The Heart of the Lion (27 page)

Richard was acquainted with this deadly weapon used so frequently by the Saracens. It was a mixture of sulphur, wine, pitch, Persian gum and oil. When these substances were mixed together and set on fire they were almost inextinguishable. The only substances which could reduce their fury were vinegar and sand. The Byzantine Greeks had perfected this as a weapon and because of their many skirmishes with them the Saracens had adopted it to good effect. From a great height they would squirt this fire down on an enemy thus destroying all the contraptions which were put into action.

‘Then,’ said Richard, ‘if they are using Greek Fire with such effect we must attack them from afar.’

He went on to tell Philip of the weapons he proposed to use. There was the tower which he had built in the Sicilian campaign, Mate Griffon. This he had brought with him and it should be set up again. It should be put on wheels and when the moment was ripe should be run up against the walls of the city and his men from its tower could step over the walls.

‘You will see that my dallying as you call it has not been wasted. Valuable experience came my way because of it.’

‘It was your presence I missed,’ said the King of France. ‘All has changed now you are come. The soldiers know it. And what is more important so does Saladin. Imagine him . . . encamped on the hills beyond the city ready to come in if we should take it, ready to attack us when we are most exhausted. I should like to know how he is feeling this day with the knowledge that Richard the Lion is here.’

‘To be more greatly feared than Philip the Lamb.’

‘Do not underestimate me, Richard.’

‘Nay, I should not be so foolish. If I did you would be reminding me of my Dukedom in Normandy.’

‘You know that the friendship between us is greater than any rivalry. You know that we are friends before King and vassal.’

‘Or King and King.’

‘Aye, my Lord of England. And how I rejoice that at last you have come.’

He was not the only one. Bonfires were lighted that night. They sprang up everywhere in the Christian camp. The crusaders sang of his exploits. They had begun to call him the Lion-hearted.

In his camp Saladin heard the sounds of rejoicing and he knew that the name of Richard the Lion-Heart struck terror into the hearts of his men.

He wanted very much to come face to face with this hero whose fame had spread through Christendom and into his own ranks.

In the tent the two Queens waited for Richard to come to them. To Berengaria it seemed strange that she was never alone with her husband. She knew, of course, that he had a Holy War to fight; the sight of the camps and military activity before the city filled her with apprehension and the thought of what those people within its walls must be suffering made her very sad.

‘I know they are not Christians,’ she told Joanna, ‘but they are people. I have heard that they are starving.’

‘If that is so,’ said Joanna, ‘they will not hold out much longer and then it will all be over.’

‘It will not be the end,’ said Berengaria sadly. ‘When they have taken Acre, what next? There will be more fighting, more camps like this. I thought we were all going to die during that terrible battle with the Saracen ship.’

‘Nay, we’ll not die. Richard will take too much care of us for that.’

Did she really believe it? wondered Berengaria. She herself had changed a little. She was beginning to realise that Richard was not over anxious for her company. If he were surely there would be some time when they could be together?

The little Cypriot Princess who was constantly in attendance listened to their conversation and wondered what would become of her and whether she would ever be allowed to go home to her father.

Richard seemed to have forgotten their existence, though they heard that he often rode out with the King of France.

‘He spends a great deal of time with Philip,’ Berengaria commented, ‘although he has little to spare for us.’

‘It is good for the men to see them together,’ Joanna excused him. ‘It gives them confidence in their leaders.’

One day Richard did come to their tent, and with him was the King of France. Richard was kind and enquired after his wife’s health but it was not the occasion for intimate conversation. As for Philip he was very courteous, particularly to Joanna, but as Joanna said afterwards to Berengaria, it did not mean anything.

‘Would you like to be Queen of France?’ asked Berengaria.

‘No. If I married again I would wish to marry for love.’

‘Perhaps you could love Philip.’

‘I do not think I could and I would not want to marry merely because it would be a link for our two countries if I did. I believe that a Princess may be in duty bound to marry in the first place for state reasons, but when that marriage is over she should have a free choice.’

‘Yet if Philip offered for you?’

‘I could refuse.’

‘Even if Richard wanted it?’

‘Let us not consider that. At the moment neither of them has time for women. They have their battles to think of.’

‘I believe some of the men have time for their women.’

‘They are not kings,’ said Joanna shortly. She turned to the little Cypriot and said: ‘You listen. Perhaps you are wondering when a husband will be found for you?’

‘Do you think there ever will be?’

‘I am sure of it. Richard will find a husband for you when he is no longer preoccupied with his battles.’

And when would that be, wondered Joanna. She could not imagine Richard without a war to fight.

