WHEN HEINRICH DEPARTED HAGENAU at the end of April, he had Richard escorted to the free imperial city of Worms, where he was given comfortable quarters in the palace, but kept under close watch. By mid-May, the emperor was staying at the Augustinian monastery of Mosbach on the River Neckar, which was only a two-day ride from Worms in case he needed to check upon his prize prisoner. On this mild Whitsunday evening, he’d been playing chess with his seneschal, Markward von Annweiler, when he was interrupted by a message from one of his Sicilian spies. He was not happy with what he read, for the man he called “that lowborn usurper” was continuing to strengthen his hold on Sicily. Tancred had gotten that gutless Pope to recognize his claim, and now he was negotiating a marital alliance for his eldest son with the daughter of the Greek emperor in Constantinople. Heinrich was disgusted that Emperor Isaac Angelus would agree to a marriage with a bastard’s spawn, but he was concerned, too, for Tancred’s attempts to legitimize his kingship were bearing fruit. Time suddenly seemed to be on Tancred’s side, not his, for he could take no action until those accursed rebels were dealt with.
He’d gone back to the game, but he was unable to concentrate and Markward began to study the board carefully, seeking an unobtrusive way to throw the game, for his emperor did not like to lose. When a knock sounded on the door, Markward welcomed it. A squire hastened over and, much to Heinrich’s surprise, his wife entered. He could not remember the last time she’d come to his bedchamber. Since the beginning of their marriage, he’d always been the one to go to her when he wanted to claim his conjugal rights; that way he could return to his own bed afterward, for he preferred to sleep alone.
Constance nodded coolly to Markward, who was not one of her favorite people, and then smiled at Heinrich. “My lord husband, this is Master Fulk de Poitiers, the English king’s clerk.” She stepped aside, revealing the man who’d followed her into the bedchamber. “I happened to be in the guest hall when he arrived from Worms, and when I learned he had an urgent message from King Richard, I thought you’d want to see him straightaway.”
Fulk had actually sought her out and was impressed now by how smoothly she lied. He thanked her very politely and then knelt respectfully at her husband’s feet. “I am here at my king’s behest. He requests that you grant him an audience, my lord emperor, as soon as it can be arranged.”
“What does he wish to discuss with me, Master Fulk?”
Hoping he could lie as convincingly as Constance, Fulk shook his head regretfully. “I do not know, my lord.” He frowned, trying to look like a man vexed that his king had not confided in him. “He said only that it is a matter of great importance to you both.” He held his breath then, waiting to see if Heinrich would take the bait.
Heinrich studied him dispassionately, but curiosity won out. Turning to Markward, he ordered the seneschal to go to Worms on the morrow and bring the English king to Mosbach. Glad to escape the chess game, Markward rose, offering to find the hosteller and get Fulk a bed for the night. Constance politely bade her husband farewell and would have followed the men had Heinrich not reached out and put his hand on her arm. “I will come to you later, my dear.”
She did not show her surprise; she’d long ago learned to hide her true feelings from this man. “You are always welcome in my bed, my lord husband,” she murmured, giving him a smile as meaningless as the life she led. She could remember a time when she’d been eager to pay the marriage debt, so desperate to conceive that she’d willingly have embraced Lucifer himself. Her hunger for a child was all-consuming in the early years of her marriage—not for Heinrich, but for Sicily. As much as she wanted her birthright—the Sicilian crown—she dreaded it, too, for she well knew that her beloved homeland would not fare well under her husband’s iron rule. If only the Almighty had given her a son, even a daughter, there would have been at least a glimmer of hope for the Sicilians. But her own hopes had withered on the vine long ago, forcing her to face a bitter truth—she was that saddest and most useless of creatures, a barren wife.
HEINRICH WAS ATTENDED BY Count Dietrich, his brother Conrad, Markward, and his marshal, Heinz von Kalden, and Richard was accompanied by Fulk and his chaplain, Anselm, who’d recently been freed from confinement. Once the courtesies had been exchanged and wine served, the emperor leaned back in his chair, with the suggestion of a smile. “So . . . what is this ‘matter of great importance,’ my lord king?”
“It can fairly be said that you and I are in the same leaky boat, my lord emperor, for we both are facing challenges to our sovereignty. In my case, the threat is posed by my liege lord, Philippe Capet, and my own brother, a betrayal twice over. Your danger is greater, though, for even in captivity, I am still a consecrated king, whereas your enemies can do what mine cannot—elect another emperor. Indeed, I’ve heard that they intend to do just that, and since more than half of your vassals are now in rebellion against you, this must be a matter of grave concern to you. Were I in your stead, it would be to me, for certes.”
Heinrich’s complacent smile had vanished as soon as Richard had begun to speak. “I cannot believe you requested an audience merely to tell me what I already know, my lord. What is your point?”
“The longer this rebellion drags on, the more likely it is that other malcontents will join it. You need to take the initiative, to stop an insurrection from becoming a civil war, and I am in a position to help you do that.” Richard paused to take a swallow of wine, keeping his eyes on Heinrich all the while. “If you are willing to make enough concessions, I think I can negotiate a settlement to end the rebellion ere it flares into a conflagration that could end Hohenstaufen rule.”