the Bishop of Bethlehem, newly elected as the Patriarch of Jerusalem, for he’d recently ridden down to Jaffa, which came under his ecclesiastical control. But his fate was only one fear midst so many. If Jaffa was retaken by Saladin, any chance for a negotiated peace would be gone, and the fighting and dying of the past year would have been in vain.
Soon after dark, Henri returned with the Grand Masters of the Hospitallers and the Templars. Ignoring her aching back and fatigue, Isabella rose to her feet and waited as he strode toward her. By now she knew him well enough to see the signs—the taut line of his mouth, the clenched muscles along his jaw, the set of his shoulders—and she braced herself for more bad news, even though she could not imagine what could be worse than the loss of Jaffa.
“They refused,” Henri said in lieu of any greetings, his voice still throbbing with remembered rage. “Burgundy and Beauvais, they will not ride with us to rescue Jaffa. Their hatred of Richard matters more to them than the fate of their own countrymen. There are French soldiers at Jaffa, but they’ll let them die, they’ll let them all die ere they lift a finger to help us!”
Isabella was stunned, as were all within earshot. Beauvais’s fellow prelates were incensed that he’d turn his back upon his Christian brethren, and they at once declared their intention to go to the French camp and confront him. Henri knew there was no point in it and he took Isabella’s elbow, drawing her aside. “I think Richard wanted to kill them,” he said. “I know I did.”
“What now?” she asked quietly, for she was determined not to give in to any emotional outbursts which would benefit neither Henri nor her baby nor their kingdom.
“Richard has gone to the harbor. He plans to sail tonight for Jaffa. He wants me to lead a land force on the morrow, the Templars, Hospitallers, poulains, and as many others as we can get. I’d better tell Berengaria and Joanna,” he said, steering her back to her dais seat before he headed toward Richard’s wife and sister, who were standing a few feet away, not wanting to intrude upon his time with Isabella.
Isabella could not remember when she’d felt so bone-weary. She watched as Henri spoke with the other women, and although it did not seem right to worry about personal cares in the midst of such a calamity, she could not help being grateful that she’d have one more night with her husband. She felt a touch of pity for Berengaria, who could not even be sure if Richard would return to bid her farewell, but she felt admiration, too, for the other woman’s courage. How did she face each day, knowing she could go from wife to widow in the thrust of one well-aimed sword? Isabella, who’d gone from widow to wife in the span of a week, hoped that she’d be able to endure the waiting with Berengaria’s stoicism and grace. But with so much at stake, she could only pray that the Almighty would give her the strength she would need, as queen, wife, and mother-to-be.
When Henri came back to her, she reached out and entwined her fingers in his. “Without the French, you will be greatly outnumbered,” she said, as steadily as she could. “Can Jaffa be saved?”
He’d just been asked that very question by Berengaria and Joanna, had responded with a confident smile, reminding them that Richard thrived on such challenges. But as much as he wanted to reassure Isabella, too, he could not bring himself to lie to her. “I do not know, Bella,” he said at last. “God help us all, I do not know.”
CHAPTER 35
JULY 1192
Off the Coast of Haifa
Richard had sailed from Acre Tuesday night, hoping to reach Jaffa the next day. Butas their ships rounded Mount Carmel, the winds shifted suddenly and began to blow from the south. They were forced to furl their sails, dropping anchor in the shelter of Haifa’s bay to await a favorable wind. What followed were three of the worst days of Richard’s life. He was accustomed to facing death with utter sangfroid, was famed for his cool head in a crisis. By Friday, though, his nerves were fraying like well-worn hemp, for each passing hour made Jaffa’s downfall all the more likely.
As he strode the deck, he was being watched with sympathetic eyes. Yet few of the men dared