step by devious step, to assume control of the island. As soon as he felt himself to be unassailable, he took the title of ‘Emperor’, donned the purple garb of his imperious ancestors and added all the names and paraphernalia of the glories of Byzantium.
To be servants in his palace, he took young boys and made them eunuchs. He adopted the fabled Manticore as his emblem, gave members of his family Byzantine titles like ‘Nobilissimus of the Empire’, and appointed a ‘Grand Domestic’ to be commander of his army. Not only had Isaac tricked his way into power, but he ruled his Cypriot subjects with great cruelty. Summary executions were routine, as was torture of all kinds; he collected his taxes ruthlessly, and showed no compassion to anyone too poor or too ill to pay.
The Lionheart was not only distressed about the plight of Berengere, but he was livid that a preposterous little despot, who pretended he wore the Purple of Constantinople, should have the audacity to ransom his loyal Blondel. He ordered William Marshal to take command of the fleet and to follow on, then gave me his usual clear and precise orders.
‘Two conrois – the best men – bring your sergeants, and commission two of the fastest galleys. We sail for Cyprus in the morning.’
Rhodes was almost 300 miles from Cyprus, but we were downwind of a strong westerly and we made excellent progress. We soon found our three stricken galleys at anchor off the Cypriot coast. Berengere, Joan and their ladies-in-waiting were distressed at being marooned amidst a ship’s company of men. Mercadier, Baldwin and Robert were embarrassed and angry at being rendered helpless, but they had made the right decision in waiting for help.
The Lionheart immediately took control and ordered an assault on the island. Mercadier and Robert were more than happy to get on to dry land, but Baldwin advised caution.
‘The Emperor is just beyond the beach with a large force. They have built a crude palisade of timber, but it gives them cover; it would be a suicide attack.’
Predictably, the Lionheart’s temper rose.
‘First of all, he’s not an emperor – he’s not even a prince. Get your armour on, man!’
Within minutes, with my Little Quintet in close support, King Richard, in full armour, was lowering himself down the yardarm and wading across the shallow water to the beach. The waves were strong and several times washed right over our heads. More than once, one of us fell over and, weighed down by our weapons and maille hauberks, had to be helped to our feet.
Mercadier led the King’s elite conrois behind us, while Baldwin and Robert formed small squadrons of archers and arbalests to our flanks. As soon as the Lionheart made dry ground, he charged up the beach like a Viking Berserker. Despite the 50lbs of armour and weapons he carried, such was his athleticism and energy, it was difficult to keep pace with him. By the time we reached the top of the beach and the Cypriot defences were in sight, the missiles from our archers began to plummet into their positions with devastating effect. The crossbow was the Lionheart’s favourite weapon, and our men could use it with great accuracy; its quarrels could go straight through a man and his maille hauberk at fifty yards.
Without even turning to ensure that we were in close support, our King hurled himself at the makeshift Cypriot defences, fashioned from hurdles, wooden boards and upturned carts. Godric and I managed to position ourselves to his left and right, while the quartet of Modig, Rodor, Penda and Leax tucked in behind us. We had fought at close quarters with the Lionheart before and had as much confidence in him as he had in us. The Cypriots, men from Isaac’s personal garrison, were well trained, some having been recruited from Constantinople, but they were no match for the ferocity of our tried and tested techniques. There was soon an arc of space around us, as the Lionheart’s blows sent men to the floor beneath his feet. He strode over body after body, most of them mortally wounded from the cuts and thrusts of his blade. We protected his flanks and had soon opened a wedge in the Cypriot wall through which the rest of our men poured.
To fight in the presence of the Lionheart was a remarkable experience. Only the most accomplished of warriors could keep pace with him – and I flatter myself that I was one of them. He wielded his sword as if it had no weight to it, elegantly wafting it through the air with lethal speed. His actions had an instinctive choreography about them; they looked like well-rehearsed techniques from the training ground, but they were not. All were improvised in the heat of battle. Such were his height and strength that he had a physical advantage over most men, but it was his speed and dexterity that set him apart.
But even that was not the whole of it. The Lionheart’s essence was his indomitable spirit. He knew no fear, and his opponents could see that in his eyes; they were beaten before they had a chance to strike a blow.
Within minutes, the whole of the Cypriot line had started to flee. With almost reckless bravery against overwhelming odds, the Lionheart had established a bridgehead where none seemed possible. As we all took some air and gathered ourselves, we looked around and realized that about 150 men had scattered a force at least four times that number, simply because of the Lionheart’s remarkable daring. I looked at Mercadier, who was standing close by. We smiled at one another in acknowledgement of yet another example of the Lionheart’s remorseless spirit.
But he was not resting on his laurels. On a nearby hill, mounted on a striking, white-maned palomino stallion the colour of pale honey, an ostentatiously dressed figure surveyed the scene.
‘Ranulf, get some horses, it’s him, the Emperor of Minion. After him!’
We found some Cypriot horses that had been scattered down the beach during our assault and we were soon in pursuit of our quarry. Accompanied by half a dozen knights, the Emperor Isaac bolted as soon as he saw us ride towards him. When we reached the top of the hill, the Lionheart put his hand up to halt our gallop. Isaac’s knights had made good ground on their steeds, but his stallion had travelled over a hundred yards more. The King looked on in admiration.
‘Look at it go! That stallion is so graceful, so quick. When I bring that pup to heel, his horse will be mine, or I’ll kiss the Devil’s arse.’
Perhaps for the first time that day, the Lionheart looked around. Some of his main fleet could be seen in the distance.
‘Let’s bring Princess Berengere and Queen Joan ashore and get them comfortable. We’ll need to land our destriers and get them used to the ground, so that we can conquer this little prick of an island.’
Cyprus was far more than a ‘little prick’. But to the King, Isaac and his island were an irritation he did not need – especially when news arrived later that Philip had arrived safely in the Holy Land. The report about Philip emboldened the Lionheart even further.
‘Ranulf, who’s the best scout?’
‘Leax, sire – he’s excellent.’
‘Good, send Penda with him. I need to know where this Isaac is, and where he has stored my geld.’
It took Penda and Leax only three days to find Isaac and his stronghold. Leax, by far the most talkative of any of us, gave his report lucidly and without hesitation.
‘My Lord King, Emperor Isaac has gone to ground in a stone keep called Kolossi, about ten miles to the west of the city of Limassol. The castle guards the approach to the city and also protects Episkopi Bay, about two miles to its south-west. The bailey is quite small and is protected by a deep ditch and wooden barricade. The barricade is well made and there is only one gate and bridge. I would estimate the defenders may number around four hundred, perhaps a few more. It looks like the civilians have left and gone to Limassol. We found several talkative locals, who have no affection for their Greek ruler. One of them had lived on Sicily and spoke Norman. He said that there were some catapults in Kolossi, but none of any scale, and that he was sure the prisoners and the treasure had been taken there after the shipwreck.’
‘An excellent report, Leax, well done. Ranulf, send a message to Isaac. Tell him that if he releases Blondel and the others and returns my bullion, I will spare his men and put him on a ship with safe passage to Constantinople. If he does not yield, no mercy will be shown to him or his men.’
A short and blunt reply came back immediately from Kolossi: ‘Tell your Lord that emperors do not yield to kings.’
It did little for the Lionheart’s humour; his response was also uncompromising.
‘I want incendiaries. We’ll burn down the walls and pour through them like a fast-running tide. There will be no quarter!’
