A King's Ransom (32 page)

“That is nonsense! I never accused Leopold of cowardice, just bad judgment. And my sister’s sons and daughter, who are half German, are very dear to me.”

“Nevertheless, this is what many believe and it is up to you to convince them it is not so. You can best do that by showing respect for Heinrich’s rank, if not for the man himself.”

“Even if I could assure them that I harbor no hatred of Germans, do you truly think that would affect their verdict?”

Richard knew Hadmar had tried in his way to be honest and he did not disappoint now. “No,” he conceded, “most likely it would not. But it could not hurt, either.” And with nothing more to be said, he signaled to the guards that it was time to escort the English king to face his accusers.

T
HE
B
ISHOP OF
S
ALISBURY
had been anxiously watching the doorway and as soon as Richard’s guards appeared, he jumped to his feet and hurried toward them. They seemed hesitant, unsure if he should be permitted to approach the prisoner, but Hadmar said something in German and they stepped aside. Hubert had hoped to be able to alert Richard, but he was too late. His king was surveying the hall, his gaze moving from the men seated on the rows of benches to those on the dais. His audible, indrawn breath told Hubert that he’d spotted the man seated to Heinrich’s left.

“I am sorry, sire,” Hubert said softly. “We did not know the Bishop of Beauvais was here until this morning, or I would have gotten word to you somehow.”

Richard was staring at the French bishop with loathing he made no attempt to conceal. “It might be for the best,” he said at last. “I can hardly call Heinrich a liar to his face in front of his own Imperial Diet, but I’m free to expose Beauvais for the treacherous snake that he is.”

Hubert felt a throb of relief, for he’d been troubled by his first glimpse of Richard; the deep shadows hovering under his eyes testified to a wakeful night. But he’d heard the English king sound like this before—coolheaded and composed, able to adapt his strategy to changing circumstances. This was the way he was on the battlefield, and Hubert thought he’d never faced a more daunting battle than he did on this March Monday in Holy Week.

There was a stir in the hall as the French envoys rose and, after bowing to the emperor, moved to intercept Richard. He knew one of them, Druon de Mello, for he’d been with the French army in the Holy Land. Richard had a favorable opinion of the older lord, seeing him as an honorable man often burdened by his king with tasks he found distasteful, and indeed, Druon did not look happy. “My lord Richard,” he said, with another polite bow. “We bring you this from our lord, the king of the French.”

Richard took the parchment, broke the seal, and read. When he glanced up, he saw that two of the envoys were regarding him challengingly, but Druon had averted his gaze. Without comment, he passed the letter to Hubert Walter, smiling grimly at the bishop’s angry exclamation. Retrieving the parchment, he rolled it up and tucked it into his belt, and then, knowing he was the focal point of all eyes, he raised his head defiantly, determined that they’d see him show no unease.

The man Hadmar had identified as the Bishop of Speyer now rose to his feet and began to speak. When he was done, Hadmar said in a low voice, “The bishop says that they have found someone who speaks French so that you may understand the charges against you. He will also translate your responses into German.”

“How magnanimous. Tell them it is not necessary. I prefer that you be the one to interpret for me. And I will be responding in Latin, not French.”

Hadmar understood Richard’s reasoning; he did not trust any interpreter provided by Heinrich. But when he stepped forward to address the court, Hadmar managed to make Richard’s decision to speak in Latin sound like a courtesy, saying the English king knew that most of the men in the hall were familiar with that language. After a brief exchange with the bishop, he turned back to Richard, saying, “They have agreed to your requests.”

“My requests?” Richard arched a brow in sardonic acknowledgment of Hadmar’s tact, but the latter nudged him, and he saw that the bishop had beckoned a scribe to come forward. The hall had been buzzing since he’d made his entrance, but a silence fell now as the charges against the English king were read aloud.

