Lionheart A Novel - By Sharon Kay Penman Page 0,242

as the palace here—”

“Richard, of course I want to come with you! How could you ever doubt it?”

He hadn’t, for by now he knew the mettle of the woman he’d married. “Actually, I was just being polite and giving you a choice,” he said with a grin. “I took it for granted that you’d want to come, one of the many reasons why I consider myself a lucky man.”

Berengaria blushed again, this time with pure pleasure, and was emboldened to flirt a little. “May I hear these reasons, my lord husband?”

“The first one is that you are not Alys Capet,” he said, so promptly that she realized he’d given this some thought. “Alys could never have coped with the storms at sea and Isaac Comnenus as you did. I doubt that she could even have adapted to life in an army camp, much less in the midst of a siege.” He shifted so she could cradle her head in the crook of his shoulder. “You want more reasons? Women are never satisfied, are they?” He gave a loud put-upon sigh, but she knew he was teasing, and after a moment, he said, “Well, I am grateful that you are so sweet-natured. And undemanding; men like that. You have never complained about my snoring, you smile whenever you see me, and you let me have that last helping of dates and almonds tonight.”

This playful litany of her virtues was hardly a passionate declaration of love, but she’d not expected one. It was enough for her that he seemed so content with their marriage, that he could offer affection and respect, for she knew not all wives were so fortunate. And when he continued, saying that she had more courage than the vast majority of her sex, with an admirable measure of steel in her spine, she felt such a surge of happiness that she could not speak, knowing that, for Richard, this was the ultimate accolade.

She’d not dared to hope that Richard would bring her to Jaffa, and she felt like a child again, given a wonderful gift when she’d least expected it. In four days, they’d have been wed for five months, and every time her flux came, it was a wound to her heart. Joanna had reminded her that a crop could not be harvested unless seed was planted first. But she could take no solace from her sister-in-law’s commonsense admonition, so eager was she to give Richard the son and heir a king so needed. Now, though, she’d be able to share his bed again. The Almighty had often shown His Favor to Richard, sparing his life time after time. Why should He not show His Favor, too, by letting her conceive and bear his child here in the Holy Land? Richard was already sleeping. That was such a comforting thought that she soon slept, too.

JOANNA WAS ELATED when Richard and Berengaria broke the news the next morning. Anna and Alicia were so excited that they forgot they were supposed to act like well-behaved, modest maidens of thirteen and fourteen, shrieking with glee instead, and while Mariam said nothing, she glanced toward Morgan with a secret smile. But most of the women reacted with dismay or horror, for none wanted to trade the luxuries of the royal palace for a tent in another army encampment. Richard had said they were rebuilding Jaffa’s walls; it would be months, though, before the city would revive, and it was unlikely ever to offer the markets, diversions, and security of life in Acre.

Sophia and Beatrix were too resilient and too realistic to share the consternation of the younger ladies-in-waiting, and they merely exchanged looks of resignation. Taking their breakfast wine, fruit, and bread to a corner table, they watched with detachment as the other royal attendants struggled to hide their unhappiness. “Only two kinds of women would want to follow men off to war,” Beatrix grumbled, “one too adventuresome for her own good or one determined to be a dutiful wife come what may. It is just our bad luck that Joanna is the first kind and Berengaria the second, so we can expect no voice of reason from either of them.”

Sophia was wryly amused and chuckled between bites of melon. “That is certainly true for your lady and for my Anna, too, but it is not duty that is drawing Berengaria to Jaffa. Heaven help the lass, she practically glows whenever she looks at him. I suppose it is only to