A King's Ransom (62 page)

JANUARY 1194

Speyer, Germany

R
ichard found it hard to believe that in less than a fortnight, he’d be freed. The greater portion of the ransom had been delivered to Heinrich, and his mother and the Archbishop of Rouen would soon be at Speyer for the day of his deliverance. But Richard knew that any man who trusted in Heinrich’s good faith was one of God’s greatest fools, and he would not feel safe until he was actually on the road, with Speyer disappearing into the distance.

He was very pleased, therefore, by the arrival of a contingent from Poitou, for their company kept him from dwelling upon his suspicions or the appallingly high price he was paying for his freedom. The new arrivals included the bishops of Saintes and Limoges; Aimery, the Viscount of Thouars; his younger brother Guy; and two men who’d fought with Richard in the Holy Land, Giraud de Berlay-Montreuil and Hugh le Brun, one of the contentious de Lusignan clan. They brought money for his ransom and the Bishop of Saintes and Hugh were also able to give him news of his wife and sister, for they’d both played host to Berengaria and Joanna on their way to Poitiers.

Aimery had the reputation of being a political weathercock and Giraud and Hugh belonged to families that saw rebellion as their birthright, but because they’d been willing to make such a long and difficult winter journey, Richard wiped away all memories of past sins. He took a particular liking to Guy de Thouars, for unlike so many of his visitors, Guy asked no awkward questions about his imprisonment. Instead, he wanted to hear about the king’s exploits in the Holy Land and so Richard was able to reminisce with Giraud and Hugh about their campaign against the Saracens, laughing as they recalled how Richard had to come to Hugh’s rescue when his house was under siege by the angry citizens of Messina, teasing Baldwin de Bethune about the time he’d tried to ride a camel, and agreeing that the fleetest horse in all of Christendom was Fauvel, the dun stallion Richard had taken from Isaac, the despot of Cyprus.

Their enjoyable afternoon came to an abrupt end when Master Fulk entered and handed Richard a letter from the German emperor. Opening it with a sense of foreboding, Richard caught his breath. “Heinrich has delayed my release for more than a fortnight. Instead of a week from Monday here in Speyer, it is now to be on Candlemas in Mainz.”

His guests were disappointed, but his men were dismayed, for they knew Heinrich. Longchamp rose and limped to Richard’s side. “Did he offer any reason for this delay?”

Richard shook his head, handing the chancellor the letter. It was not the postponement itself that disquieted him—although every additional day of imprisonment would weigh heavily upon his soul. It was far more ominous than that. Meeting Longchamp’s eyes, he said grimly, “What is that spawn of Satan up to now?”

U
PON THEIR ARRIVAL IN
G
ERMANY,
Eleanor and the Archbishop of Rouen and their large entourage engaged ships to convey them up the Rhine River and they reached Cologne in time to celebrate Epiphany with its archbishop-elect, Adolf von Altena. The queen, Archbishop Gautier, and the more highborn of the hostages were lodged in his archiepiscopal palace. It was a much-needed respite, for the trip had been hard upon them all. But despite the warm welcome from the archbishop and the citizens of Cologne, Eleanor was impatient to resume their journey and she felt a great relief when they finally boarded ship for the last leg of their odyssey.

E
LEANOR READ MEN WELL
and as Archbishop Adolf made his way across the crowded hall of the imperial palace in Speyer, she felt a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the snow on the ground or the icy snap in the air. She had only a limited knowledge of Latin and no German, but he spoke surprisingly good French, albeit with a strong accent. “The emperor has delayed the king’s release, Madame. It is now set for February 2 in Mainz.”

Eleanor shook her eyes briefly, feeling every one of her sixty-nine years at that moment. But even worse was to come.

“Nor will you be permitted to see your son, Madame. Heinrich has given orders that you are to continue on to Mainz.”

Eleanor raised her chin, straightening her shoulders. “I would speak with the emperor and as soon as possible.”

“Heinrich is not here in Speyer. He has been at Würzburg all month, holding an Imperial Diet, and will not be at Mainz for at least a fortnight. Moreover, he has summoned me to join him in Würzburg and so I will be unable to accompany you to Mainz.”

Eleanor stared at the two archbishops, seeing her fear on their faces. Heinrich already had most of the ransom and now he had the hostages, too. What if he still refused to set Richard free? She’d not realized she’d begun to shiver until her grandson Otto whipped off his mantle and gallantly draped it around her shoulders. The gesture well-nigh broke her heart. Wilhelm had been born in England and Otto had been only five when their parents had taken refuge at the English court. Even if all went as it ought, she’d be leaving her grandsons in a land that was foreign to them, in the hands of a man who knew no more of honor than a bandit or a Barbary pirate. And if all went horribly wrong, what would befall them then?

A
FTER SOME OF THE MOST STRESSFUL DAYS
and sleepless nights of her life, what Eleanor had been so desperately awaiting finally happened. On Candlemas Eve, her son arrived at the imperial palace at Mainz.

