus. We shall come safely through this storm, I promise you. All we must do is wait for the wind to drop.’

‘God is against us,’ was the despairing cry.

‘Nay,’ replied Richard. ‘He but seeks to test us. If we are to have His help in taking the Holy Land we must show ourselves worthy. This storm is sent to test us. We shall come through. The Grey Monks will be praying for us now. They promised me they would do this in our need and God
must
answer their prayers.’

His words had a sobering effect, or it might have been that quality in him that made all men feel that he was unconquerable, for a calmness settled on the men. The fleet was scattered; their ship was being buffeted by the wind; the oars were useless and it seemed that at any moment the waves would engulf them; but their leader was Richard, and he was certain that they would come through. He had a mission and was convinced that he would not die until he had achieved it.

Such was the power of his personality that he could make men believe this even as he did himself, so that they overcame their fears and went about their work calmly with the certainty that they would survive.

When in the night the wind dropped, a great shout went up from the decks of the King’s ship: ‘The storm is over.’

Richard shouted through his trumpet: ‘All follow me. I shall light the way we are to go.’

He had a large lantern placed on the ship and ordered that by night this should always be lighted so that the other ships could see where he was.

In a few hours the wind had become light, and billowing the sails favourably, and the ship went on without further mishap into Crete, there to discover what havoc the storm had wrought and how many of the ships were lost. It was now the Wednesday following Easter day so he had been a week at sea.

To Richard’s horror he discovered that the vessel which contained his royal treasure and that in which Berengaria and Joanna were travelling were not among those which had come through the storm to Crete.

He could not delay long. He must discover what had become of his gold and treasure and of course of his sister and his bride.

How frightening was the storm at sea!

Joanna and Berengaria had been advised to go below where they might not see the mighty waves pounding against the side of the ship.

They both felt ill but Joanna roused herself to comfort Berengaria.

‘These Mediterranean storms arise quickly and as quickly fade away,’ she told her. ‘Richard will bring us safely through.’

‘Alas,’ said Berengaria, ‘we are not sailing with him.’

‘But under his command,’ Joanna reminded her. ‘Lie down, Berengaria, and I will lie with you. ’Tis better so.’

They lay side by side holding each other’s hands for comfort.

Joanna talked of Richard and what success he had had in war.

‘There is always war,’ said Berengaria. ‘How I wish there could be peace!’

Joanna was silent. There were some who wanted peace – her husband had been one. But what would men such as Richard do if there were no wars? They were made to be warriors. War was the main force in their lives.

She was fearful thinking of his ship now and wondering whether it was following them. In storms fleets were often scattered. What a hazardous undertaking it was to travel by sea and it was amazing how often it was undertaken. If they had been on Richard’s ship she would have been much happier. This brought her back to the strange fact that Richard had not been in any hurry to marry. Joanna had thought a great deal about that. Why was it? she wondered. Berengaria was beautiful – not outstandingly so perhaps but still beautiful. She was eager for the marriage, ready to accept Richard as his mother and sister had presented him as the most handsome hero in the world. It was Richard who procrastinated.

He was not young. He should be getting sons.

And as the wind buffeted them Joanna could not help wondering whether the sea would claim Berengaria for its bride since Richard was reluctant to take her. Or how could they know what would await them on some foreign shore? Joanna had been a prisoner of Tancred and although she had not been ill-treated, to be a prisoner was not a happy state. One could never be sure when one’s jailer might decide it would be better to remove the prisoner altogether.

As she lay side by side with Berengaria and thought how innocent she was, she feared what might happen to them both if they were thrown upon some unfriendly shore.

They should have sailed in Richard’s ship for the hazards of the sea were known to be great. How could a lover contemplate allowing his bride to face, not in his care, the unpredictable elements when one short ceremony could have made it possible for them to travel together?

The same thought which had worried her mother kept recurring to Joanna: Was Richard regretting his promise to marry Berengaria?

None of this did she convey to Berengaria. And as they rocked in their bunk, clinging to the sides of it, now and then involuntary exclamations of dismay breaking from them, suddenly it seemed that the storm was abating.

Joanna said: ‘I believe we have come through.’

And during the fifteen minutes which followed it became obvious that this was so. They slept fitfully and as soon as the dawn came they went on deck and by the morning light were dismayed to discover that they and the other two Dromones which had left Messina together were alone.

‘Where is the rest of the fleet?’ cried Berengaria. ‘Where is the King?’

That was something which could not be answered. They could only wait and see what the day brought forth.

Battered and in sad need of repair they drifted on and at the end of the day they came in sight of land.

They had reached the island of Cyprus.

They dropped anchor.

What peace to be at rest! How wonderful not to feel the sickening roll of the ship under their feet! But they could not enjoy this peace so great was their anxiety, for Richard’s ship was nowhere to be seen. The Captain of their vessel came to them and told them that he intended to land at Cyprus. There it seemed certain that Isaac Comnenus, who was known as the Emperor, would offer them hospitality. They could rest there until they had some news of what had happened to the rest of the fleet.

Feeling very uneasy and visualising the many disasters which could so easily have befallen Richard, they prepared to go ashore, but before an hour had elapsed the Captain came to them to tell them that a small boat had come alongside with a message from Isaac Comnenus to the effect that he would not receive them. Such inhospitality was astounding, especially as he must know that Richard would be incensed at this treatment extended to his sister and his bride-to-be. It could only mean that Isaac believed Richard would never arrive at Cyprus.

A dreadful foreboding had settled on everyone aboard. They were at the mercy of the sea; their ships were in need of repair; the Emperor of Cyprus was refusing his help and the rest of the fleet with the King among it, had disappeared.

There was worse to follow.

During their first night off Cyprus a small boat rowed out to the ship and in it were several English sailors.