Lionheart A Novel - By Sharon Kay Penman Page 0,290

him that the Saracens were fortifying a stronghold with the euphonious name Castle of the Figs. The garrison fled at his approach, though, and by May 29, he was camped near a reed-choked river about twelve miles south of Ascalon. It was here that another messenger from England found him. John d’Alençon was the Archdeacon of Lisieux, a former vice chancellor of England, a man Richard trusted, and the news he brought was deeply disturbing.

The archdeacon’s report made it sound as if England was descending into chaos. Richard’s half-brother Geoff was still feuding bitterly with the Bishop of Durham, rejecting the efforts of Eleanor and the council to make peace between them. Richard’s exiled chancellor, Longchamp, had laid an interdict upon his own diocese after the Archbishop of Rouen had confiscated the revenues of his bishopric of Ely, and the people were suffering greatly, for no Masses could be said, no confessions heard, no weddings performed, and bodies were left unburied in the fields. Eleanor had intervened, persuading the archbishop to restore Ely’s revenues to Longchamp and insisting that Longchamp revoke the interdict and lift the excommunication he’d placed upon the archbishop. But the situation remained volatile, made worse by the arrival of two papal legates who laid the duchy of Normandy under interdict after being refused entry by Richard’s seneschal, and then took refuge at the French court.

Even more alarming was the archdeacon’s account of the ongoing conspiracy between the French king and Richard’s own brother. Philippe had attempted to launch an invasion of Normandy, thwarted only by the reluctance of his French barons to attack the lands of a crusader. After Eleanor had prevented John from joining the French king in Paris, John then seized two royal castles, Windsor and Wallingford, and continued to circulate rumors that Richard was dead, which made men loath to antagonize the man likely to be their next king. The archdeacon had also brought letters from Eleanor, the Archbishop of Rouen, and the council, conveying the same urgent plea—that Richard return home as soon as possible, for he was in danger of losing his throne if he did not.

Richard was badly shaken by these latest warnings. It seemed as if all was slipping away, both in Outremer and his distant, beleaguered domains. He was convinced the French were determined to sabotage any chances of a military victory against the Saracens, and now his own kingdom was in grave peril. For a man accustomed to being in command, it was intolerable to feel so helpless, to be at the mercy of forces beyond his control. He responded by withdrawing into a dark, brooding silence, saying nothing about his intentions, and that silence only fed his army’s unease. Many soldiers blamed Richard for his unwillingness to lay siege to Jerusalem, but only the French commanders wanted him to depart, for few believed victory was possible without him. When rumors spread throughout the camp that he planned to go home, morale plummeted.

RICHARD HAD BEEN SECLUDED in his tent for several days, wrestling with the competing demands of king and crusader, fearing they might be irreconcilable. If he remained in the Holy Land, he could lose his crown. But how could he violate the sacred oath he’d sworn to Almighty God? He’d always been very decisive, both on and off the battlefield, quick to assess risks and reach conclusions, never one for second-guessing himself. But now he was faced with an impossible choice and, for the first time in his life, he did not know what to do.

He’d prayed for guidance, to no avail. God had given him no answers. Instead he was confronted with more bad news, delivered by Henri, André, and the Bishop of Salisbury.

Richard had never seen his nephew so angry. “Last night the Duke of Burgundy and the Bishop of Beauvais held a secret council with the other lords, including some of your vassals from Poitou, Anjou, England, and Normandy. None of us were invited, for obvious reasons, nor were the Templars, the Hospitallers, or any of the poulain barons. They decided that they will march upon Jerusalem whether you stay or not, Uncle. They then leaked word of their decision to the army, and men reacted as you’d expect—with great joy.” Shaking his head, Henri said bitterly, “They are going to lay siege to the Holy City even if it means they all die in the attempt and, unforgivably, even if Outremer dies, too. They may well have doomed every man, woman,