among men.
After the marriage, Berengere of Navarre was crowned Queen, Duchess and Countess of her domains by John, Bishop of Evreux, thus uniting realms that spread from the west coast of Ireland and the Hebrides of Scotland to the middle of the Iberian Peninsula.
Queen Joan acted as matron of honour and, even though they must have felt much anguish about the demise of their odious father, Isaac’s daughters, Anna and Theodora, who had been made ladies-in-waiting to Berengere, added yet more glamour to the proceedings. They were both very striking creatures with their raven hair and olive skin.
Anna, in particular, caught my eye. She was perhaps seventeen or eighteen, about two years younger than her sister, and very attractive. I kept reminding myself that she was the daughter of an ‘Emperor’ – at least, in name – and beyond my expectations as a catch. All the same, I could not keep my eyes off her.
And I was unable to for the next several days.
Just before our departure for the Holy Land, three ships appeared on the horizon to the east. When they docked, off strode the once King of Jerusalem, Guy of Lusignan, the former nemesis of William Marshal and the man blamed for the catastrophe of the Battle of Hattin. He had been imprisoned by the Sultan Saladin for a year after his capture and had lost his strongest claim to the throne of Jerusalem when his wife, Sybilla, the true heir to the kingdom, had died a year later. He had brought his ships and knights to lend his allegiance to the Lionheart, but was complaining vociferously that Philip Augustus, King of the Franks, had sided with his rival, Conrad of Montferrat, Marquis of Tyre.
Having left behind the politics of his Plantagenet Empire, the last thing the King wanted was to be drawn into the squabbles of the Latin Princes. But, as Alun and William Marshal pointed out to him, he would be wise to accept all supplicants and welcome them to his bosom. Lusignan was thus showered with gifts, given 2,000 silver marks to re-equip his men, and his knights were taken on to the King’s payroll. Although generous, the Lionheart could afford it. He had already entered into negotiations with the Knights Templar to sell all tithes and revenues on the island of Cyprus for 100,000 bezants, with 40,000 payable immediately. This was a vast sum, even by the standards of kings and ransoms, and was reminiscent of the Danegelds of yesteryear.
Lusignan brought news from the Holy Land to which the King, attended by his senior commanders, listened intently. It was a remarkable story not known in Europe. In an attempt to redeem himself after his release from Saladin’s clutches – a release only permitted when he promised not to take up arms against the Sultan – Lusignan immediately broke his promise and raised a new army. He then committed himself to a challenge which seemed to have even more potential for catastrophe than Hattin.
‘I knew the chances were slim, but we had to do something to prevent Saladin from capturing the entire Holy Land. The Muslims had taken the citadel of Acre, a formidable fortress, but I knew it well and thought that if we could preoccupy Saladin there we would deflect him from besieging the other Christian enclaves, such as Tyre and Antioch. So, I decided to besiege the besieger. I began two years ago and threw everything we had at the city. For most of the knights, it was a fight for their homeland; many are grandsons of the First Crusaders and know no other home. Although we did not take the city, I built a timber motte on Toron, a hill with its back to the sea close to the citadel, from where I could continue to attack it with our ballista. I dug a double defensive trench on the landward side for protection, and to keep open a route to the sea for reinforcements and supplies.’
Glances of admiration were exchanged between the Lionheart and his men as Lusignan continued his account.
‘The plan worked; Saladin arrived to try to relieve the citadel about a year ago. We’ve held him at bay ever since. I paid the Pisans and Genoese a king’s ransom to send men and supplies; they have delivered both regularly, and to good effect, and our route to the sea remains open. We occasionally venture out and attempt to scale the walls of the citadel, but most of the fighting takes place in our trenches when Saladin sends in his infantry. The clashes are bloodthirsty and at very close quarters. At times, we have had to eat our own horses, and our morale has been very low. But we survive. We are kept going by the thought that it is just as dire, or even worse, for the Muslims inside the citadel—’
The King interrupted.
‘But what of Philip Augustus and his men? It must have made a difference when he arrived.’
‘It did; the balance is now tipped in our favour. But we need your army to finally clinch it.’
My Little Quintet had been restored to me in good health. With Blondel in fine voice, leading the singing, we sailed from the port of Famagusta on 5 June 1191. The great fleet that had sailed in such symmetry from Sicily was reformed, and on an even grander scale than before. Shrill trumpets rang out, pipes and crumhorns wailed and drums resounded across the water as the galleys, each with its crimson cross flying from its mast, headed east.
This time, the Lionheart’s galley was in the vanguard with the entire flotilla fanned out behind him. He stood on the ship’s prow with Berengere at his side; they looked like the perfect regal couple, the progenitors of a dynasty even more powerful than the Plantagenets, Normans and Cerdicians that had gone before them.
I wondered about the child we all hoped she was carrying. Would he inherit not only the colossal Plantagenet Empire of his father and the noble Iberian realms of his mother, but also a new Latin domain in Palestine, even greater than the conquests of the First Crusade?
17. Siege of Acre
Our mighty armada made landfall close to the Hospitaller fortress at Margat, a huge bulwark overlooking the sea, and the site of the incarceration of Isaac of Cyprus. When Anna and Theodora saw it, they begged to be put ashore so that they could visit him. The Lionheart refused – even when Berengere and Queen Joan intervened on behalf of the princesses – despite the fact that boats had been put ashore to bring fresh meat and fruit on board.
Acre was much further south. After hugging the parched and dusty coastline, we got our first glimpse of the city on 8 June. We disembarked the fleet during the whole of that night and the next day. We could see Saladin’s scouts in the distance; they would soon know the immense scale of the Christian army.
I was in the Holy Land, the place I had heard so much about from my father in his stories of the English contingent under the command of Edgar the Atheling, in the service of Robert, Duke of Normandy: the Siege of Antioch, the Battle of Dorylaeum, the Fall of Jerusalem. It was just as I had imagined in my mind’s eye. I was moved by setting foot in Palestine, and when I looked at Abbot Alun I saw there were tears in his eyes.
There was much jubilation when the army had completed its tasks. The King ordered that butts of beer be brewed and meat roasted to celebrate. As the men enjoyed themselves, the King asked Alun and myself to walk with him to look at Acre’s defences.
‘Impressive, are they not?’
‘Indeed, sire; Acre will be a tough nut to crack, even for an army as formidable as ours.’
The city was defended on three sides by the sea. But even on the seaward side, towering walls rose from the rocks to create an almost impregnable obstacle. A double wall protected the landward side, with eight large towers offering numerous shooting positions for missiles. We could see light from the braziers of the Muslim defenders flickering against the setting sun over the Mediterranean. It had been another blisteringly hot day, a stark fact that led Alun to reflect on the plight of those inside the walls.
‘Women and children, old men, thousands of restless troops, with less and less food, rationed water, stone walls that reflect heat like a blacksmith’s furnace. They’ve been besieged for two years with no prospect of relief. This is an enemy worthy of our journey, sire.’
The King placed his arm on the man who had now become his close friend.
‘I agree, but I will soon bring them respite.’
‘Do you remember, my Lord, what Hildegard said in Rupertsberg, in her message to the Synod of Trier?’
‘I’m going to surprise you, but I do. I have learned much over the years. As she said, we should look around us and count our blessings. Most importantly, having reflected on the world and our place within it, we should think
