Free The Heart of the Lion by Jean Plaidy

torment for his going had been violent. He had betrayed his father; he had desecrated monasteries and robbed them of their treasures in order to pay his soldiers for his wars against his father. It was a sorry story and how far she had been from guessing its climax during those golden days when he had entertained her on the journey across Normandy and had done his best to make her forget she was going to a stranger husband in a strange new land!
    He had conducted her to the borders of Aquitaine where another brother was waiting for her. She had thought that never could a princess have had two such wonderful brothers. If Henry had been the most handsome man she had ever seen, Richard was the most distinguished. She had thought this must be how the gods looked when they came down from Olympus. He too was tall, his hair fair and shining, and he looked noble and invincible.
    He was not as warm and friendly as Henry had been, but he gave her a greater sense of comfort. He implied that while he was with her it was quite impossible for any harm to befall her.
    Down to the coast she had ridden with this godlike brother beside her and at St Gilles her bridegroom’s Sicilian fleet had been waiting for her.
    She had taken a tender farewell of Richard but she did not weep. She felt that Richard would have despised tears. It would have been different with Henry. They would have wept together; she had wondered when she would see her brothers again and was very sad until rocked on that angry sea she was too sick to think of anything but her own misery and the desirability of death. So ill was she that the captain of her vessel had decided that they could not continue the journey and they had come ashore at Naples. By then it was Christmas time. Her attendants and the sailors had been entertained there and they did their best to make it a merry time and afterwards they had travelled by land across Calabria so that the only sea she must traverse was the strait of Messina.
    This had been a good sign, showing as it did that her new husband was eager for her comfort and she was already grateful to him before she saw him.
    And when he saw her he smiled with pleasure. He had heard reports of her good looks, but it was said that all princesses were good looking when they were marriageable – at least so those who were eager to promote the union always averred. Occasionally they were true and so afforded a very pleasant surprise to their bridegrooms. This was what had happened in her case and William had been delighted with his bride. So were the Sicilians.
    She would never forget coming ashore. Mercifully she had not been ill and was fresh and beautiful on that first meeting. William could not stop himself looking at her. He stroked her hair and kissed her hands. She was enchanting, he said.
    She was young – twelve years old – but that was not too young for marriage and he had been eager for the ceremony to take place without delay. Her father would expect it, he told her.
    She was given attendants who combed her long hair and petted her; and each day there were costly gifts from her bridegroom. She had felt cherished from the moment she set foot on Sicilian soil and some two weeks after her arrival, the Archbishop of Palermo officiating at the ceremony, she and William were married.
    It was pleasant to look back on those days. He had been kind and tender and she knew now that it could so easily have been otherwise. It was true that she had brought with her a fine dowry which included a golden table twelve feet long which was very valuable, a silken tent and a hundred very fine galleys, enough corn that would need sixty thousand mules to carry it and the same quantity of barley and wine. There had also been twenty gold cups and twenty-four plates of the same precious metal. It was advantageous for a King of Sicily to be linked by marriage with the King of England, but even so William might not have been such a tender doting husband, and she