Lionheart's Scribe (7 page)

It has been raining for the past two days, but this morning the sun broke through and shone directly down on the castle of Limassol. The castle looms high on a rocky hill overlooking the city and shines like a beacon in the sunlight. It seems so strong and impregnable, but if anyone can take it I am certain King Richard will.

The king is readying a small armada of little boats. His horses will be useless to him here, I fear, as there is no way of transporting them to shore. The atmosphere on the ship is tense.

The ninth day of May

The battle is over and what a battle it was. My fingers still tremble so that I can hardly write. I watched from the rail of the ship. The queen herself also watched, as did Princess Berengaria, but they did not see me. I made certain to keep hidden from view behind a pile of crates. The princess looks to be very young. Probably not much older than I.

With the first light of dawn King Richard's knights and soldiers crowded into the small boats. The men made hard work of clambering down the ropes and getting themselves into the cockleshell crafts, weighed down as they were by their armor and weapons. I could only pray that no boats would capsize as, if they did, the men would surely drown. The king himself led in the first boat.

I held my breath as I watched them sail straight toward the five war galleys. Then, in each of King Richard's small boats, crossbowmen stood up and began to fire. These English crossbowmen are said to be the best in the world and I now believe it. Never have I seen such a hail of arrows. Some bore flaming torches and soon the galleys were all ablaze. It was all I could do to restrain a cheer, but I kept silent, not wanting to draw attention to myself.

The fire was so devastating that the sailors were forced to abandon their ships and launched themselves into the water. The screams of drowning and dying men filled the air and the cheer I had been suppressing with so much difficulty died in my throat. I cast a quick glance at the queen and Princess Berengaria. Queen Joanna's knuckles were white against the dark wood of the rail, but she stood fast, her face grim. The princess let out a small cry, however, and ran for her cabin. I could see her eyes big with horror.

Then I turned my attention back to the king's boats. The oarsmen were putting such effort behind their strokes that the little crafts flew over the waves. The king was the first off. He leaped out of his boat before it had fairly made the shore and landed in water up to his hips. It slowed him down not a bit. He chargedtoward the emperor's army, brandishing his sword and bellowing at the top of his lungs. His knights followed, shouting as well and lashing the water into a frenzy. They made short work of hacking a way through the barricades although they were under a constant hail of arrows themselves. I heard men scream and saw them fall to the right and the left of King Richard, but he forged ahead untouched, as if divinely protected. The Greeks made a feeble attempt to stop the attacking army after it had torn through the barricades, but the English soldiers pushed them back ruthlessly.

A flash of color caught my eye. One of the Greek nobles, richly dressed in a golden tunic, raced for a horse and leaped upon its back. He wrenched the animal around and made a run for the city. King Richard saw him too. Spying another riderless horse, he grabbed its reins and hoisted himself onto its back, then galloped after him. A shout came loud and clear over all the other noise of battle: “Come, Emperor! Come and joust with me!”

But the noble, who I now realized was none other than Isaac Commenus himself, was having none of it. His was the faster horse and he disappeared into the distance.

After that the emperor's army broke and ran. The town of Limassol and the castle that looked so unassailable are now King Richard's.

I have to stop here. I am full of distressing thoughts. The battle was glorious. Exciting. It did not terrify me as did the conflict for Messina, probably because I was watching from a safe distance. But once again it was a war against our fellow Christians.

The tenth day of May

We have beached the ships and landed the horses. It is lucky that Sebrand did allow me to stay with the ship, for they could never have done it without my help. Perhaps I sound immodest, but it is true. I have a way with those horses that rough soldiers do not.

As soon as camp was set up on the shore King Richard and most of his army mounted and thundered off after the emperor. We await news.

The eleventh day of May

And the news is good yet again. The king's army surrounded the Cypriots' camp and quickly took it, but unfortunately the emperor escaped once more. A very slippery sort of person, he is.

