“Richard once told me that if he’d had it to do again, he was not sure he’d have brought us with him to the Holy Land,” Joanna chimed in, “for worrying about our safety just added to his concerns.”
“Yes . . . he said that to me, too,” Berengaria admitted. “I would certainly not want to be a burden, and of course I will await him here in Poitiers if that be his wish. It is just that we’ve been apart so long. . . .”
“Waiting will be much easier for us now,” Joanna said, “for we will no longer have to fear Heinrich’s treachery.” She was very disappointed herself, for she yearned to see her mother even more than Richard. After being separated for fifteen years, she’d had only four days with Eleanor at Messina before her mother had hastened to Rome on a diplomatic mission for Richard. She was tempted to go on her own to England, but how could she leave Berengaria alone in Poitiers? She was thankful that her sister-in-law seemed resigned now to the delay, and even more thankful that Berengaria had not thought to ask if Eleanor would be accompanying Richard to Nottingham. Glancing down again at her mother’s letter, she resolved to lie if Berengaria did ask later. Once she and Richard were finally reunited, none of this would matter.
Crossing to the younger woman, she put an arm affectionately around her sister-in-law’s slender shoulders. “At least we’ll now have a trustworthy eyewitness account of Richard’s tribulations during this past year.” Berengaria brightened at that reminder. But when they looked around for Morgan, he and Mariam had disappeared.
“Well, we may have to wait awhile longer for that,” Joanna said, with such a mischievous smile that, although Berengaria felt fornication was a serious sin, she could not help returning the smile, thinking that she was so lucky to have Richard’s sister as her friend.
Even as she sought to reassure Berengaria, Joanna felt an unwelcome spark of envy. She did not begrudge Mariam her good fortune, her happiness with Morgan. It was just that she was twenty-eight and she’d been sleeping alone for more than four years. She was lonely. And against her will, she found herself thinking of a man with sapphire-blue eyes, an easy smile, and dangerously seductive charm.
ON THE SAME DAY that Morgan arrived at Poitiers, Richard reached Nottingham. From London, he’d stopped at St Edmundsbury to do honor to his favorite saint, and then continued north. At Huntingdon, William Marshal caught up with him. Marshal had chosen to meet his king rather than attend the funeral for his black-sheep brother, who’d not only been one of John’s men, but who’d played a suspicious role in the massacre of York’s Jews when he’d held the post of Yorkshire’s sheriff. Will was sure that Richard did not blame him for his brother’s sins, for the king had recently named another brother to the See of Exeter. But these were perilous times for those with more than one liege lord. Just as some of Richard’s vassals were also the liegemen of the French king, Will owed homage to John for his Irish estates, and he did not want the Angevin king to doubt where his first loyalty lay. Richard welcomed him with enough warmth to assure him this was not a concern, and they rode on together to the siege.
FROM THE CASTLE BATTLEMENTS, the constables of Nottingham, Ralf Murdoc and William de Wendeval, watched the commotion below in the siege camp. Trumpets were blaring, horns blasting, drums pounding, and it was obvious even at a distance that something of note was occurring. William, who was shortsighted, struggled to make out what was happening. “Do you think the king could have arrived?” he asked uneasily, but the other man scoffed at that.
“Do not tell me you believe that nonsense about Richard coming back? They know the castle can hold out till Judgment Day, so they are trying to trick us with lies and falsehoods. Richard will never regain his freedom and that means Lord John will be England’s king. I know it, you know it, and those stubborn fools down there know it, too. We need only outwait them and pay no heed to their fanciful claims.”
What Ralf said made sense. With so much at stake, the French king and Lord John would pay any amount to keep Richard caged. Yet as William gazed down at the turmoil in the enemy camp, he could not stifle his inner voice. What if the Lionheart really has returned?