Documents relate that Richard passed through the village of Mileto with but a single knight in his train. Soon thereafter he heard a falcon shriek. He turned aside and went into the house, expecting he would take this bird for himself. But here came peasants with staves and one drew a knife against the king. At this Richard smote him with the flat of his sword and broke it, overcame the others and got himself to the priory of La Bagnara. He did not stay long but crossed the strait and let himself down to rest beside a stone tower called Far or Pharos since it is a beacon. The king by incontinent desire for a peasant’s falcon brought this trouble upon himself. Fittingly, the strait he crossed has been known from ancient days for two perils, Scylla and Carybdis, which may be called hauteur and greed.
Next day Richard came to his fleet, more than one hundred ships that included fourteen towering buzas. Some boasted three rudders, thirty oars, thirteen anchors, triple ropes of every sort. Each might transport forty destriers with riders, sergeants, mariners, and food to sustain all for eight or ten months. So when everything was arranged King Richard with the captains of his army and their attendants embarked on galleys to precede this noble fleet.
Messina, being first in Sicily for affluence, abounds with good things, but its citizens are wicked and cruel. Many claim descent from Saracens. They are insolent, hostile, pointing their fingers into their eyes to mock or threaten strangers, sneering, cutting throats, pushing victims into sewers. Hence they are called griffons.
Now if a sovereign is conspicuous for glory he exhibits his greatness to the admiration of all so that homage may be rendered. He does not by concealing himself tarnish the authority with which he has been invested. He understands the proverb. Such as I behold you, thus do I esteem you. Therefore when people heard that Philip Augustus was sailing toward Messina they hurried to marvel at so famous a king. Yet this artless man, misliking the fulsome gaze of citizens, entered the port of the citadel privately. And they who had waited along the shore to writhe in the splendor of his coming interpreted this as miserable. They pointed at him with their mouths, cried to each other that a sovereign who slunk past like a timid dog was unfit to lead.
But here is King Richard. Again the citizens of Messina rush forth, crowd the shore, arrange themselves to watch. Faraway the water sparkles, helmets reflect the sun, swords flash fire. Distant and shrill a trumpet blast, booming drums, banners beyond counting. Now the sea mother gives birth to her swarm of galleys, each distinguished by singular painting on the bow, by the shields of valiant knights aboard. Pennons stream from the points of spears. The sea rages and shakes. Those on shore feel crushed by pounding drums, destroyed by the authority of imperial trumpets. King Richard is here. Richard of England. His galley splits the furious water. At the beaked prow he stands. Like a god he stands at the beaked prow. Waves rage beneath his foot. Those gathered along the shore clutch themselves in admiration. They touch one another. They say he is worthy. They say King Richard deserves to be set above nations, above kingdoms, for the majesty of which they heard is nothing compared to the truth of him.
Those of his equipage receive him at the landing, bring forth spirited chargers so the king with his attendants may ride to the hostel where they sleep. And the drums boom. Silver trumpets sound. And the griffons feel themselves checked by this English lion, knowing themselves inferior.
With the consent and goodwill of the kings of France, England, and Sicily a decree is promulgated as to lodging, gambling, borrowing, desertion and such like, down to the marketing of wine or making of bread. The price of wine shall not be raised after it is cried. Whoever buys corn shall have a profit limited to one terrin in each quarter and the bran. Other merchants, no matter what calling, shall have a profit of one penny in ten. Four Anjou pennies shall merit one English penny. Nor may any sound the king’s money on which his stamp appears unless cracked within the circle.
But some pilgrim from Richard’s army quarreled over a loaf of bread and would have it weighed. So the woman flew into a passion, abused him wickedly and meant to claw his hair. Griffons rushed forth, beat the Englishman half to death and trampled his body. Soon enough a complaint was listed. King Richard entreated all to relent, saying he had come to Messina amicably. For a time this matter rested, but all at once came back hotly to life. Both kings met with justiciaries and with respected citizens. Next a cry went up that griffons were attacking pilgrims. Others cried differently. It is reported that two merchants by name Luppin and Margarit excited the crowd for a purpose of their own. However it was, King Richard found himself subject to arrogant railings when he endeavored to make peace. Then he, who was not born temperate, offended to the depths by such mockery, took up arms. Then the people began to shout and seized what came to hand, javelin or stone, boasting of how they would resist. Some beseeched the French king for help against this English king, offering themselves, property and all, if he would help them. And Philip, thick with jealousy at Richard’s fame, answered that he would aid the people
