Richard was stunned, for even in his worst moments, he’d never thought Heinrich would dare to disavow the Worms Pact, one sworn to upon Heinrich’s immortal soul, sealed in the name of the Holy Trinity, and vouched for by the honor of the most powerful vassals and churchmen of the empire. He felt his mother’s hand tighten on his arm, her fingers digging into his flesh, for although she did not understand the Latin, she read Richard’s body language. The silence in the hall was eerie, absolute, Heinrich’s audience no less shocked than Richard.
Heinrich seemed to be enjoying himself. “I want all to be out in the open, no secrets. So I would have the English king read this proposal for himself, lest he have any doubts about what is being offered.” He snapped his fingers and as soon as rolled parchments were placed in his hand, he held them out to Richard, smiling.
Richard took them automatically. While he glanced down at the letters, the Archbishop of Rouen hastily translated Heinrich’s comments for Eleanor. The letters were indeed from Philippe and John, and as Richard read what was being offered and what it could mean for him, his numbed disbelief gave way to despair and then murderous rage.
His fist clenched around the letters and he flung them to the floor at Heinrich’s feet. But before he could speak, his mother was beside him. “Wait, Richard, wait!” She was clinging to his arm with such urgency that she actually succeeded in pulling him back from the dais. “Look around you,” she said, her voice shaking, but her eyes blazing with green fire. “Look!”
He did and saw at once what she meant. Virtually every German in the hall was staring at Heinrich as if he’d suddenly revealed himself to be the Antichrist. Not a word had yet been said, but their expressions of horror and disgust left no doubt as to how they felt about their emperor’s eleventh-hour surprise. “Let them speak first,” Eleanor hissed. “Let the Germans handle this.”
“My lord emperor!” The Archbishop-elect of Cologne stalked toward the dais. He was Richard’s age, a man in his prime, and though he was a prince of the Church, he looked now like a soldier making ready to do battle with the forces of evil. “We must discuss this matter with you ere it goes any further.”
Heinrich loathed Adolf von Altena and for just a heartbeat, it showed on his face. “I see no such need, my lord archbishop.”
“I do.” This declaration came from the Archbishop of Mainz, who’d moved to stand at Adolf’s side.
“As do I,” Leopold said loudly, striding over to join the archbishops. He was followed by his shocked sons and the Archbishop of Salzburg. By now all of the former rebel lords had added their voices to the growing chorus. When Heinrich’s own uncle, Konrad, the Count Palatine of the Rhineland, also insisted upon it, Heinrich grudgingly gave way and agreed to meet with them in the cathedral chapter house in an hour’s time.
Richard’s moment of pure, primal fury had passed and he was once more in control of his emotions. “This is a shameful offer, craven and contemptible, made by desperate men who lack the courage to face me on the battlefield. I know I need not remind those in this hall that my cowardly brother never took the cross and the French king broke his holy vow, then plotted against me whilst I fought for Christ in the Holy Land. But I have no doubts whatsoever that my dear friend the emperor would never act in a way to damage his own honor or that of the empire.”
The last word was to be Richard’s. Rising to his feet, Heinrich exited the hall, only his quickened pace offering evidence of his anger, his ministeriales hurrying to catch up. Forgotten in the confusion, Constance sank back wearily in her seat and closed her eyes, praying that Heinrich had at last overreached himself. Richard was assured again and again that this would never come to pass by men practically choking on their own indignation, and then they, too, followed after the emperor, until the hall had emptied of all but the English and Richard’s German guards.
The Bishop of Bath was hovering nearby, sweating and swearing that he’d known nothing of this, but no one paid him any heed. Longchamp declared that he meant to attend that afternoon session of the Diet to speak on the king’s behalf; Richard never doubted that he’d gain admittance. Alarmed by his grandmother’s pallor, Otto went off in search of wine for her. Savaric had finally stopped protesting, silenced by a lethal look from Richard. André thrust his way through the throng to reach Richard’s side, but he was wise enough to understand that nothing he said could be of comfort to his cousin now. The others slowly realized that, too, and for a time, no one spoke at all.