Beauvais’s jaw muscles clenched, his chin jutting out. “I am a consecrated bishop, and the Holy Father in Rome will not tolerate my ill treatment.”
Richard was still laughing. “I do not doubt that the Holy Father in Rome will accord you all the protection he gave me when I was held prisoner in Germany.”
Beauvais started to rise, only to be stopped by Mercadier’s men. “Get your hands off me, you lowborn churls!” he blustered, but they paid him no heed, forcing him back onto his knees. Hectic splotches of color now burned across his ashen cheekbones, giving him the look of a man on fire with fever. “Name your ransom,” he said, his voice rasping, his dark eyes desperate, “and I will pay it.”
Richard ignored him, glancing around at the other men, all of whom were grinning widely, relishing this moment almost as much as Richard did. Reaching out, he clasped Mercadier’s arm. “Thank you, my friend,” he said simply, and for just a moment, Mercadier lowered his guard to show a very human reaction—genuine pleasure. Richard exchanged smiles with John, and then turned back to Beauvais.
“Do you remember what you said to me that night at Trifels? I do. You told me how much pleasure you’d derive to think of me ‘cold, hungry, dirty, and fettered like a common felon.’ You’ve forgotten that, have you?”
Beauvais ran his tongue over dry lips, swallowing with a visible effort. “You would not dare! Harm me and you’ll forfeit your eternal soul!”
Some of the men began to mutter at that, angered by his insolence, for Beauvais found no defenders even among the most devout. But Richard merely smiled, a smile that chilled the bishop to the marrow of his bones.
“I promise you this,” he said. “I will show you the same mercy that you’d have shown me had I ended up in a Paris dungeon.”
THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY had been given the obligatory tour of Castle Gaillard; it gave Richard great pleasure to watch his guests marvel at what he was building at Les Andelys, especially men like Hubert Walter and André, men who could understand and appreciate what a lethal weapon was now aimed at the heart of the French king’s domains. He doubted that Philippe fully comprehended it yet. But he would, and soon.
They were back at his new palace on the ?le d’Andely now; as much as Richard enjoyed his on-site supervision of the ongoing work, he and Hubert had a lot of catching up to do, for there’d been some dramatic developments on the diplomatic front in June. He’d made peace with the Bretons, agreeing to restore the lands he’d seized during last year’s rebellion, pardoning the Breton barons, offering terms generous enough to win over the powerful de Vitré family, and getting the Earl of Chester to end Constance’s captivity. In return, Constance and her lords abandoned their alliance with Philippe and did homage again to Richard. Arthur was still at the French court, but Constance pledged homage in his name, and Brittany was once more a domain of the Angevin empire—at least for now. Richard was realistic enough to know how elusive peace was in their world.
In addition to taking homage from Constance and the Breton barons, Richard had also accepted it from knights and lords of Champagne and Flanders, had won back several of the Norman barons who’d defected to Philippe during his time in Germany, and was in secret negotiations with one of Philippe’s most powerful vassals, Renaud de Dammartin, the Count of Boulogne. Most promising of all, he told Hubert, his spies at the Flemish court had reported that the unrelenting pressure he’d been putting upon the Flemish economy was finally paying off. They’d assured him that Baldwin, the young Count of Flanders, would be receptive to English overtures, and so he’d dispatched Will Marshal to meet with Baldwin, offering full restoration of trade privileges for the Flemish merchants and a “gift” of five thousand silver marks for Count Baldwin.
“So you see,” Richard concluded with a grim smile, “the noose is tightening around Philippe’s neck.”
Hubert was delighted, pleasing Richard with his heartfelt praise, for he respected few men as much as he did this one. But he had far less pleasant news to share and he put it off for a while, encouraging the archbishop to bring him up to date about English matters. When servants began to set up trestle tables in the hall, though, making ready for the evening meal, he realized he could delay no longer.