and waved as the columns of cavalry, infantrymen, and supply carts slowly disappeared into the distance.
Some of the rooftop onlookers were soldiers, and Sophia scowled, heaping a few Greek curses upon the heads of these men who’d chosen whores and wine over their vows to liberate the Holy City. Did they suffer no conscience pangs, knowing what their friends and comrades would be facing? Almost eighty miles lay between Acre and Richard’s objective—the port city of Jaffa—eighty miles, eight rivers, and the army of the Sultan of Egypt, Salah al-Dīn. A few feet away, Bertrand de Verdun, the new governor of Acre, was doing his best to assuage Berengaria and Anna’s fears, and Sophia edged closer to hear.
Berengaria was shading her eyes against the sun, straining to keep the rear guard in view, for Richard was among their ranks. “I am not as ignorant of war as I once was,” she said, objecting with quiet dignity to Bertrand’s attempts to downplay the dangers. “I’ve heard my lord husband’s men talking, Sir Bertrand, so I know an army is at its most vulnerable when it is on the march in enemy territory.”
“That is true, Madame. But King Richard has gone to great lengths to minimize the risks for his men. They will be marching along the coast, so their right flank will be protected by the sea. That is where they will place the baggage carts and wagons. The knights will ride next to them, their left flank shielded by the men-at-arms, who will keep the Saracens at a distance with their crossbow fire. And the king has designated several rendezvous points, where the fleet will be awaiting them to replenish supplies. This is truly a blessing, for it means each man must carry only enough food and firewood for ten days. Moreover, smaller ships will be keeping pace with the army offshore, ready to evacuate the wounded or send messages back to the fleet. Not only is this the largest army ever mustered in the Holy Land, it is the best equipped for victory, led by the greatest battle commander in Christendom.”
Richard’s queen and Anna murmured their assent to that, but Sophia noticed that Joanna was standing apart from the other women, her expression guarded, and she sidled over. “Bertrand’s reassurances seem to be ringing hollow for you,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Is he lying to us?”
“No,” Joanna said softly, “Richard has indeed done all he could to minimize the risks for ‘his men.’ But when it comes to his own safety, he can be quite mad at times. You did not hear about the raid on their camp yesterday?” When Sophia shook her head, Joanna drew her aside, out of hearing range of the other women. “Saracen horsemen raced into the camp, shooting and yelling and creating havoc. Richard says they are amazing bowmen, able to fire from a gallop. Some of the knights took off in pursuit, and naturally Richard was in the forefront. It turned out to be a trap, meant to lure them away from the safety of the camp. One of Richard’s marshals and a Hungarian nobleman, Count Nicholas of Szatmar, were both captured and borne away. Richard chased after them in a vain rescue attempt. He was very upset afterward that he’d not been able to free them and did not want Berengaria to know, so say nothing to her, Sophia.”
Sophia was horrified that Richard had come so close to disaster. “What if he’d been captured instead of Count Nicholas?”
Joanna smiled, though without much humor. “To hear his friends tell it, Richard is all but invincible in close combat, so they sought easier prey. But even Richard’s vaunted prowess cannot protect him from a crossbow bolt or a javelin. He well knows that if evil befalls him, the war would be lost. Yet he will continue to gamble his life with reckless abandon . . . until the day his luck runs out.”
Sophia glanced over at her stepdaughter, flirting now with several of Joanna’s household knights, and felt a protective pang. If the English king was slain or captured, what would happen to the women he’d left behind in Acre?
IN THREE DAYS, the army traveled only four miles, camping near the River Acre as they waited for more men to straggle out of the city and join them. Finally on Sunday, the twenty-fifth, they began their march along the sea, hoping to cover the eleven miles to Haifa. Richard led the vanguard,