THE NEXT DAY WAS one of waiting. Eleanor would have felt better had Richard been fuming and cursing. His silence seemed both unnatural and unnerving, for she was beginning to understand that he was struggling under a burden she’d been spared—a profound sense of shame. She’d had sixteen long years to dwell upon the consequences of her actions, and she’d suffered from regrets, remorse, even guilt for the part she’d played in estranging her husband and sons. But she’d never blamed herself for accepting what could not be changed or challenged.
Watching Richard as he stared moodily into space, she suppressed a sigh. It was almost as if men and women inhabited two different worlds, so differently did they see things. Was it because women learned from the cradle that their freedom was limited, their independence denied? Even a queen must still obey her husband, and punishment was swift and sharp for one who did not. Being powerless was the natural state for most women. But for a highborn man—especially a man like her son—it was intolerable and degrading. Such a wound would be harder to heal than a bodily injury. She would find a way, though, she vowed—if only they could thwart this monster on the German throne.
It was late afternoon before Longchamp returned. He was accompanied by the Archbishop of Rouen, who’d attended the second day’s session, and the Archbishop of Cologne. It was the latter who spoke for them, saying with a smile, “It is done. Heinrich has agreed to honor the terms of the Worms pact—”
Whatever else he’d been about to say was drowned out by the cheers and laughter of the men crowding the chamber. Richard did not join in, but he was smiling as he rose and walked toward them. “Thank you,” he said simply, for he knew that if any one man had made this happen, it was Adolf von Altena.
Longchamp gave voice to what Richard was thinking. “Most of the credit must go to the archbishop. He refused to be intimidated and argued with the eloquence of the angels.”
“More like a lawyer,” Adolf said with a chuckle. “I reminded the emperor that if the Worms agreement could be set aside with such ease, so could other pacts—including the one signed at Koblenz that brought the rebellion to an end.”
Richard was no longer smiling. “I am more grateful than I can ever say. But you’ve made a mortal enemy this day.”
Adolf’s own smile never wavered. “I believe the Almighty judges us by the enemies we make and, come Judgment Day, I will be proud to answer for mine.” He paused to apologize to Eleanor for not acknowledging her sooner before continuing. “We were not going to give way on this, for the honor of our empire itself was at stake. I think Heinrich finally realized that. We benefited, too, by his obsession with Sicily. I do not know if you’ve heard, but there have been rumors since Christmas that the Sicilian king is ailing. So Heinrich is burning to begin his war, and he chose to cut his losses, settling for salvaging what he could of his tattered pride.”
Richard had known this was coming. “And what is the price I must pay for saving his pride?” He was not reassured when the three men exchanged glances before responding.
“He is demanding additional hostages,” Longchamp said, “who will be held until payment is made of ten thousand marks, and he insists that the Archbishop of Rouen be one of them.”
Richard frowned, assuring the archbishop that he would arrange payment as soon as he was back in England. But as he studied their faces, it struck him that his chancellor and archbishop were not as happy about their victory as Adolf seemed to be. “What else does he want? What are you not telling me?”
Longchamp started to speak, then stopped. The Archbishop of Rouen remained mute, no longer meeting Richard’s eyes. Seeing that it was up to him, Adolf said gravely, “You will not want to hear this, my lord Richard. Heinrich swears that he will not release you until you do homage to him for your kingdom of England and your lands in France.”
There was an immediate uproar as Richard’s knights reacted with anger and disbelief. But Richard’s voice rose above the clamor. “I will never agree to that,” he snarled, “never!”