Lionheart A Novel - By Sharon Kay Penman Page 0,240

all about the deprivations and dangers of the march, including Richard’s narrow escapes and his crossbow wound. Richard did his best to gloss over the perils they’d faced, and then turned the talk to lighter fare, telling the women about their comic encounters with jerboa, strange rodent-like creatures that hopped like rabbits, and relating the story of Baldwin’s disastrous attempt to ride a camel, thankful that at least Guy had not mentioned the Michaelmas ambush.

He was soon to learn otherwise. After they’d consumed the final dish of dates, almonds, and honey, his wife and sister steered him toward the relative privacy of a window-seat. “We were deeply sorry to hear of Jacques d’Avesnes’s death,” Joanna said somberly. “It is almost as if his Flemish hounds know that he is not coming back, for they have been very subdued and eating poorly.” She hesitated, exchanged glances with Berengaria, and then plunged ahead. “Had you been slain at Arsuf, too, Richard, it would have been a grief almost beyond bearing for us. But how much worse it would have been if you’d died in that Michaelmas battle; then we’d have been tormented with ‘what if ’ and ‘if only,’ even the guilt of blaming the dead, for how could we not be angry with you for taking such needless risks?”

Richard was at a rare loss for words. “Anyone who thinks women do not speak their minds has never met you, Joanna,” he said ruefully. “I am sorry Guy told you about that, for I know you both worry enough about my safety as it is. What Guy did not know is that Henri and André and others have already taken me to task for it. They reminded me that my death could guarantee victory for Saladin, and I promised them that I would try to remember that in the future.”

“Will you promise us, too, Richard?”

“I will, Berenguela,” he said, and she took comfort from the fact that he sounded utterly serious for once.

“Just remember,” Joanna warned, “that if you do not mend your ways, Richard, I will have no choice but to write to Maman about your rash behavior.”

“Jesu forfend!” he exclaimed, and when they grinned at each other, Berengaria felt a pang, for their easy camaraderie stirred memories of her brother Sancho, so far away in Navarre.

Joanna’s expression soon sobered, for they’d not yet spoken of Guilhem de Préaux. Her gratitude to the Norman knight was magnified by grief; she’d liked Guilhem, remembering how kind he’d been in Cyprus, quickly concocting a lie to shield Berengaria from Richard’s neglect. “Guy did not think there was much hope of ransoming Guilhem de Préaux. Is Guy right about that, Richard?”

“I am beginning to wonder if Guy de Lusignan has been right about anything in his life,” he said, with an exasperated grimace. “He is most definitely wrong about Guilhem. He has not been executed, nor harmed in any way. But Saladin is refusing to ransom him because he knows how much I want his freedom. That makes him a very valuable bargaining counter, so Saladin means to hold on to him for now.”

“But the Saracens must have been sorely disappointed to find out that they did not capture you, after all. Would they make Guilhem suffer for his deception?”

“No, al-’Ᾱdil assured me that he is being treated with respect, Berenguela. The Saracens value courage and loyalty as much as we do.”

Joanna’s relief was so great that she leaned back in the window-seat, closing her eyes. Berengaria smiled and squeezed Richard’s arm. “Al-’Ᾱdil is Saladin’s brother, no? But are you sure you can trust him?”

“Yes,” he said, “I am. I resumed talks with him not long after Arsuf, and I think he is a man of honor. Of course, Burgundy and that bastard Beauvais would swallow their tongues if they ever heard me say that! To hear them tell it, I came to Outremer for the sole purpose of betraying the kingdom to the Saracens. Meanwhile, their ally, Conrad of Montferrat, is said to be trying to strike a deal with Saladin that would enable him to hold on to Tyre and Sidon.”

Both women were so indignant that it was a while before Joanna remembered she had a surprise for Richard. “I almost forgot! A troubadour from Aquitaine arrived in Acre last month. Whilst he may not be as celebrated as Gaucelm Faidit, he is very good, and I arranged for him to entertain us tonight.”

“Mayhap tomorrow, irlanda. Tonight I think I’ll let Berenguela