man’s hostage was another man’s pretext for a war of conquest. “I would advise against that, my liege,” he said quietly. “I would advise very strongly against that.”
“What a surprise,” Riccardo said sarcastically. But Tancred did not reply. Instead, he crumpled the parchment in his hand, then crossed to the brazier and dropped it onto the coals. As the acrid odor of burning sheepskin filled the chamber, he stood without moving until the letter had been reduced to ashes.
CHAPTER 9
SEPTEMBER 1190
Palermo, Sicily
Sixteen years. Those two words had become Joanna’s lifeline, for whenever she despaired, she reminded herself that her mother had survived sixteen years of confinement, and had suffered far greater deprivations and indignities. At least she still had a few of her ladies for company—the faithful Beatrix, the young widow Hélène, little Alicia, and Mariam, as loyal as any blood sister could be—whereas Eleanor had lacked any companionship whatsoever in her first two years of captivity. Joanna’s jewelry had been confiscated so she could not use it to bribe servants, but she did have access to her own clothes, her dogs, her books, all of which had been denied her mother in the beginning.
Where had Maman found the strength to face those endless days? How could she have borne the inactivity, she who’d always been occupied from dawn till dusk? How had she abided the isolation, not knowing what was happening in the world beyond those castle walls? That was what Joanna found most difficult—the lack of news. Was Richard on the way to Outremer? Or had he been detained by another war with France? Did he still intend to stop over in Sicily? Did he even know of her plight? Had Tancred denied him the use of Sicilian ports? How secure was Tancred’s throne? When would Heinrich lead a German army into Sicily to claim Constance’s crown?
Joanna had no illusions, did not see Heinrich von Hohenstaufen as her savior. Constance would do all she could, but would Heinrich pay her any heed? Joanna doubted it. A man known to be cold-hearted and vengeful, he would be sorely tempted to punish Richard by continuing her captivity or forcing her to make a deliberately demeaning marriage to a German lord of low rank. That was the fate Joanna most feared, being wed against her will to a husband of Tancred or Heinrich’s choosing. Tancred had implied that he might reconsider her position once he’d defeated his enemies. Joanna doubted that, too. Most likely he’d marry her off to a man he could trust, just as her father had done with her brother Geoffrey’s widow, Constance of Brittany.
Putting up a brave front before the other women, Joanna acted as if she was certain that she’d regain her freedom. She’d not lost faith in her brother, was sure that Richard would do all in his power to rescue her. But she’d learned some painful lessons in the mysterious Ways of the Almighty, which were so often beyond the understanding of mortal men. Why had God taken William so suddenly? Their infant son? Hal and Geoffrey and Tilda? Those were questions she could not answer, so how could she know what He intended for her?
As September drew to a close, Joanna found it harder and harder to maintain her confident pose, for she was dreading the days to come. In less than a fortnight, she would mark her twenty-fifth birthday. In November, it would be a year since her husband’s death. And in December, she’d begin her second year of confinement. She resorted to her talisman, whispering, Sixteen years, in those lonely hours when sleep would not come, but it was losing its potency. How, Maman? How did you endure it?
JOANNA WAS STARTLED by the unexpected appearance of her gaoler, Hugh Lapin, as church bells were summoning the faithful to Compline. Hugh had always treated her with respect, but he’d also made sure that she was kept secluded, in adherence to his new king’s command. He and his brother Jordan had profited handsomely from their support of Tancred; Hugh was now Count of Conversano and justiciar of Apulia, while Jordan fared even better, as Count of Bovino and Governor of Messina. She acknowledged Hugh’s greeting courteously, for it made no sense to antagonize her warden, but her women were not as prudent. Gathering around her protectively, they glared at him with open hostility. William’s dog had become Joanna’s shadow after his master’s death and, sensitive to the sudden tension in the chamber, Ahmer