Виктория Холт - The Heart of the Lion

‘And break your oath?’

‘I have expended wealth and health in this cause. I have done enough.’

‘Your name will resound with dishonour throughout the world.’

‘But not with such effect as it would if I lost my kingdom.’

‘I see you have made up your mind to go. Does your oath mean nothing to you, your vow to God, your vow to me!’

‘Aye, these are great matters. But I am a king. I have a little son; he is but four years old. He is ailing. He needs me there. If I stay in this land another year my son will have no father. France will have lost her King. I cannot live in this vile climate. The heat is unendurable. The dust chokes me; the flies nauseate me. The mosquitoes and the tarantulas are killing my men. I tell you this, Richard: I have not come to this decision lightly but I see that if I remain here, I shall die.’

‘I am ashamed,’ said Richard.

Philip smiled sardonically. ‘As long as you are not ashamed of yourself that is all that matters. Let those who incur shame suffer it. I have cleared myself with my conscience and with God. I love my country more than this hopeless task.’

‘Hopeless! You can say that! It is the duty of every Christian to restore the Holy Land to Christianity.’

‘I have seen these Mohammedans in action and so have you. Have you ever seen braver men? They have defeated us often, Richard, because while we have a cause they have one too. They have a God. Allah. He seems to work as well for them – perhaps better – than ours for us.’

‘You blaspheme.’

‘It may be so. But I must state what I see. These are not the barbarians we were led to believe they were. They are noble fighters. They say their leader Saladin is a man of great wisdom and goodness.’

‘I believe that,’ said Richard.

‘A noble enemy! Does that not disagree with what we have always believed?’

‘The Mohammedans have taken the Holy City. They have desecrated our churches. They have insulted God, Christ and the Holy Ghost. Is that not sufficient reason for us to fight against them?’

‘I would like to meet this man, to talk with him. I would like to hear what he has to say.’

Richard was silent. Had it really happened or had it been part of his imagination? One dreamed strange dreams in fever.

He was on the point of telling Philip but he refrained. His mind was now occupied with what Philip’s departure would mean.

‘You cannot break your oath,’ he said vehemently.

‘Would you condemn me to death, for die I surely shall if I stay in this place. You know how ill I have been. See how scanty my hair has become. Look at my hands. I am in a sorry state still. I shall die, Richard, if I stay longer in this poisonous place.’

‘How could a man die better than in the service of God?’

‘I believe I can serve Him better by saving my life. He has shown me clearly that death awaits me here. I must go home.’

‘I too have been ill – more so than you.’

‘You have had fevers all your life, Richard. With me, it was my first. I know I came very close to death and I know too that I have my duty to my son and my country.’

‘And I see that you are determined to go home. What effect do you think this will have on the enemy?’

‘When I go,’ said Philip, ‘I will leave you five hundred of my knights and a thousand foot soldiers. Moreover I shall pay for their support. My soldiers will continue to fight for the cause, only I shall not be here.’

Richard narrowed his eyes. He thought: And what peace of mind shall I have knowing that you are in France casting your covetous eyes on Normandy?

‘You must not go, Philip.’

‘I am going, Richard.’

‘So in spite of our protestations of friendship you will desert me?’

‘Of what comfort would a corpse be to you? I go because I must, Richard. The choice is simple. Life or death. As a dead man I should be an embarrassment to you. While I live I can command my men to fight with you. If I were dead what would they do? Desert! Nay, I have pondered this matter and the way is clear to me. I must leave this land. It has defeated me, you may say. That is true. The insects and this terrible heat have done to me what a human enemy could not. But I have been warned. Yes, very clearly have I been warned. If I stay here I shall die and I must live.’

It was no use talking to him. He was determined on departure.

This was indeed so. When the Bishop of Beauvais and the Duke of Burgundy presented themselves before Richard to tell him formally what Philip had already stated in private they were in tears.

‘Weep not,’ said Richard. ‘I know what you come to tell me. Your lord, the King of France, desires to go home and you come in his name to ask on my behalf my counsel and leave for him to be gone.’

‘’Tis true, Sire,’ said the Duke. ‘Our King says that if he does not leave this land speedily he will die.’

‘It will be for him and the Kingdom of France eternal shame,’ said Richard. ‘I could not advise him to do this. I would prefer death to such shame. But if he must die or return home let him do what he thinks best.’

‘My lord King,’ said the Duke of Burgundy, ‘our King says he will leave knights and foot soldiers under my command to serve you and obey you.’

Richard bowed his head. ‘Return to the King of France and tell him that I have nothing more to say on this grievous matter.’

When Richard took his farewell of Philip, the King of France said to him: ‘You are misguided. This siege of Acre has taught me much and you, too, I doubt not. These enemies are fierce fighters. They are a match for your best. I believe that we are not in a position to succeed against them.’

‘How so? Have we not taken Acre?’