Richard was preoccupied with the coming assault on the walls of Acre. He had brought with him several contraptions which it was necessary for him to assemble. There was, of course, his tower, the Mate Griffon, on which men were working so that when the time came it could be wheeled into position. There was another machine known as the Belfry; this like the Mate Griffon was intended to be placed close to the walls of the city when the time was ripe for entry. Because of the Saracen’s frequent use of Greek Fire, Richard had ordered that it should be covered with tanned hides as a protection against the fire. Another of his machines was a war engine which was used for throwing stones high in the air and at great speed so that they fell into the city. This mangonel had been called the Bad Neighbour and when the Saracens invented a similar machine to throw stones back among the Christians this was nicknamed the Bad Kinsman.

All through the days that followed Richard’s arrival work went on to make these war machines ready for use. The spirits of all the Christians had been so lifted by the arrival of Richard that they forgot all they had suffered through the abortive attempts to take the city, even the discomforts of the
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and the devastating effect the terrific heat had on them. When he rode round the camps he was cheered by all nationalities and they all felt comforted by his presence. He was so certain of victory that he communicated his confidence to them. This uplifting of spirits was obvious even to the Saracens encamped beyond the city on the hill of Ayyadieh.

Saladin himself talked of it with his brother, Malek Adel. ‘What manner of man can this Richard be? They call him the Lion-hearted. They say he is brave and never knows defeat. There is a change in their ranks since he has come.’

Malek Adel replied that they would soon prove to the Christians that their hero was but human after all. He promised Saladin that he himself would bring him Richard’s head and that without his body.

Saladin shook his head. He was not given to such boasts nor did he care to hear his brother talk in such a fashion. He believed that Allah did not love the boastful; and he knew from experience that it was never wise to underrate an enemy.

His men looked to him and expected miracles from him and because they believed so fervently that these would come, they sometimes found their miracles. So must it be with this King Richard.

We are of a kind, he thought. It is a pity that we should fight against each other. But they were two men each with his fixed idea – Saladin’s to hold Jerusalem and Richard’s to take it.

In the midst of the activity Richard fell ill. The recurrent fever took possession of him and though he attempted to fight it off with all his strength, he failed to do so.

How maddening it was to be laid low where he could hear the noise from the anvils as the great war machines were perfected. The action would have to be delayed and this would give the Mussulmans time to prepare. They must have seen the swelling of the Christian ranks. Their spies would have taken back reports of the great war machines. And now the fever had come to torment him!

Berengaria came with Joanna to his tent. They were horrified at the sight of him.

‘I am not so ill as I look,’ said Richard. ‘I know this accursed fever by now. It will pass. It infuriates me, though, that it should come at this time.’

‘At least,’ said Berengaria, ‘now we can look after you.’

And they did. Through the haze of his fever Richard was aware of soft and gentle hands that smoothed the hair back from his face, and put cooling drinks to his lips.

When she could forget her anxieties for his health, Berengaria was happier than she had been since the first days of her marriage.

As the fever grew less virulent, he would ask anxious questions about what was happening outside his tent. She would soothe him and say: ‘All is well.’

How could it be, when he was on a sickbed? he demanded irritably. Who was going to break the siege?

‘The siege can wait,’ said Berengaria; and he sighed in exasperation at her feminine ignorance.

How could he talk with Berengaria? Joanna would have understood more readily. Joanna was there but she kept in the background knowing what pleasure it gave Berengaria to attend to her husband. He was also aware of a third figure – a very young girl of great beauty who seemed like Berengaria’s shadow.

Once he said: ‘Who is the girl?’

‘Isaac’s daughter.’

He was immediately alarmed. ‘What does she here?’

‘She is with us all the time. You gave her into our charge remember.’

‘Her father is my prisoner. She could be looking for revenge.’

‘Nay. We have taught her that you are the noblest king that ever lived.’

He was uneasy. But Berengaria soothed him. The little Cypriot Princess was innocent. She was with her and Joanna all the time. She was like a little sister. She would never harm any whom Berengaria loved. Moreover Berengaria herself prepared his food. She would trust no other to do so.

He watched the girl; it seemed Berengaria was right. None could imagine evil in such a dainty child. Berengaria became a little jealous.

‘You find her beautiful?’

‘The Cypriot women have a certain charm.’ He was suddenly remorseful for his neglect of Berengaria. ‘Not to be compared with those of Navarre,’ he added.

That contented her. It was easy to please her and he felt happy in his marriage for the first time. When he was well he would pay more attention to Berengaria. She was a good woman and by no means ill-favoured; he liked her natural elegance, and it was comforting to feel her there when the fever took possession of him.

Philip came to see him. He stood by the bed looking down on him.