As Richard had anticipated, that was a challenge no pirate could refuse, and Petros was soon negotiating a meeting, while the knights clustered around their king, the bolder ones expressing their misgivings, fearing that he would agree to meet the pirate chieftain on his own galley, for they well knew Richard was quite capable of such a reckless act. He shrugged off their protests, and it was eventually agreed that he and the pirate would meet at midpoint between the two vessels. Their longboat was summoned from the beach, and much to the dismay of Richard’s men, he and Petros were soon being rowed out toward the approaching pirate longboat.
Morgan and Baldwin de Bethune stood at the gunwale, never taking their eyes from the tall figure in the prow of the longboat. They’d both been loyal to the old king, Richard’s father, had stayed with Henry until he’d drawn his last anguished breath at Chinon Castle, and while they were pragmatic enough to recognize Richard as their lawful king, they’d been wary at first of this man they knew only by repute. But that was before they fought beside him in Messina, Cyprus, and the Holy Land. Now they watched anxiously as he conferred with the pirate within range of the latter’s crossbowmen; that the pirate was taking the same risk was no comfort to them. The conversation was an animated one and Petros was kept busy translating from French to Greek and back to French again. It was not long, though, before a reassuring sound drifted back on the wind—laughter. Morgan and Baldwin exchanged glances, marveling that once again Richard had managed to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.
CLIMBING THE LADDER, Richard swung himself over the gunwale and grinned at the men crowding the deck. “It is all settled. I have hired two of their galleys and crew for two hundred marks.”
There was an immediate outcry, exclamations of shock and alarm and bewilderment. Raising his hand to still them, Richard explained that he was known to be sailing on the Holy Rood and his enemies would be on the lookout for it. Switching to the galleys was one way to throw them off his trail. That made sense to his men, but they did not find it as easy to trust in the word of a pirate chieftain as Richard apparently did. None voiced objections, though, for kings were not to be questioned.
Richard headed for the tent, with Baldwin and Morgan right on his heels. The others watched, hoping that a highborn lord and a kinsman might dare to do what they could not: express their misgivings about this new alliance with sea rovers. Jehan and Saer had already begun to remove the king’s hauberk. He was in good spirits and answered readily enough when Baldwin asked how he could be sure these pirates could be trusted.
“Petros was right. They do care about the fate of the Holy Land, and for the past few months, soldiers have been passing through Corfu on their way home, all of them carrying tales of the French king’s perfidy and the battles we fought against Saladin. At the risk of sounding immodest,” Richard said with another grin, “I come off well in those stories and Captain Georgios and his men are eager to hear my own account of them. They still want the two hundred marks, mind you, but they also want to help us escape our enemies. Georgios was actually indignant to hear of my plight, pointing out that men who’d taken the cross are under the protection of the Church. Ironic, is it not, that a pirate should have more honor than kings or emperors?”
Baldwin’s qualms were assuaged, for he believed Richard to be a good judge of character, a survival skill for those who wore crowns or commanded armies. Morgan was still shaken, for he’d just spent an hour fearing for the king’s safety and wondering how he was going to tell Joanna that he’d merely watched as her brother went off alone to meet with pirates. “But you did not know this Georgios was a man of honor when you got into that longboat,” he blurted out. “Are you never afraid for your own life?”
Richard’s eyebrows shot upward in surprise. “Surely you’ve not forgotten that Good Friday storm that scattered our fleet after we left Sicily? Need I refresh your memory, Morgan? The wind keening like the souls of the damned, the waves higher than church spires, all of us sure we’d breathed our last. Or the tempest we encountered in the Gulf of Satalea, where our ships were blown backward by the force of the wind. You show me a man who claims he was not afraid during those storms, and I’ll show you a liar.”
That wasn’t what Morgan needed to know; he’d taken it for granted that Richard feared storms at sea, not being insane. He’d gone too far to retreat, though. “But what of the battlefield? I’ve seen you take chances that . . .” He paused, then said simply, “Do you never fear for your own safety?”
Richard was quiet for a moment, considering whether that was a question he wanted to answer. He suspected it was one many a man had long wanted to ask, although the only person who’d ever dared had been his wife. It was easier just to brush the query aside. But he liked his Welsh cousin and knew that Morgan’s concern was genuine. “Well,” he said at last, “when a man’s blood is running hot and his heart is racing, it can be difficult to tell excitement from fear.”