“Well, ‘ally’ is too strong a term. Let’s just say we have a shared interest in Philippe’s downfall. And that will not change even if I do hold him until Michaelmas, for however much he may resent me for it, his hatred for Philippe burns far hotter. He’ll have no choice but to make common cause with me against France.”
She said nothing, for there was no reasoning with a man who recognized no needs but his own. She did not doubt that God would eventually call him to account for his sins, but that day of divine reckoning could be years in the future. She felt sympathy for the English king. Even if he had recognized the usurper Tancred, he did not deserve what had happened to him in Germany. But her greatest fear was for her beloved homeland. She’d always known Heinrich would rule Sicily harshly. Until tonight, though, she’d not realized what a thin line separated arrogance from delusion. She could not remember their names, but she was sure there had been emperors in Ancient Rome who’d come to believe they were gods, not mortal men. What would happen to the Sicilians if they found themselves under the power of a madman?
She was so caught up in her misery that she did not even notice when Heinrich left. She lay awake as the hours dragged by till dawn, dreading the day to come and damning her nephew for dooming her to this Hell on earth, shackled to a husband she hated.
AS SOON AS RICHARD ENTERED the great hall, he was surrounded by men eager to speak with him. Eleanor was surprised and impressed by the warmth of their welcome. Clearly Richard had done more than make allies amongst the rebel barons: he’d made friends, too. She already knew Adolf von Altena and Conrad von Wittelsbach, the Archbishop of Mainz. Richard had told her they were the two most powerful prelates in Germany, and it was comforting to know they both were so firmly on her son’s side. She was introduced to the dukes of Brabant and Limburg and to Simon, the seventeen-year-old Bishop-elect of Liege; she wondered how he felt about stepping into his murdered cousin’s shoes or becoming a prince of the Church at such an absurdly young age. But she had no time to talk with him, for the crowd was parting to admit the Marquis of Montferrat into the circle.
She’d met Boniface three years ago during her chance encounter at Lodi with Heinrich and Constance, and he greeted her as if they were old and dear friends. She’d liked him, for she’d always had an eye for a handsome, charming man, but what mattered now was that he greeted Richard so amicably, for his cordiality was in itself a rebuttal for any who might still suspect Richard of complicity in Conrad of Montferrat’s murder. Not even the most cynical of souls believed Boniface would embrace the English king if he harbored any doubts about his innocence; Boniface was known to be a more honorable man than his slain brother.
Boniface was one of Heinrich’s most important vassals and so she asked if he’d heard why the emperor had delayed Richard’s release. He seemed to think it was a minor matter, the delay most likely caused by the Imperial Diet just concluded at Wurzberg. He did have good news about that, he said cheerfully. The emperor had agreed to accept his cousin Agnes’s marriage to her grandson Henrik, and he had also promised to restore Henrik to royal favor. Eleanor hoped this was an omen that the day’s events would go well for them.
Richard had been talking with the Duke of Brabant, who was also in the dark about the reason for the postponement, but he stopped in midsentence and touched Eleanor’s arm warningly. She tensed, thinking that Heinrich had entered the hall. But the man approaching them was the Duke of Austria.
He greeted Richard with courtesy so correct it was almost painful, and when Richard introduced his mother, he bowed stiffly over her hand. Eleanor yearned to slap him with it, but she smiled instead, for she’d had decades of practice in hiding her real feelings. The conversation was awkward, for Leopold was obviously uncomfortable, and while Richard was polite, that was as far as he was willing to go. The Austrian duke made his escape as soon as he could, and as he walked hastily away, Richard said quietly to Eleanor, “Leopold is in a foul mood because he knows that when the hunt for scapegoats begins, it will occur in Austria, not Germany. Not only is Leopold sure to be excommunicated, he’ll be waiting years, mayhap decades, to get his full share of the ransom from Heinrich.”