idea and hurried after Richard, who was heading toward the harbor, where smoke had begun to spiral up into the sky.
“My liege, someone ought to bring word to your sister that the city has been captured. She’ll be able to see the smoke from Bagnara and will be fearing the worst.”
“That is true,” Richard conceded. “Good thinking, Cousin. Are you volunteering for the mission?” When Morgan nodded eagerly, Richard slapped him playfully on the shoulder. “You’d best wash up first, then. Women tend to be squeamish about blood and gore.”
By the time they reached the harbor, the smoke had become so thick that an early dusk seemed to have settled over the city, the sun utterly obscured by those billowing black clouds. Richard was relieved to discover that the town was not on fire; it was the Sicilian fleet that was burning. Several of his admirals were already on the scene and they began complaining to him about the actions of the French, declaring they’d assisted the townspeople in keeping their ships from entering the inner harbor.
Seeing that Richard would be occupied for some time to come, Morgan sank down on a nearby mounting block. All around him was bedlam. Soldiers were looting shops and houses, gleefully carrying off the riches of Messina—candlesticks, furs, jewelry, bolts of expensive cloth, spices. They were also helping themselves to sides of bacon, sacks of flour, and baskets of eggs, claiming livestock, chickens, and horses. Some were helping themselves to local women, too, for screams were echoing from houses and alleyways. From where he sat, Morgan could see bodies sprawled in the street. He hoped he’d not lost any friends in the fighting. He was more shaken than he was willing to admit, and he decided to find a tavern, a public bathhouse, and a boat to ferry him across the Faro, in that order.
JOANNA HAD WATCHED in dismay as smoke darkened the sky above Messina. She was not surprised when the English lion was soon flying over the city, for Richard was the most celebrated soldier in Christendom. His sister rejoiced in his victory. But the queen could take no pleasure in the sight of a foreign flag on Sicilian soil. She did not doubt that the townspeople of Messina had been vexing, belligerent, and eager for profit, for they were known to be like that with their fellow citizens. They were still William’s subjects, her subjects, however, and she grieved that it had come to this.
She’d never expected that she’d have to choose between her two lives, her two worlds. But her precarious position was brought home to her by the Bishop of Bagnara, who’d demanded that she intercede on behalf of the Messinians and berated her as he’d not have dared to berate Richard. He was so incensed that he’d inflamed her own temper; she found herself fiercely defending her brother, burning yet another of her Sicilian bridges. After his angry departure, she’d remained at a window in her bedchamber, staring out across the straits at Messina for hours, her eyes blurring with tears.
Morgan’s arrival was the only flicker of light in a very dark day. Heedless of convention, she had him brought to her private chamber, greeting him so warmly that he actually blushed, for he was somewhat in awe of this beautiful cousin whom he’d known for less than a week. Joanna’s common sense told her that Morgan could not tell her what she yearned to hear. He could not deny that Messina had fallen to Richard’s troops. But she hoped that he might be able to explain the bloodshed in a way that would enable her to accept it as inevitable and thus reconcile her divided loyalties.
It had not occurred to Morgan that she might not see Messina’s fall in the same light that he did—as a triumph. The aftermath of battle could be intoxicating, and his senses were still reeling from the sweetness of his reprieve, as well as from several flagons of spiced Messinian wine. The sight of Joanna reminded him of the feats her brother had performed that day, and he launched into an enthusiastic account of the battle, lavishly praising the courage of their men and boasting of the ease with which they’d captured the city.
“Your brother’s strategy was brilliant, my lady. He is by far the best battle commander I’ve ever seen, leading the assault himself, always in the very thick of the fighting.” He started to tell her that more than twenty