A King's Ransom (65 page)

It was late afternoon before Longchamp returned. He was accompanied by the Archbishop of Rouen, who’d attended the second day’s session, and the Archbishop of Cologne. It was the latter who spoke for them, saying with a smile, “It is done. Heinrich has agreed to honor the terms of the Worms pact—”

Whatever else he’d been about to say was drowned out by the cheers and laughter of the men crowding the chamber. Richard did not join in, but he was smiling as he rose and walked toward them. “Thank you,” he said simply, for he knew that if any one man had made this happen, it was Adolf von Altena.

Longchamp gave voice to what Richard was thinking. “Most of the credit must go to the archbishop. He refused to be intimidated and argued with the eloquence of the angels.”

“More like a lawyer,” Adolf said with a chuckle. “I reminded the emperor that if the Worms agreement could be set aside with such ease, so could other pacts—including the one signed at Koblenz that brought the rebellion to an end.”

Richard was no longer smiling. “I am more grateful than I can ever say. But you’ve made a mortal enemy this day.”

Adolf’s own smile never wavered. “I believe the Almighty judges us by the enemies we make and, come Judgment Day, I will be proud to answer for mine.” He paused to apologize to Eleanor for not acknowledging her sooner before continuing. “We were not going to give way on this, for the honor of our empire itself was at stake. I think Heinrich finally realized that. We benefited, too, by his obsession with Sicily. I do not know if you’ve heard, but there have been rumors since Christmas that the Sicilian king is ailing. So Heinrich is burning to begin his war, and he chose to cut his losses, settling for salvaging what he could of his tattered pride.”

Richard had known this was coming. “And what is the price I must pay for saving his pride?” He was not reassured when the three men exchanged glances before responding.

“He is demanding additional hostages,” Longchamp said, “who will be held until payment is made of ten thousand marks, and he insists that the Archbishop of Rouen be one of them.”

Richard frowned, assuring the archbishop that he would arrange payment as soon as he was back in England. But as he studied their faces, it struck him that his chancellor and archbishop were not as happy about their victory as Adolf seemed to be. “What else does he want? What are you not telling me?”

Longchamp started to speak, then stopped. The Archbishop of Rouen remained mute, no longer meeting Richard’s eyes. Seeing that it was up to him, Adolf said gravely, “You will not want to hear this, my lord Richard. Heinrich swears that he will not release you until you do homage to him for your kingdom of England and your lands in France.”

There was an immediate uproar as Richard’s knights reacted with anger and disbelief. But Richard’s voice rose above the clamor. “I will never agree to that,” he snarled, “never!”

He was at once supported in his defiance by every man in the chamber, save only the three prelates. The rage Richard had been holding back for the past two days now spewed out in a fiery lava flow of profanities and threats, almost hot enough to blister the air itself. Eleanor had seen too many Angevin eruptions to be daunted by this one, though, and she waited until her son had to pause for breath. “I would speak with the king alone.” Richard swung around to look in her direction, already shaking his head, but she knew he would not countermand her in public, and he did not disappoint. As the men began slowly to file out, she asked the chancellor and two archbishops to remain and also signaled for André to stay, even though his own angry outburst made it unlikely he’d be of much help.

As soon as the door closed, Richard said in a sharp tone he’d never used with her before, “I will not consent to this, no matter what argument you make. Become that misbegotten whoreson’s vassal? When ice burns and fire freezes!”

“Richard, it is meaningless—”

“Not to me!”

“You would be doing it under duress, and the Church holds such oaths to be invalid. Do they not, my lords?” She appealed to the prelates, and they confirmed her understanding of canon law, assuring Richard that doing homage under these circumstances would have no legal consequences.

Richard was shaking his head again. “How can you not see?” he accused, his gaze cutting from the churchmen to his mother. “My men could never respect me again if I agreed to this. Nor could I respect myself.”

