Haifa and then on to Acre to convalesce. He sought to pay the French back by asking Salah al-Dīn to allow only those Christian knights who bore letters from him or Henri to visit Jerusalem. But the sultan wanted as many crusaders as possible to fulfill their holy vows, knowing they’d be less likely to return then, and he ignored Richard’s request. Three pilgrimages were organized, one led by André de Chauvigny and another by the Bishop of Salisbury. The latter was accorded the honor of a personal audience with Salah al-Dīn, who told him that Richard had great courage but he was too reckless with his own life. While many of his soldiers and knights took advantage of the peace to worship at the Holy Sepulchre, Richard did not.
ANDRÉ WAS HOLDING COURT, regaling a large audience with his account of his pilgrimage to Jerusalem. “It almost ended ere it began,” he said, “for the men we’d sent on ahead to get safe conducts from Saladin stopped at Toron des Chevaliers and fell asleep. The rest of our party assumed they’d reached Jerusalem and we passed them by as they slept. When we realized we were arriving without advance warning, we sent word hastily to al-’Ādil and he dispatched an escort to protect us, rebuking us for our rashness.” He’d charitably not mentioned the names of the errant envoys, but Pierre de Préaux, William des Roches, and Gerard de Furnival flushed uncomfortably, knowing many were aware they were the culprits. They were grateful when Berengaria distracted attention from them by asking André why they’d needed safe conducts, for she thought the Holy City would be open to all pilgrims.
“Well, we are more than pilgrims, my lady. We’re the men who defeated Saladin’s army at Acre, Arsuf, and Jaffa, and many of them still bear grudges. We were told some of them entreated the sultan to let them take vengeance for the deaths of their fathers, brothers, and sons. But he refused to allow it, giving al-’Ādil the responsibility of making sure that Christians would be safe during their stay in the Holy City.”
André then told them of his visit to the most sacred site in Christendom, the Holy Sepulchre; and as he described the two-story chapel with Mount Calvary above and Golgotha below, Berengaria had to fight back tears. When André said that Saladin had allowed the Bishop of Salisbury to see the True Cross, she bit her lip, thinking that the sultan would surely have done as much for Richard and his queen. André and the other men had seen all the places so familiar to her from her readings of Scriptures: the rock upon which the body of the Lord Christ had lain, the Mount of Olives, the Church of Mount Sion where the Blessed Mary had died and was assumed into Heaven, the room where the Last Supper had taken place, the Valley of Jehosaphat, the Pool of Siloam, where the Saviour had restored a man’s sight. Places she would never get to visit.
She bowed her head so none would notice her distress, but it was then that André leaned over and urged her husband to make the pilgrimage, too. “There is still time, Cousin,” he said, “to change your mind.” Richard merely smiled and shook his head, but for just a heartbeat, his defenses were down and his naked yearning showed so plainly on his face that Berengaria caught her breath. So he did want to see the Holy City! Why, then, would he not go?
LYING IN BED beside Richard, Berengaria was still thinking of his earlier unguarded moment in the great hall. There were two explanations circulating about Richard’s refusal to make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem—that he was still too sick to make the trip or that it was too dangerous. It was true that he was not fully recovered, although he tried to hide it as best he could. She saw how exhausted he was when he went to bed at night, how little he ate, how easily he tired during the day. They’d only begun sharing a bed again in the past few days and he’d not yet made love to her; she was content to cuddle, but his forbearance was further proof that he was still convalescing. She knew, though, that he’d never have let ill health keep him from traveling to the Holy City; like most soldiers, he was accustomed to fighting through pain. And the other rationale was no more