violent they’d had to jettison some of their supplies to stay afloat, and he’d wanted only to set his feet on firm land again. Moreover, he was shrewd enough to realize that Tancred, an insecure king of dubious bloodlines, would not appreciate being outshone by foreign monarchs. And he was rewarded for his modest arrival, being welcomed warmly on Tancred’s behalf by Jordan Lapin, the new Governor of Messina, who turned the royal palace over to the French for their stay in Sicily.
PHILIPPE WAS ENTERTAINING a delegation of Sicilian lords and prelates, including Jordan Lapin; Margaritis of Brindisi, the highly respected admiral of Tancred’s fleet; and Richard Palmer, an Englishman who’d managed to become the Archbishop of Messina. Attendants padded in and out, bringing dishes of ripe fruit and refilling wine cups. They were, Philippe thought, the perfect servants, invisible and deferential. It was unsettling, though, to be waited upon by men of the same blood as those he’d be fighting in Outremer. Sicily was a strange land, and while he admired its riches, he could not help wondering if it was truly a Christian kingdom. In his brief stay, he’d seen indications of indolence and moral laxity, the same corrupt influences that had tainted society in Aquitaine and Toulouse. He would be glad when he could depart for the Holy Land and was disheartened to be told that the season for sailing was all but past, that winter storms would make it too dangerous to venture out onto the open sea.
“And so, my lord,” the archbishop was saying with a genial smile, “it is our hope that you’ll give consideration to our king’s offer of an alliance between the kingdoms of France and Sicily. Lord Tancred has several lovely daughters, any one of whom would make a fine queen for you or mayhap a bride for your young son.”
“I am honored by the offer,” Philippe said with a noncommittal smile of his own, wondering if Tancred really thought he’d jeopardize his friendship with the Holy Roman Emperor for an alliance with a bastard-born usurper as likely to be overthrown by his own subjects as by the Germans. “I have indeed heard of the beauty of your king’s daughters.”
“We want to make your stay in Sicily as pleasant as possible, my lord king. I hope you will not hesitate to ask if I may be of any service whatsoever,” Jordan Lapin was declaring when one of the admiral’s men entered and murmured a few words in his ear.
Margaritis rose at once. “I ask your pardon, my liege, but we must depart. Richard of England’s fleet is entering the harbor.”
Philippe did not believe in delaying unpleasant tasks, preferring to get them over with as soon as possible. “We will accompany you,” he said, rising, too. “I am eager to see the English king, who is my former brother by marriage and a valued ally.”
THE WHARVES, DOCKS, AND BEACHES were crowded with spectators by the time Philippe and the Sicilian officials arrived. Coming to a halt, they gaped at the drama being played out before them. As far as the eye could see were brightly painted warships, shields hanging over the gunwales of the galleys, banners and pennons flying from their mastheads, as the oarsmen rowed in time to the beat of drums. Trumpets were blaring and horns blasting. The sun glittered on metallic hauberks and helmets, the turquoise waters of the harbor churning with frothy waves. And with an unerring instinct for stagecraft, Richard was standing erect in the prow of the lead galley, bareheaded, the wind tousling his red-gold hair, regal and proud, the very essence of what a king ought to be, all that Philippe Capet was not.
For that was the thought, however unkind, that crossed the minds of those witnessing Richard’s spectacular entry into Messina. It crossed Philippe’s mind, too, as he made ready to welcome his “brother by marriage and valued ally.”
AFTER RICHARD’S ARRIVAL, Philippe made a rash decision quite out of character for him, announcing that he would leave at once for the Holy Land although the sailing season was rapidly coming to a close. But even nature seemed to be conspiring against him, for no sooner had he left the harbor than contrary winds sprang up, forcing him to abandon his impulsive plan. For better or worse, he would be wintering in Sicily with the English king.
MATTHEW OF AJELLO, the new chancellor of Sicily, arrived at the royal palace in Catania several hours after Compline.