Royal Weddings...Through the Ages. Elizabeth Rolls
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are they, Sir Bernard?’ King Richard demanded.
The knight’s face paled. ‘We—we don’t know, Your Majesty. There are twenty-five ships missing, and unfortunately, Princess Berengaria’s was among them.’ He lowered his head in regret. ‘We believe the storm may have blown them off course.’
‘There were two hundred and nineteen ships, Bernard.’ Richard fought to keep his temper under control. ‘And you mean to tell me that not one of them saw where Berengaria’s ship disappeared?’
‘I’m sorry, Your Majesty. But we’ll send out ships to search for your bride—’
‘Out,’ Richard ordered, pointing towards the door. The knight fled, like the coward he was. Right now, Richard’s temper was about to break loose. Crete and Rhodes were meant to be rendezvous points, where they would stop for a few days en route to Acre. But his betrothed wife wasn’t on either island.
She might be dead, her body resting at the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea. He expelled a breath, imagining Berengaria’s dark hair, her lovely eyes and form. He’d been looking forward to marrying her, understanding what sort of woman lay behind the unbridled honesty. He hardly knew her at all, but her spirit intrigued him.
Outside, the sky was clear, the sun bright and warm. The deep azure water nestled against white sand, an idyllic place to walk with a lover. He traced the emerald ring that lay upon his smallest finger. She’d given it to him in Sicily, a token that had aroused strong memories of the night he’d first taken it from her. Seeing it now only fuelled his anger. He would find her, no matter how long it took. She belonged to him.
He gestured for a servant to summon one of the ships’ captains. If no one could find the women or the ships containing the treasures for his Crusade, he would stop on every island en route to Syria.
But when the captain arrived, he bowed and pleaded, ‘Your Majesty, we have news of the princess.’
Moments later, the Irish prince, Liam MacEgan, emerged from among the men. The man looked as though he hadn’t slept in days, and bloodstains marred his face.
‘They are at Cyprus, Your Majesty.’ MacEgan drew closer, lowering his voice so that only Richard could hear. ‘Soldiers took the women captive.’
‘Come.’ Richard wanted no other men to hear what MacEgan had to reveal. He brought the man within his chamber and ordered, ‘Tell me what you know.’
‘The Cypriots murdered the Count of Berduria,’ the Irishman explained. ‘Afterwards, Princess Berengaria bade me to seek help, so I swam to one of the ships nearby, and we sailed west. We found your galleys here.’
Richard’s gaze narrowed. ‘You left the women unguarded.’
MacEgan met his gaze with no fear. ‘Your bride gave me a direct order to seek help. Would you have me disobey her?’
‘If her life is harmed in any way, I’ll take yours.’ Richard used his height to his advantage, staring down at the Irish prince.
MacEgan didn’t back down, but chose his words carefully. ‘The women will be safe enough. The princess’s lady-in-waiting is as good as any trained guard. I’ve seen it myself.’
Though Richard didn’t like it, he didn’t doubt that Isaac Ducas Comnenus, the Emperor of Cyprus, would want to use Berengaria to further his own purpose. The man was allied with Saladin, and it was rumoured that they had drunk each other’s blood, as an oath of loyalty.
The idea of his betrothed wife falling into the hands of the emperor was unthinkable. Richard stared hard at MacEgan.
‘Tell no one that Berengaria and the queen were taken captive,’ Richard warned. If anyone learned that his betrothed wife was in the custody of the enemy, they would believe that she’d been violated, whether or not it was true. He wanted nothing to threaten their marriage alliance.
‘Let them believe that Berengaria and the queen remained on board one of the other ships. Tell them that the emperor invited them to disembark, but they refused.’
MacEgan nodded, understanding the implications. ‘No one will know.’
‘I will send you with a group of men to attack the coast of Cyprus. Find the women, and bring them back to me alive.’
Richard returned to his place by the window, dismissing MacEgan. His gaze fixated upon the sea. If Isaac Comnenus had threatened Berengaria in any way… God help the man. For Richard would tear him apart.
Limassol, Cyprus, May 1191
Nearly three weeks had passed, and there was no sign of Liam MacEgan or the king. Adriana had seen the princess’s hope fading from her eyes, as they realised that they would remain prisoners of the emperor. Although Isaac Comnenus had not bound them in chains, they were locked in a chamber guarded inside and out. There was no privacy at all, and though she tried to shield the princess from the humiliation, there was little Adriana could do. The guards cast lots for the right to guard the interior of the chamber where they hoped to catch a glimpse of them.
Queen Joan never stopped complaining. From the moment they’d been taken captive, she’d made outrageous demands, for which the emperor had mocked her. When she’d insisted upon softer beds, he’d sent her a length of silk, removing the only mattress in the room. That night, they’d huddled together on a wooden floor, with nothing but the silk.
Joan had refused to humble herself, and they’d endured weeks of stale food and uncomfortable living conditions. But it was the princess who concerned Adriana the most. Berengaria had grown so thin over the weeks, her face pale while she stared for hours on end at the sea outside their barred window.
‘We’re not going to be rescued, are we?’ she whispered. ‘The crusaders who came on those ships… they’re dead, aren’t they?’
The remaining two ships had arrived only hours after their imprisonment, but the emperor had seized control of them, taking the king’s treasure and murdering the men. From their window, they’d seen the bodies of the crusaders, displayed like bloody prizes of war.
Adriana tried to reassure the princess. ‘The emperor knows Richard will come. He wouldn’t bother with guarding the shore otherwise.’ She crossed the small room and pointed to the hills where the Cypriots were bringing down carts filled with wood and stone. Over the next few hours, the men set out large stones, chests, doors of wood and all manner of building materials to fortify the beach.
One of their guards stepped in front of the window, barring their view. Though he could not speak their language, his message was clear. Adriana hesitated before moving back, sending him a slight smile as she withdrew.
The distraction was enough, and she stole his curved knife, hiding it behind her back. If the Cypriots were preparing for battle, it meant that an invasion was imminent.
The door to their chamber swung open, and a young maiden appeared, trailed by two of her ladies. She gave a sharp order to the guards, and they obeyed the command, leaving the room. In heavily accented French, she said, ‘I have been ordered to bring the princess and the queen to my father.’ Adriana remained against the wall for a moment, slipping the guard’s curved blade beneath the girdle at her waist, just behind her back. Neither Joan nor Berengaria moved forward, but while the guard was focused upon the noblewomen, Adriana donned the princess’s cloak to hide the knife.
‘Why does he want to see us?’ Berengaria asked, her voice calm. But Adriana knew that the soft voice hid the young woman’s fears. All of them knew that they had been kept alive only to be used as hostages… or worse.
The young girl shook her head. ‘I do not know.’ She wrinkled her nose when they drew closer and added, ‘I will arrange for you to bathe and refresh yourselves before you are presented to him.’
Berengaria cast a worried look back at her, but Adriana nodded. The girl’s offer was made in good faith. To the princess, she said, ‘If they intended to kill us, they would not bother with the way