He trusted that he was not going to have one of the old bouts of fever, but as the days passed it became more and more certain that this was exactly what was going to happen.

To be ill at such a time could be disastrous.

He asked Guy de Lusignan to come to his camp. There was something about the young man that he liked. His nature seemed to be as frank and open as that of Richard himself, and the King felt that they were two of a kind.

Guy looked at him with real concern.

‘Why, Sire, what ails you?’ he asked.

‘I fear it is a return of an old complaint.’

‘You are often ill like this then?’

Richard laughed grimly. ‘I know it seems incredible, but this fever has dogged me for years. It started through sleeping on damp earth when I was quite young. You know how it is. One is careless. One fancies one is above the common ailments of the body. Alas, it is not so.’

‘Will it soon pass?’

‘I doubt not it will be worse before it is better. That is why I have asked you to come to me. In a day I may not be able to leave my bed. The fever will run its course. I want you to take over command of the army.’

Guy was astounded. He could not believe that the man on the bed, his face pallid, cold sweat on his brow was the great and glorious warrior who such a short time ago had been married to the Princess Berengaria.

Guy said: ‘Should not the Queen be told? She will wish to look after you.’

‘Neither Queen must be told – my wife nor my sister. I do not wish them to pamper me as though I am a woman. I know this fever well. It comes and it goes. I must keep to my bed until it passes; but we cannot wait for that to subdue this island. So, my friend, I wish you to take over. The time has come to conquer the entire island. We must not be satisfied with Nicosia. We must show Isaac that he has lost everything.’

‘I will do exactly as you wish,’ answered Guy.

‘Then having taken possession of Nicosia we shall be lenient with those who thought they could stand out against us. There is only one order I give: All the men must shave off their beards. This I demand for it will show their humility. If any man defies me then he must lose not only his beard but his head with it. Make that clear. And once an order is given it must be obeyed. There must be no leniency. That is the secret of good rule. All must know that when the King speaks he means what he says.’

Guy listened attentively. He would let the King’s command be known throughout Nicosia and then he would set out to subdue the rest of the island.

Richard trusted him. He liked the man. Guy would serve him well not only because he was an honest man but because he needed Richard’s support against Conrad de Montferrat, the candidate for the crown of Jerusalem whom the King of France was supporting.

He lay on his bed, tossing this way and that, the fever taking possession of him. He was a little delirious. He thought that his father came to him and told him that he was a traitor.

‘That I never was,’ he murmured. ‘I spoke out truly and honestly. I fought against you because you tried to deprive me of my rights . . . but I never deceived you with fair words . . .’

And as the waves of fear swept over him he asked himself why his father had always been against him. He seemed to hear the whispered name: ‘Alice . . . it was Alice . . .’

Alice! He thought he was married to Alice; she had become merged in his delirious imaginings with Berengaria. Alice, the child; Alice, seduced by his father in the schoolroom. An echoing voice seemed to fill the tent. ‘The devil’s brood. It comes from your Angevin ancestors. One was a witch. She went back to her master the devil but not before she had given Anjou several sons. From these you sprang. You . . . your brothers Henry, Geoffrey, John . . . all of them. There was no peace between them nor in the family.’

It was as though Philip were speaking to him, mocking him.

This accursed fever! Philip had said: ‘How will you be in the hot climates? Shall you be able to withstand the sun?’

‘As well as you will,’ he had answered.

Philip had said: ‘I believe you have had bouts of this fever for years. It’s the life you have led.’

But if he remained in his bed the violent sweating fits would pass and with them his delirium. His brain would be clear again. It was only a matter of time.

There was good news from Guy. He had taken the castles of St Hilarion and Buffavento with very little trouble and in that of Kyrenia he had found Isaac’s young daughter. He was awaiting Richard’s instructions as to what should be done with her. Clearly she must not be allowed to go free, for she was Isaac’s heiress.

All was well. He had been right to trust Guy. The fever was beginning to pass but he knew from experience that it would be folly to rise too soon from his bed.

He had given instructions that the news of his sickness was not to be bruited abroad. He did not want his enemies to set in motion a rumour that he was a sick man which they would be only too happy to do.

Soon he would rise from his bed; and if by that time Cyprus was completely subdued he would be able to set out on his journey to Acre.

When one of his knights came in to tell him that Isaac Comnenus was without and begging to be received, he got up and sat in a chair.

‘Bring him in,’ commanded Richard.

He remained seated so that Isaac should not see how weak he was.

Isaac threw himself at Richard’s feet where he remained kneeling in abject humility.

‘Well, what brings you here?’ asked Richard.

‘I come to crave mercy and forgiveness.’

‘Dost think you deserve it?’

‘Nay, Sire. I know I do not. I have acted in great error.’

‘And bad faith,’ added Richard.

‘I come to offer my services. I would go with you to the Holy Land.’

‘I do not take with me servants whom I cannot trust,’ answered Richard tersely.

‘I swear . . .’

‘You swear? You swore once before. Your swearing had little meaning.’

‘If you will forgive me . . .’

‘The time for forgiving is past. I should be a fool to forget how you swore to recompense me for your misdeeds and then tried to kill me with poisoned arrows. I would never trust you again, Isaac Comnenus.’

Isaac was terrified. If he had hoped to deceive Richard as he had before, he had misjudged the King. Having cheated once he would never be trusted again.

All his bravado disappeared. ‘I entreat you to remember my rank.’

‘Ah, an emperor – self-styled! I call to mind how you felt yourself superior to a mere king.’

‘None could be superior to the King of England.’

‘You are a little late in learning that lesson.’

‘I beg of you, do not humiliate me by putting me in irons. Anything . . . anything but that. Kill me now . . . if you must, but do not treat me like a common felon.’

‘I will remember the high rank you once held.’

‘I thank you, my lord. All Cyprus is yours now. You know how to be merciful. Have I your word that you will not put me in irons?’

‘You have my word.’

‘And all know that the word of the English King is to be trusted.’

‘You shall not be put in irons,’ affirmed Richard. He called to his knights. ‘Take this man away. I have had enough of him.’

When he had gone he sat their musing and, remembering how he had been deceived by Isaac, he laughed aloud.

He called in two knights.

He said: ‘I want Isaac Comnenus to be kept a prisoner until the end of his days. He can never be trusted while he is free. I have promised him that he shall not be put in irons. Nor shall he be. But he shall be chained nevertheless. See that he is made secure and that he is in chains. But the chains shall be of silver. Thus I shall keep my word to him. Chained not in irons but in silver.’