Hadmar listened closely, waiting until the man paused so he could translate. “They say there can be no doubt that the Almighty wants you punished for your crimes, or else you’d not have fallen into the power of Duke Leopold. There are a number of accusations, including your ill treatment of the duke’s kinsman, Isaac Comnenus, your lust for profit, and your arrogant conduct in the Holy Land. But the most serious charges are your alliance with the usurper King of Sicily, your complicity in the murder of Conrad of Montferrat, and your treacherous conspiracy with the Saracen Sultan of Egypt, Saladin.”

It was what Richard had been expecting to hear and he nodded for Heinrich’s spokesman to continue. This time the scribe spoke at some length, gesturing several times toward the Bishop of Beauvais. The audience leaned forward to hear, their gazes shifting from Richard to Boniface of Montferrat. A handsome, fair-haired man in his thirties, Boniface bore such a striking resemblance to his slain brother that Richard did not need Hadmar’s whispered identification.

“You are accused of recognizing Tancred as Sicily’s king whilst knowing full well that the crown belongs by right of blood to the emperor’s consort, the Empress Constance.” Hadmar would have elaborated, but Richard cut him off impatiently, wanting to know what had been said about Conrad.

“You’ll not like it much,” Hadmar warned. “It is claimed that you were Conrad’s sworn enemy, that you did all you could to thwart his claim to the crown of Jerusalem. And when you saw that you’d failed and he would be king despite your efforts, you hired the Saracen sect called the Assassins to stab Conrad as he rode through the streets of Tyre. One of the Assassins was slain afterward, but the other one was captured and confessed to the Bishop of Beauvais and the Duke of Burgundy that the killing had been done at your behest.”

Richard could feel the anger starting to stir, smoldering embers threatening to blaze into fiery life, but he fought it back, for rage made a man reckless. He shook his head, saying nothing, remembering how carelessly he’d once dismissed the charges by Beauvais and Burgundy, so proudly sure that none who knew him would ever give credence to them.

The scribe was continuing to make the case against him, having saved the most serious accusation for last, that Richard had betrayed his own Christian brethren by an unholy, heinous alliance with infidels. “The Bishop of Beauvais contends that from the day of your arrival in the Holy Land, you showed yourself willing to be beguiled by the Saracens. You at once sought to open negotiations with Saladin. You and he exchanged gifts and courtesies, for all the world as if you were dealing with another Christian king. You met with his brother on numerous occasions, once going off to feast in his tent. You formed friendships with some of Saladin’s emirs and Mamluks. You even dared to knight several of them. And you refused time and time again to lay siege to Jerusalem. No matter how they entreated you, you remained adamant, and you managed to win the native-born Christians and the Templars over to your heretical views, somehow convincing them that Jerusalem could not be taken. You then proved that you were secretly in collusion with Saladin by making a shameful surrender, yielding the stronghold of Ascalon to the infidels, and abandoning the Holy Land to those sons of Perdition, a sin so great that you will surely burn for aye in the hottest flames of Hell.”

“Is it my turn now?” When Hadmar nodded, Richard strode to the center of the hall. The silence was complete, even eerie. “I was born into a rank that makes me accountable only to Almighty God. But I do not fear the judgment of just men, and these accusations are so scurrilous and vile that I welcome this opportunity to defend myself against them. Be he an emperor, a king, or a knight, a man’s honor is precious in his sight, for it is his legacy, how he will be remembered.” Richard paused and then looked toward the dais. “So when I am done, mayhap the illustrious emperor of the Romans may wish to address those foul rumors that he had a hand in the murder of the Bishop of Liege.”

Caught by surprise, Heinrich proved that he was not as invulnerable as he’d have others believe, for his hands tightened upon the arms of his chair and although his expression remained impassive, color crept into his face. As their eyes met, Richard felt a hot surge of pure pleasure. He knew the other man would not forgive him for that, but he did not care. If he was going down, by God, he’d go down with his banner nailed to the masthead. He was heartened, too, to see some smiles as he glanced around the hall—smiles hastily hidden, but smiles, nonetheless. So this carefully selected audience was not as partisan as Heinrich had hoped; even here there were men who doubted the emperor’s innocence.

