“I will bear it in mind, sire,” Arne promised, so solemnly that Richard laughed as he headed for the door. Arne was still shocked that he’d actually dared to ask the king about his whores, but it had been a source of bewilderment to him. He was happy that he had done so, for the king seemed in much better spirits now, and he hoped that the night’s bad dream would cast no shadow in the light of day.
But once Richard was alone in the stairwell, he came to a halt, all traces of amusement gone from his face. That nightmare was a familiar one, but he’d not had it since he’d left Germany and he’d not thought it would come back once he was freed. Why would it still haunt him like this, and after his triumph in taking Nottingham Castle? It made no sense to him. He did not mind that Arne knew about the dreams. The lad understood. But he did not want any others to see him like that, to see him so vulnerable.
Robert had been with him for only a few days. His uncle Hamelin had insisted he needed another squire and Richard had humored him. But just before the council began later that morning, he pulled Hamelin aside and said he no longer wanted the boy’s services. And from that day on, when he had an itch that needed scratching, he did not let the woman spend the night.
ON THE FIRST DAY of the great council, Richard removed all but seven of the sheriffs from their posts and offered the offices for sale to the highest bidders. The men who’d paid for these shrievalties at the start of his reign, when he was raising funds for the crusade, were understandably not happy at having to buy them back. But Richard’s need for money was acute. It was, he thought morosely, like being caught between Scylla and Charybdis, having to repay the rest of the ransom in order to free the hostages at the same time that he faced an expensive campaign against that festering sore on the French throne. During his captivity, he’d been too concerned about regaining his freedom to dwell much upon the outrageous financial burden imposed upon his domains. Now the mere thought of that one hundred fifty thousand marks added fuel to the fire smoldering in the back of his brain, slow-burning but as impossible to quench as Greek fire. He did not understand why the Almighty had allowed Heinrich to prevail, even rewarding him for his treachery with Sicily. Why was Tancred the one to die and not Heinrich? He knew those were questions no good Christian should ask. Mortal men were taught to accept. God’s Will be done. But he did not understand.
THE KING’S APARTMENTS in the inner bailey had suffered some damage in the mangonel bombardment, forcing Richard to lodge in the top story of the keep. But the queen’s quarters had been unscathed in the siege and so after the close of the great council, Richard had chosen his mother’s antechamber for an informal meeting with Hubert Walter; two of the justiciars, Will Marshal and William Briwerre; his chancellor, Longchamp; his clerk, Master Fulk; his brother Geoff; his uncle Hamelin; and his cousin André.
Eleanor had detected subtle signs of stress in Richard earlier in the day and she was pleased now to see how much more relaxed he seemed. She thought the council had begun well and, as she’d sat in a place of honor in the splendid great hall built by her husband, she’d savored her preferential status as the queen mother. She’d never been invited to attend one of Henry’s great councils, but Richard took it for granted that she would participate, and if any of the men had doubts about her presence, they were careful to conceal them.
Watching now as her son told the other men about his visit yesterday to the royal forest of Sherwood, she found herself feeling a familiar regret. If only Harry had not clung to every last ounce of power the way a miser hoarded even the most paltry of coins. It was not that he’d dismissed her opinions because they were female opinions. No son of the Empress Maude could ever have viewed women as mere brainless broodmares. No, he simply could not delegate authority, had always to keep his own hand on the reins even if it alienated his wife and antagonized his sons.
Richard was saying he understood now why this castle had been one of his father’s favorites. “My father would gladly have hunted from dawn till dusk, and what better hunting could he find than in Sherwood Forest? It seems to go on forever, with oaks taller than church spires. It must be an ideal haven for outlaws, though.” Accepting a cup of wine, he glanced toward his chancellor. “What is on the schedule for the morrow, Guillaume?”
“Now that we’ve dealt with the shrievalties, we can move on to consider the charges against Count John and the Bishop of Coventry.” Longchamp tried to keep his satisfaction from showing, but not very successfully; Hugh de Nonant’s fall from grace gave him fierce pleasure. “On the third day, we’re to discuss the need for new taxes, and the final day is set aside for complaints against the Archbishop of York by his own cathedral chapter.”