The Heart of the Lion - Plaidy Jean (читать книги бесплатно полностью без регистрации сокращений txt) 📗

‘A Christian king, my lord, but he has chosen his own man, whom he will support. If we regain the Holy City . . . when we regain the Holy City he will nominate Conrad de Montferrat as King in my place.’

‘Why so?’

‘Because Montferrat would be his man.’

‘Philip is a statesman. He thinks always of the advantage to France.’

‘He has shown himself to be my enemy. I have come to you. I wish to put my services at your command. If you will support my claim I would snap my fingers at the King of France.’

Richard said slowly: ‘My friend, we must talk of these matters.’

He did, but his main preoccupation now must be his wedding, never forgetting of course that Isaac had been driven back only a few miles and could at any time muster his forces for an attack. Nevertheless the people of the island were clearly friendly and the prospect of a royal wedding delighted them. Such was Richard’s personality that although he had come to their island a short while before and was now installed as a conqueror they were ready to accept him and share in his wedding celebrations.

His own chaplain Nicholas was to perform the ceremony and Richard smiled grimly to think how chagrined the Archbishop of Canterbury was going to be because it was a prerogative of that Archbishop to officiate at the weddings of England’s Kings. It was certainly going to be an unconventional wedding.

Still, the circumstances were such as made that necessary, and although Richard would have been prepared to postpone the wedding until his return to England he realised that was quite out of the question.

In their apartments Joanna helped prepare Berengaria for her wedding. She was a beautiful bride. Her long hair was parted in the centre and fell on either side of her face; a transparent veil covered the hair and this veil was held in place by a jewelled diadem. She looked serene and happy and even more than usually elegant in her long clinging white gown.

Joanna studied her with pleasure. What a relief that the marriage was at last going to take place! Surely nothing could happen to prevent it now. Would Isaac Comnenus decide to attack while the ceremony was in progress? No, he was in no position to attack. He had been driven away and Richard was so confident that he had been beaten that he was considering having himself crowned King of Cyprus. He had the people with him and now Guy de Lusignan had come with his three galleys full of men to support him. No, Isaac would not be so foolish and the marriage must go through without a hitch.

‘You are happy, Berengaria?’ said Joanna.

There was no need for Berengaria to answer that. ‘Richard is so wonderful,’ she said. ‘I never cease to marvel that I should be his chosen bride. From the moment I first saw him when he came to my father’s court I loved him. I had never seen such a handsome, such a chivalrous knight. And then . . .’

‘You waited,’ said Joanna. ‘You waited a long time for him, Berengaria.’

‘But the waiting is over now.’

‘May you be very happy,’ said Joanna fervently.

‘I shall. I know I shall.’

‘Amen,’ whispered Joanna.

‘Joanna, I wonder what Alice is doing now. I wonder what she will think when she hears . . .’

‘She will be going back to her brother’s court now I doubt not.’

‘Poor Alice!’

‘Do not pity her too much, Berengaria. Perhaps she was happy while the King lived.’

‘But the shame of it!’

‘Perhaps she did not feel the shame.’

‘How could she not when it was there?’

‘It may not have seemed so to her.’

‘Oh, but it must have, Joanna.’

Joanna thought: How innocent she is! May all go well with her.

She wondered whether she had heard the whisperings about Richard and whether she would have understood them if she had.

When Richard rode out to his wedding the people stared in astonishment at this splendid figure.

This was to be a double celebration. First the wedding and then the coronation for he had decided to have himself crowned King of Cyprus. The island was rich; its people were dissatisfied with Isaac Comnenus and he, Richard, was in a position to defeat Isaac utterly. What treasure would be his! He could install a deputy of his own choosing to hold the island for him when he went on his way to the Holy War. He had done very well in Sicily but he would do even better in Cyprus.

Because this was his intention he had exploited to the full that which he knew to be one of his major assets – his dazzling appearance. He appeared as a god and was accepted as such; his height and fair good looks gave all that was necessary to add to the illusion. So he rode out in a rose-coloured tunic, belted about the waist. His mantle was dazzling, being of silver tissue patterned with stripes and decorated with half moons of silver brocade. His head-dress was scarlet decorated in gold. He shone; he glittered; he was indeed like a being from another world.

He did not ride but walked to the church, his Spanish horse being led before him by one of his knights also splendidly garbed though of course in a fashion not to be compared with that of the King. The horse’s saddle was decorated with precious stones and gold, and never before had the Cypriots seen such glory.

And in the church he was married to Berengaria. She felt exultant, for this was like a dream coming true – a dream that had haunted her since she had seen this perfect knight ride into the joust with her favour in his helmet.

Not only was she Richard’s wife, she was also Queen of England and Cyprus, and the heavy crown that was placed on her head when the diadem was removed was a double crown.

How the people cheered them – not only the crusaders but the islanders.

With Richard she sat at the table and the feasting began. There was merrymaking, songs and dancing; and Richard himself played his lute and sang a song of his own composing.

This, thought Berengaria, is the happiest day of my life.

When night fell he conducted her to their bedchamber. He was not an ardent lover but she did not know this. To her he was the most perfect being the world had ever known and she was in a state of bliss because fate had made her his bride.

The day after the wedding, messengers came from Isaac. He craved a meeting with the King of England and their meeting place should be in a field near Limassol. He wanted to treat for peace.

Richard was eager for the meeting too and it was arranged.

Donning his wedding finery Richard rode out to the field and when he reached it he saw that on the far side Isaac waited with a company of men.

Richard dismounted and his magnificent Spanish steed was led before him as it had been when he was on his way to the church for his wedding. He had never looked so glitteringly godlike and formidable. At his side hung his tempered steel sword and he carried a truncheon. He came as the conqueror and Isaac quailed before him.

Isaac knelt and Richard inclined his head.

‘You sue for peace,’ said Richard. ‘That is well but I shall expect recompense for what you have taken from my men.’

‘I shall be happy to give it, my lord,’ said Isaac humbly.

‘My men have been shipwrecked and their goods taken from them. Many have suffered imprisonment.’

‘’Tis true, I fear, my lord.’

‘These wanton acts deserve punishment.’

Isaac studied the King. There was an innate honesty in those blue eyes. The King of England it was said was very different from the King of France. Richard was direct – Yea and Nay, they called him, and that meant that when he said something he meant just that. There was no subterfuge about him. In a king this could be naive, and Isaac was far from naive. He was in a difficult position. He had made a great mistake when he had allowed his people to plunder Richard’s ships. He should have welcomed them, curried favour with Richard; but how was he to have known that Richard would arrive in Cyprus? He might so easily have been drowned. He should have waited though and made sure.