Oh God, she thought, how You have interwoven our lives!

She looked at the charming profile of the girl who was to be Richard’s wife. How innocent she was! She would have no idea of the dark passions which beset human beings. How different she, Eleanor, had been at her age. She laughed at the thought. But then she had been born worldly. Poor Berengaria! But should one say poor? Perhaps it was an enviable state of mind which enabled one to go through the world seeing good and evil clearly defined.

To Berengaria Richard was a noble hero. All he did was right; she saw him as a man dedicated to a holy cause rather than a soldier seeking personal glory. She thought he slaughtered for the sake of a cause not to satisfy some cruel aspect of his nature which gloated on the sufferings of others.

I must not disillusion her, she thought. She will be a better wife to Richard if she continues to believe he is some sort of god. She will need patience, poor child. She will need to keep her beliefs.

‘It may be that he cannot get his release from Alice,’ said Berengaria fearfully.

‘He is determined not to marry her. He is betrothed to you now. Have no fear he will send for us as soon as he is free to do so.’

‘The King of France is with him. Could they not settle the matter together?’

‘My child, powerful kings are not like ordinary men. They seek to take advantage of every situation and you can be assured that Philip is no exception.’

‘What will become of Alice? I feel sorry for her.’

‘Do not waste your feelings on her. She has had her day.’

‘It could never have been a happy day, could it? The King visiting her in secret . . . and the shame of it.’

‘Such as she revel in shame. You do not know what my husband was like. There was something overpowering about him.’

‘Then I daresay she found it hard to resist him.’

Eleanor laughed bitterly. ‘Well, she must pay for her pleasures. Philip will have to take her back and leave Richard free to marry you.’ Eleanor rose and went to the window and stood there watching. ‘Now that the weather is becoming more clement they will want to sail for Acre,’ she said.

‘Do you think I shall be married in Sicily?’

‘It seems likely that you will. I trust so because I wish to see you married and I must return soon to England.’

‘How I wish that we could all go there!’

Eleanor laughed. ‘Do not let Richard hear you say that. He is set on this crusade. It has long been a dream of his that he will be the one to drive the Infidel from the Holy Land and he believes God has chosen him to do this.’

Berengaria let her needlework fall into her lap and gazed to the ceiling. ‘What a noble ideal!’ she murmured.

‘He would not wish anything or anyone to stand in his way.’

‘Nor must they.’

Eleanor turned round. ‘Nay my child. We must both remember that. How I should love to go with him to the Holy Land. I did go once, you know, with my first husband, the King of France. You may have heard something of my adventures there. They were much talked of at the time.’

‘Yes,’ said Berengaria quietly, ‘I have heard.’

‘I was young and full of high spirits. There was much scandal. But this passes. If you go with your husband you will be very discreet, I know. That will be best . . . for you. You will be a good wife to Richard, Berengaria. Never question his motives. Always remember that you cannot understand all that goes on in his mind. Do not attempt to stop him when he wants to follow a certain course. His father and I quarrelled. We disagreed on everything. I could not bear his infidelities.’

‘I do not think I shall suffer so with Richard.’

Eleanor looked with pity at the girl. She did not know. Perhaps she did not understand these innuendoes about the King of France. Let her go on in ignorance. It was better so.

‘And because we disagreed,’ went on Eleanor, ‘I spent years in captivity and his sons went to war against him. We were neither of us very happy in our family life. Strangely now, I see how it might have been so different. But one must never look back. That is one of the lessons I have learned from life. You act in such a way because you want to. All very well but don’t whine when you are asked to pay the price such action demands. It is a good maxim.’

‘You are very wise,’ said Berengaria.

‘And old,’ said Eleanor. ‘Those who shared my youth are now dead or nearly so. Yet I go on.’

‘Long may you do so,’ said Berengaria fervently.

‘You are a good child and I wish you happiness. I hope our paths will someday lie together.’

‘Why should they not?’

‘Because, my child, you have a roving husband and I fancy that my duty lies in England. Indeed I fret about that land now. It is without a ruler. It was a mistake to leave it so soon. I shall have to return ere long. I have sent messages to Richard telling him that I have had uneasy reports. I shall have to go back soon.’

‘You will not leave me?’

‘Nay, child. But I must give you to your husband soon. I long too to see my daughter. Joanna was always one of my favourites. Such a pretty child she was. Her husband was delighted with her when she went to him and it was a happy marriage . . . and then he died and she became Tancred’s prisoner.’

‘That is over. Richard came and rescued her.’

‘Let us hope he will soon rescue us from this uneventful existence.’

Within a few days their wish was granted. A ship arrived to take them to Messina where Richard was awaiting them.

Philip came to the Villa de Muschet among the vineyards and Richard received him in his private chamber.

‘To what do I owe this honour?’ he asked.

‘To the fact that I have come to say I shall be leaving Sicily immediately.’

‘Why the hurry?’ demanded Richard.

‘Because, my dear friend, I have tarried here too long. Tomorrow I set sail for Acre.’

‘So you would take the city that all the honour might be yours.’

‘It is easy to prevent that by coming with me.’

‘My bride and my mother are on the way here.’

‘Divert them to Acre.’

‘What! To an enemy stronghold?’

‘We have dallied too long, Richard. I intend to go now. Come with me.’

‘What of my bride?’

‘What care you for your bride?’

‘You are mad, Philip.’

‘Is it mad to speak the truth? You and I have little time for women. Oh, we must get our heirs it is true and I was blessed in my consort. I would she were alive now. But I felt no yearning to be with her, even as it is with you and Berengaria. I wish you to accompany me, Richard. Have you forgotten our plans?’

‘Nay, I have not forgotten, but I cannot leave Messina now. I must receive my bride and my mother.’

‘Then perforce it is farewell.’

‘We shall meet before the walls of Acre.’

‘It may be that you will find the golden lilies flying over that town by the time you make your sluggard’s entrance.’

‘We shall see, Philip.’

‘Then you will not come with me?’

‘I see that you would force me to a folly that you might say: “See Richard of England cared more for the King of France than he did for his bride.”’

‘You wrong me. It is your company I crave, not what people should say of us.’

‘And I must say Nay. If you go now, you go alone.’

‘Then I shall see you at Acre.’

Richard nodded.

Philip came to him and embraced him. ‘Richard, mayhap you will change your mind.’

Richard shook his head. Philip turned away and went from the room.

In the bay the French fleet was preparing to leave.

It sailed out of Messina just as the ship bearing Berengaria and Eleanor sailed in.

Richard was on the shore to greet his bride and his mother. Eleanor came first, her eyes alight with pleasure to see her noble-looking son. Every time she saw him after an absence she was amazed at his good looks. She glanced at Berengaria beside her. The girl was bemused. What bride would not be at the sight of such a magnificent bridegroom?