Lionheart A Novel - By Sharon Kay Penman Page 0,273

glint that Henri had seen in the eyes of falcons when they first sighted their quarry. But Guy seemed more ambivalent, his face displaying both interest and uncertainty. “I cannot afford one hundred thousand bezants,” he objected, earning himself scowls from both Joffroi and Amaury.

“If you can come up with the forty thousand for the Templars, that will be enough.”

This was such a generous offer that Guy’s brothers began to lavish praise upon Richard, thanking him profusely. Guy’s gratitude was more restrained. “Thank you, my liege,” he said. “But it is just that—” He gave an odd “oof ” sound then, and Henri realized he’d been elbowed sharply in the ribs by Amaury. He refused to be silenced, though, glared at his brother, and then looked earnestly at Richard. “I appreciate your kindness, I do. I just find it hard to accept—knowing that Conrad has won. He is the least worthy man in Christendom to wear a crown, sire, for he is deceitful, selfish, puffed up with pride, and ungrateful—yes, ungrateful! Did you know I saved his life once? During the siege of Acre, he was unhorsed and I came to his rescue—me, the man he betrayed!”

This time both of his brothers stepped in, interrupting his harangue with more expressions of appreciation, and then practically dragging Guy away, as if they feared Richard might change his mind at any moment. Once they were gone, Henri smiled at his uncle. “That was adroitly done. Not only do you placate Guy, you give his quarrelsome brothers a reason to stay away from Poitou!”

“Not Joffroi; from what I’ve heard, he is thinking of renouncing his lordship of Jaffa and going home once the war is over. But with a little luck, Amaury will put down roots in Cyprus with Guy . . . provided that they do not make the same mistakes the Templars did.”

Joanna had been a very interested witness to the scene with the de Lusignans. Leaning over, she gave Richard’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You ought to be proud of what you did today. Now you can go home with a clear conscience, sure that Outremer is in the hands of a capable king.” Wrinkling her nose, she added, “Not a likable one, but he is what they need.”

Richard inclined his head. Reaching again for the oud, he glanced over at his nephew. “You can be the one to let Conrad know he’s gotten his accursed crown.”

“I’ll leave on the morrow.” Henri thought this would be an enjoyable mission, for it was always pleasant to be the bearer of glad tidings, and Tyre would erupt in joyful celebrations, revelries that would put both Christmas and Easter in the shade. “Now that Conrad is to be king, the rest of the poulains will join us, Uncle. He might even be able to bestir the French into fighting again.”

“That is what I am counting upon,” Richard said. “This is Conrad’s kingdom now. So it is time he defended it. And then, God willing, I can go home.”

CHAPTER 31

APRIL 1192

Acre, Outremer

After lingering a few days at Tyre to enjoy the revelries, Henri and his delegation had sailed to Acre to lay the groundwork for Conrad and Isabella’s coming coronation. Here, too, they’d been welcomed as heroes, so great was the universal relief that their kingdom would have a strong hand on the helm once Richard returned to his own lands. Henri and the knights accompanying him planned to depart for Ascalon by week’s end, for they were eager to bring Richard good news for a change, a promise that Outremer’s new king would soon be leading an army south to join him. But on this Wednesday afternoon, a lavish feast had been given in their honor and they were more than willing to embrace all the pleasures, comforts, and sins that Acre had to offer before returning to the harsh realities of holy war.

Henri had not enjoyed such a delicious repast in months. After the last course had been served, he rose to salute his hosts. He had a felicitous way with words and offered a graceful tribute to the governors Stephen Longchamp and Bertrand de Verdun, to Bishop Theobald, Acre’s elderly prelate, and to the other churchmen beaming at him down the length of the linen-clad tables. He singled out the leaders of the Pisan colony for special praise, much to Morgan’s amused approval; he thought Henri had a surprisingly deft political touch for one so highborn. Every now and then, Henri