Lionheart A Novel - By Sharon Kay Penman Page 0,271

seize all of his English castles and estates as soon as he set foot on a French-bound ship.”

Berengaria was shocked by John’s disloyalty, for she could not imagine either of her brothers ever committing such a shameful act of betrayal against one of their own blood, much less a king who’d taken the cross. But as she struggled to think of a way to offer Richard comfort, she could not help remembering Sancho’s warning. They are not like us, little one.

Joanna was not shocked, merely saddened. “When did Prior Robert leave France?” she asked, and Richard gave her a grimly approving look, for she’d gone unerringly to the heart of the matter.

“In February,” he said, “so God alone knows what has happened since then. Maman made it quite clear that Johnny cannot be trusted now that Philippe has begun to whisper treasonous inducements in his ear. She says others have been loath to oppose Johnny, for they fear I will not be coming back; it seems half of England is convinced I’m sure to die in the Holy Land. And Longchamp has made a bloody botch of things. I ought to have listened to her about him. But I valued his loyalty so much that I overlooked his arrogance and unpopularity. To her credit, Joanna, she refrained from saying ‘I told you so.’ She did say that I need to come home—and soon. She fears that if I do not, I may not have a kingdom to come back to.”

Berengaria could not suppress a gasp, stunned that Richard’s mother would urge him to abandon the crusade. “But if you leave, Richard, there is no chance of recovering Jerusalem!”

Joanna was more concerned with the loss of the Angevin empire. She started to speak, stopping herself before the words could escape, for this was a decision only Richard could make. “What will you do?” she asked quietly, and he glanced toward her, for a brief moment dropping his defenses and letting her see his anguish.

“I do not know,” he admitted. “God help me, I do not know.”

AFTER A SLEEPLESS NIGHT, Richard called a council meeting the next day. As the men crowded into his tent, he could see from their faces that they’d heard the rumors sweeping the camp; they looked apprehensive. “Most of you have heard that I’ve had word from England,” he said. “The news was very troubling. My kingdom is in turmoil, threatened by the French king and my own brother. I do not know how much longer I can remain in the Holy Land. But I will not compel any man to act against his conscience. Each one of you can decide for yourself whether you wish to return home with me or stay in Outremer.”

Even though some of them must have been anticipating an announcement like this, they all reacted with dismay, insisting that the war could not be won without him and entreating him to stay. Richard let them have their say before responding. “I will not just walk away. I promise you that. If I do have to return to my own domains, I will pay for three hundred elite knights and two thousand men-at-arms to stay in Outremer. I do not want to depart whilst the war continues. But I may have no choice, not if my kingdom is at stake.”

Eventually the protests died down, but he could still see reproach and recrimination in the faces surrounding him. He’d wondered which of the poulains would be the first to raise the issue of kingship. As it turned out, it was the Grand Master of the Hospitallers, Garnier de Nablus. “We do understand, my liege,” he said, “that you find yourself torn between your obligations. One of my Spanish knights ofttimes quotes an old proverb: ‘Entre la espada y la pared.’ That is where you find yourself now, between the sword and the wall. You must do as God directs. But ere you go, we must know who will lead us once you’re gone.”

There was a sputtered objection from Guy de Lusignan, who hastily reminded them of the Acre agreement that had recognized him as king for life, with Conrad and Isabella as his heirs. No one paid him any mind.

“I know,” Richard said. “I think you ought to discuss it amongst yourselves, for it should be a decision made by the men who’ll have to live with it, not those who’ll soon be on their way home. So that my presence will not inhibit