The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [212]
I thanked God that Richard was on the spot. He would surely rescue his sister from the dire plight in which she clearly found herself.
I continued to be worried about the passing of time. I must get Richard married. He knew I was determined to and he knew I was right; but at the same time he wanted to avoid it; and moreover there was his friendship with Philip Augustus. I had no idea what the relationship between them was now and whether they continued to be lovers; but Philip Augustus, from what I could gather, was a king who regarded his personal life as being quite apart from his kingship.
So there I was in Naples, each day hoping for news, wondering what was happening between Richard and Philip Augustus and how they were spending the time. Richard had already distinguished himself. There was no doubt about that. People spoke of him with awe, the great Coeur de Lion—the Lionheart. I heard the very sight of him inspired people and his bravery was a byword.
All the same, there were rumors. One which distressed me particularly was that he had gone to the door of a church wearing nothing but his breeches and there he publicly confessed to his homosexuality.
“How could you, Richard?” I said aloud. “Why proclaim it? What if Berengaria hears of this . . . or worse still, Sancho of Navarre? What do you think they would do? Berengaria would perhaps be ignorant of what it meant but there would surely be those to enlighten her.”
And here was I, at my age, bearing all the stresses of travel, giving up my comforts in my determination to get him married!
There had long been rumors of his way of life. They had started when he and Philip Augustus had so blatantly shown their affection for each other.
Richard had been chosen to lead the crusade; his military reputation made it clear that he was just the man; but there were some who did not approve of the choice.
The preacher Fulke of Neuilly, while exhorting men to join the crusade, expressed a doubt that Richard was the man to lead it. Fulke stressed the fact that this was a holy war and, great soldier that Richard was, his private life was not such as to make him fit to lead an expedition in the name of Christianity.
“Thou hast three dangerous daughters,” thundered Fulke, when he was preaching and Richard was in the congregation, “and they are leading you to disaster.”
Richard stood up and said: “I have no daughters.”
“But you have,” countered Fulke. “They are Pride, Avarice and Lechery.”
Richard knew how to deal with such a man and I was proud of him when I heard what happened next.
He cried out so that all could hear. “So . . . this men tells me I have three daughters. I will be generous and give my daughters away. I will give Pride to the Templars and Hospitallers, Avarice to the Cistercian monks, and my Lechery to the prelates of the Church.”
There was a murmur of approval throughout the assembly, for all knew of the pride of the Templars, the Cistercians had a reputation for greed, and there was immorality in plenty among the clergy.
I wondered how Fulke felt. Perhaps he would learn in future that it was better not to do battle with Richard either with the sword or with words.
But I was uneasy because Richard’s leanings were becoming so well known.
It was March before I had a message that I should prepare to sail for Sicily.
What joy it was to be united with two of my children: my beloved Richard and Joanna.
There was much to tell. Joanna embraced me with fervor. I had always had a rapport with my children—apart from John, who did not seem like one of mine somehow—and although there were long periods when we did not see each other, the affection was there, instantaneous when we met, and it was as though we had never been parted.
Poor girl, Joanna had gone through a terrible ordeal. She told me how Tancred had seized power and imprisoned her in the palace where, when her husband was alive, she had lived in regal splendor. Joanna was the one of