A King's Ransom (49 page)

He began by offering his condolences to the dukes of Brabant and Limburg, who were the brother and uncle of the murdered Bishop of Liege. Rather than splashing around in the shallows for a time, he chose to plunge into deep water straightaway, saying, “I want to be candid with you about my motives. I am not trying to end your rebellion because I have always yearned to be a peacemaker, and for certes, not because I wish to ease Heinrich’s troubles. A peace settlement is very much in my own interest and I believe it is in yours, too. After I tell you why, I hope that you will agree with me.”

He paused to assess the impact of his words. Hermann, the Landgrave of Thuringia, was regarding him with open suspicion, which was not surprising, for he’d long been an enemy of Richard’s brother-in-law Der Löwe. The others seemed more curious than skeptical. “I am not sure if you’ve heard this yet. Next month the emperor intends to meet with the French king at Vaucouleurs.” He could tell from their faces that most had not known of this.

“I’m sure you heard that the French king courageously declared war upon England just as I was put on trial at Speyer. Philippe is a most formidable foe—provided that his adversary is fighting for Christ in the Holy Land or hundreds of miles away in a German prison. He knows he cannot hope to defeat me on the field of battle. So he is willing to do almost anything to keep me from regaining my freedom. He has promised to match whatever ransom can be raised in England. But he realizes that it would be easier—and safer—for Heinrich to accept the English ransom, and it is my fear that when he meets Heinrich at Vaucouleurs, he will also offer military assistance in putting down your rebellion. In return for this invaluable aid, all Heinrich has to do is to hand me over to the French.

“If that happens, I am a dead man. But it does not bode well for any of you, either. You’d find yourselves facing the French to the west and Heinrich to the east, trapped between the two. At the moment, I’d say you do have a real chance of defeating Heinrich and possibly even deposing him. The Pope might actually muster up the resolve to recognize your new candidate if presented with a fait accompli. I believe that honor is to be yours, my lord,” he said, with a nod toward the Duke of Brabant. “But if you add French troops to the mix, that changes everything and tips the scales decisively in Heinrich’s favor. I’ve looked at maps and most of your castles are in the Rhineland, no? It would be all too easy for two armies to come at you in a pincer movement, and the consequences could be disastrous. In all honesty, neither Heinrich nor Philippe strikes me as another Caesar. But you’d be fighting a war on two fronts, which is every battle commander’s worst fear. You’d likely be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.”

Richard paused again. They were listening intently, most of their faces mirroring dismay, for they had enough combat experience to recognize the truth in what he’d said. “If this malevolent pact comes to pass, you’re likely to find yourselves fighting not for victory, but for survival. You do have leverage now, though, and I propose that you make the most of it. Heinrich seems to be remarkably single-minded, and I get the sense that his planned conquest of Sicily is all that truly matters to him. He may be overweening and utterly bereft of honor. But he is no man’s fool, and he knows Sicily is beyond his reach as long as his own empire is in turmoil. So he wants peace, and I think he’ll be willing to make it on your terms.”

They began to talk among themselves then, and since his own German was still rather rudimentary, Richard made no attempt to follow these fast and furious conversational outbursts. Henrik grinned and Adolf von Altena nodded approvingly when he caught Richard’s eye. Feeling that he’d made the best case he could, Richard could only wait.

The Duke of Brabant was the first to direct his attention back to the English king, proving himself to be a pragmatist and proving, too, that he’d not really expected to become emperor himself. “It would not be enough for Heinrich to restore the lands and castles he’s seized. He’d have to swear in public, preferably on holy relics, that he played no part in my brother’s murder. Think you that he’d be willing to do that?”

After being forced to swear that he’d not been guilty of Conrad of Montferrat’s murder, Richard found this role reversal very satisfying. By God’s legs, let Heinrich see how he liked it. “Yes,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “I think he would agree.” Adding with a grin, “Of course, I’d not want to be standing next to him when he did it—in case he drew down a celestial thunderbolt upon himself.”

When that evoked laughter, Richard took it as an encouraging sign. Now, he decided, it was time to sweeten the pot. It would have to be carefully phrased so as not to affront anyone’s pride. But if Heinrich and Leopold could disguise an extortion demand as a dowry, he ought to be able to make a bribe sound downright benign.

“There is something else I would like to discuss with you. I have to believe that Philippe Capet will not win and I’ll not end my days in a French dungeon. I’ve discovered that hope is a prisoner’s best armor,” he said, and this time his smile was a bleak one. “I owe him a blood debt and I pass much of my time thinking of ways to pay it. I’ve been doing my best to convince Heinrich that England would make a more useful ally than France. But I want allies I can truly trust—men like you.”

Bruno, the aged Archbishop of Cologne, took it upon himself to speak for the others, for his was one of the most prestigious of the German Sees. “What exactly do you have in mind, my lord king?”

“Once I’m back in my own domains, I mean to reclaim the lands Philippe has seized whilst I was held prisoner. I intend to make a two-pronged assault—one with a sword and one with a diplomatic noose. I want to tighten that noose around Philippe’s neck, to watch him strangling for air, and the best way to do that is by alliances. I would like to offer money fiefs to you in return for your support against the French king. The benefits from such a formal arrangement are numerous. I get to put the fear of God into Philippe, to be sure that you will rebuff any overtures he may make, and to express my gratitude for your goodwill, for your endeavors to gain my freedom.”

These were worldly men and they did not mistake his meaning, but there was nothing blatant about his offer, and their amused, approving smiles showed that they appreciated his deft touch.

“I for one would be quite willing to stand with you against the French king,” the Duke of Brabant declared, making it easy for the others to follow his example. When they began to talk in German again, Henrik leaned over to murmur a playful “silver-tongued devil” that caused Richard to laugh aloud, for he was now sure that he was going to prevail.

