He stopped abruptly. Richard’s head came up, too, for he’d also heard the shouting. A moment later, Morgan appeared and hurried across the hall toward them, saying that the French camp looked like a beehive that had been knocked over, with soldiers swarming in all directions.
“I daresay they’ve just found out that Mercadier is about to pay them a visit.” Richard leaned back in the window-seat and began to laugh. “Poor Philippe . . . so sure he was the cat and now it turns out that he was the mouse all along.”
THE FRENCH FOUND THEMSELVES trapped between Richard and Mercadier, outnumbered and outwitted. This time there would be no hasty retreat, for there was nowhere to run. They were faced with only two choices, both of them equally toxic to the French king—fight a battle they were sure to lose or ask for terms. Philippe had always been a realist and he was not about to sacrifice his life to save his pride. He asked for terms.
ON DECEMBER 5, the English and French kings met alone near the bank of the River Theols, within view of the two armies. It was the first time they’d seen each other since Philippe had abandoned the crusade four years ago, and Richard felt anger stirring as he looked upon the younger man, thinking of all Philippe had done to keep him from regaining his freedom. He curbed his temper, though, for this was neither the time nor the place to indulge it.
“As I see it,” he said coolly, “there are two roads we can take. This skirmishing can continue and I can keep on inflicting humiliating defeats on you. But as much as I enjoy doing it, I think we’d both be better served by making peace.”
Philippe’s mouth twisted. “Peace on your terms!”
“Yes. The victor gets to dictate terms to the loser.”
The taste in Philippe’s mouth was as bitter as bile. “What are the terms?” They were as onerous as he’d expected, reflecting the military reality of their respective positions, and far more favorable to Richard than the treaty they’d signed that past year. Richard would regain all he’d lost in Normandy except the Norman Vexin, which he would agree to cede to Philippe. He demanded that Philippe cede the rights to six strategic castles in Berry, including Issoudun, and formally recognize that the counts of Angoulême and Perigueux and the Viscount of Brosse owed homage to him as Duke of Aquitaine. Philippe was to renounce any claims to the counties of Eu and Aumale, évreux, the castles of Arques and Driencourt, and all of the other conquests he’d made northeast of the River Seine. Richard in turn would quitclaim to Philippe six important border castles, and he would agree to quitclaim Auvergne to the French king.
Despite some concessions on Richard’s part, there was little in this proposed treaty that Philippe found easy to swallow, for he’d be losing much that he’d gained during Richard’s captivity in Germany and be totally shut out of Berry. He continued to listen in a stony silence as Richard said he’d accept the switch in loyalties of one of his vassals, Hugh de Gornai, but that if Philippe’s ally, the Count of Toulouse, did not want to be included in the peace, the French king could not offer him any aid in a war with England. When Richard demanded, though, that the Earl of Leicester be freed, that was too much for Philippe’s self-control, and he said sharply, “I will not agree to that!”
“You have no choice,” Richard said, just as sharply, “for that is not open to negotiation.” He maneuvered his stallion alongside Philippe’s bay mount, a more docile animal than the fiery Fauvel. The bay shifted nervously when Fauvel pinned his ears back and Philippe glared at Richard, thinking the English king was trying to show up his poor horsemanship before their watching men. But Richard had no thoughts to spare for a skittish horse. “You’ve been punishing Leicester because he made a fool out of you at Rouen, but it ends now. Your grievance is with me, and if you find these terms unpalatable, we can settle our differences here and now, on the battlefield, and let God decide who is in the right.”
Their armies were not close enough to hear what was being said and could only wait tensely to see if they would fight that day or not. Even the most bloodthirsty of soldiers shrank from a pitched battle, which was so rare that most had never taken part in one. So when the two kings eventually dismounted and gave each other the formal kiss of peace that signified an agreement had been reached, both sides erupted in cheering, grateful that none would die this day, less than three weeks until the Nativity of the Holy Saviour.