When in the night the wind dropped, a great shout went up from the decks of the King’s ship: ‘The storm is over.’
Richard shouted through his trumpet: ‘All follow me. I shall light the way we are to go.’
He had a large lantern placed on the ship and ordered that by night this should always be lighted so that the other ships could see where he was.
In a few hours the wind had become light, and billowing the sails favourably, and the ship went on without further mishap into Crete, there to discover what havoc the storm had wrought and how many of the ships were lost. It was now the Wednesday following Easter day so he had been a week at sea.
To Richard’s horror he discovered that the vessel which contained his royal treasure and that in which Berengaria and Joanna were travelling were not among those which had come through the storm to Crete.
He could not delay long. He must discover what had become of his gold and treasure and of course of his sister and his bride.
How frightening was the storm at sea!
Joanna and Berengaria had been advised to go below where they might not see the mighty waves pounding against the side of the ship.
They both felt ill but Joanna roused herself to comfort Berengaria.
‘These Mediterranean storms arise quickly and as quickly fade away,’ she told her. ‘Richard will bring us safely through.’
‘Alas,’ said Berengaria, ‘we are not sailing with him.’
‘But under his command,’ Joanna reminded her. ‘Lie down, Berengaria, and I will lie with you. ’Tis better so.’
They lay side by side holding each other’s hands for comfort.
Joanna talked of Richard and what success he had had in war.
‘There is always war,’ said Berengaria. ‘How I wish there could be peace!’
Joanna was silent. There were some who wanted peace – her husband had been one. But what would men such as Richard do if there were no wars? They were made to be warriors. War was the main force in their lives.
She was fearful thinking of his ship now and wondering whether it was following them. In storms fleets were often scattered. What a hazardous undertaking it was to travel by sea and it was amazing how often it was undertaken. If they had been on Richard’s ship she would have been much happier. This brought her back to the strange fact that Richard had not been in any hurry to marry. Joanna had thought a great deal about that. Why was it? she wondered. Berengaria was beautiful – not outstandingly so perhaps but still beautiful. She was eager for the marriage, ready to accept Richard as his mother and sister had presented him as the most handsome hero in the world. It was Richard who procrastinated.
He was not young. He should be getting sons.
And as the wind buffeted them Joanna could not help wondering whether the sea would claim Berengaria for its bride since Richard was reluctant to take her. Or how could they know what would await them on some foreign shore? Joanna had been a prisoner of Tancred and although she had not been ill-treated, to be a prisoner was not a happy state. One could never be sure when one’s jailer might decide it would be better to remove the prisoner altogether.
As she lay side by side with Berengaria and thought how innocent she was, she feared what might happen to them both if they were thrown upon some unfriendly shore.
They should have sailed in Richard’s ship for the hazards of the sea were known to be great. How could a lover contemplate allowing his bride to face, not in his care, the unpredictable elements when one short ceremony could have made it possible for them to travel together?
The same thought which had worried her mother kept recurring to Joanna: Was Richard regretting his promise to marry Berengaria?
None of this did she convey to Berengaria. And as they rocked in their bunk, clinging to the sides of it, now and then involuntary exclamations of dismay breaking from them, suddenly it seemed that the storm was abating.
Joanna said: ‘I believe we have come through.’
And during the fifteen minutes which followed it became obvious that this was so. They slept fitfully and as soon as the dawn came they went on deck and by the morning light were dismayed to discover that they and the other two Dromones which had left Messina together were alone.
‘Where is the rest of the fleet?’ cried Berengaria. ‘Where is the King?’
That was something which could not be answered. They could only wait and see what the day brought forth.
Battered and in sad need of repair they drifted on and at the end of the day they came in sight of land.
They had reached the island of Cyprus.
They dropped anchor.
What peace to be at rest! How wonderful not to feel the sickening roll of the ship under their feet! But they could not enjoy this peace so great was their anxiety, for Richard’s ship was nowhere to be seen. The Captain of their vessel came to them and told them that he intended to land at Cyprus. There it seemed certain that Isaac Comnenus, who was known as the Emperor, would offer them hospitality. They could rest there until they had some news of what had happened to the rest of the fleet.
Feeling very uneasy and visualising the many disasters which could so easily have befallen Richard, they prepared to go ashore, but before an hour had elapsed the Captain came to them to tell them that a small boat had come alongside with a message from Isaac Comnenus to the effect that he would not receive them. Such inhospitality was astounding, especially as he must know that Richard would be incensed at this treatment extended to his sister and his bride-to-be. It could only mean that Isaac believed Richard would never arrive at Cyprus.
A dreadful foreboding had settled on everyone aboard. They were at the mercy of the sea; their ships were in need of repair; the Emperor of Cyprus was refusing his help and the rest of the fleet with the King among it, had disappeared.
There was worse to follow.
During their first night off Cyprus a small boat rowed out to the ship and in it were several English sailors.
They had an alarming story to tell.
A few days earlier they had arrived at Cyprus in a very sorry condition. They had been helped ashore by seemingly friendly Cypriots who had assisted them in salvaging what they could from their vessel; and then, as soon as they and their goods were on land, had promptly taken the goods and cast the sailors into prison. By great good luck a few of them had endeavoured to escape and so had returned to the ship with the news.
This was very disconcerting, especially as the wind had risen again and was buffeting the ship as it lay at anchor. On one side were the unpredictable elements of the ocean, on the other the unfriendly Emperor.
The next day there was a turn in events. Berengaria watching for a sight of Richard’s ship noticed a small boat coming out to their ship.
She ran to Joanna and, with her, watched the boat come alongside and two men board the ship.
In a short time the Captain appeared.
‘There are messengers from the Emperor Isaac Comnenus who would speak with you.’
Joanna said: ‘Please bring them to us.’
The Captain came with the two men who bowed low and showed great deference to the ladies.
‘Our Imperial Lord sends his greetings,’ he said. ‘He fears there has been a misunderstanding. He now knows that the ships which were wrecked on his coast belong to King Richard of England. He has heard that you ladies have arrived and he wishes to offer you the hospitality of his country. If you will come ashore with us you will be received with all honours and the Emperor has had apartments made ready for your comfort.’