He got no further, for it was happening again—new arrivals in a state of obvious excitement. This time they were kin, his niece Richenza and her husband, the Count of Perche. Leaving Jaufre to follow at a more sedate pace, Richenza all but flew across the hall toward the dais.
“Uncle, is it so? That fiend is dead? How good God is!”
Once Richard had assured Richenza that what she’d heard was gospel, not gossip, she embraced her brother jubilantly, she and Otto agreeing it was indeed sad that their father had not lived to see this day. But she was Eleanor’s granddaughter and political considerations were never far from her thoughts. “What will happen now? Will the Germans elect Heinrich’s son in his stead?”
“I doubt it. Constance does not care a whit for the imperial crown, cares only that Friedrich be crowned as King of Sicily. Since that imperial crown does not pass by blood, there will be no shortage of candidates for the honor.”
“The archbishop seems to fancy the idea of your uncle becoming the next emperor,” John said and Richenza gave a delighted, undignified squeal before she saw that Richard was shaking his head.
“As much as I’d love to think of Heinrich watching from Hell as his crown was placed upon my head, I have no interest in becoming the next Holy Roman Emperor. As you well know, Johnny.”
“I know you keep saying that,” John conceded, “although for the life of me, I cannot understand why anyone would refuse a crown.”
“I already have one and I am quite content to be England’s king, Duke of Normandy and Aquitaine, and Count of Anjou. I ask only for the chance to meet Philippe on the battlefield so I can then fulfill my vow to return to the Holy Land and recover Jerusalem for Christendom. That is a sacred oath, one I made not only to the Almighty but to my nephew Henri, and nothing matters more to me than honoring it.” Richard gave his brother another look, this one sardonic. “And when I am able to do that, you will be accompanying me, Johnny. I think a sojourn in the Holy Land would do wonders for your spiritual health.”
John smiled sourly, for he was no more enthusiastic about taking the cross than their father had been. He was glad when Richenza deflected attention away from him by asking who was likely to be chosen by the Germans, then.
“Tell her your idea, Uncle,” Otto urged, and Richard obliged, saying that he thought their elder brother, Henrik, would be a fine choice. Richenza did, too, and she and Otto embraced again. Only half listening, John was watching his nephew, thinking it a great pity that Otto was not Henrik’s elder brother, for he’d no longer be a rival for the English crown if the imperial crown was in the offing. Richard was telling his audience that Henrik had left for the Holy Land ahead of Heinrich and much would depend upon what Heinrich’s only surviving brother, Philip, did. According to the archbishop, he’d declared his support for his young nephew Friedrich, but all men were familiar with the warning from Scriptures, Woe unto thee, O land, when thy king is a child, and Philip would likely find himself urged to make a claim for himself.
John studied his nephew, wondering how Otto could be so happy for his brother without wanting the crown for himself. But it behooved him to stay in Richard’s good graces, whoever ended up on the German throne, and so he said loudly, “We’ve been drinking since last night to Heinrich’s death, but we ought to be drinking to my lord brother’s legendary luck. This has been a golden year for him—first the capture of the Bishop of Beauvais, then the French king’s humiliation by the Count of Flanders, and now the German emperor’s demise.”
“It is not luck,” Berengaria said suddenly. “It is God’s Will. These men dared to imprison a king who’d taken the cross. And look what has befallen them. The Duke of Austria died a truly wretched death. The Bishop of Beauvais has forfeited his freedom. And now the German emperor has been struck down, too. The day of the Lord is great and very terrible, and who can abide it?”
Richard could not help thinking that “the day of the Lord” had been a long time coming. But now that it was here, he hoped that the French king would never know another peaceful moment. Leopold of Austria. Beauvais. Heinrich. How could Philippe not fear that he would be next to feel the wrath of God?