Down from the walls showered rocks, darts, and javelins, sending three bold knights into the arms of Christ. Peter Tireprete. Matthew de Saulcy. Radulph de Roverei. Such an impetuous defense could not hold. In less time than required to chant the matin service Richard overwhelmed Messina and ten thousand Englishmen occupied the streets, robbed, took what women they liked. Sicilians fled here or there. Many leapt off house tops, thinking they could expect no mercy. And very soon the Plantagenet standard floated from a turret. Then the English king, mistrusting his Frankish ally and citizens alike, had a wooden castle built to overlook the walls and named it Mategriffon, which is to say killer of Greeks. Those inside Messina now looked up at Englishmen forever watching.
But after long and stormy months when the season for travel approached these Franks and English became less churlish. They had loitered from the feast of Saint Michael until after Lent and all felt anxious to pursue the journey. Couriers brought news from Acre. Mahometans withstood the siege.
Both armies prepared to embark when news came of Richard’s mother Queen Eleanor hastening toward Messina. She would bring his love Berengaria, daughter of King Sancho VI of Navarre. From the time he was count of Poictou he had loved the Spanish princess. She was his heart’s desire.
King Philip, taking advantage of favorable wind, embarked on Saturday after the Annunciation of Blessed Mary. King Richard with his noblest peers accompanied the Franks some few leagues, but returned hastily to greet his love. Many think Queen Eleanor arranged this match. Who can look through centuries and be sure? After three days at Messina she sailed for England, charged by King Richard to administer the realm during his absence. And the king dallied with Berengaria, forgetful of all else, insensible to the fate of Jerusalem. Even so King Richard would linger beside his love, disdaining the journey.
Now there was a Cistercian abbot in Calabria, by name Joachim, who rushed to and fro with sword in hand, hair streaming, gibbering of Apocalypse, of seven heads of the dragon. Antichrist. Herod. Nero. Constantius. Mahomet. Melsemuth. Saladin. They say he was gifted with second sight and Richard summoned him to discuss futurity. To Messina came this prophet and they debated the substance of abomination, whether Antichrist would take up the guise of pontiff as Joachim declared, or Antiochene as Richard thought. Antichrist would emerge from the tribe of Dan to rule Jerusalem, Richard asserted, only to be hurled aside. He would cause persecution across the earth and by gifts, terror, and miracles would he elevate himself. Those who accepted Antichrist would be showered with gold. Those who rejected him would be conquered by horror, others led astray through malevolent signs.
But while they argued such matters a comet gleamed above Messina, signifying God’s displeasure. King Richard, knowing himself to be the instrument, prepared for embarkation. Berengaria he quartered on a stout dromond with trusted knights and servants to assure her comfort, his sister for companionship.
Before leaving Sicily he presented to King Tancred that sword which Britons know as Caliburne, Excalibur as others say, that once belonged to Arthur.
Wednesday after Palm Sunday the fleet departed. Rowing and sailing with a fair breeze they came out into the deep, yet after a while it slacked off so between Calabria and Mount Gibello they lay at anchor. Then He who commands the wind of His treasuries sent forth a welcome gift on the day of the Lord’s Supper. But soon enough the vessels met contrary wind. Waves beat together. Pilgrims dropped to their knees. Knights and sergeants felt much afflicted. Ships rocked back and forth on the restless face of the water and turned aside. Richard’s fleet was cast apart. Toward evening the fury abated, a soft breeze arose that helped their confidence and all could see in advance a thick wax candle burning in a lanthorn at the stern of Richard’s galley as was his habit in rough weather. So the vessels pressed ahead, not a sail lowered until they came to the harbor of Crete, equidistant from Messina and the Holy Land. Richard waited to count his ships. Twenty-five were gone. Because that dromond carrying his love Berengaria did not arrive he was much distraught.
Anon the wind rose high and with bending masts they put forth. They sailed across to Rhodes, city of Herod’s birth, where they paused. Remnants of majestic buildings lay strewn about since this is an ancient city not unlike Rome. Once there had been numerous monasteries on the island and societies of monks. Now for the most part everything stands deserted, making it a gloomy place, the inhabitants few and poor. Richard being taken by some illness, the fleet waited upon his health. Meantime they searched the horizon. And the king inquired about the Greek emperor of Cyprus, Isaac Ducas Comnenus, who was said to be cruel, often detaining pilgrims en route to the Holy Land.
Ten days later they embarked and came into the gulf of Satalia where opposing currents meet and great waves collide, until at length shifting winds drove them ahead. Beneath a placid sky they observed a buza returning from Jerusalem. King Richard inquired about the siege of Acre. Mariners on the buza replied that the king of France was constructing machines to break down the walls. They said he had erected petraries near the tower called Maledictum where his army camped. This news pleased Richard.
Once more the spirit of the storm rushed against them. Much time was lost beating back and forth amid the waves. Again the fleet dispersed. Unknown to Richard, three small vessels got to Cyprus before him, if not as they wished. Driven by fierce wind against the rocks they broke apart. Many drowned. Others by clutching timbers or through providence were flung on the coast half dead. Among the drowned
