‘Are you such cowards,’ he cried to his men, ‘that you shrink from action with the enemy? She is one and we are many. Shall you, soldiers of the Cross allow her to carry succour to the Saracen? If you allow these enemies of God to escape you deserve to be hanged, every one of you.’
As ever his magnetism mingled with his personal valour had its effect. Those men who, a few moments before, had grumbled to each other that to attack was folly, were now straining for the fight.
Some of them even attempted to board the ship, and as they did so their hands or heads were cut off and the air was filled with their piercing cries as they fell back into the sea. When several men leaped into the water and tied a rope to the Saracen’s helm so that her progress might be impeded, this was more successful.
Then to the Saracens’ relief Richard gave the order to retire. It was but a respite. His mind was made up. He deeply regretted that he could not take the vessel, and the thought of all that treasure on board dismayed him. What he could do, what he must do was sink her; and that was what he was going to do.
The prows of the galleys were iron which made of these ships excellent battering rams. They could drive themselves into the sides of the Saracen with such force that they broke her up. This they did until the sea was darkened by the bodies of drowning men and the ship’s cargo. Richard tried to salvage some of the latter but without much success.
But the victory was Richard’s. The Saracen would not sail into Acre. The besieged who would be eagerly awaiting succour would be disappointed.
Surely, thought Richard, this action must have brought the fall of Acre nearer.
After such an engagement the fleet must put in at Tyre. At last he had reached the Holy Land. How enthralled Richard was at the prospect of setting foot on that soil. For so long he had dreamed of this; now fulfilment was at hand. He felt sure that ere long he would have captured the Holy City itself.
Flushed with victory he landed, but if he had expected a warm welcome, he was disappointed for the Governor came riding down to the shore. He bowed coldly and said: ‘My lord, I have orders from the Marquis Conrad de Montferrat that you are not to enter the town.’
‘What means this?’ cried Richard dismayed.
‘My orders, Sire.’
‘So I am to be governed by Conrad de Montferrat?’
‘He has the backing, Sire, of the King of France.’
‘Is this the Holy Land?’ cried Richard. ‘It is indeed, Sire.’
‘Know you what I have but a few days ago sunk a great Saracen who was taking supplies and men to Acre? My men are weary. They seek rest, lodging, food, relaxation.’
‘They may camp outside the city.’
‘I shall remember this,’ said Richard.
‘Not against me, my lord, I beg you,’ answered the Governor. ‘I but obey orders.’
‘Then I shall remember it against Montferrat and the King of France.’
‘If there is aught I can do for you, sire, outside the town ...’
‘Nay,’ snapped Richard. ‘There is naught. We shall not stay long on your inhospitable shores. Have you heard what happened to one who was similarly churlish? He lost his island and now lies in chains.’
The Governor began to tremble and Richard thought: It is no use blaming him. He is not the enemy.
He shrugged his shoulders and turned away.
‘Set up the tents,’ he said. ‘We rest outside the city.’ And he thought: If this were not a Christian stronghold Tyre would go the same way as Cyprus.
But the men were weary and he was eager to get to Acre. There must be no more delay. And why had Montferrat backed by Philip behaved so to him? He supposed it was because he had sponsored Guy de Lusignan for the crown of Jerusalem when it was won. Well, Guy was worth a little friction. He did not regret favouring him one jot.
And now to rest.
The Queens came ashore – Berengaria with Joanna and the pretty little Cypriot maid.
‘We watched the fight,’ said Berengaria. ‘Oh, Richard, I was terrified. But I knew of course that you would win. You will always win.’
Joanna embraced him. ‘I was afraid for you,’ she murmured.
‘I am grieved,’ he answered, ‘that you were in a position to watch it. How glad I was that you were not in my galley!’
‘Richard is so wise,’ said Berengaria, but she spoke a little wistfully.
And the little Cypriot looked on with wondering eyes.
‘There is much to be done,’ said Richard. ‘I have ordered that you shall be comfortably lodged. I must now leave you. There is much to be done.’
Was that all? wondered Berengaria as Richard turned away.
It was an auspicious moment. There before him lay the walled city of Acre, its towers and minarets set against a blue and cloudless sky. To the south of the city stretched ten miles of golden sands with palm trees dotted here and there; and on these sands were camped the armies from all over the Christian world.
Richard gazed in wonder. At last after so many irksome months he had arrived. He turned his gaze to the thick walls of the city – strong, formidable. Behind them lurked the Saracen enemy, as determined never to be driven out of this stronghold as Richard was to take it, for since the fall of Jerusalem it had become the capital of the Holy Land. For two years those Christian armies had sought to break the siege and take the city which was the gateway to Jerusalem.
Why was it so difficult to capture the city? How could the men and women of Acre hold out so long? Surely God was on the side of the Christians! And when Richard considered the ship he had sunk and all the men and provisions which had been lost in the sea he was not surprised at the endurance of those people. If such stores were being brought to them regularly, they had nothing to fear from a siege.
But he was here at last ... yearning for the battle and when the fleet came into sight there were shouts from the shore and as he came nearer Richard saw the people gathered there to meet him.
There was an august figure there on horseback surrounded by a company of men. Philip! He was looking eagerly towards the ships. Richard knew for whom he was searching.
When Berengaria was ready to go ashore Philip waded out to the galley and, so that she should not get her feet wet, himself carried her to the beach. This was a significant gesture indeed, for Alice’s fate was still undecided. It was characteristic of Philip to show the world that he felt no ill will towards Berengaria because she was now Queen of England in place of his sister.
But, wondered those who saw this gallant gesture, how true was his apparent acceptance of this state of affairs? With Philip no one could be sure.
Richard was the last to go ashore and there in view of all, he and Philip embraced affectionately.
‘At last you are here!’ said Philip. ‘What delays there have been!’
‘Necessary delays,’ replied Richard.
‘It seems years since Messina.’
‘What a goodly array,’ cried Richard. ‘Men from all over the Christian world! How can we fail with such a company?’
‘Come,’ said Philip, ‘I wish us to be alone together. There is much to be discussed.’
‘First,’ said Richard, ‘I would inspect the troops. I want to know what we have here. What a motley!’
It is true. There were French, and English of course, Germans, Italians, Spanish, in fact as Richard had said every Christian nation appeared to be represented.
As Richard rode round the camps, cheers went up. There could be no doubt that his presence was a signal for rejoicing. His fame had gone before him. He was the unconquered and unconquerable hero of the Christian world. There could be no failure with him to lead them. They had long awaited his coming and now here he was, and this must mean that ere long Acre would fall.