“I’ll teach you to say ‘I told you so’ in German,” Richard promised and they laughed, relieved that they were on familiar ground again.
Eleanor had followed Richard, marveling, as always, at the male inability to speak the language of the heart. “One day I hope to understand why men see sentiment as the ultimate enemy,” she said dryly, “but I’ll not be holding my breath until it happens.” She was very pleased when Richard put his arm around her shoulders, for she needed the physical proof of his presence after so many months of fearing she would never see him again. “Richard, do you think Henrik’s marriage could be the reason why Heinrich has delayed your release?”
“I suppose it is possible, Maman. This could be his way of punishing me for it. Or he might simply like keeping me in suspense for a while longer. Heinrich enjoys other people’s pain. Or he could have an ugly surprise awaiting us.”
For a moment, Richard could not help thinking of Trifels Castle, and as he looked down into his mother’s face, he knew she was remembering Trifels, too. She’d aged visibly in the time they’d been apart, but he suspected it was this past year that had etched those lines in her forehead and smudged such dark shadows under her eyes. He’d always appreciated her strength and her resilience and her unerring ability to separate the wheat from the chaff. Now he regarded her with something approaching awe, having gotten a taste of what she’d endured as his father’s prisoner, not knowing if she’d ever regain her freedom. Little wonder that one of her first acts had been to issue an amnesty for those languishing in English prisons, saying she’d learned by experience that confinement was distasteful to mankind and liberty a most delightful refreshment to the spirit. Realizing that she’d been a prisoner, too, during the months he’d been in Heinrich’s power, he hugged her again, gently, for she seemed alarmingly fragile.
It never occurred to him to lie to her, though, or to offer false reassurances, and so he said, “Well, whatever Heinrich has in mind, we’ll find out on the morrow.”
CONSTANCE WAS NOT SURPRISED when Heinrich sat up in bed; he never stayed the night after he’d claimed his marital rights. She was usually very glad to see him go, but now she reached out and touched his arm. “Heinrich . . . may I ask you something? Why did you delay the English king’s release? It has stirred much talk at court.”
“Has it?” He yawned, idly winding a strand of her long, blond hair around his hand. His natural instinct was for secrecy, but he saw no reason not to indulge her curiosity since all would know on the morrow. “I needed time to consider a new proposal by the French king and the Count of Mortain. They are desperate to keep Richard caged, so much so that they are offering a large sum of money to make that happen. They vow that if I will hold Richard for another eight months—past the campaigning season—Philippe will pay me fifty thousand silver marks and John thirty thousand. Or they will pay me a thousand pounds of silver for every month that he remains my prisoner. Or if I will agree either to turn him over to them or to imprison him for another year, they will match the full amount of Richard’s ransom, one hundred fifty thousand marks.”
Constance was thankful for the darkness that kept him from seeing her horror or her revulsion. When she was sure she could trust her voice, she said, “I do not understand. Why would you forfeit the English ransom, which is already here, in favor of mere promises of future payment?”
“That is the beauty of it. I would still get Richard’s ransom, for he’d be even more eager to pay for his freedom after another year of captivity. And I’d also have John and Philippe’s money, which I’d not have to share with Leopold. So you can see why this is a deal well worth considering.”
“What . . . what have you decided to do?”
“That will depend upon Richard. If he agrees to sweeten the ransom, all will go as planned. If he balks, I will give serious thought to accepting one of their offers, most likely holding him until Michaelmas. Although that thousand pounds of silver per month is tempting, I admit.”
Constance was speechless. As well as she’d thought she knew him, she was staggered by this. Did he truly believe that the English and French kings were mere pawns, to be moved around on the chessboard at his will? Did he not care that his duplicity would make his name a byword for the worst sort of treachery? “But I thought you wanted Richard as an ally.”