its mainly Muslim population fleeing before the approaching crusader army. Salah al-Dīn had not ordered it razed, though, as he had with Ascalon and other castles and towns in Richard’s path, and they found that it was partially occupied again, some of those abandoned houses and shops claimed by the native-born Christians. It had once been home to five thousand people; it was only a ghost now of its former self, but the town was slowly coming to life and Richard’s men were delighted with its rebirth. For one night at least, some of them could sleep under roofs in real beds, even visit the baths and wash off the grime and muck of a very muddy road.
Henri was one of the first to enjoy the baths, luxuriating in the sweating room that was heated by a furnace, the hot air coming in through earthenware pipes. He’d quickly embraced the Frankish custom of frequent bathing, but he’d discovered he was more prudish than he’d realized and he’d never been willing to have a bath attendant shave his pubic hair as some of the poulains did; now he instructed the man only to remove his beard. Afterward, he wandered about the streets, for this ancient city had been founded before the birth of the Lord Christ. He went into the church of St Peter, and struck up a conversation with one of the canons, who told him the pagan temple of Jupiter had once stood on this site, and then a mosque that had been the scene of a bloodbath when the city had been captured by the Christians over ninety years ago; it was now the cathedral of the Archbishop of Caesarea. As he left the church, a light rain began to fall, and that dampened his interest in further sightseeing.
Despite the rain, Henri was in good spirits when he reached the castle, looking forward to food cooked in a kitchen instead of over a campfire. Unfortunately, Lent had begun, but he was assured they’d have fresh fish, not the salted herring that dulled so many Lenten appetites. They had just been served an eel pie, with oysters and scallops also on the menu, when the meal was interrupted by the unexpected arrival of Stephen Longchamp, brother of Richard’s chancellor and one of Acre’s co-governors.
He did not wait to be formally announced, hastened toward the dais and knelt. “Thank God I found you, my liege! We knew you were on the way to meet Conrad, but we did not know how far you’d gotten and I feared having to sail as far as Jaffa.”
Richard gestured for him to rise. He’d already pushed his trencher aside, for Longchamp’s news was obviously urgent. Knowing the other man’s weakness for verbosity, he said, “Never mind that. Tell me what is wrong, Sir Stephen.”
“You must get to Acre straightaway, my lord, for the city is under attack!” Richard’s gasp was echoed down the length of the table. He’d been braced for bad tidings, but nothing as bad as that. “How can that be? Saladin has dispersed the bulk of his army till the spring campaign!”
“Not Saladin, my liege. Acre is under siege by that whoreson Conrad of Montferrat and his lackey, Burgundy.”
By now the hall was in an uproar and Richard had to shout them down. Like his father, he could bellow with the best when the need arose, and a tense silence ensued as Longchamp began to speak again.
“You know how much animosity there is between the Genoese and the Pisans, my liege. They’re always at one another’s throats, eager to take offense at the slightest excuse. I think their feuding goes back to—”
“No history lessons, Sir Stephen,” Richard interrupted impatiently. “Just tell us what happened.”
“Well, their latest street brawl got out of hand, and suddenly they were fighting in earnest. Bertrand de Verdun and I did what we could to restore order, of course. But—” Catching Richard’s warning eye, Longchamp hastily condensed his narrative. “The Genoese got the worst of it and barricaded themselves in their quarter of the city. What we did not know was that they’d sent one of their galleys up the coast to Tyre, seeking assistance from Conrad. And then Hugh of Burgundy arrived. The Genoese decided not to wait for Conrad and hurried out to the camp he’d set up outside the walls.”
He paused, rather enjoying being the center of such undivided attention. “Burgundy was only too willing to assault the city. The Pisans were too quick