There was even more excitement today. King Guy of Jerusalem arrived. Three galleys were sighted early this morning and put the whole camp into a tizzy. We all ran down to the shore, duties forgotten. As soon as the galleys were berthed, a clutch of lavishly dressed nobles came ashore. They turned out to be King Guy himself, his brother Geoffrey of Lusignan, Humphrey of Toron, Bohemond, the prince of Antioch, Raymond, the count of Tripoli, Leon, the brother of the prince of Armenia and a number of others. The most important men in the Holy Land, I am assured by the priest who poured all this information into my ear.

King Guy is an impressive figure although, mind you, he is not king of very much. He has lost Jerusalem and most of the rest of his kingdom to Salah-ud-Din. Helping him to regain Jerusalem and the rest of his lost Christian kingdom is the very reason for this crusade, but he does not have the air of a man who is humbly grateful.

The twelfth day of May

King Richard married Princess Berengaria today, and King Guy and the other nobles of Ôutremer were honored guests. There was great feasting in the camp to celebrate. Again, I was able to eat until I nearly burst. I was more careful with the wine though.

The marriage took place in the chapel of the castle of Limassol, and then the princess was crowned queen by no less than the Bishop of Evreux. (He is a Norman, like my father.) I saw the princess as she rode past in procession on her way to the chapel. The street was lined with cheering people and this time I, of course, was cheering as loudly as the rest. The princess did not smile or wave back, however. She rode with her eyes cast down and her fingers tight on the reins of her palfrey. I could see that she was biting her lip. I wonder what it would be like to be a young maid sold into marriage to a strange man, in a strange country—and to go off to war for a bridal trip. But that is the way of it with kings and queens. They do what is good for their countries and make such alliances as necessary. It has always been so, I suppose, and probably always will be so.

Strange, I have never thought so closely on these matters before. But then I have never been so closeto kings and queens and princesses before either.

The king sent wine to the marketplace in the city and great quantities of food, so the townspeople are celebrating as well. No one seems to miss the emperor.

The fourteenth day of May

Celebrations continue in the town. From the camp I can see people carousing around the city walls and the music of minstrels drifts down to my ears. Celebrations have ceased here in camp, however, and it is back to work.

The fifteenth day of May

I hardly know how to write this. I have pinched myself so often to be sure I am not dreaming that my arms are mottled and blue. Let me gather my wits and start at the beginning.

Barely had I finished scribbling those last lines yesterday when a soldier poked his head around the shelter I have built for myself near the horses.

“Are you the boy called Matthew?” he bellowed.

“I am,” I answered and my insides suddenly went all hollow. What trouble was coming to me now?

“Get up then and follow me,” he commanded.

I stuffed my inkhorn and skins into my sack and hid it quickly under a pile of branches.

“Hurry up!” the soldier barked. “Do you think to keep the king waiting, a miserable little cur such as yourself?”

My breath left my body in a rush and I would have fallen if there had been time. The king!

The soldier grabbed me by the elbow and hauled me out, then dragged me, trotting lop-footedly, across the camp to the king's own pavilion. At the entrance flap he let me go.

“This is the boy the king would see,” he said to a guard who stood stiffly beside the opening.

The guard stepped aside. I do not think I would have been able to move if the soldier had not grasped me again and pushed me forward. As it was I stumbled over the threshold and almost fell. I collected myself and looked up. Sitting in front of me was the Lionheart himself and beside him was Queen Joanna. Of Princess Berengaria, now Queen Berengaria, there was no sign. I must have looked terrified because Queen Joanna smiled at me and spoke.

“Do not be afraid, Matthew,” she said. Her voice was as sweet as I remembered. She was dressed in a gown of purest white.

“You did us a great service, Matthew,” the king said.

A great service? What was he talking about? I dared a sideways glance.

“You warned the queen against going ashore. If she had accepted the invitation, she would no doubt at this moment be a hostage and we would not have been able to assault and capture this city. We owe you much, lad,” he said.

“Look up, Matthew. You have nothing to fear here. We have called you here to thank you.” Queen Joanna's voice encouraged me to look straight at her. But I still did not dare look at the king.

