captured turcopoles told de Lusignan that Isaac is known to use arrows tipped in poison.”
“Isaac is beginning to annoy me exceedingly.” Richard was still staring after the dust trail churned up by the fleeing emperor as Joffroi and Guy de Lusignan rode over to him. When they asked if he wanted to continue pursuit, he shook his head. “What would be the point? He’s astride Fauvel.”
IT HAD NOT BEEN an easy time for Berengaria and Joanna, left behind in Limassol waiting for word. They’d learned that there had been no fighting at Famagusta, but after that, there was only silence. Joanna now understood that this was a foretaste of their life in the Holy Land; she was not sure if Berengaria had realized it yet, too. So Guilhem de Préaux’s arrival was eagerly welcomed by both women, for he bore a message from Richard.
He told them about Isaac’s thwarted ambush outside Tremetousha. Editing his account to be suitable for a female audience, he neglected to mention that the emperor had shot poisoned arrows at Richard, instead stressing the low casualties and the ease of their victory. “Nicosia surrendered at once,” he reported exuberantly. “The king received them in peace, but ordered the men to shave their beards as a symbol of their change of lordship. People continue to seek out the king and disavow their allegiance to Isaac, much to his distress and fury. So it will be over soon. The king has sent Guy de Lusignan to besiege the castle at Kyrenia, which holds the emperor’s treasure and his family, and he has set Stephen de Turnham’s brother Robert to patrolling the coast in case Isaac tries to flee to the mainland—”
“Why?”
“My lady?” Guilhem regarded Joanna so innocently that he confirmed all of her suspicions.
“Why has Richard entrusted Guy with the assault upon Kyrenia? Why is he not leading it himself?”
Guilhem had hoped the women would not pick up on that. “The king has been unwell, so he remained at Nicosia whilst he recovers.” He tried then to divert the conversation into more innocuous channels, but they were having none of it, and he reluctantly admitted that upon his arrival in Nicosia, Richard had come down with a sudden fever. Despite his best efforts to make it sound like a minor matter, Joanna and Berengaria knew that Richard must have been afire with fever for him to have taken to a sickbed instead of pursuing Isaac, and they immediately began to lay plans to hasten to Nicosia.
“You cannot do that!” Guilhem cried, shaking his head vehemently. “The king forbids you to leave Limassol.” They did not look at all pleased and Joanna seemed on the verge of mutiny, so he hastily explained that Richard felt it would be too dangerous to undertake an inland journey as long as Isaac remained on the loose. “The king is not seriously ill, my lady queens, and it is better that he recovers on his own. Men are notoriously poor patients,” he joked, “and the king is not taking this disruption of his plans with good grace. Indeed, he has been so bad-tempered that you’d surely want to smother him with a pillow, and think what a scandal that would cause!”
His attempt at humor fell flat. “Do you swear he is not gravely ill?” Berengaria demanded, and when he offered an eloquent avowal upon his very soul, she and Joanna conceded defeat. Guilhem had no time to savor his victory, though, for after thanking him for being honest with them, Berengaria then asked, “Did my lord husband give you a letter for me?”
Guilhem opened his mouth, shut it again. He knew it was safest for him if he simply told the truth, but he could not bring himself to do it, for he thought her brown eyes were as soft and trusting as a fawn’s. “Of course he did, Madame. A long one it was, too, and he wrote it in his own hand instead of dictating it to a scribe, since it was meant for your eyes only. But . . . and I hope you can forgive me . . . I no longer have it. We had a mishap fording a river. The water was much deeper than we’d expected and I was drenched to the skin. To my dismay, I later discovered that the king’s letter had gotten soaked, too, and the ink had run so badly that it was totally unreadable. I am indeed sorry for my clumsiness.”
Berengaria’s