Lionheart A Novel - By Sharon Kay Penman Page 0,98

the conversation. “Tell them what he calls the castle, Morgan,” he said with a grin. “Mate-Griffon, or Kill the Greeks!” He then launched into a melodramatic account of Richard’s seizure of Messina before returning to his favorite subject, the killing fields of the Holy Land.

By now André had also noticed the effect de Forz’s blustering was having upon Eleanor and Berengaria. Leaning forward, he interrupted smoothly, “I think the queen and the Lady Berengaria would rather hear about the king’s meeting with the prophet, Joachim of Corazzo.”

“Indeed I would.” Eleanor turned toward Berengaria, intending to explain that Joachim was a celebrated holy man, renowned for his knowledge of Scriptures and his interpretations of the Book of Revelations. But Berengaria needed no such tutoring.

“I’ve heard of him!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining. “He says that there are three ages, that of the Father, the Son, and the Spirit, and that the Last Days are nigh, which will precede the Last Judgment.”

“Exactly so, my lady,” André confirmed. “The king wanted to hear his prophesies for himself, as he’d heard that Joachim identifies Saladin as the sixth of the seven great enemies of the True Faith. We were much heartened by what he told us—that Saladin will be driven from the Kingdom of Jerusalem and slain, and it will be King Richard who brings this about.”

Berengaria felt a thrill of pride, greatly honored that her betrothed was the man chosen by God to fulfill these holy prophesies and vanquish such a deadly foe of the Church. She found it very encouraging, too, that Richard had sought the mystic out, for that showed his faith had deeper roots than his worldly demeanor might indicate.

“Joachim claimed that the Antichrist, the last of Holy Church’s seven tormentors, is already born,” André resumed, “and dwelling in Rome. According to Joachim, he will seize the apostolic throne and proclaim himself Pope ere being destroyed by the Coming of the Lord Christ.”

De Forz cut in again, chuckling. “The king disputed Joachim on that point, suggesting that the Antichrist was already on the apostolic throne, the current Pope, Clement III!”

That evoked laughter, for they all knew how much Richard disliked Clement. But to Berengaria, Richard’s sardonic gibe skirted uncomfortably close to blasphemy, and she could manage only a flicker of a smile. She forgot her discomfort, though, with de Forz’s next revelation.

“Soon thereafter, the king made a dramatic act of penance, summoning his bishops to the chapel where he knelt half naked at their feet and confessed to a sinful, shameful past in which he’d yielded to the prickings of lust. He abjured his sin and gladly accepted the penance imposed upon him by the bishops, who commended him for his repentance and bade him live henceforth as a man who feared God.”

Berengaria caught her breath and then smiled, suffused with such utter and pure joy that she seemed to glow and, for that moment, she looked radiantly beautiful. “How courageous of him,” she murmured, more impressed by that one act of devout contrition than by all the tales she’d heard of Richard’s battlefield heroics. “Scriptures say that ‘God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble.’”

Eleanor murmured a conventional piety, but, unlike Berengaria, she was more puzzled than gratified by Richard’s spectacular atonement. She was convinced that her husband’s equally spectacular penance at the martyred Thomas Becket’s tomb in Canterbury had been more an act of desperation than one of contrition. She knew, though, that Richard was more emotional and impulsive than his father. Moreover, he had a flair for high drama that Henry had utterly lacked. Was that enough to explain his mea culpa in Messina? Were his sins so great that he felt the need for a public expiation?

Once the meal was over, a harpist was summoned to play and the guests broke into small groups. William de Forz withdrew to a window-seat with the Count of Flanders for a spirited discussion of recent political developments in Outremer. Morgan was flirting with Berengaria and several of her ladies. Eleanor could not help noting that Hawisa stayed as far away from de Forz as she could get, and she felt a flicker of sympathy, for she’d become fond of the outspoken countess and she knew what it was like to be yoked to an unwanted husband. She chatted for a time with the Navarrese envoys and then seized her chance to draw her kinsman aside for a private word.

“You know Richard as well as any man alive,”