approached the ancient harbor on the northernmost tip of the island, famed throughout the world for its great lighthouse, and as the ship entered the shelter of the bay, his eyes moved restlessly among the hundred or so vessels awaiting them there, seeking the four recently built warships that belonged to the Order of the Temple, but in the absence of distinguishing insignia, he was unable to tell them apart from the remainder of the tatterdemalion collection. Andre would be somewhere among the forest of masts, he knew, but he had no idea how he might arrange to meet with him. He felt confident that they would remain in Rhodes for at least a week and perhaps two, for the entire fleet had to be provisioned yet again and many of the vessels had suffered serious damage that would have to be repaired before they could go anywhere. And so he concentrated upon his own responsibilities for the time being, focusing upon establishing a daily regimen of drill programs that would address the chronic problem of keeping very large numbers of men from idleness and temptation by keeping them gainfully engaged.
The sole remaining difficulty, and it was always a large one, involved finding and securing a training ground, or perhaps multiple training grounds, large enough to accommodate their numbers and close enough to both the army’s central campgrounds and the harbor to make regular movement to and from both locations relatively simple. He sent out word for his training officers to assemble and then, after reviewing the priorities facing all of them, sent them off in pairs to scour the surrounding countryside for suitable sites.
When at last three expanses had been identified for drilling grounds, the sounds of marching feet were audible everywhere as the thousands of foot soldiers from the fleet made their way there in ordered units. The horsemen were allocated different sites and times to report, as many of the horses were still being unloaded from the newly arrived ships. And thus, transition was achieved, continuity was asserted, and novelty quickly became routine.
Ten days later, while Richard and some of his English barons were inspecting cavalry at one of the three horse camps Henry had set up, a messenger came galloping with word for the King that two of the galleys he had sent to find the Princess Berengaria had been sighted returning from the east, under sail and oars, and were expected to enter the harbor within the hour. Richard abandoned the inspection immediately, and he insisted that Henry accompany him, to be present should an instantaneous decision be required.
It was closer to two hours than one by the time the two galleys approached the harbor piers, but the commander leapt down from the bows as soon as his ship came close enough, and made his way directly to where the King and his entourage stood waiting. The Princess Berengaria and Queen Joanna were safe, he reported, but their ships, perhaps because they were the largest in the fleet, had taken the brunt of the storm winds and been blown far and away to the south of everyone else, ending up, by the time the storm finally blew itself out, off the island of Cyprus. All three of the dromons had remained together until the end, but as they neared the port of Limassol on the south coast of Cyprus, one of them had run aground on the reefs known as the rocks of Aphrodite and had foundered, with much loss of life.
Two of the great ships remained intact, their precious cargo safe, but the galley commander’s urgency was all reserved for the fate of the third. The ruler of Cyprus, he reported, was a man called Isaac Comnenus, a Byzantine who titled himself Emperor but had behaved more like a bandit chief in this instance. Richard cut him off with a wave of his arm.
“Hold, there. What mean you by that—a bandit chief? Speak plainly to me now, for this is important. Forget all the fine words and flourishes and tell me as a man what happened and what this Comnenus fellow did.”
The commander cleared his throat, and it required two false starts before he found his tongue and sufficient confidence to speak out plainly. “He has behaved shabbily, my lord King. His people looted and despoiled the dead men who were washed up on their shores after the shipwreck, and once the waves died down and it was discovered that the wreck could be reached from the shore, the survivors were taken ashore and penned up as prisoners, given little in the way of aid or care. And then they discovered that there were chests of gold aboard, and the people there went wild. Before they could bring much of it ashore, however, the Emperor Comnenus and his men arrived and confiscated everything …” His voice faded away and he stood frowning.
“What, man? There’s more, is there not? What of my ladies aboard the other ships?”
“They are well, my lord, but—”
“He has not harmed them?”
“No, my lord. But at first he would not let them go ashore. Threatened them with prison should they land on his shores. He changed his mind later, once he thought there might be gold aboard those ships, too, but by then the two ladies had decided they were safer aboard their ships than they would be elsewhere. Emperor though this fellow calls himself, he has no army worthy of the name, and no ships at all. But, sire, there is more …”
“More?” Richard’s face darkened by the moment. “What you have told me is enough already. I shall have things to say to this Comnenus when we meet, for he sounds like no Christian monarch to me, let alone an emperor. What more could there be?”
“Your vice-chancellor, my lord.”
“Nevington. What about him? Is he dead?”
“Aye, my lord. He drowned in the wreck of the ship and was one of the people washed ashore.”
Richard was frowning slightly, but then his brow smoothed out. “The seal! Is it safe?” Lord Nevington, as vice-chancellor of England, always wore the Great Seal on a ribbon about his neck, for it was his responsibility to keep it with him at all times, so that in the event the King needed to sign and seal an official document of any kind, the seal would be close by and ready for his use.
“Those who found it stripped it from him, not knowing what it was, but Comnenus seized it and now wears it around his neck.”
“God’s balls, man, tell me you jest with me!” Richard’s voice had risen to a roar of fury. “Are you saying this … this filth-crusted, hunchbacked imbecile now holds the Great Seal of England, in addition to the gold I brought to pay my men?”
The mariner merely nodded, wide eyed.
“Then by the living Christ I will have the whoreson’s scrotum cured and made into a bag to hold my seal from this time on!” He swung around to St. Clair. “Henry, set things in motion now, today. Send out orders to break camp at once and put one of your officers to find Robert de Sable and send him to me in my quarters. I want the fleet loaded by tomorrow night, every man and horse and every item of stowage ready for the tide the following day. We are going to Cyprus to teach this crotch-sniffing, flea-infested
The young knight saluted smartly and spun away to his task, and Richard nodded abruptly, dismissing everyone else with a backhanded wave before striding off in the direction of the building he had taken as his personal quarters.
THREE
Jean Pierre Tournedos had been born into a mercantile family that owned a modest fleet of trading ships, and at the age of twenty-six was invited to join the Order of the Temple as an associate brother and to dedicate his knowledge and his exceptional skills, at an appropriate price, to the design and construction of a prototype ship that would permit the rapidly expanding Order to move away from its reliance on land bases. Working with a small group of colleagues, Tournedos designed a large vessel with the capacity to ship both men and cargo, including livestock. But what made the ship unique was that it was designed to house a highly disciplined crew of fighting monks, accustomed to living in penitential austerity, in close quarters that normal mariners would not have
