Lionheart

‘Let me think about it.’

I believed firmly in my preference to travel overland. But my men had a point, and their views were worthy of some thought. For me, the challenge of crossing Anatolia, like the legendary figures of the First Great Crusade, was very appealing. I was in two minds and sought Alun’s advice. As usual, he had wise words for me.

‘You should travel the route you want to travel. Our future – both yours and mine – has changed and no longer lies in the Holy Land. It rests in England, and I am content to follow your lead home.’

My quandary about how to make our way home to England was made starker only an hour or so later, when the two princesses and their father hurried across Margat’s bailey to see me. With his daughters either side of him, Isaac Comnenus, the deposed Emperor of Cyprus, began to plead with me; he spoke not like the haughty lord we had known on his island, but like a distraught father.

‘Sir Knight, I believe you are called Ranulf of Lancaster?’

‘I am, sire.’

‘I beg a noble service of you. My daughters must reach Constantinople. As you know, I am of the Comneni family, a family that has produced Byzantine emperors for the last hundred and fifty years. The princesses have no future as ladies-in-waiting to an English queen; they must go home to their ancestral family. Please take them. These Hospitallers will not venture beyond the Holy Land; you are our only hope.’

‘But, sire, safe passage would be by sea. I intend to go overland, across Anatolia.’

‘I know they would be safer by sea, but your preference to travel overland gives me an opportunity to help my girls in a way that I didn’t think would be possible. Many years ago, I was the Byzantine Governor of Isauria; my palace was in Tarsus. We were invaded by the Cilicians, who overran the city and imprisoned me in chains for many years. But before I was captured, I hid part of my treasury in a secret chamber in the walls of the Church of St Paul of Tarsus. Now it can serve as my daughters’ dowry. I have told them where the chamber is. If you get them to Tarsus, I will give you one tenth part of the geld. If you then get them and their dowry to Constantinople safely, you will be given another hundred bezants by my family. I will send word to them, you have my oath on that…’

Looking at me imploringly, he paused.

‘Will you do it?’

‘My Lord, I need to talk to my men and to Abbot Alun. With only ourselves to be concerned about, we can take our chances. But with two princesses to protect, seven men is a very small entourage. Are you sure it’s not possible to recruit some Hospitallers?’

‘I have asked them repeatedly, but they won’t do it. They insist they’re here to protect the Holy Places and the pilgrims; they won’t go beyond the Cilician Gates.’

I looked at the two princesses who, like their father, were more like little peasant girls lost in a strange place than noble ladies of the court. Anna stretched out her hand and placed it on mine.

‘Sir Ranulf, please help us; you are indeed our only hope.’

‘I can’t promise anything, ma’am. I will need the agreement of my men; let me talk to them.’

I called Alun and the Little Quintet together to discuss Isaac’s proposition. When I offered them a share of the geld, Godric had no hesitation.

‘If I may say so, sire, crossing Anatolia for the sake of your sense of chivalry was one thing. But for a handful of gold bezants, well, that’s something else altogether.’

He looked at the others, who all nodded decisively.

‘Alun?’

‘The risks are considerable. Do the girls know how perilous it will be?’

‘I believe they do. But regardless of that, they are desperate to get to Constantinople and to recover their dowry along the way.’

‘Do we know how perilous it will be?’

I smiled at my learned friend. Typically, he had made a telling point. Anatolia was a vast wilderness that had been the graveyard of many travellers who had gone before us, including tens of thousands of crusaders. Even so, I would get my wish; the Cilician Gates beckoned and, beyond them, Constantinople.

Assuming that the less significant we appeared, the safer we would be, I devised a plan to disguise the importance of the princesses Anna and Theodora and to reduce our value as potential hostages. Alun would lose his insignia as an abbot and become a humble monk, I would hide my knight’s pennon and spurs, and we would all pack away our weapons to become simple Christian artisans journeying home from the fallen city of Jerusalem. Anna and Theodora and their handmaidens would hide their jewellery and fine clothes and dress drably as laundresses to the noble ladies of the court.

It was a tearful departure from Margat.

The princesses were distraught to leave their father, who looked like a broken man, shorn of all the trappings of his former glory. Despite his appalling behaviour on Cyprus, he had at least found a way to offer his daughters a route home. He was worthy of some sympathy.

Our journey north was uneventful for many days, during which we moved at the sedate pace of pilgrims and drew as little attention to ourselves as possible. We avoided villages and made camp only in remote locations well away from other travellers. Having lived a life of luxury, Anna and Theodora found the privations of the journey difficult – especially sleeping amidst a group of men.

Sleeping separately would have been unwise, as it would have suggested that the women had a higher status than the men. But having them in close proximity was also a problem, as their attractions were all too obvious. As we approached Tarsus, I had no choice but to ensure my men kept any carnal thoughts at bay if we were to retrieve the princesses’ geld from the ancient church of St Paul’s. However, I recognized that I still had yearnings for Anna, feelings that became more difficult to suppress as time went on.

With the Seljuks in control in southern Anatolia, St Paul’s had been desecrated and was in a state of ruin. Its windows and doors were open to the elements and its only occupants were bats, birds and rodents. Even though the church was deserted, it was close enough to other buildings to mean that we would have to make our sortie in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, our arrival in Tarsus coincided with a full moon, so we had to wait two nights for sufficient clouds to help hide us.

While Alun and Godric looked after the horses and the princesses’ handmaidens, I posted Leax, Penda, Modig and Rodor to stand guard at the four corners of the church. Anna and I would be in charge of finding the hidden geld. Isaac had given his daughters very simple instructions.

From the door of the church, take twelve paces along the centre of the nave, then turn left and walk towards the wall. Immediately above you, you will see a roof beam entering the wall. Climb above the beam and find the stone that sits on it, hidden from view below. The mortar around the stone is sandy and not very deep. Use a dagger to hack away the mortar and loosen the stone. The stone is thinner than the others in the wall, and behind it is a space that hides the casket you seek.

I was unhappy that Anna had not thought to tell me that we would need a ladder to follow the instructions, and told her so sharply.

‘I’m sorry, Ranulf… I just didn’t think.’

I was immediately sorry for having been cross. I reminded myself how lonely and afraid she must be.

‘I’ll go and get one of the men to help me climb up to the beam, my Lady.’

‘There’s no need; I can do it.’

She held out her hand and raised her foot towards my knee.

‘It’s only like getting on a horse.’

As I lowered myself on to one knee, Anna climbed without any hesitation from my knee to my shoulder and placed her feet on either side of my neck. I then pushed myself up against the wall to give her enough height to grasp the beam and haul herself on to it. She took my seax and our wax lantern and, with her legs straddling the beam in a most unladylike manner, started hacking at the mortar. It took her only a few minutes to loosen the stone, but then she was unable to pull it away from the wall. Fortunately, a solution was to hand – one that meant she had to remove an item of her clothing. Even in these tense circumstances, I found the prospect tantalizing.