Such talk turned Morgan’s thoughts to the woman he loved, the Lady Mariam, who’d sailed from Acre on Michaelmas with the king’s sister, Joanna, widowed Queen of Sicily, and the king’s wife, Berengaria of Navarre. Surely they’d safely reached Sicily by now, intending to continue their journey overland, for Joanna was very susceptible to mal de mer; when she’d sailed for Sicily at age ten to wed William de Hauteville, she’d become so seasick that they’d been forced to land at Naples and travel the rest of the way on horseback. That homesick little child-bride was now a stunningly beautiful woman of twenty-seven, and Morgan, who was very fond of his cousin, wondered what fate would await her upon her return to Richard’s realm. She’d be a rare marital prize, and he hoped the English king would choose a man who was worthy of her.
Royal marriages were matters of state, of course, and compatibility was not a concern when diplomatic alliances were at stake. But if they were lucky, a highborn husband and wife could find contentment together. Morgan thought Richard seemed content enough with his queen, who’d traveled from her small Spanish kingdom with Richard’s formidable mother, the celebrated—some would say notorious—Eleanor of Aquitaine, joining Richard in Sicily and wedding him in Cyprus on their way to the Holy Land. Morgan suspected, though, that Berengaria would never lay claim to the king’s heart in the way that Mariam had laid claim to his. Richard revered his mother, who was as astute as any ruler in Christendom, but Morgan did not think women mattered all that much to the Lionheart, who seemed more at home in an army camp than in any of his palaces.
Both men turned as Warin’s squire, Arne, approached, carefully balancing two cups of wine. He lingered afterward, until Morgan, who liked the boy, gave him an encouraging look. “May I ask you a question, my lords?” Taking their consent for granted, for he was optimistic by nature, he squatted down beside them. “I am puzzled,” he confessed. “This Tancred is the King of Sicily. He took the throne after Queen Joanna’s husband died? And then he seized her dower lands and imprisoned her in Palermo? So why is King Richard friendly with this man?”
Warin rolled his eyes, for Arne’s habit of making many of his sentences sound like questions both amused and annoyed him. Morgan was more indulgent, for the boy had spoken no French at all upon his arrival in the Holy Land. He’d come to the siege of Acre with Duke Leopold von Babenberg, squire to a knight of the Austrian ministerialis, Hadmar von Kuenring. The duke was a devout crusader, having taken the cross twice. But he was a very proud man and after a quarrel with Richard that left his pride in shreds, he’d abandoned the crusade and returned to Austria in high dudgeon. Arne’s knight could not accompany the other Austrians, though, for he’d been stricken with Arnaldia, the malady that had almost killed Richard.
The camp doctors had held out no hope for him, and Arne was encouraged to sail with his countrymen and his irate duke. But he would not desert his lord, tending the man faithfully until his death. The crusaders were touched by the boy’s loyalty and the Flemish baron Jacques de Avesnes had accepted Arne into his household. After Jacques’s death during the battle of Arsuf, Warin had taken the boy on as his squire. He’d turned out to be conscientious and cheerful, and once they were safely back in Richard’s domains, Warin and Morgan meant to ask Richard for funds to pay for Arne’s return to Austria, if that was his desire. Richard was very openhanded, as befitted a great lord, and since he liked the boy, too, they thought he’d consent.
Now it was Morgan who took it upon himself to explain the intricacies of Sicilian politics to Arne. “What you say is true, lad. King Tancred did indeed hold Queen Joanna in confinement and took her dower lands, for they controlled the roads from the alpine passes, the route the Holy Roman Emperor would have taken when he led his army into Italy.” He started to tell Arne that the Emperor Heinrich had claimed the Sicilian throne after the death of Joanna’s husband, for their only son had died and the heir was therefore the king’s aunt, Constance de Hauteville, Heinrich’s wife. He remembered in time that Arne likely knew that, for the Austrian duke was one of Heinrich’s vassals.
Taking another swallow of wine, he offered the cup to Arne, who accepted it happily. “Tancred bore Lady Joanna no ill will, and made sure that she was treated well in captivity, holding her at one of her own palaces. He’d feared to release her because of her close bond with the Empress Constance, but he was given no choice when King Richard swept into Sicily like one of their hot scirocco winds, demanding that his sister be freed at once and her dower restored to her. Tancred wisely sent her to Richard in Messina and offered gold for her dower rights.”
Arne was listening with interest, his head cocked to the side. “Thank you, Sir Morgan. But how did Tancred and our king become so friendly?”