“Did you, indeed? And his response?”
“Oh, nothing was said outright. It was done by inference and insinuations. In other words, the lying language of diplomacy. You see, sire, I’ve made a study of our unholy emperor, and I’ve learned that he is not as keen on an alliance with the French as his father was. Heinrich has ambitions that go far beyond his own borders. He thinks in terms of what Germans call ‘Weltherrschaft,’ which we might translate as ‘world empire.’ The first step must be the conquest of the kingdom of Sicily, of course. But in time he’ll start to seek expansion elsewhere, and France would be a natural target.
“Speaking of France, I borrowed a page from your book, my liege.” Longchamp’s smile was the closest he’d ever come to a jubilant grin. “The Bishop of Speyer told me how you’d cleverly heaped the blame on the French at your trial, thus giving the emperor a face-saving way out of his predicament. So I told Heinrich that you knew the Bishop of Beauvais was the one responsible for your ill treatment. I told him, too, that I know you far better than Beauvais does, and you were not going to break. No matter how long you were held at Trifels, it was never going to happen.”
Richard said nothing, but color rose in his face as he stared down at the chains crumpled at his feet. Longchamp did not notice. “I also told Heinrich that I was authorized to negotiate on your behalf and I felt confident that we could reach terms that were mutually acceptable. I had to make him believe that it was in his own best interest to bring you back to court.”
“And you did. What you accomplished was truly remarkable, Guillaume. You outwitted a master spider and I will never forget that you were the one to free me from his web.”
Longchamp’s face glowed. “I did have help, sire, from a kind and noble lady.”
Richard’s eyebrows rose, for he knew that Longchamp had the typical cleric’s distrust of women, dismissing them as Daughters of Eve. “I would indeed hope that I have the Blessed Lady Mary on my side,” he said, for that was the only woman he could imagine being praised by his chancellor.
Longchamp nodded. “You also have the Empress Constance on your side,” he said, with the quiet pleasure of one making an astounding disclosure. “The emperor at first refused to see me and each day that he made me wait was one more day that you’d be trapped at Trifels. So I sought the empress out and she convinced Heinrich to meet with me.”
Richard was astonished. This would bear thinking about, but for now, all he wanted was to leave Trifels in the dust. Sixteen days in chains had sapped his strength, though. His muscles were weak and he was light-headed when he took his first steps. His wrists had been badly chafed by the manacles, tingling painfully as he rubbed them to restore the circulation. He’d been moving around gingerly as he’d listened to Longchamp and he finally felt ready to tackle the stairs. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, but he came to a halt as his gaze fell on the discarded chains. Reaching down for them, he balanced their heavy weight for a moment and then he whirled and slammed them into the wall. The guards looked startled; they did not object, though, as Richard hammered the manacles until the locking devices broke off. Only then did he fling them to the ground and turn away, leaving the cell without a backward glance.
RICHARD WAS SAVORING THE warmth of the sun on his face. Trifels was more than a feared prison; it had also been one of the favorite residences of Heinrich’s father, with very comfortable royal quarters and a walled-in garden. Richard and his chancellor were there now, sitting on a wooden bench as his guards loitered nearby, looking bored. It had been decided to delay their departure for Hagenau until the morning, ostensibly because there were only a few hours of daylight remaining, actually to give Richard a little more time to regain his strength. He was eager to see Trifels receding into the distance, but for now he was content to breathe in fresh, untainted air and to watch fleecy clouds sweep like cresting waves across a sky as deep and blue as the Greek Sea.
“Think of all those poor devils caged up belowground,” he said pensively. “Is it true that if a man goes years without seeing the sun or sky, he becomes blind as a bat?”