They all were eager to see the king, but the first small group to be escorted to Richard’s chamber was restricted to Eleanor, the Archbishop of Rouen, and his nephews, Otto and Wilhelm. Richard was waiting with Longchamp, Fulk, Anselm, Baldwin de Bethune, Morgan, Guillain, and young Arne. As she came through the doorway, Eleanor’s eyes were already stinging and she saw her son through a blur of tears. She’d last seen him nigh on three years ago, standing on the quays at Messina with Joanna and Berengaria, waving as her ship slowly edged out into the harbor. She was not reassured by what she saw now, for he looked like a man who’d been shut away from the sun, a man who’d lost a noticeable amount of weight, a man who’d been living on nerves for far too long. But then he smiled and, as he embraced her, she marveled that it had taken her most of her life to understand that the strongest, most enduring love was that of a mother for her children.

“Philippe was a fool to wager against you.” Laughing, Richard hugged her again, but then he bent his head to murmur for her ear alone, “Sixteen years—how did you ever survive it, Maman?” telling her with those few simple words all she needed to know about his time as Heinrich’s prisoner.

Richard greeted the archbishop next and then turned his attention to nine-year-old Wilhelm and sixteen-year-old Otto, pretending to believe that they could not possibly be his nephews. They were much too tall, he insisted, making them laugh and easing any awkwardness they may have felt. But they truly did look like strangers to him, for four years was an eternity in the realm of childhood, and that cheeky five-year-old and solemn twelve-year-old lived only in his memories now. Would his own son seem so unfamiliar, too?

“Ask him,” Wilhelm urged, and Otto did. “Uncle . . . the German lords and bishops have been arriving all week. Whilst we knew our father would stay away, we hoped our brother would be at Mainz. But he ought to have been here by now. Henrik is not coming, is he?”

“No, Otto, he is not,” Richard said reluctantly. “Henrik is not in the emperor’s good graces at the moment. You see, lads, your brother managed to steal his bride right out from under Heinrich’s nose.”

Wilhelm looked puzzled, but Otto smiled. “You mean he was able to wed Agnes after all? I thought the emperor had forbidden the match.”

“He did, indeed. But he was outwitted by an eighteen-year-old lass with a mind of her own.” Seeing that Wilhelm was still confused, Richard explained that Henrik had been betrothed since childhood to Agnes, the only child of Konrad, the Count Palatine of the Rhineland, Heinrich’s uncle. That betrothal had been a casualty, though, of the feuding between their father and the Hohenstaufens.

“Heinrich wanted Agnes to marry Ludwig, the Duke of Bavaria. Although she’d been balking, she’d probably have been compelled to yield eventually. But then Heinrich had an offer for her from the French king. Philippe had gotten his puppet princes and bishops to annul his marriage to the unfortunate Ingeborg. You know about her?”

Richard laughed when they both nodded; if even children like Wilhelm had heard of Philippe’s marital follies, he’d never live that scandal down. “Well, now that he was in the market for a new wife, he cast eyes in Agnes’s direction. I am not sure Heinrich would have agreed, for I cannot see him wanting Philippe to have any claim to the Palatine. But the marriage proposal horrified Agnes’s mother. She asked Agnes if she was willing to wed the French king and Agnes said no very emphatically, declaring she would never marry the man who’d treated Ingeborg so cruelly. When she confided that the only one she wanted to marry was Henrik, her mother took action.”

Glancing toward Eleanor, he said, with a smile, “If I did not know better, I’d think this admirable lady was kin to you, Maman. She sent word secretly to Henrik and, as soon as her husband was away, she summoned him to their castle at Stahleck, where Henrik and Agnes were quickly wed. Konrad was not happy once he found out, and Heinrich was furious. But when he insisted that Konrad have the marriage annulled, Konrad refused, saying that would bring disgrace upon his daughter.”

Otto was very pleased for his brother, knowing how much he’d wanted Agnes as his wife. But it made him uneasy to think of Henrik as the object of the emperor’s cold, implacable anger. “Do you think Heinrich will accept the marriage in time, Uncle?”

“His first reaction was to blame me for it all.” Although Richard laughed, Eleanor and the archbishop did not, wondering if this clandestine marriage could be the reason why his release had suddenly been postponed. They were somewhat reassured by what Richard said next. “But now that Konrad is supporting the marriage, there is not much Heinrich can do about it. That is why he is holding an Imperial Diet at Würzburg, to discuss the marriage. I think the chances are good that he’ll grudgingly come around to an acceptance of it.”

There was a discreet knock at the door then, reminding them that there were many others waiting to pay their respects to their king, and he nodded to Morgan, who crossed the chamber to let in the next group. Richard was delighted to see William de St Mère-Eglise, who said that Hubert Walter had wanted to come, too, but since Richard had just named him as the chief justiciar, he’d realized he was more urgently needed in England. Eleanor now brought forward a dark, handsome youth of seventeen, introducing him as Berengaria’s brother Fernando. When Richard thanked him for becoming a hostage, he grinned and said he was glad to get away from his father and elder brother’s constant scrutiny. Richard was not sure if his insouciance was due to his youth or to his nature; Berengaria had said Fernando was the family jester, cheerful and carefree to a fault.

Richard hated turning over any hostages to Heinrich’s mercies, but it was easier to accept for soldiers like his admiral, Robert de Turnham, who’d just entered the chamber, or Robert de Hargrave, who’d been one of the twenty who’d accompanied him to Hell and back. It was much more difficult to watch the innocent nonchalance of youngsters like Fernando, Otto, and Wilhelm. However often he reminded himself that hostages were an integral part of any peace process, frequently offered up as pledges for good behavior and promises given, he knew in his heart that this was different, for Heinrich recognized no moral boundaries.