GUILLAUME DE LONGCHAMP WAS in need of wine, for he’d been talking nonstop for more than an hour and his mouth was getting dry. But he’d had much to tell his king: the truce struck with his brother John until November, the measures taken by the queen mother and the justiciars to raise the ransom and to select the hostages demanded by Heinrich, and the French king’s successful Normandy campaign. He was glad to discover that Richard already knew of the loss of Gisors Castle and the defections, for he’d been dreading having to break such bad news. He’d not told Richard of his hostile reception in England or the new humiliations inflicted upon him, for he reasoned the king had troubles enough of his own without having to deal with his troubles, too. Instead, he did his best to sound positive, assuring Richard that Hubert Walter would have been consecrated as archbishop by now, stressing the loyalty of the king’s subjects, and praising the queen mother so extravagantly that Richard joked he sounded smitten. But none of his news was as welcome as the letters he brought from Eleanor, Otto, Hubert Walter, the justiciars, and English lords.
Watching as Richard reread his letters, Longchamp wondered why he’d said nothing yet about his diplomatic triumph at Frankfurt. He thought that was a remarkable achievement for a prisoner, but he proceeded with caution in light of the king’s silence. “I encountered Fulk in the Worms market ere I came to the palace, sire. He was haggling with a peddler over a surprise for you and he told me about your meeting with the German rebels. I wish I could be in Paris to witness the French king’s chagrin and anger when he hears how you outwitted him!”
Richard appreciated his chancellor’s diplomacy; he’d managed to hit upon the one pure pleasure of his Frankfurt feat—the misery it would give to Philippe Capet. Not wanting to talk about the meeting yet, he said instead, “Did I ever tell you how surprised I was when you and Fulk became such fast friends? When you joined my household, I fully expected the two of you to be at odds from the first day, given how prickly you both can be.”
“True, neither of us suffers fools gladly. Nor are we celebrated for our tact. But that gave us something in common,” Longchamp said with a smile. Taking the hint, he deferred discussion of the Frankfurt council until the king himself brought it up. “Sire . . . you said you had a new task for me?”
“Your arrival at Worms could not have been better timed, Guillaume, for we are about to negotiate a new agreement for my release. I will be relying upon you to keep Heinrich from draining my body of every last drop of my blood,” Richard said, with a flippancy that did not disguise the bitterness, not to one who knew him as well as his chancellor did. “Afterward, I am sending you to France to meet with the French king. I want you to try to get him to agree to a truce. I hate the very thought of it, but there is no other way to keep him from swallowing Normandy whole whilst I am held prisoner here.”
He’d just been given a huge challenge, one that would have daunted the most talented of diplomats. Longchamp thrived on such difficult missions, though, and he was promising Richard that he’d do his best when the door opened and Fulk hurried into the chamber. He was carrying Richard’s “surprise,” a caged green parrot that he’d hoped would prove entertaining, but the gift bird had been relegated to an afterthought by his second surprise.
“Sire, you’ll never guess whom I just met below in the outer court!” Fulk’s usually dour demeanor was utterly gone; he was beaming as he stepped aside to reveal Richard’s new guests. Morgan and Guillain jostled each other in their eagerness to get through the doorway, and the German guards gaped at the jubilant reunion that followed, startled to see the English king embracing these knights like brothers, for they could not imagine their emperor ever showing such favor to men of lesser rank.
Richard was very familiar with the special camaraderie of soldiers, but he felt a particularly strong kinship with the twenty brave men who’d sailed with him on those pirate ships, and above all with Morgan and Guillain, who’d stood with him during one of the worst moments of his life. Once he’d assured himself that they’d endured their captivity as well as could be expected, he stepped back, frowning.
“Where is the lad? Was he not freed, too?”