“He did, indeed. But he was outwitted by an eighteen-year-old lass with a mind of her own.” Seeing that Wilhelm was still confused, Richard explained that Henrik had been betrothed since childhood to Agnes, the only child of Konrad, the Count Palatine of the Rhineland, Heinrich’s uncle. That betrothal had been a casualty, though, of the feuding between their father and the Hohenstaufens.
“Heinrich wanted Agnes to marry Ludwig, the Duke of Bavaria. Although she’d been balking, she’d probably have been compelled to yield eventually. But then Heinrich had an offer for her from the French king. Philippe had gotten his puppet princes and bishops to annul his marriage to the unfortunate Ingeborg. You know about her?”
Richard laughed when they both nodded; if even children like Wilhelm had heard of Philippe’s marital follies, he’d never live that scandal down. “Well, now that he was in the market for a new wife, he cast eyes in Agnes’s direction. I am not sure Heinrich would have agreed, for I cannot see him wanting Philippe to have any claim to the Palatine. But the marriage proposal horrified Agnes’s mother. She asked Agnes if she was willing to wed the French king and Agnes said no very emphatically, declaring she would never marry the man who’d treated Ingeborg so cruelly. When she confided that the only one she wanted to marry was Henrik, her mother took action.”
Glancing toward Eleanor, he said, with a smile, “If I did not know better, I’d think this admirable lady was kin to you, Maman. She sent word secretly to Henrik and, as soon as her husband was away, she summoned him to their castle at Stahleck, where Henrik and Agnes were quickly wed. Konrad was not happy once he found out, and Heinrich was furious. But when he insisted that Konrad have the marriage annulled, Konrad refused, saying that would bring disgrace upon his daughter.”
Otto was very pleased for his brother, knowing how much he’d wanted Agnes as his wife. But it made him uneasy to think of Henrik as the object of the emperor’s cold, implacable anger. “Do you think Heinrich will accept the marriage in time, Uncle?”
“His first reaction was to blame me for it all.” Although Richard laughed, Eleanor and the archbishop did not, wondering if this clandestine marriage could be the reason why his release had suddenly been postponed. They were somewhat reassured by what Richard said next. “But now that Konrad is supporting the marriage, there is not much Heinrich can do about it. That is why he is holding an Imperial Diet at Würzburg, to discuss the marriage. I think the chances are good that he’ll grudgingly come around to an acceptance of it.”
There was a discreet knock at the door then, reminding them that there were many others waiting to pay their respects to their king, and he nodded to Morgan, who crossed the chamber to let in the next group. Richard was delighted to see William de St Mère-Eglise, who said that Hubert Walter had wanted to come, too, but since Richard had just named him as the chief justiciar, he’d realized he was more urgently needed in England. Eleanor now brought forward a dark, handsome youth of seventeen, introducing him as Berengaria’s brother Fernando. When Richard thanked him for becoming a hostage, he grinned and said he was glad to get away from his father and elder brother’s constant scrutiny. Richard was not sure if his insouciance was due to his youth or to his nature; Berengaria had said Fernando was the family jester, cheerful and carefree to a fault.
Richard hated turning over any hostages to Heinrich’s mercies, but it was easier to accept for soldiers like his admiral, Robert de Turnham, who’d just entered the chamber, or Robert de Hargrave, who’d been one of the twenty who’d accompanied him to Hell and back. It was much more difficult to watch the innocent nonchalance of youngsters like Fernando, Otto, and Wilhelm. However often he reminded himself that hostages were an integral part of any peace process, frequently offered up as pledges for good behavior and promises given, he knew in his heart that this was different, for Heinrich recognized no moral boundaries.
He’d just greeted the Abbot of Croyland when he noticed the man standing against the wall by the door, watching the commotion with the wry detachment of a spectator at a Christmas play. Weaving his way through the throng encircling him, Richard came to a halt in front of his cousin. “Why are you lurking in the shadows like this? You’ve always been the first into the breach.”
André shrugged. “I knew you’d ask why I’d want to make a journey to Germany, of all places, and in the dead of winter, too. I was trying to think of a convincing answer.”
“If you can come up with a good reason for visiting Germany, I’d be most interested in hearing it.”
They embraced, then, finding to their mutual embarrassment that they were both blinking back tears. André tried to steer them away from these emotional shoals and into the safer waters of sarcasm, banter, and flippancy by saying huskily, “See what happens when I’m not around to keep you out of trouble?”