“Which one?” Eleanor drank again, staring down into the depths of her wine cup as if it held answers, not dregs. “Did you hear that John concocted a new scheme, this time to steal the ransom by forging my seal? Say what you will of him, he does not lack for imagination.”
Hawisa did not want to talk of John, for whatever she said was bound to be wrong. “I’ve heard that many have been balking at paying their share of the ransom, especially the clerics, who are loath to give up their churches’ gold and silver plate. It is such a vast amount of money. . . .”
“And I hope Heinrich burns in Hell for each and every one of those hundred and fifty thousand marks.” Eleanor’s voice was low, but it throbbed with barely suppressed fury. “I have never hated anyone as much as I hate that man. But we’ll have his blood money—or enough of it—by the time we leave for Germany next month.”
“You are going to Germany, Madame?” Hawisa at once regretted the question. After all, this was the woman who’d crossed the Alps in the dead of winter. But she was three years older now—approaching her biblical threescore years and ten—and the North Sea in December would have daunted men half her age.
Eleanor’s brows shot upward in surprise. “Of course I am going, Hawisa! We had a letter from Richard last month, saying Heinrich had set a date for his release, the Monday after the expiration of three weeks from the day of Our Lord’s Nativity—January 17.” She smiled at Hawisa, a mother’s smile as memorable in its own way as the seductive smiles of her youth. “God willing,” she said, “I will be celebrating the new year with my son. And then . . . then we’ll come home.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
JANUARY 1194
Speyer, Germany
Richard found it hard to believe that in less than a fortnight, he’d be freed. The greater portion of the ransom had been delivered to Heinrich, and his mother and the Archbishop of Rouen would soon be at Speyer for the day of his deliverance. But Richard knew that any man who trusted in Heinrich’s good faith was one of God’s greatest fools, and he would not feel safe until he was actually on the road, with Speyer disappearing into the distance.
He was very pleased, therefore, by the arrival of a contingent from Poitou, for their company kept him from dwelling upon his suspicions or the appallingly high price he was paying for his freedom. The new arrivals included the bishops of Saintes and Limoges; Aimery, the Viscount of Thouars; his younger brother Guy; and two men who’d fought with Richard in the Holy Land, Giraud de Berlay-Montreuil and Hugh le Brun, one of the contentious de Lusignan clan. They brought money for his ransom and the Bishop of Saintes and Hugh were also able to give him news of his wife and sister, for they’d both played host to Berengaria and Joanna on their way to Poitiers.
Aimery had the reputation of being a political weathercock and Giraud and Hugh belonged to families that saw rebellion as their birthright, but because they’d been willing to make such a long and difficult winter journey, Richard wiped away all memories of past sins. He took a particular liking to Guy de Thouars, for unlike so many of his visitors, Guy asked no awkward questions about his imprisonment. Instead, he wanted to hear about the king’s exploits in the Holy Land and so Richard was able to reminisce with Giraud and Hugh about their campaign against the Saracens, laughing as they recalled how Richard had to come to Hugh’s rescue when his house was under siege by the angry citizens of Messina, teasing Baldwin de Bethune about the time he’d tried to ride a camel, and agreeing that the fleetest horse in all of Christendom was Fauvel, the dun stallion Richard had taken from Isaac, the despot of Cyprus.
Their enjoyable afternoon came to an abrupt end when Master Fulk entered and handed Richard a letter from the German emperor. Opening it with a sense of foreboding, Richard caught his breath. “Heinrich has delayed my release for more than a fortnight. Instead of a week from Monday here in Speyer, it is now to be on Candlemas in Mainz.”
His guests were disappointed, but his men were dismayed, for they knew Heinrich. Longchamp rose and limped to Richard’s side. “Did he offer any reason for this delay?”
Richard shook his head, handing the chancellor the letter. It was not the postponement itself that disquieted him—although every additional day of imprisonment would weigh heavily upon his soul. It was far more ominous than that. Meeting Longchamp’s eyes, he said grimly, “What is that spawn of Satan up to now?”
UPON THEIR ARRIVAL IN GERMANY, Eleanor and the Archbishop of Rouen and their large entourage engaged ships to convey them up the Rhine River and they reached Cologne in time to celebrate Epiphany with its archbishop-elect, Adolf von Altena. The queen, Archbishop Gautier, and the more highborn of the hostages were lodged in his archiepiscopal palace. It was a much-needed respite, for the trip had been hard upon them all. But despite the warm welcome from the archbishop and the citizens of Cologne, Eleanor was impatient to resume their journey and she felt a great relief when they finally boarded ship for the last leg of their odyssey.