He was taken by surprise, therefore, on the sixteenth day of his captivity when the door opened and Markward von Annweiler sauntered in, followed by the burgrave. Richard got quickly to his feet; by now he’d learned how to maneuver his tethered chain. He thought the seneschal seemed relaxed and at ease, but that would probably be the case even if he’d been given imperial orders to slit the English king’s throat.
“Well, now I have another reason not to forget you, my lord. You were the first king I’d ever escorted to Trifels and you are the first prisoner I’ve ever brought out.”
Richard’s reaction was great relief, for what could be worse than Trifels? “Where am I going?”
“To the imperial court at Hagenau. It seems that your chancellor has a golden tongue.” Markward glanced over his shoulder and as the burgrave moved aside, Richard saw Guillaume de Longchamp hobbling in behind them.
“My God, Guillaume,” he said incredulously, “you did it!”
Longchamp’s smiles were usually sparing, but now he was beaming, dark eyes shining.
Turning to the burgrave, he held his hand out expectantly. The German slapped a key into his palm and he limped toward the bed. “If I may, my liege?” Richard grinned and extended his wrists as his chancellor inserted the key into the first lock. When he was finally freed of the manacles and chains, he thought he’d never heard a sweeter sound than the clank of the fetters striking the floor at his feet.
Markward had watched placidly, content to obey his emperor’s commands, whatever they may be. “A bath is being heated,” he told Richard, “and your chancellor has brought new clothes for you. When you are ready, your guards will escort you to the great hall.”
As soon as Markward and the burgrave exited the chamber, Richard grabbed his little chancellor, lifted him up, and swung him around in an exuberant circle. “You truly did it!”
Longchamp actually blushed. “Sire, this is not seemly,” he protested, and Richard set him down, remembering one time when he’d playfully slapped the chancellor on the back and nearly knocked him off his feet.
“Sorry,” he said, laughing. “At least I did not kiss you! How did you do it, Guillaume? How did you change that hellspawn’s mind?”
“I told him that I’d found you gravely ill. I may have exaggerated somewhat, for I made it sound as if you were lingering at Death’s door. I told him, too, that he needed to know something the Bishop of Beauvais had kept from him—that you are susceptible to recurrent attacks of quartan fever, and you could well die if it happened whilst you were held a prisoner at Trifels.”
He gave Richard a quick, searching look. “I hope you do not mind, sire, that I told him about your past illnesses. I had to convince him that there was a genuine danger in keeping you here.”
“Hellfire, Guillaume, I’d not have cared if you’d told him I was a leper, not as long as it gets me out of this cesspit!”
“We know now that he truly does not seek your death. Of course, I pointed out that he had a great deal to lose were you to die at Trifels. Not only would there be no ransom, but his reputation would suffer irreparable damage once word got out that he’d sent you to the dreaded Trifels and thus caused your death. I also made sure to mention that I’d already dispatched couriers to the queen mother in England and to the Holy Father in Rome to let them know of your whereabouts. It had occurred to me that it was probably not wise to let Heinrich think I and I alone knew the secret of your incarceration here,” he said dryly, and Richard saluted him with an approving smile, thinking that Heinrich might finally have met his match.
“I then expressed concern that sooner or later, word would reach the rebels and they would make good use of your plight to gain new followers. Even some of those who’d attended the Imperial Diet in Speyer might be receptive to the call to rebellion, having found the English king innocent of all the charges brought against him. I said this with great regret, of course.”
“Of course.” It was clear to Richard that Longchamp was going to draw out this account of his triumph; he’d never suffered from false modesty. But he did not care if the chancellor boasted of his spectacular success for years to come; he’d well earned that right. Something about this did not ring true, though. He could understand Heinrich being alarmed to learn his prize prisoner had almost died; his every breath was worth one hundred thousand silver marks. Yet Heinrich could have given the command to treat him more gently or even to send him to a less notorious prison. To go from Trifels to the imperial court at Hagenau was a dizzying turn of Fortune’s wheel.
“What else did you tell him, Guillaume? What is missing so far from your narrative?”
Now it was Longchamp’s turn to smile approvingly. “I implied that it might be shortsighted to make a bitter enemy of the English king. Alliances are as shifting as the tides, after all, and the day could come when the Holy Roman Empire and England might want to make common cause against France.”