“I will respond to these charges in the order in which they were made. I arrived in Sicily to discover that my sister, Queen Joanna, had been detained in Palermo by King Tancred, who had also seized her dower lands. I secured my sister’s freedom and after negotiations with Tancred, he agreed to pay twenty thousand ounces of gold as compensation for the loss of her dower, as well as another twenty thousand ounces that King William had bequeathed for the war against Saladin. So yes, I made a treaty with King Tancred, for there was no other way to get the money owed my sister or William’s bequest. I understand why this would anger the emperor. But it was not done with malice. I was not pleased when I learned that the emperor had met the French king at Milan and formed an alliance that I knew would be to my detriment. Yet I did not question the emperor’s right to make such a pact, no more than he can object to my right to act as I saw fit in my dealings with the King of Sicily. That is the way of statecraft, the prerogative of kings.”

Richard paused again. They were listening intently, but he could not tell if his words were having any impact. “I am astonished that I should incur criticism for the actions I took against the usurper Isaac Comnenus, for I did no more than avenge myself for the wrongs done to my men, and in so doing, I was able to free the Cypriots from his oppressive yoke. When we sailed from Messina for the Holy Land, our fleet was scattered in a savage storm and several of our ships were driven ashore at Cyprus, including the ship carrying my betrothed, the Lady Berengaria of Navarre, and my sister Queen Joanna. Isaac imprisoned the shipwreck survivors and attempted to force my ladies to come ashore with threats, intending to hold them hostage. God willing, I arrived just in time to keep them from falling into his hands. Of course I sought to punish him for such an outrage; is there a man in this hall who would not have acted as I did?

“When Isaac then sought peace, I agreed, only to have him flee in the night rather than honor the terms of our pact. So I deposed this faithless, evil man, and I make no apologies, for he had refused to permit Christian ships to dock in Cypriot ports and was known to have ties to Saladin.”

Richard turned then to face Leopold, who’d been given a seat of honor on the dais. “If the Duke of Austria is offended by these actions against his kinsman, I can only remind him that we all have family members who are an embarrassment—or worse. I would speak now of the insult I gave him at the siege of Acre, when I ordered his banner taken down. The initial fault was his, but I will admit I rebuked him too severely, for it resulted in his departure from Acre, and we could ill afford to lose a fighter of his stature. Surely, though, he has been well avenged for this injury by my detention and captivity.”

Leopold was not looking like a man who’d been well avenged, though, his mouth tautly drawn, his color high, and his fists clenched at his sides. Richard took heart from the Austrian duke’s discomfort, hoping it meant that he was making a convincing case on his own behalf.

“Nor did I seek to enrich myself at the expense of others; just the contrary is true. When King Tancred agreed to pay the forty thousand ounces of gold, the French king claimed half of that sum, arguing that we’d made a pact to share any booty won during our campaign. I agreed to give him a third, even though he could have no possible right to any of my sister’s dower. But I did it so there would be peace between us. After I seized a rich Saracen caravan in Outremer, I gave fully a third of the plunder and livestock to the French, for that was their price for taking part in the raid; the rest I shared amongst my soldiers. Nor did I profit personally from the conquest of Cyprus. I sold it to the Knights Templar so we’d have it as a supply base for the Holy Land. And when the Templars decided they no longer wanted the island, I arranged for it to go to the King of Jerusalem, Guy de Lusignan. The Templars had paid only forty thousand bezants and still owed another sixty thousand. I told Guy that if he repaid the Templars, I would waive payment of the sixty thousand. I did this to get Guy and his de Lusignan kindred out of Outremer, thus paving the way for Conrad, the Marquis of Montferrat, to become Jerusalem’s king.”