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.”
HANAU 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?”