doctors believe that a woman cannot conceive unless she experiences pleasure.”
This was a day of surprises for Berengaria. “Is that truly so?”
Joanna hesitated, but Berengaria had been very candid. It seemed only fair to be candid in return. “Richard told you that my son died soon after birth.” She had to blink rapidly, for there were some wounds that never fully healed. “I was unable to conceive again after that. Eventually, I had William take me to Salerno, which has some of the best doctors in Christendom, and a few of them are female. I consulted several of these women physicians, hoping they could help. They told me when a woman was most fertile and gave me herbs and assured me that I was more fortunate than many wives, for I enjoyed making love with William. That would improve my chances of getting pregnant, they said. . . .” She managed a flickering smile, a slight shrug.
Berengaria found herself blinking back tears, too, for the pain on Joanna’s face was so naked that she felt as if it struck at her own heart. “I cannot even imagine what it would be like to lose a baby,” she confessed. “But it must be of some comfort to know that he is in God’s Keeping, blessed and safe for all eternity.” When Joanna nodded, Berengaria overcame her natural reticence and squeezed her sister-in-law’s hand. “I am very glad that you are coming with us,” she confided. After a few moments of companionable silence, though, she said, “But what of a woman who is raped and then gets with child? That happened to a milkmaid at our palace in Olite. She was forced by a drunken lout, so I am sure she got no pleasure from it. Yet she became pregnant.”
“That same thought occurred to me, too,” Joanna admitted, “and I asked the Salerno doctors and midwives about it. Most likely a male physician would have insisted pregnancy was proof of pleasure. Women know better, of course. So, yes, a woman can sometimes conceive even if she was unwilling. But they assured me it is true more often than not, and it made sense to me that a husband’s seed would be more likely to take root if his wife was relaxed and receptive.”
Berengaria thought that made sense, too. “I am grateful we had this talk,” she said, smiling at the older woman. “You are much more knowledgeable about carnal matters than Padre Domingo!”
“Consulting a priest about carnal matters is like asking a blind man to describe a sunset,” Joanna said teasingly, and was gratified when Berengaria joined in her laughter, for even a few days ago, she was sure the young Spanish woman would have seen such flippancy as blasphemous. She began to relate a story she’d heard some years ago, one meant to reinforce in Berengaria’s mind the link between sexual pleasure and conception: that the French king had been persuaded to divorce Eleanor only after his advisers convinced him that she’d never bear him a son now that their marriage was irretrievably broken and she was unlikely to find satisfaction in his bed.
Joanna was very pleased with herself, confident that she’d done much this afternoon to make sure her brother’s marriage would be a successful one. It might be a good idea, though, to suggest to Richard that Padre Domingo be sent back to Navarre and a more open-minded confessor found for his bride. A pity Richard would never know how much he owed her. But she could not tell him without violating Berengaria’s trust, and she had no intention of doing that. She thought they’d planted the seeds this day of something worth nurturing—a genuine friendship.
RICHARD HAD HIS wooden castle dismantled and the sections were marked before being stowed in ships to be reassembled in Outremer. The same was done for his numerous siege engines. As his army made ready for departure, huge crowds gathered upon the docks to watch. The Messinians were awed by the magnitude of the undertaking. The cargo vessels were gradually filled with tuns of wine, sacks of flour and cheese and dried fruit and beans and salted meat; rumors spread that these long-tailed Englishmen were taking more than ten thousand slabs of cured pork alone. They were fascinated by the endless procession of provisions being lugged onto the gangplanks: huge barrels of water, grain and hay, arrows, crossbow bolts, armor, saddles, blankets, tents, and coffers filled with silver pennies, gold plate, and jewels, an