Lionheart A Novel - By Sharon Kay Penman Page 0,156

good manners prevailed over her disappointment and she assured him that he had no cause for reproach. She soon excused herself, saying that she wanted to offer up prayers for Richard’s quick recovery and victory over the Cypriot emperor. Guilhem escorted her to the door and then returned to bow over Joanna’s hand in his most courtly fashion. But as their eyes met, she said, too softly for her ladies across the chamber to hear, “You are a gallant liar.”

“What do you mean, Madame?”

“I’ve been here long enough now to learn something about Cyprus. Did you know it has no navigable rivers? And whilst they are prone to flooding during the rainy season, they dry up into mudholes during the summer months. So any rivers you encountered between Nicosia and Limassol would have been too shallow to drown a snake.”

Guilhem was stricken into silence, not knowing what to say. His relief was considerable, therefore, when she smiled. “Moreover, I know my brother, know how single-minded he is when he is in the midst of a campaign. I wish he’d spared a thought for his new bride, but in fairness to Richard, he is a battle commander, not a court poet.”

Guilhem returned her smile, pleased that she understood. “I am grateful that you are not angry with me for lying, my lady.” He hesitated a moment. “Do you think she believed me?”

“I do not know,” Joanna confessed. “I hope so.”

UPON HIS RETURN to Nicosia, Guilhem was delighted to find his king much improved and very flattered when Richard interrupted a strategy session to question him about his trip to Limassol. “Thank God,” he said candidly, after Guilhem explained that he’d been able to persuade the women that they could not come to nurse him back to health. He took the letters from his wife and sister and tucked them into his belt to be read when he had the time. He was turning away when Guilhem asked for a moment more. He dreaded telling Richard about that river-soaked letter, but he figured it would go worse for him if the king was ambushed and caught unaware by his queen, so he began to stammer out the story, watching nervously for any signs of Angevin anger. To his surprise, he caught an expression upon Richard’s face that he’d never seen before—guilt.

“God’s Blood,” Richard muttered. “I did not even think.... Were you able to make her understand?”

“Well . . . I did not try, my lord. I . . . I lied.” He saw Richard’s eyebrows shoot upward and said a silent prayer that he’d not done something his king would not forgive. But by the time he was done with his awkward confession, Richard was looking amused and—much to his relief—approving.

“That was quick thinking, Guilhem. Sometimes a kind falsehood is better than a hurtful truth. My queen does not yet know much about war or its demands. She’ll have to learn, of course. . . .” Just when Guilhem thought he’d been forgotten, the king smiled and said, “Come in. We are going over the latest reports by my scouts.”

Following Richard into his chamber, Guilhem felt a flush of excitement at the sight of the men gathered around a table littered with maps, for these were lords of rank and privilege: André de Chauvigny, the Earl of Leicester, Joffroi de Lusignan, Baldwin de Bethune, William de Forz, and Richard’s nephew, Jaufre of Perche. Thinking these were high-flying hawks for a Norman knight, Guilhem eagerly approached the table when Richard beckoned. “This is Deudamour,” he said, “which overlooks the road between Kyrenia and Nicosia. But now that we’ve taken Kyrenia, it cannot hold out for long.”

“Kyrenia has fallen?” Guilhem was pleasantly shocked, for the local people had been insisting it was impregnable.

Richard nodded. “Two days after you left for Limassol, the castle yielded to Guy de Lusignan.”

Guilhem whistled softly, rapidly reassessing his opinion of Guy. If the man could have captured a stronghold like Kyrenia with such ease, he was a better soldier than people thought. “I kept hearing that it could withstand a siege from now till Judgment Day!”

“Well, mayhap it could—if the garrison had offered any real resistance. I’d wager it fell into Guy’s lap like a ripe pear. How else explain his quick success?”

Guilhem was startled, not so much by that caustic appraisal of Guy’s military skills, as by the source—it had come from his own brother, Joffroi. He was not surprised that Richard seemed untroubled by Joffroi’s sarcasm, for