“We would reward you,” King Richard said. “What would your wish be?”

I tried to speak but found to my horror that I had no voice. My tongue clacked against my teeth but no sound came out.

“Speak, Matthew,” the queen encouraged. “What would you wish as compensation for your help to me?”

“I …” The word sounded like the grunt a pig would make. I flushed and tried again. “I wish only to serve you, Sire.” Finally I dared to meet his gaze.

“To serve me. Hmmm.” The king raised an eyebrow. “And what do you now, boy?”

“I tend the horses, Sire,” I said.

“What else can you do?” His words whipped out at me.

What could I say? I flushed so red that my face felt as if it would explode. How had I the nerve to offer to serve King Richard of England? What could I, a miserable cripple, do for such a majesty? I cast about desperately in my mind, and then—I do not even know now what possessed me to say it, I blurted out, “I can write, Sire. I am a scribe.”

“A scribe!” Both royal eyebrows rose. “And in what languages can you write, my young scribe?”

“French, Sire. And Latin. And a little Greek.” The words began to pour out of my mouth without my being able to control them. “And English, Sire.”

“English! Pah! A language for peasants. I don't care for English. But if you are telling the truth—you are, boy, aren't you?” He frowned at mesuddenly and his eyes turned into blue ice. I would not want to face those eyes on a battlefield.

“Yes, Sire,” I stuttered. “I can speak and write in all those languages. And I speak Arabic too, although I cannot write it. And I write well, Sire. I am a good scribe.” Whatever prompted me to make that claim I will never know. I was horrified to hear myself saying it. I tensed every muscle in my body and waited for his anger. How dare I boast to the king of England?

The eyebrows rose even higher. Then suddenly the king's face broke into a smile. He laughed.

“A confident little cripple you are, aren't you?” he said with a chortle. “Well, boy, I'll put you to the test. One of my scribes was lost in the storm, a man of little importance, but his loss is onerous to me. He tallied shipments, kept count of goods used and purchased—or seized,” he added with a wry smile. “That sort of thing. Could you do that?”

“Oh, yes, Sire. Indeed I could, Sire.” My words tripped over each other in my eagerness. Truly, I would have affirmed that I could do anything he asked, no matter what it might have been.

“Well, then. We'll set you up in a tent near mine and you can be my junior scribe. I need a list of the supplies we've found in the castle to begin with, and who knows—if you truly are as good as you think you are—perhaps I'll find other uses for you. Do you want to go on crusade?” This last he barked with a return of the frown.

“I do, Sire,” I answered, trying to stop myself from babbling and to regain some semblance of dignity. I do not think I succeeded too well.

“Then on crusade you will go.” He snapped his fingers and a soldier appeared. “Find shelter for this boy. He will attend me every morning to do my bidding.” He stopped and looked more closely at me. “And for mercy's sake, wash him and find him some decent clothing. God's legs, but the boy is filthy!”

So here I am. Cleaner than I have ever been in my life (although I did not see the need for quite so much cold water and scrubbing) and in my own tent! I managed to sneak back to my old shelter for my skins and inkhorn, but the king himself said that he would give me parchments and ink of the very best quality to write with.

Now I think it very lucky that Vulgrin was so hard with me. As well, writing this journal has not only improved my hand but has taught me much about the art of putting words together. I will keep on with it. As I write in English, it is not likely anyone would be able to read this journal if they did find it. The nobles do not speak English—mostly French and Latin as does the king—and the English soldiers cannot read. I liked the horses, though, and I shall miss tending them.

The seventeeth day of May

My new life is proving interesting. I reported to the king this morning and then promptly set about listing all the supplies in the castle. This task will take a while. While I was with the king, however, who should appear but Emperor Isaac Commenus himself! King Richard greeted him civilly, hiding his surprise most wonderfully, I thought, andinvited him to dine. Just days ago he had been chasing the emperor all over the island of Cyprus! I melted into the background and tried to look as much like one of the tapestries as possible so as to hear all they said, but to my chagrin the king remembered my presence.