‘I will never forget this insult,’ muttered Leopold.

Richard had indeed made a bitter enemy.

PHILIP’S FAREWELL

The disturbing rumours which Richard had heard concerning the King of France were that he was weary of the campaign and was making secret plans to return to France.

Richard went to the Palace of the Templars and asked for an audience.

Philip received him there with affection. The French King had certainly changed; he was pale and emaciated from his recent fever; his hair had become thin and his nails had not yet begun to grow normally.

He took Richard’s hands in his and kissed his cheek.

‘I have heard whispers which I know cannot be true,’ said Richard.

‘It is always wise never to trust rumour,’ said Philip. ‘What have you heard?’

‘That you are planning to return to France.’

Philip was silent for a few moments. Then he said: ‘It is unwise for kings to leave their countries for a long period of time.’

‘Even when they have an important mission, when they have taken a holy oath?’

‘God would not have given us our kingdoms if He did not believe we have a duty to defend them.’

‘Kings have regents.’

‘Nay, a kingdom needs a king. When he is away there will be trouble.’

‘So it is true that you intend to desert us?’

‘I intend to do my duty to my country.’

‘And break your oath?’

‘I have expended wealth and health in this cause. I have done enough.’

‘Your name will resound with dishonour throughout the world.’

‘But not with such effect as it would if I lost my kingdom.’

‘I see you have made up your mind to go. Does your oath mean nothing to you, your vow to God, your vow to me!’

‘Aye, these are great matters. But I am a king. I have a little son; he is but four years old. He is ailing. He needs me there. If I stay in this land another year my son will have no father. France will have lost her King. I cannot live in this vile climate. The heat is unendurable. The dust chokes me; the flies nauseate me. The mosquitoes and the tarantulas are killing my men. I tell you this, Richard: I have not come to this decision lightly but I see that if I remain here, I shall die.’

‘I am ashamed,’ said Richard.

Philip smiled sardonically. ‘As long as you are not ashamed of yourself that is all that matters. Let those who incur shame suffer it. I have cleared myself with my conscience and with God. I love my country more than this hopeless task.’

‘Hopeless! You can say that! It is the duty of every Christian to restore the Holy Land to Christianity.’

‘I have seen these Mohammedans in action and so have you. Have you ever seen braver men? They have defeated us often, Richard, because while we have a cause they have one too. They have a God. Allah. He seems to work as well for them – perhaps better – than ours for us.’

‘You blaspheme.’

‘It may be so. But I must state what I see. These are not the barbarians we were led to believe they were. They are noble fighters. They say their leader Saladin is a man of great wisdom and goodness.’

‘I believe that,’ said Richard.

‘A noble enemy! Does that not disagree with what we have always believed?’

‘The Mohammedans have taken the Holy City. They have desecrated our churches. They have insulted God, Christ and the Holy Ghost. Is that not sufficient reason for us to fight against them?’

‘I would like to meet this man, to talk with him. I would like to hear what he has to say.’

Richard was silent. Had it really happened or had it been part of his imagination? One dreamed strange dreams in fever.

He was on the point of telling Philip but he refrained. His mind was now occupied with what Philip’s departure would mean.

‘You cannot break your oath,’ he said vehemently.

‘Would you condemn me to death, for die I surely shall if I stay in this place. You know how ill I have been. See how scanty my hair has become. Look at my hands. I am in a sorry state still. I shall die, Richard, if I stay longer in this poisonous place.’

‘How could a man die better than in the service of God?’

‘I believe I can serve Him better by saving my life. He has shown me clearly that death awaits me here. I must go home.’

‘I too have been ill – more so than you.’

‘You have had fevers all your life, Richard. With me, it was my first. I know I came very close to death and I know too that I have my duty to my son and my country.’

‘And I see that you are determined to go home. What effect do you think this will have on the enemy?’

‘When I go,’ said Philip, ‘I will leave you five hundred of my knights and a thousand foot soldiers. Moreover I shall pay for their support. My soldiers will continue to fight for the cause, only I shall not be here.’

Richard narrowed his eyes. He thought: And what peace of mind shall I have knowing that you are in France casting your covetous eyes on Normandy?

‘You must not go, Philip.’

‘I am going, Richard.’

‘So in spite of our protestations of friendship you will desert me?’

‘Of what comfort would a corpse be to you? I go because I must, Richard. The choice is simple. Life or death. As a dead man I should be an embarrassment to you. While I live I can command my men to fight with you. If I were dead what would they do? Desert! Nay, I have pondered this matter and the way is clear to me. I must leave this land. It has defeated me, you may say. That is true. The insects and this terrible heat have done to me what a human enemy could not. But I have been warned. Yes, very clearly have I been warned. If I stay here I shall die and I must live.’

It was no use talking to him. He was determined on departure.

This was indeed so. When the Bishop of Beauvais and the Duke of Burgundy presented themselves before Richard to tell him formally what Philip had already stated in private they were in tears.

‘Weep not,’ said Richard. ‘I know what you come to tell me. Your lord, the King of France, desires to go home and you come in his name to ask on my behalf my counsel and leave for him to be gone.’

‘’Tis true, Sire,’ said the Duke. ‘Our King says that if he does not leave this land speedily he will die.’

‘It will be for him and the Kingdom of France eternal shame,’ said Richard. ‘I could not advise him to do this. I would prefer death to such shame. But if he must die or return home let him do what he thinks best.’

‘My lord King,’ said the Duke of Burgundy, ‘our King says he will leave knights and foot soldiers under my command to serve you and obey you.’

Richard bowed his head. ‘Return to the King of France and tell him that I have nothing more to say on this grievous matter.’

When Richard took his farewell of Philip, the King of France said to him: ‘You are misguided. This siege of Acre has taught me much and you, too, I doubt not. These enemies are fierce fighters. They are a match for your best. I believe that we are not in a position to succeed against them.’

‘How so? Have we not taken Acre?’

‘’Tis so. But we have seen what resistance these men show. They are fighting for what they believe to be theirs. They are as firm in their beliefs as we are in ours. They are a formidable enemy. Our men are emaciated from fever, and these Mohammedans can withstand the heat better than our people. It is natural to them. It is my firm conviction that we are not in a fit state to take Jerusalem. We need new troops, fresh supplies. It is enough that this crusade ends with the taking of Acre. If we were wise we would leave Acre well fortified. We have Cyprus as a stronghold. This is a good result of our crusade. Now we should return home and other men – and perhaps we should join with them – could prepare for the next crusade.’