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apparently selling (as part of the chancellor's disguise). The chancellor, not knowing English, did not reply: the market women then attacked him, tearing off his veil and revealing the truth. the women then proceeded to stone the unfortunate prelate, until he was rescued by his followers.
It was while Richard was directing the siege of Deir el Belar in May 1192 that John de Alencon arrived to inform him of the disturbed state of England, caused it was said by Prince John, who would not listen to the persuasions of Eleanor, but was driven on by his own will, and the frequent harmful advice of Phillip, now in France. It was this news that confirmed Richard that he too must return home as soon as possible.
Early in 1192, there was still a major detail left to settle before Richard could leave: who should govern the remnant kingdom? There was a plethora of candidates, including the failed Guy - favoured by Richard - as well as Count Henry of Burgundy, supported by the empire and France. But in the end a compromise was made with the choice falling on Conrad of Monferrat. Guy's compensation was the gift of Cyprus.
The story of Conrad's brief accession demonstrates the way women in particular were used as instruments in dynastic plotting.
Isabella, heiress to the kingdom, was forcibly separated from her gentle, beloved husband, Humphrey. She was then remarried - reluctantly on both sides - to Conrad. The couple took up residence in Tyre, Conrad's city, which he had been responsible for holding from the Saracens. On the balmy evening of April 28, 1192, Isabella lingered overlong in her bath. Conrad grew hungry and tired of waiting, so he flung off to visit his old friend, the Archbishop of Tyre. According to some, Conrad was disappointed to find that the prelate had already eaten: other say that the titular monarch lingered over dinner with the ecclesiast. In either case, it was dark by the time he began the return journey aboard his horse, accompanied by a small suite of guards. Suddenly, out of the gloom appeared two servants of his - Moslems who had recently converted to Christianity. One of them reached up to hand him a petition: as Conrad bent down to get it, the two murderers struck. Conrad fell to the ground, mortally stabbed. Some say e was finished off inside the nearby cathedral by a second attack, some say he died on the spot, others give an account of him being brought home to die in his bed, charging his wife with the duty of protecting their kingdom and their unborn child. The two killers were seized and tortured into confessing that they were members of the Assassin sect, which specialised in terrorist acts throughout Outremer, either for pay, or to further the interests of their leader, the Old Man of the Mountains.
Who killed Conrad? Here is one of the most intriguing puzzles of the Crusades.
Three prime suspects have been identified: the Old Man, because Conrad had recently manhandled some Assassins and had refused to apologise; Saladin, because he wished to destabilise the Christians at any cost; and Richard, because he wanted his own candidate.3
A fourth suspect is never mentioned: Isabella.
Perhaps she has been overlooked because of her youth and sex, but it should be considered that she had means, motive and opportunity to secure the services of hired killers, who may or may not have been members of the Assassins. Was it mere coincidence that she lingered that night in the bath?
If it was indeed her hope to be reunited with Humphrey, however, she was to be disappointed.
Isabella was pregnant by Conrad, but this did not prevent her being married for a third time, to Count Henry, who as nephew to both Richard and Philip was the next best dynastic choice.
The Islamic chroniclers were suitably outraged by this event. Two of them recount with somewhat inaccurate delight how Henry was made governor of Tyre and married to Isabella that very night, "...maintaining that he had first right to the dead man's wife. She was pregnant, but this did not prevent his uniting himself with her, something even more disgusting than the coupling of the flesh. I asked one of their courtiers to whom paternity would be awarded and he said: "It will be the Queen's child." You see the licentiousness of these foul Unbelievers!"4
The Frankish sources suggest that Henry was a little more reluctant. He had just disembarked in the East, without any intention of staying there: the choice fell almost accidentally on him. Richard informed him that the prospective bride was pregnant, and that if the child was a boy, he would get the throne.
The count's reply was rather ungallantly: "Then I shall be stuck with the lady!"
Ambroise reports, however, that Henry changed his mind when introduced to Isabella "... and I would have done the same, for she was marvellously fair and charming. And so at last, he was very happy to wed her." And as it turned out, Isabella bore a daughter, not a son, so Henry's claim to the throne would have been safe.
The wedding was not conducted on the night of the murder, but shortly afterwards, on May 5.
The marriage was supportive on both sides, but Isabella was doomed to live her life in tragedy.
On September 7, 1197, Henry was greeting a delegation on the balcony of his palace at Acre. He absent mindedly stepped backwards, and fell to the street, his faithful dwarf Scarlet clutching hopelessly at his robe to save him. Both men were killed instantly.
Isabella was beside herself. She met the bearers of the corpse at the castle gate, ran to her husband's body like a madwoman, tearing her face and snatching her hair and, falling on the body, she covered it with kisses and tears.5
Henry was, by all accounts, a fine man, and his loss was a grievous one to his queen and his kingdom: he left her with his step daughter, and two other young daughters.
Isabella survived his death to marry a final time, this time to the brother of Guy, Amalric. Once divorced and twice widowed at the age of 26, she was lucky once more in the quality of the husband whom fate had foisted upon her. Amalric shared the leadership abilities of Conrad and Henry. Through their marriage, Isabella and he united the crowns of Jerusalem and Cyprus into a formidable pair of kingdoms.
But that was in the future.
In the immediate term, Richard's fortunes, along with his health, had begun their inevitable decline. Never has a family scaled the heights of success nor plumbed the depths of failure as completely as the Plantagenets.
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