of Richard’s own household troops had died in the attack but decided it was better she not know that. “The king is utterly without fear and I understand now why his men vow they’d follow him to Hell and back. So would I, for he is doing God’s Work, destined to regain Jerusalem from the infidels.”
“You believe that, Morgan . . . truly?” And when he assured her earnestly that he did, Joanna discovered there was comfort in that thought, in the reminder that nothing mattered more than the recovery of the Holy Land. “If Richard is doing God’s Work, does that mean the Messinians were heeding the Devil’s whispers? Were many of them slain, Cousin?”
“Not so many.” He almost added, “Not as many deaths as they deserved,” but thought better of it, remembering Richard’s warning that women were distressed by violence. “There was plundering, of course, for that is a soldier’s right. But the king took measures to make sure there’d be no widespread slaughter.”
“I am glad to hear that.” She was silent for a few moments before saying softly, “Did . . . did my brother give any orders to protect the women of the city?”
Morgan found himself at a rare loss for words, suddenly realizing that she had come to consider Sicily as her home. He supposed it was to be expected that she’d pity the wives and maidens of Messina, for rape was likely to be a fear ingrained in every woman’s soul, even one as highborn as Joanna. He wondered if he ought to lie to her, decided she’d not believe him if he did. “My lady . . . men see that as a soldier’s right, too.”
She said nothing, but he’d begun to notice the signs of stress—her pallor, the dark hollows under her eyes. “It was not as brutal as it could have been, Madame,” he said, and Joanna gave him a wan smile, thinking that was a meager comfort to Messina, yet recognizing the uncompromising truth of it, too.
“It was good of you to bring me word yourself, Cousin Morgan. You’ll not be wanting to cross the Faro after dark, so I’ll see that a comfortable bed is made ready for you.”
“Thank you, Madame.” Morgan glanced toward Joanna’s attendants, who’d withdrawn across the chamber to give them privacy. The woman he’d wanted to see was not among them. “I was hoping I might pay my respects to the Lady Mariam.”
Joanna gave him a surprised look and, then, her first real smile of the day. “Mariam mentioned that she’d met one of Richard’s knights at the nunnery, a ‘cocky, silver-tongued rogue,’ she said, ‘with a great interest in learning Arabic.’ So that was you, Cousin?”
Morgan grinned, pleased beyond measure that Mariam had discussed him with Joanna; that was surely a good sign. “Do you think she might see me?” But when Joanna hesitated, some of his confidence waned.
“It might be better to wait for another time, Morgan. This has been a difficult day for her.”
Morgan was disappointed, but it made sense that Mariam would mourn the fall of Messina, for the blood of a Sicilian king ran in her veins. After taking his leave of Joanna, he was escorted to the priory guest hall. Richard had garrisoned Bagnara with a large number of knights sworn to see to Joanna’s safety, and the hall was crowded. Upon learning that Morgan had taken part in the assault upon the town, they were eager to hear his account, and he was quite willing to accommodate them. Eventually, men unrolled blankets and made ready to bed down. Morgan’s nerves were still vibrating like a taut bowstring and he knew sleep would not come for hours yet. Helping himself to a wineskin, he wound his way midst the bodies and bedrolls, and then slipped out a side door.
The night was mild, the sky spangled with remote pinpoints of light. On this October evening, his Welsh homeland seemed as distant as those glittering stars. It was a pleasure to inhale air untainted by the coppery smell of blood or the stench of gutted entrails. He would, he decided, find the priory church and offer up prayers for the men who’d died that day. For Joanna’s sake, he would pray, too, for Messina’s dead.
The church was scented with incense, shadowed and still. Morgan knelt at the high altar and felt a calm descending upon his soul, God’s Peace entering his heart. After praying for those who’d died on this October