was still hope of reaching a settlement with Saladin, who had his own troubles.
“I suppose Burgundy is now threatening to pull out and go back to France,” Henri said, making a face. No, they told him, the army had been temporarily distracted from their feuding by the arrival of one of Richard’s spies, a native Syrian who went by the name “Bernard.” He brought news that set the entire camp into an uproar. A supply caravan was on its way from Egypt to Jerusalem, laden with treasure, weapons, and thousands of horses and camels. It would be an incredibly rich prize if they could take it, and its loss would deliver a great blow to Saladin. Richard had ridden out that very night to intercept it, taking five hundred knights and a thousand men-at-arms, as well as the French. They laughed at Henri’s startled expression, explaining that Hugh of Burgundy had actually agreed to take part in the raid, but only if the French were allotted fully a third of the booty.
“If that man had not been so highly born, he’d have made a good outlaw,” Morgan said with a grin. “But at least for now, the excitement over the caravan has united us, for Richard promised that the spoils would be shared with all, whether they took part in the raid or stayed behind to guard the camp.”
“So now we’re waiting with bated breath to hear if it was successful. The timing has to be perfect. Fortunately, our king is good at this sort of thing.” Warin laughed and began to tell Henri the rest of their news, what he blithely described as “the usual bloodshed.”
“We had two fierce skirmishes with the Saracens,” Warin reported between bites of bread. “The first one occurred on June twelfth when the Saracens lured some French troops away from camp. Things were going badly for them until the Bishop of Salisbury and the Count of Perche rode to their rescue. The second one began when the Turks ambushed one of our supply caravans from Jaffa.” He paused to finish his food before relating a sad story about Baldwin de Carew, who’d been unhorsed in the battle and commandeered his squire’s mount, only to see the squire struck down and beheaded soon thereafter.
Henri had no liking for Baldwin, who’d been one of the two knights who’d broken formation at Arsuf, forcing Richard to commit to a premature charge. Henri would have offered his own horse to his uncle in a heartbeat; he’d even do it for Philippe, who was his liege lord. But he hoped he’d not accept another man’s horse, knowing it could mean the other man’s death. Because he considered Morgan, Warin, and Pierre to be friends, he felt comfortable enough to say as much. They looked at him in surprise before Morgan reminded him, as gently as possible, that he’d be shirking his royal duty to refuse such an offer, for a slain king was the worst of calamities. Henri frowned into his wine cup, wondering how long it would take for him to feel at ease with his new rank.
By now the meal was done, but they lingered by the fire, savoring the simple pleasures of wine and conversation. They commiserated with Pierre de Préaux, whose heroic brother Guilhem remained in captivity, for Saladin still refused to ransom him, and Henri good-naturedly endured the usual bridegroom jests. They were lamenting the recent deaths of two knights from snakebites when the sentries warned that riders were approaching.
They got quickly to their feet, reaching for weapons in case it was a Saracen raid. But they soon heard cries of “The king!” and so were ready to welcome Richard and his men when they rode into the camp. There was no need to ask if the ambush had been successful, for it looked as if thousands of beasts—camels, horses, mules, asses, and donkeys—were being herded by downcast Saracen drovers. The pack animals were heavily laden, and Richard’s elated knights were eager to boast of their plunder. They told Henri that they’d seized gold, silver, brocaded silks, spices, sugar, purple dye, wheat, barley, flour, Saracen mail shirts, weapons, and large tents, all intended for Saladin’s army at Jerusalem. They’d captured almost four thousand camels, they bragged, and as many mules and donkeys, also taking five hundred prisoners and killing many, men now lost to the sultan. It was, they proclaimed to Henri with what he thought was pardonable pride, a great victory for the