Chinon Castle, Touraine
Hugh d’Avalon, the Bishop of Lincoln, arrived at Chinon Castle on the last Wednesday in January. As soon as he was ushered into the great hall, he knew that something had happened, something good. Wherever he looked, he saw smiles, and the only sound he heard was laughter. Instead of waiting for him to approach the dais, Richard rose and strode forward, offering a warm welcome that he did not extend to all prelates. Once greetings had been exchanged, Hugh’s curiosity prodded him to ask what they were celebrating.
“A death,” Richard said, giving the older man a challenging look. “I suppose you will say that is un-Christian, my lord bishop.”
“Well, that would depend upon the identity of the deceased.”
That earned him a startled smile from Richard. “Would you grieve for the Duke of Austria?”
“No, but I would pray for his soul. I’d say he is much in need of prayers, my liege, wouldn’t you?”
Richard agreed that was so and after leading the bishop to the dais, he shared, with considerable relish, the letter he’d just received from his friend and ally the Archbishop of Cologne. “I am not utterly heartless,” he concluded. “So I was not sorry to hear that Leopold was reconciled with the Church on his deathbed. I have a legitimate grievance against the man, but not for all eternity.” Signaling for a servant to bring wine for the bishop, Richard indulged himself for a moment by imaging Heinrich or Philippe suffering Leopold’s wretched fate, for they deserved it more than the Austrian duke. He had a truly blasphemous thought then, that even the Almighty was making Leopold the scapegoat, and he said hastily, “At least none will doubt now that God is on my side.”
Hugh blinked in surprise. “Did you ever doubt that, sire?”
Richard looked at him and then away, gazing toward the molten gold flames surging in the hearth. “No,” he said, having hesitated long enough to tell Hugh he lied, “I did not. But others did.”
“Not anymore,” Hugh assured him. “I daresay Leopold’s ghastly death will give the German emperor some uneasy moments. The French king, too. No one will ever again dare to defy Holy Church and harm a man who has taken the cross. So,” he added, with a mischievous glint, “your ordeal was not for naught, sire.”
“It was well worth it, then,” Richard said, but the bishop was unfazed by his sarcasm.
“I am looking forward to meeting your queen. I was told she passed Christmas here at Chinon whilst you were at Rouen.”
Richard decided to ignore that implied reproach. “My queen is no longer at Chinon, my lord bishop. Soon after Epiphany, she moved her household to the castle of Beaufort-en-Vallée, not far from Angers.”
Hugh thought that Richard and his queen were like two ships at sea, never getting within hailing distance of each other. Leaning forward, he pitched his voice for Richard’s ear alone. “May we speak in private, my liege?”
Whenever people asked for a private audience, that usually meant they wanted something. The risk was even greater with clerics, for they could also have a lecture in mind. But Richard’s respect for the Bishop of Lincoln was genuine; besides, he liked the man. So he ordered all the others away from the dais and out of earshot.
“Did you know that you are my parishioner, my lord king? You were born at Oxford, which is in the diocese of Lincoln, and this means that on the Day of Judgment, I shall have to answer for your soul. I would ask you, therefore, to tell me the state of your conscience, so I can give you effective counsel as the Holy Spirit shall direct me.”
Richard was amused by this unexpected approach. “My conscience is at ease, my lord bishop, although I freely admit that I harbor great hatred toward my enemies and cannot forgive them for the wrongs they have done me.”
“Scriptures say that When the ways of a man are pleasing to the Lord, He shall make his enemies wish for peace. It grieves me to say this, but you have fallen into sin. It is commonly reported that you are not faithful to your marriage bed.”
Richard was no longer so amused, but he kept his temper under a tight rein. “Are there not enough unfaithful husbands in England to occupy you, my lord bishop?”
Hugh smiled. “Ah, but a king’s sins attract more attention than those of lesser men. So you do not deny it?”
Richard found it difficult to be angry with such a good-humored admonishment. “No, I do not deny it. But my wife and I are often apart, for I am fighting a war, and whilst you may not understand this, my lord bishop, a man’s body hungers for more than food.”
“Of course I understand the lure of the flesh, all too well!”
Richard was quite interested in this revelation, for he’d assumed that saintly men like Hugh were immune to such temptations. “You?”