“Richard, the one thing you need not fear is losing the respect of your men,” Eleanor said impatiently. “They’d follow you to Hell and back if you asked it of them.”

“You do not understand. Women never do.”

“Mayhap not. But are you truly willing to sacrifice so much to save your pride?”

“It is not a question of pride. It is a matter of honor.”

“You will not be staining your honor by doing this. You will be acting as a king.” Crossing to his side, she looked up intently into his face. “Think what will happen if you refuse Heinrich’s demand. The best you can hope for is that he’ll hold you prisoner in an attempt to coerce your consent. But he’s not only unscrupulous, Richard, he is unstable. No rational man would have been so shameless, so blatant about his crimes. He is intoxicated by his own arrogance, and if you do not let him save face, it is impossible to say what he may do.”

Eleanor gave Richard no chance to respond, glancing back at Adolf. “Can you say for a certainty, my lord archbishop, that Heinrich would not decide to defy the Diet and turn my son over to the French?”

“Of course I could not, my lady. I agree with your assessment of the emperor. The man is dangerously unpredictable. He was motivated by greed when he sought to extort even more money from King Richard. But it is hard to say what he might do if he is not offered a way to save face.”

Eleanor put her hand on Richard’s arm. “Think what will befall your kingdom and your Norman duchy if you are unable to return to defend them. Philippe will overrun Normandy for certes. He could also threaten Anjou, mayhap even Poitou. Your father’s empire would soon be only a memory.”

Richard stared at her, saying nothing. He’d told no one about his eerie dream at Trifels, hearing that familiar, hoarse voice echoing in the darkness of his prison cell.
Save my empire. Do not let my life’s work become dust on the wind.

Eleanor was encouraged that at least he seemed to be listening. “We both know John would not be able to stave off the French for long. He is not a coward, but he has rarely bloodied his sword, has never proven himself on the battlefield. He might not even fight for Normandy, willing to content himself with his island kingdom. And what do you think that would mean for the English? A king who cannot command respect is a king who will not be obeyed. Bandits would make a mockery of the King’s Peace, and local lords would feel free to pursue their own wars, just as they did during Stephen’s reign. Do you know how the chroniclers described those years, Richard? They said it was a time ‘when Christ and his saints slept.’”

Richard would have pulled away, but he could not break her grip without hurting her. “You ask too much of me, Maman.”

“I am not the one asking it of you, my dearest son. You were anointed with the sacred chrism on the day of your coronation. You are God’s vicar on earth, for you swore to defend the Church and deliver justice and mercy to the people of England.” The mention of his coronation oath reminded her of another holy vow he’d taken, and she did not scruple to remind him of it, too, even though she fervently hoped he’d never attempt to honor it. “There is something else you must consider. Your chancellor told me that you’d vowed to return to the Holy Land and retake Jerusalem. You can only do that if you regain your freedom and restore peace to the Angevin empire.”

Richard could not dispute anything she’d said and he glanced toward his cousin, saying desperately, “For Christ’s sake, André, make her understand why I cannot do this.”

André looked stricken. “Richard . . . I cannot. I know what you feel, for I feel it, too. But your mother has convinced me. You have no choice.”

The Archbishop of Cologne decided this was an opportune time to intervene. “Queen Eleanor has articulated the reasons for consenting with great eloquence, and I urge you to heed her, my lord king. I can assure you that the homage will not fetter you in any way for it will be made under duress. Heinrich will not benefit from it—but you could.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Heinrich’s need to save face has blinded him to the consequences of his demand. As soon as you do homage to him, you become the most powerful and highborn vassal of the empire. Think what that could mean if Heinrich dies unexpectedly. He has no son, and even if he did, our crown passes by election, not birth. You’d have a vote when it came to electing the next Holy Roman Emperor and your opinion would sway others. The crown might even be offered to you,” he said, with a sudden grin. “Now, that’s a thought to keep Heinrich awake at night!”

