Joanna however was adamant. Time, she reiterated. They must have time.

Finally the messengers rather ruefully retired. It was a relief for them all to see their little boat being rowed back to the shore.

‘I was afraid,’ said the Captain, ‘that you would agree to go ashore. That is something you must not do . . . as yet. I don’t trust the Emperor.’

‘I remembered that some of our men had been lured ashore, robbed and put in prison,’ said Joanna. ‘What think you they would do with the Princess Berengaria and myself if we fell into their hands?’

‘Like as not keep you as hostages,’ was the answer.

‘So I thought,’ said Joanna. ‘We must hold out against his invitations.’

That they were right was borne out by further events of that day.

Some of the sailors who had been shipwrecked were seen fighting their way to the coast. The captain of the ships which lay at anchor immediately sent out boats to rescue the sailors on the shore and when they were brought on board the story they had to tell was alarming.

Two of the busses had been driven ashore and immediately seized on by the rapacious Cypriots. They had been helped salvage what they could from the ships and then imprisoned in the fort of Limassol, and left there without food or drink, the obvious intention being to starve them to death. Fortunately some of them had smuggled in their bows and arrows and were able to fight their way out in the sheer desperation born of the knowledge that certain death would be their fate if they did not do so. Their joy was great when they saw some of their own ships at anchor and their cries for help brought immediate succour.

‘How right we were not to go,’ said Berengaria. ‘What do you think would have happened to us if we had?’

‘The Captain thinks that we should have been held as hostages,’ replied Joanna. ‘Richard would have had to pay dearly for our release. It would have been disastrous for him.’

‘He will be pleased with what we did,’ added Berengaria.

‘Yes, he will, when he comes.’

When he came, yes. But where was Richard?

For several days they waited. The weather was bad and they were in an exposed condition. Both Joanna and Berengaria were ill: and there was still no sign of Richard.

Joanna staggered on to the deck. On the island she could see that troops were massing and apprehensively wondered for what purpose.

Each day a small boat came out bringing the messengers who had approached them before. They were always courteous and so patient. The ladies should trust the Emperor, they advised. He was very angry with the first discourteous message they had received. It had been none of his doing to send such a message. He wanted them to give him a chance of showing how delighted he would be if they would but consent to become his guests.

Joanna replied that she and the Princess Berengaria thanked the Emperor but they were not sure of King Richard’s wishes and if the Emperor would but be patient with them, they were sure the King’s ship would soon appear and then doubtless he could share in this kindly offered hospitality.

The messengers went away once more defeated and Joanna went back to Berengaria, who looked pale and ill.

‘Oh Joanna,’ she said, ‘how much longer do you think we must stay here?’

‘It can’t be for long. Something will have to happen soon. They are massing troops on the shore. I think it may mean that they are planning to take the ships.’

‘Oh, where is Richard?’

‘If we but knew!’ said Joanna. ‘Oh, if only . . .’

But what was the use of bringing that forward again! Richard had been in no hurry to marry and because of this they were on different ships.

Two or three days passed. Joanna and Berengaria talked of their predicament.

‘What if Richard is lost,’ said Berengaria fearfully.

‘I can’t believe it,’ answered Joanna fervently.

‘But surely he would have come by now.’

‘It is not so long. We came here on Wednesday. It is now Saturday. Only three days.’

Three days of being buffeted by fierce winds, three days of uncertainty!

‘It seems like months,’ said Berengaria.

On Sunday morning Joanna had made up her mind. She talked it over with Berengaria. ‘We can’t go on like this,’ she said. ‘We are getting short of stores and you are ill.’

‘I shall be all right as soon as I am on dry land.’

‘That is what I feel. We cannot stay here.’

‘Then what shall we do?’

‘We shall have to go ashore.’

‘Trust the Emperor!’

‘It seems the only way. He has troops on the shore and we are getting short of provisions. Perhaps he really did repent of the inhospitality.’

‘And what of our men? Some of them are still held prisoner.’

‘He surely could not hold us prisoner. My mother would bring a force against him and so would your father. Besides . . . when Richard comes . . .’

‘Yes,’ put in Berengaria quickly, ‘when Richard comes there would indeed be trouble if he did aught to harm us.’

‘Then,’ said Joanna, ‘when the messengers come this afternoon, which it seems likely they will, we will go ashore with them.’

‘Anything,’ said Berengaria, ‘would be preferable to staying at sea.’

Not anything, thought Joanna, but during that morning they made their preparations.

It was about midday when the ships hove into sight.

Joanna shouted joyously to Berengaria and the two young women stood on the deck shading their eyes against the glare of the sun. There was the King’s fleet with his long lean ship to the fore. Their joy was complete when they heard his voice coming to them from the trumpet.

Richard had come. They had held out against the Emperor’s blandishments. Now Richard would decide what had to be done.

THE FRUITS OF CYPRUS

When Richard heard that his men had been imprisoned and their goods stolen, he was enraged. He did not however, as might have been expected, let loose the notorious Plantagenet temper.

He was seriously studying the position. He had suffered considerable delay in Sicily and did not want the same thing to happen in Cyprus if he could help it.

He knew that Isaac Comnenus was no friend to the crusaders. Indeed it was said that he was in league with the Mohammedan Princes and that the favourable position of the island on the route to the Holy Land, the perpetual violence of the storms which blew up suddenly in the area and his unscrupulous nature had brought riches to him and disaster to many a pilgrim or crusader. It was even said that if the opportunity arose his people would lure ships to disaster that they might rob them; and that any survivors were hastily thrown back into the sea so that they could tell no tales.

This might have happened to other fleets but it was not going to happen to Richard’s.

His first act was to send a message to Isaac Comnenus demanding the return of all his seamen and reparation for the goods that had been stolen.

Contemplating the state the fleet must be in after battering its way through storms, realising that Richard’s men must be weary and many suffering from seasickness, Isaac was truculent.

He would not free his prisoners, he said. He would not return what he had taken. Anything that was washed up on his shore, he considered was his, and Richard should take care, for it seemed likely that he might soon join his friends in their prison and his treasure ship become the property of the Emperor.

No reply could have angered Richard more.