They were speaking in the lenga romana of Aquitaine and, not having to worry about eavesdroppers, Eleanor felt free to ask whom he blamed more, Heinrich or Leopold. He answered so quickly that she knew he’d given this some thought. “Leopold had a legitimate grievance; I’ll admit that now. Not that it justified what he did. I still gave him the chance to end it honorably. I even offered to pay him a ransom. But he did not have the backbone to defy Heinrich, so he deserves all the misery that is coming his way. When it comes to tallying up sins, though, his are venial; Heinrich’s are mortal.”
She had no chance to respond, for the Archbishop of Salzburg was bearing down upon them, followed by a smiling man and two youths who looked to be about Otto’s age. Richard greeted the archbishop affably, but he showed such genuine pleasure at the sight of the others that Eleanor was startled when they were introduced to her as Hadmar von Kuenring, who’d been her son’s Austrian gaoler, and Friedrich and Leo von Babenberg. Watching the easy interaction between them, she felt grateful that Richard had not been surrounded at all times by hostility. It amused her, too, that the duke’s sons were obviously in thrall to the legend of the Lionheart; she was sure Leopold was not happy about that. She found both boys likable and she thought she’d have to write to Constance about this meeting, reassuring her that Friedrich had made a fine first impression. As little as she liked the Breton duchess, she’d sent too many of her own daughters away to alien lands to be utterly indifferent to Constance’s concerns for Aenor.
The atmosphere in the hall was so friendly that Eleanor had been lulled into a false sense of security, for it was almost as if it were a social occasion. That all changed with the blare of trumpets announcing the entrance of the Holy Roman Emperor. As soon as Heinrich strolled into the hall, Eleanor felt as if the temperature had dropped dramatically. But when Richard led her over, she favored Heinrich with a smile that did not even hint at her desire to see him bleeding his life away into the floor rushes at her feet. Heinrich acknowledged her with slightly wary courtesy, for he’d taken her measure at Lodi. His consort had trailed him into the hall, and Eleanor felt a sharp pang of pity for Constance de Hauteville. At their Lodi meeting, they’d recognized each other as kindred spirits, birds with clipped wings in a world in which only men were allowed to soar. Eleanor had sensed the other woman’s unhappiness and understood it as few others could, for she had trudged down the same road that Constance was now traveling. At Lodi, Constance had been armored in the icy aplomb of an imperial empress; today her shield was showing cracks, discernible only to a sharp eye like Eleanor’s. And as her gaze met that of Heinrich’s wife, Eleanor suddenly knew they were about to be ambushed.
As Heinrich turned toward the dais, clamping his hand down on Constance’s arm when she seemed reluctant to follow, Eleanor plucked at Richard’s sleeve to attract his attention. But her warning was unnecessary. He was staring at several men just entering the hall and she was close enough to see his body react to his recognition, his mouth thinning, the muscles of his jaw tightening. “You see the coxcomb in the green cap, Maman? That is Robert de Nonant, the Bishop of Coventry’s brother.”
He did not need to say more, for although Eleanor did not know de Nonant’s brother by sight, she did know he was a sworn liegeman of her son John. She’d let herself hope that if Heinrich did have a double cross in mind, it would not involve John. Even though she’d so often had to watch helplessly as her sons fought one another, showing all the fraternal love of Cain and Abel, John’s latest betrayal was the most painful, for there was more at stake now than lands or crowns. If John and Philippe won, Richard would die in a French dungeon, suffering the torments of the damned until he drew his last wretched breath.
After he was seated upon the dais, with Constance sitting rigidly at his side, Heinrich beckoned to Richard and then to Robert de Nonant and his companions. They approached slowly, casting hostile glances at the English king as they passed. Once Richard and Eleanor were standing in front of the dais, too, Heinrich held up his hand for silence.
“This was to be the day that my dear friend, the king of the English, gained his freedom. But there has been an unexpected development. The French king and the Count of Mortain have offered a vast sum of money to prolong his confinement, at least until Michaelmas, and they have even promised to match the full amount of his ransom if he is placed in their custody. If I heeded my personal feelings for King Richard, I would, of course, dismiss their offer out of hand. Alas, I must respond as an emperor, not a friend. I have an obligation to consider any proposal that would fill the imperial coffers and finance our expedition to claim the Sicilian crown for my beloved empress.”