His smile came back then, as he thought of his own wife, who was as eager for their bed sport as he was, and had been ever since their bridal night. She’d been sixteen, already a widow, and he’d been very grateful to Richard for giving him such a wealthy heiress. But she’d brought him far more than lands. From the first, she’d shown a common sense that belied her youth, realizing how it benefited her to have a husband in such high favor with the new king, and their marriage had gotten off to a good start, even though he was more than twenty years her senior. She was with child ere he left for the Holy Land, had given him three healthy sons and a happy home life, one he was not going to lose, by God. He’d promised her he’d deal with it, and if that meant traveling all the way to Rome to appeal to that lickspittle on the papal throne, so be it.
Richard had always read André with ease, and he saw now that the other man’s thoughts had taken a gloomy turn again. He was about to reassure his cousin that they’d get this lunacy sorted out, but it was then that he happened to notice the new arrivals being ushered into the hall. Recognizing one as the Archdeacon of évreux, he got to his feet with a frown. “That’s passing strange. Master Mauger was part of the delegation I sent to Rome to appeal that accursed Interdict. Why is he back so soon?”
Without waiting for the man to come to him, he strode across the hall. Content to stay where he was, André was finishing the rest of his wine when Otto strolled over to keep him company, bearing some very interesting news. Apparently there was new unrest in Sicily, serious enough for Heinrich to hasten there himself to quell it. According to their source, the Archbishop of Cologne, Heinrich had vowed to show no mercy to the rebels, determined that nothing would delay his departure for the Holy Land.
André had heard that Heinrich had taken the cross, planning to lead a large German army to Outremer, and he very much hoped it would never come to pass. It was bad enough that Richard had been unable to fulfill his own vow to return and take Jerusalem because of the constant threat posed by the French king. How painful it must be to have to watch now whilst Heinrich sought to do what he could not. Sometimes it seemed to André as if the Almighty intended to test Richard as mercilessly as He’d tested Job.
Otto sought to lighten the mood then, with more cheerful news. Heinrich had suffered another setback, he said, with a sudden smile that reminded André how young this solemn lad was, not yet twenty. André had doubtless heard that last spring Heinrich had pressured the German princes and bishops into agreeing to make the imperial crown hereditary. But at a second Diet in Erfurt that past October, the Archbishop of Cologne had rallied the opposition and they’d held firm, insisting the crown remain elective. “Heinrich was said to have lost some of that vaunted control of his. How he must hate Archbishop Adolf! But the archbishop does not fear him, and because he does not—”
Otto broke off abruptly, for Richard was returning to the dais and they knew before he said a word that something was very wrong. He’d lost color and when he raised his head, they saw tears clinging to his lashes. “Longchamp is dead. He took ill of a sudden when they reached Poitiers and died ere the week was out. . . .”
André and Otto expressed their condolences and, as word spread, other men approached the dais to do the same, somewhat awkwardly, for the chancellor had remained a controversial figure. Acknowledging that now, Richard said, almost accusingly, “There will be few to mourn him.”
Since that was true, no one knew what to say. It was Otto who finally found the right words. “But you will mourn him, Uncle, and that is what would have mattered to him.”
Richard was silent for a time, thinking of Trifels Castle and the small, stooped figure kneeling by his bed, the most unlikely of saviors. “Yes,” he said, “I will. . . .”
RICHARD HONORED THE MEMORY of his nepotistic chancellor in the way that Longchamp would have most appreciated, by arranging for his brother Robert, Archdeacon of Ely, to be chosen as abbot of the prestigious abbey of St Mary’s in York.
Longchamp’s traveling companions, the Bishop of Lisieux and the Bishop-elect of Durham, continued on to Rome, where Pope Celestine heard their arguments and those presented by the Archbishop of Rouen. Ruling in Richard’s favor, he lifted the Interdict and advised the archbishop to accept Richard’s offer to swap the port of Dieppe and other manors for Andely, which he grudgingly did.
BALDWIN DE BETHUNE’S MEN were pleased when their lord set out to join the English king in his assault upon the Bishop of Beauvais’s castle at Milly-sur-Thérain, for they’d missed out on his April raid upon Ponthieu. Richard had burned the port of St Valéry and seized five English ships in the harbor, confiscating their cargo and hanging the ships’ captains as a warning to others who defied his embargo upon trade with France and Flanders. As he’d also carried off holy relics and carts loaded down with booty, Baldwin’s men regretted not taking part in this raid; Richard was renowned for generously sharing such plunder with his soldiers. They knew his assault upon Milly-sur-Thérain would not be as rewarding, but they still welcomed this opportunity to profit at the bishop’s expense. It was a disappointment, therefore, when they reached the siege on May 19 and found that they were too late, that Richard had already captured the castle.