‘’Tis so. But we have seen what resistance these men show. They are fighting for what they believe to be theirs. They are as firm in their beliefs as we are in ours. They are a formidable enemy. Our men are emaciated from fever, and these Mohammedans can withstand the heat better than our people. It is natural to them. It is my firm conviction that we are not in a fit state to take Jerusalem. We need new troops, fresh supplies. It is enough that this crusade ends with the taking of Acre. If we were wise we would leave Acre well fortified. We have Cyprus as a stronghold. This is a good result of our crusade. Now we should return home and other men – and perhaps we should join with them – could prepare for the next crusade.’

‘You seek to comfort yourself,’ said Richard scornfully. ‘I tell you I shall not return until the Christian flag flies over the Holy City.’

‘Do not boast of that to any who do not love you as I do,’ said Philip.

‘You love me! Yet you leave me!’

‘Forget not that I have entreated you to come with me.’

‘I have let you see that I do not want you to go.’

‘Is it for myself you wish me to stay or because you fear that my departure may please the enemy? Or do you fear that I shall be in France while you are in Palestine?’

‘Before you go you must give me your solemn word that you will do nothing to harass my dominions while I am away.’

‘I will give you that word.’

‘You must keep it, Philip. You must remember our friendship, the oaths we have sworn to each other.’

‘Did you always remain true to yours, Richard?’

‘What mean you?’

‘I have heard that you have made friends with strange people, that gifts have passed between you.’

Richard flushed slightly. ‘You refer to the Sultan Saladin.’

‘Our enemy I thought ... but perhaps your friend.’

‘He sent gifts as you know. It is an Arab custom.’

‘To sustain an enemy?’

‘It seems so.’

‘Can it possibly be that you have become his friend?’

‘How could that be so?’

‘I remember Tancred. You were very friendly with him, were you not?’

‘I made terms with him.’

‘As you now make them with the Sultan Saladin?’

‘I have made only the terms which we made regarding the ransom to be paid to us.’

‘Richard, is that all?’

‘I have made no other terms. You are of a jealous nature, Philip.’

‘You and I were once good friends.’

‘Let us vow always to be so.’

‘That would be a comfort to you would it not?’

‘Of great comfort.’

‘Only because you fear for the dominions you have deserted.’

‘I like not the term but I will say that in view of our vows to love each other which we once made I would be happier that these vows were kept rather than broken. Friendship is a good thing particularly so between those whom the world would call natural enemies.’

They embraced.

‘It grieves me deeply to leave you, Richard,’ said Philip.

‘Then stay.’

‘I have my duty to my son and my country. I cannot afford to die yet. My son is not ready. I must remember my duty to France.’

Richard could see that Philip had made up his mind. There was one matter which must be settled and this was who, when Jerusalem was captured, should reign there as King. This had been a matter of dissension between the two kings, Richard supporting Guy de Lusignan’s claim and Philip that of Conrad de Montferrat.

Philip was so eager to be gone that he was ready to give way and it was finally agreed that Guy should be King in his lifetime and then the crown should pass to Montferrat.

On the last day of July Philip sailed away from Acre.

Richard missed Philip. His temper was more easily aroused. He was still feeling the after-effects of his illness and he suffered from the climate as Philip had. He chafed against the delay which kept him in Acre. Until the ransom was paid he could not leave. He worried a great deal about Philip and wondered what his action would be when he returned to France. He believed that when Philip was with him he cared for him; but when he was away from him he might well forget his affection and see only what was to be gained by Richard’s absence. Always kings of France had taken advantage of the difficulties of dukes of Normandy. Ever since they had lost that stretch of land it had been the unspoken law that no king should fail to take an opportunity to regain it.

He must move on. As soon as the ransom was paid and the prisoners exchanged he would do so.

Saladin’s army was drawn up on the heights not far from the city in which the Christians were now living in comfort. It was not good for them to remain thus. Many of the soldiers, starved for so long from what they considered to be the good things of life, had decided to make the most of them while they could. There was drunkenness and sexual orgies – neither of which was good for an army – yet Richard knew that to stop this could result in revolt against him. He was a strong ruler and he was stern and quick to punish those who broke his laws; but he understood soldiers. He himself at one time had indulged in such activities as were now taking place within the city of Acre. To expect men to endure heat, hunger and sickness and give them no rewards was unwise. Let them feel now that war was worthwhile and they would fight the better for it later. At this time they had forgotten that they were supposed to be engaged in a holy war. They were ordinary soldiers with the lust of conquest upon them. Very soon must begin the march to Jaffa and Richard knew that this was going to tax their strength, endurance and fidelity to the cause to the utmost of their strength. Therefore give them this relaxation now. Let them satisfy their lusts and dream of the next conquest as they marched.

But not for long ... only until that ransom was paid.

The day arrived when it should have been paid. Richard waited eagerly for the coming of Saladin’s emissaries, but all through that day and all through that night he looked in vain.

Where were they? It had been their solemn agreement that the ransom should be paid. But where was it? Through the next day he waited.

At last came Saladin’s messengers. They brought gifts – more grapes, dates and young chickens.

Richard said: ‘We thank the Sultan for these gifts but we need the ransom.’

‘It will come,’ was the answer.

Then the messengers came again with more gifts but still no ransom.

‘What means this?’ cried Richard. ‘It seems that Saladin would deceive me.’

The messengers assured him that this was not so. The Sultan was merely asking for more time to raise the ransom.