Richard was not yet ready to appreciate the irony of that. For the moment, he could think of nothing but the ordeal he faced on the morrow—having to kneel and swear homage and fealty to a man he loathed, a man he wanted dead. Turning away, he sat down in the closest chair, and the slump of his shoulders told Eleanor that she’d won. His pain tore at her heart, but his freedom mattered more. She hoped that in time, he’d come to see that, too. But even if he did not, she would have no regrets. There was nothing she would not have done to get her son out of Heinrich’s power—nothing.

T
HERE WAS A WIDELY HELD BELIEF
that certain days had been identified by ancient Egyptian astrologers as days of ill fortune, upon which no enterprise should be started or blood drawn by doctors. The fourth of February was one of these unlucky Egyptian days, yet to Eleanor, it would be a blessed day, for in the third hour of the morning, her son regained his freedom. She was startled and embarrassed to find herself bursting into tears when it finally happened. But the audience was very moved by the sight of this celebrated, aging queen sobbing in the Lionheart’s arms, and Heinrich was convinced that it had been a deliberate maneuver to sway public opinion in Richard’s favor. He’d awakened in a foul mood, for not even Richard’s act of homage could take away the bitter taste of defeat. But he cheered up somewhat after Markward von Annweiler reminded him how outraged the French king would be when he learned that Richard had done homage to Heinrich for Normandy and Anjou, and it was with a chilly smile of satisfaction that he became the English king’s liege lord.

Eleanor was sickened by that smile, for although nothing showed on Richard’s face, she knew it would haunt his memory in years to come. The ceremony was a formal one, carefully scripted beforehand. Richard knelt and pledged his faith and fidelity to the emperor. He then offered his leather cap to Heinrich as a symbol of vassalage. Heinrich solemnly accepted the cap and then handed it back to Richard, along with a heavy gold cross, in return for a promise of an annual payment of five thousand marks. Eleanor knew Heinrich would never see a farthing of it. As she glanced around the hall, she thought Richard’s German allies seemed pleased that so renowned a king was now a vassal of the Holy Roman Empire, but Richard’s own vassals looked like men attending a public hanging. She consoled herself that at least the worst was over now, although bidding farewell to the hostages would be difficult.

After his homage to Heinrich, Richard took the homage of eleven German lords and prelates in return for money fiefs, yearly revenues to be paid from the rents of English and Norman manors. He had told Eleanor that he’d formed an alliance meant to encircle and isolate the French king, while also rewarding the men who’d been so instrumental in winning his freedom. But she’d not realized the full significance of this coalition until she saw how many distinguished, influential men had been drawn into Richard’s league against Philippe: the archbishops of Cologne and Mainz, the Bishop-elect of Liege, the dukes of Brabant and Limburg, the Count of Holland, the Marquis of Montferrat, and in a fine example of either political cynicism or realism, Baldwin, the eldest son of the Count of Flanders and Hainaut, who was firmly allied with the French king. Even Leopold of Austria and Heinrich’s uncle Konrad, the Count Palatine, and his brother, the Duke of Swabia, did homage to Richard for English fiefs.

Eleanor studied the emperor intently. If Heinrich was troubled that so many of his own vassals and kinsmen were pledging their loyalty to the English king, he showed no sign of it. It was true that their oaths were given with the proviso
salva fidelitate imperatoris
—saving the honor of the emperor. To Eleanor, this was conclusive evidence that the French–German axis forged by Heinrich’s father was well and truly dead, and as she watched her son accept the homage of his new liegemen, she felt a surge of fierce pride, marveling that Richard could have accomplished a feat like this whilst being held prisoner.

Richard’s first act as a free man was to entrust one of his vassals, Saut de Breuil, with an important mission. He was to travel to the Holy Land and assure Richard’s nephew Henri, the Count of Champagne, that he would return to fulfill his vow once he had avenged himself on his enemies and restored peace to his domains. In return for this service, Richard made Saut de Breuil a grant of lands worth forty pounds.