A King's Ransom

“Different Pope,” Richenza said succinctly, sounding very much like her worldly grandmother at that moment.

 

John expressed his hope that the marriage would come to pass, and he was not just being polite; he truly meant it. He liked Otto well enough and, looking ahead to a time when Richard’s crown might rest upon his own head, having his nephew on the Scots throne could be very advantageous.

 

He soon lost interest in listening to Richenza praise her brother to the heavens, and excused himself. Richard was the center of attention, as usual, and as John wandered over, he found that his brother, André, and Morgan were telling Will Marshal and the other lords about their triumph at Issoudun. Their account was punctuated with much laughter, all at the French king’s expense, and Richenza’s husband was looking uncomfortable, for Philippe was Jaufre’s liege lord, too. John had already heard about the trap Richard had sprung on the French king; Richard was never shy about trumpeting his successes. He found some amusement, though, in Jaufre’s frozen smile and in the way his cousin Morgan kept glancing toward Joanna’s Saracen handmaiden when he thought no one was looking. John did not understand why Morgan was brooding over her refusal to marry him; that sounded like the ideal situation to him, a woman willing to share his bed without nagging him to the altar.

 

He was about to move away when Richard suddenly changed the subject, saying that he had one less enemy now. That sparked John’s curiosity and he paused to listen as Richard told the other men he’d heard that Isaac Comnenus had died suddenly that summer. “Rumor has it that he was poisoned by an agent of the Greek emperor,” Richard revealed, “but however he died, the world is a better place without him.”

 

John glanced back at the women, his gaze finding Isaac’s daughter, Anna. If she was grieving for her father, she hid it well. She was laughing at something Joanna had said, and she put John in mind of a ripe peach. He was tempted to find out if she tasted as sweet as she looked, but Brother Richard might take that amiss, and Joanna would for certes.

 

Richard was still talking about Isaac, and John had a dangerous impulse to point out that Isaac was not the only enemy Richard had lost that year, for the Bishop of Coventry’s brother had died in a Dover dungeon. Robert de Nonant had been John’s sworn man, but he thought de Nonant had been a fool to defy Richard so publicly at the German court, on the very day that Richard regained his freedom. He ought to have known better; kings were never defied with impunity. He’d still been sorry to hear of de Nonant’s death, sure it had been a hard one, left alone in the dark as he slowly starved, for men did not thrive on bread and water. He did not give in to that reckless urge to mention de Nonant, though. The last thing he wanted to do was to remind Richard of his own dubious past. As he studied his brother now, he thought that de Nonant’s sad death might be a blessing in disguise, for he dared not forget that Richard was not as quick to forgive as he once was. De Nonant had found that out too late. God willing, he’d not make the same mistake.

 

John smothered a yawn, hoping that Richard would soon bring the revelries to an end. His brother was in high spirits, though, enjoying himself, and not ready to call it a night. Seeing that Eleanor was now seated on the dais, he moved in her direction. Motivated by morbid curiosity, John followed. He got within earshot in time to hear Richard say, “There is something I want to discuss with you, Maman. I do not think anything will come of the Scots king’s plan to make Otto his heir.”

 

Eleanor looked surprised. “But I thought Hubert Walter was in York to discuss it further with the Scots?”

 

“He is, but it is likely to be a journey for naught. I’ve been told the Scots king’s barons are adamantly opposed to the idea.”

 

“I am sorry to hear that, Richard.”

 

“I was, too. Otto has the potential to be a good king. But since he’ll not be going to Scotland, I’ve been thinking about naming Otto as Count of Poitou. Would you be comfortable with that?”

 

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