It took several hours, but eventually they told Richard what he so urgently needed to hear—that they were willing to make peace with the emperor if he’d meet their terms.

“Very good,” he said, smiling warmly at his newfound friends. “Now . . . tell me what you want from Heinrich, and I will do my utmost to get it for you.”

H
ANAU WAS A SMALL CASTLE
protected by the waters of the River Kinzig. A hamlet had developed in its shadow, a handful of houses and a church, and that only enhanced its forlorn appearance, as if it were forgotten by the rest of the world, even by history. Its lord had been flustered by the unexpected arrival of the emperor and his entourage, uneasily playing host while fearing Heinrich had an ulterior motive for his visit. Why would he have chosen to stay at Hanau when his imperial palace was just ten miles away? The appearance of the English king shredded what was left of his composure. He nervously conducted his new royal guest and guards to the great hall, then hastily retreated.

A rainstorm had swept through the valley as night came on and a fire had been built in the hearth to keep the damp and evening chill at bay. Heinrich had been accompanied to Hanau by his uncle, his brother Conrad, his
ministeriales
, Count Dietrich, and Ludwig, the Bavarian duke hoping to lay claim to Henrik’s betrothed. His uncle was reading, the others were playing chess and dice, and Heinrich’s head was bent over a lute. It was a source of bafflement to Richard that a man so cold-blooded and callous could share his own love of poetry and music. It was like finding out that Satan secretly read Scriptures.

Heinrich struck a few more chords before he deigned to look up, as if just noticing the English king. “Well? What did they say?”

“They are willing to make peace.” Richard unrolled a parchment and handed it to the emperor. “Here are their . . .” He almost said “demands,” caught himself in time. “This is a written list of all their terms. I can tell you which ones are not open to negotiation. They want the return of those castles and lands seized from them and compensation for their losses. They want you to swear a public oath that you are innocent of the murder of the Bishop of Liege and find other bishops and lords willing to so swear on your behalf. You gave refuge to the men who killed the bishop, who are now to be banished from your court. Last, they want you to accept the election of the Duke of Limburg’s son Simon as the next Bishop of Liege. He is only sixteen, well under the canonical age, but they assured me you ought to have no problem with that since your youngest brother, Philip, was chosen as Bishop of Würzburg at the tender age of thirteen.”

Richard could not resist a sardonic smile at that. He need not have worried, though, for Heinrich’s attention was utterly focused upon the document. The outburst came from Count Dietrich, who leapt to his feet, his face red with outrage. Richard could not follow his rant, but it was easy enough to guess the gist of it, for Dietrich was the chief suspect in the bishop’s murder. Not only was he very close to the emperor, Heinrich had taken the bishopric from the two legitimate candidates and given it to Dietrich’s brother Lothar. The Hochstaden brothers had suffered the most in the wake of the bishop’s murder, for Lothar had been excommunicated by the Pope and Dietrich’s lands had been razed by the rebels, all but one of his castles captured. It was only to be expected, therefore, that he’d be opposed to any peace settlement. Would Heinrich heed him, though?

To Richard’s relief, the emperor seemed oblivious to Dietrich’s diatribe, although it was loud enough to be heard out in the castle bailey. Watching closely as he read the list of terms, Richard could only hope that he was right in believing the conquest of Sicily mattered more to Heinrich than punishing the rebels. He felt a pang at the thought of a German army descending upon Tancred’s domains, for he’d developed an unexpected friendship with the Sicilian king. Tancred knew another invasion was coming, though, and he’d be ready for it. Nor was Heinrich’s victory a certainty. He’d tried to conquer Sicily once before, while Richard had been in the Holy Land, but his army had suffered greatly in the unfamiliar heat of an Italian summer, many sickening and dying during the siege of Naples. Heinrich himself had almost died of the bloody flux and had been forced to retreat back to Germany to recover. He’d foolishly or arrogantly left Constance behind in Salerno, where she’d been seized by the citizenry and turned over to Tancred. Richard could well imagine how Heinrich would have treated Tancred’s wife had she fallen into his hands, but Tancred had received Constance more like a guest than a hostage, eventually releasing her into the Pope’s custody. She’d managed to escape on her way to Rome, robbing Tancred and the Pope of a valuable pawn, but that had been her doing, not Heinrich’s. His campaign had been an undeniable disaster, and Richard took heart from that now, reminding himself that Tancred was a far better soldier than Heinrich.

When Heinrich finally looked up from the list of demands, Richard suspected he’d been deliberately drawing out the suspense. “Leopold was right,” he said, with one of the supercilious smiles Richard had come to detest. “You can talk as well as fight. I am impressed, I admit it. Their terms are onerous, but not outrageously so, and I can live with them.”

Dietrich interrupted before he could say more, obviously protesting. Heinrich silenced him merely by turning to stare at him. Glancing back at Richard, he said, “You can return to Frankfurt on the morrow and tell them I will meet them at Koblenz in a fortnight to draw up a formal peace settlement.”

“And you will want to inform the French king that you’ll be too busy to meet him at Vaucouleurs.” Richard sought to sound confident, all the while wondering if this was when he got the knife in his back.

But Heinrich merely smiled and said blandly, “Of course. There is no need for such a meeting now, is there?” He signaled to a servant, who hurried over to pour wine for them all, and they drank to celebrate the peaceful resolution of the rebellion, although Dietrich looked as if he were swilling soured milk. The wine did not taste much better to Richard, for he knew this new détente with Heinrich was a walk onto thinly frozen ice, hearing it crack under him with every step he took.