Lionheart A Novel - By Sharon Kay Penman Page 0,243

be expected; a man acclaimed as the savior of Christendom is bound to turn female heads. It would be better for her, though, if she were not so smitten. The happiest marriages are those uncomplicated by passion or, God forbid, love.”

Beatrix had been a widow for many years, but most of her memories of that long-ago marriage were pleasant ones. “You do not think that is a harsh assessment? Of course, your husband . . .” She stopped, for there was no tactful way to suggest that Isaac Comnenus was one of Satan’s minions.

“Oh, my husband was a monster,” Sophia said, so blithely that Beatrix blinked.

“But I’ve seen enough of other marriages to realize that men, even the good ones, cannot be trusted with something as fragile as a woman’s heart. They are much too careless.” Glancing across the hall, she said dryly, “Lionheart is probably lucky, though, that his bride is still bedazzled. How many other queens would be so willing to become camp followers?” Beatrix joined in her laughter, and then they rose and made ready to play their parts, to act as if they shared Joanna, Berengaria, Alicia, and Anna’s eagerness to accompany Richard back to Jaffa.

CHAPTER 28

OCTOBER 1191

Camp of Al-Ᾱdil, Near Lydda, Outremer

Bahā’ al-Dīn had been with his sultan at Latrun. When he received the summons from Salah al-Dīn’s brother,he presumed it meant there’d been new developments in the ongoing talks with the English king. Once he was escorted into al-’ Ᾱdil’s tent, his surmise was confirmed, for it was to be a rare private audience; the only other person present was Sani’at al-Dīn ibn al-Nahhal. The latter was al-’Ᾱdil’s scribe, and so trusted despite his unusual background—he’d converted to Islam from Christianity—that he’d been the one conducting the negotiations on his lord’s behalf.

Ordinarily, Bahā ’ al-Dīn would have been offered a cooling drink, an iced julab. But this was the twenty-ninth day of Ramadan, their month of fasting, and Muslims were expected to refrain from eating or drinking from sunrise to sunset. So after greetings were exchanged, Bahā’ al-Dīn sat cross-legged on cushions and politely waited to learn the reason for his presence. They spoke casually for a time about various subjects: the welfare of their respective families, the escape from Acre of one of their emirs, who’d climbed down a rope from a privy window, and the troubling news that the local peasants were providing the Franks with large quantities of food. But al-’Ᾱdil soon got to the point of the visit.

“You are familiar with the first offer made by the English king?”

“I am, my lord,” Bahā’ al-Dīn assured him. Richard had sent a remarkably candid letter to Salah al-Dīn, saying that both sides were suffering great losses and they needed to find a way to end the war. He’d asked for the lands west of the River Jordan and the city of Jerusalem. He’d further argued that the True Cross ought to be returned, as “to you it is nothing but a piece of wood, but it is very precious in our eyes.” Salah al-Dīn had rejected all three demands, insisting that the Holy City was more sacred to Muslims, “for it was the place of our Prophet’s journey and the place where the angels gathered.” The lands in question belonged originally to them, and the possession of the cross “is a great advantage to us and we cannot give it up except we could thereby gain some advantage to Islam.” The talks had stalled after that and Bahā’ al-Dīn was quite curious to find out what the infidels were offering now.

“We’ve often agreed that the Franks are a predictable people,” al-’Ᾱdil said with a faint smile. “But that cannot be said of the English king, for he has come up with a truly surprising proposal. He suggests that we resort to a tried-and-true method of making peace—a marriage.”

Bahā’ al-Dīn was astonished. It was true that in the Christian and Muslim worlds, wars were often settled by marital alliances. But this was a holy war, both to the Franks and the Saracens. “Whose marriage, my lord?” he asked warily.

Al-’Ᾱdil’s dark eyes shone with amusement. “Mine. The English king has offered me his sister, the widow of the King of Sicily.”

Bahā ’ al-Dīn prided himself on his inscrutability; that was an essential skill for a diplomatic envoy and a useful one for any man who must deal with princes. But his discipline failed him now. He gasped audibly, his mouth ajar, so obviously flabbergasted