‘Well, suffice it that you are here. That gives me great satisfaction.’

‘Tell me, Philip, what has been happening in the last six weeks? I heard that you had taken Acre.’

‘No. As if I would without you! Wasn’t that a pact we made?’

‘Pacts are not always remembered.’

‘They should be between us two. Nay, we have had ill luck. These Saracens are fighters, Richard. Mistake that not. The climate here is terrible. We have been tormented by the hot wind from the south which they call the khamsin. It is horrible. There is sand everywhere. In one’s clothes, in one’s food . . . there is no escaping it. It is a case of sand and flies everywhere. I hate this place, Richard. I want nothing so much as to be out of it.’

‘How can that be? When Acre is taken we have to march on to Jerusalem.’

‘Do not imagine it is going to be an easy victory. There is one man whose reputation matches your own. It is said that he is undefeatable. He is the great Moslem hero; even as you are the hero of the Christians. His name is Saleh-ed-Din. He is known throughout the camp as Saladin. He is a sort of legend. Yes, indeed, he is to them what you are to the Christians. I know not what will be the result when you two meet.’

‘I shall be the victor, I assure you. I am going to take Acre within the next few days.’

‘It is not as easy as you think.’

‘It would not do to think it impossible to achieve.’

‘Nay, but do not turn your back on the difficulties. I assure you they exist and they are many.’

‘What happened while you were awaiting my arrival?’

‘I was determined not to make a general assault until you came, so I contented myself with skirmishes. There is a tower known as the Accursed Tower because it is said to have been built with Judas’s thirty pieces of silver. I thought this should be taken and we have battered it continuously but because we were using bores and battering rams our task was made impossible by the enemy’s use of Greek Fire.’

Richard was acquainted with this deadly weapon used so frequently by the Saracens. It was a mixture of sulphur, wine, pitch, Persian gum and oil. When these substances were mixed together and set on fire they were almost inextinguishable. The only substances which could reduce their fury were vinegar and sand. The Byzantine Greeks had perfected this as a weapon and because of their many skirmishes with them the Saracens had adopted it to good effect. From a great height they would squirt this fire down on an enemy thus destroying all the contraptions which were put into action.

‘Then,’ said Richard, ‘if they are using Greek Fire with such effect we must attack them from afar.’

He went on to tell Philip of the weapons he proposed to use. There was the tower which he had built in the Sicilian campaign, Mate Griffon. This he had brought with him and it should be set up again. It should be put on wheels and when the moment was ripe should be run up against the walls of the city and his men from its tower could step over the walls.

‘You will see that my dallying as you call it has not been wasted. Valuable experience came my way because of it.’

‘It was your presence I missed,’ said the King of France. ‘All has changed now you are come. The soldiers know it. And what is more important so does Saladin. Imagine him . . . encamped on the hills beyond the city ready to come in if we should take it, ready to attack us when we are most exhausted. I should like to know how he is feeling this day with the knowledge that Richard the Lion is here.’

‘To be more greatly feared than Philip the Lamb.’

‘Do not underestimate me, Richard.’

‘Nay, I should not be so foolish. If I did you would be reminding me of my Dukedom in Normandy.’

‘You know that the friendship between us is greater than any rivalry. You know that we are friends before King and vassal.’

‘Or King and King.’

‘Aye, my Lord of England. And how I rejoice that at last you have come.’

He was not the only one. Bonfires were lighted that night. They sprang up everywhere in the Christian camp. The crusaders sang of his exploits. They had begun to call him the Lion-hearted.

In his camp Saladin heard the sounds of rejoicing and he knew that the name of Richard the Lion-Heart struck terror into the hearts of his men.

He wanted very much to come face to face with this hero whose fame had spread through Christendom and into his own ranks.

In the tent the two Queens waited for Richard to come to them. To Berengaria it seemed strange that she was never alone with her husband. She knew, of course, that he had a Holy War to fight; the sight of the camps and military activity before the city filled her with apprehension and the thought of what those people within its walls must be suffering made her very sad.

‘I know they are not Christians,’ she told Joanna, ‘but they are people. I have heard that they are starving.’

‘If that is so,’ said Joanna, ‘they will not hold out much longer and then it will all be over.’

‘It will not be the end,’ said Berengaria sadly. ‘When they have taken Acre, what next? There will be more fighting, more camps like this. I thought we were all going to die during that terrible battle with the Saracen ship.’

‘Nay, we’ll not die. Richard will take too much care of us for that.’

Did she really believe it? wondered Berengaria. She herself had changed a little. She was beginning to realise that Richard was not over anxious for her company. If he were surely there would be some time when they could be together?

The little Cypriot Princess who was constantly in attendance listened to their conversation and wondered what would become of her and whether she would ever be allowed to go home to her father.

Richard seemed to have forgotten their existence, though they heard that he often rode out with the King of France.

‘He spends a great deal of time with Philip,’ Berengaria commented, ‘although he has little to spare for us.’

‘It is good for the men to see them together,’ Joanna excused him. ‘It gives them confidence in their leaders.’

One day Richard did come to their tent, and with him was the King of France. Richard was kind and enquired after his wife’s health but it was not the occasion for intimate conversation. As for Philip he was very courteous, particularly to Joanna, but as Joanna said afterwards to Berengaria, it did not mean anything.

‘Would you like to be Queen of France?’ asked Berengaria.

‘No. If I married again I would wish to marry for love.’

‘Perhaps you could love Philip.’

‘I do not think I could and I would not want to marry merely because it would be a link for our two countries if I did. I believe that a Princess may be in duty bound to marry in the first place for state reasons, but when that marriage is over she should have a free choice.’

‘Yet if Philip offered for you?’

‘I could refuse.’

‘Even if Richard wanted it?’

‘Let us not consider that. At the moment neither of them has time for women. They have their battles to think of.’

‘I believe some of the men have time for their women.’

‘They are not kings,’ said Joanna shortly. She turned to the little Cypriot and said: ‘You listen. Perhaps you are wondering when a husband will be found for you?’

‘Do you think there ever will be?’

‘I am sure of it. Richard will find a husband for you when he is no longer preoccupied with his battles.’

And when would that be, wondered Joanna. She could not imagine Richard without a war to fight.

Richard was preoccupied with the coming assault on the walls of Acre. He had brought with him several contraptions which it was necessary for him to assemble. There was, of course, his tower, the Mate Griffon, on which men were working so that when the time came it could be wheeled into position. There was another machine known as the Belfry; this like the Mate Griffon was intended to be placed close to the walls of the city when the time was ripe for entry. Because of the Saracen’s frequent use of Greek Fire, Richard had ordered that it should be covered with tanned hides as a protection against the fire. Another of his machines was a war engine which was used for throwing stones high in the air and at great speed so that they fell into the city. This mangonel had been called the Bad Neighbour and when the Saracens invented a similar machine to throw stones back among the Christians this was nicknamed the Bad Kinsman.