“I’ll send a barber to you tomorrow to cut your hair and beard.” Hadmar beckoned to another servant, who deposited a pile of clothing upon the bed. “We’ll find you something suitable to wear, but for now these garments will have to do. You’re too tall to wear any of mine.” Looking down at the filthy tunic, shirt, braies, and torn chausses that Richard had scattered about the floor, he said, “With your permission, I’ll get rid of these. I doubt you’ll want to see them again, much less wear them.”
Richard almost asked if Leopold would like them as keepsakes, like a wolf pelt or the antlers of a slain stag, but he caught himself before he reached for the shovel and suggested that Hadmar’s almoner could find a use for them. The Austrian was clearly trying to make the best of a difficult situation, forced into the dual role of host and gaoler, and so when he turned to go after saying a meal would be sent up soon, Richard gave him what he would never have offered Leopold—courtesy. “Thank you,” he said, as if he were a guest expressing his appreciation for Hadmar’s hospitality, and the other man smiled, looking pleased and relieved that they’d been able to evade the first pitfall in a road strewn with them.
RICHARD WAS KEPT ISOLATED from the members of Hadmar’s household, seeing only the guards who watched him day and night and Hadmar himself, who paid brief visits to make sure his needs were being met. He was provided with the best meals he’d eaten since leaving Ragusa, clothing, even a few books and a lute, for Hadmar had remembered that the English king was a musician. While he was appreciative of these amenities, they were ointments offered for a bleeding internal wound. He could not imagine how his mother had endured sixteen years of confinement with her wits intact. After just a week, his nerves were fraying like well-worn hemp. Not knowing what his future held was intolerable. He did not try to interrogate Hadmar about Leopold’s intentions, feeling that would be a poor way to repay the older man’s small kindnesses. Even if Hadmar knew what Leopold had in mind, he’d hardly confide in his prisoner, so such a conversation would only embarrass him.
Richard had not realized Christmas had arrived until he was served a dish of roast goose, signifying Advent was past. When he asked to attend Christmas Mass in the castle chapel, Hadmar had reluctantly refused, obviously following Leopold’s orders, not his own inclinations, for on his next visit, he brought a set of Paternoster beads. Richard dutifully recited fifty Ave Marias each evening, but prayers could not drown out the insidious inner voice whispering that God had turned His face away, deaf to his pleas.
He passed most of his days thinking about his tomorrows. Surely Leopold must mean to ransom him? Leopold could not keep him confined indefinitely, no matter how great his grievance, and word of his plight would get out; too many people knew about the hunt for the English king. Nor did he believe the Austrian duke would dare to put him on trial for his alleged crimes in the Holy Land. Heinrich might, though—a chilling thought. And Philippe would not even bother with the farce of a trial. If he was turned over to the French king, he’d never see the sun again.
On the Monday after Christmas, Richard was struggling with a new enemy—boredom. He was accustomed to constant activity, physical and mental, and this enforced solitude was in itself a form of torture. He flipped at random through one of Hadmar’s books, unable to concentrate, and finally sprawled on the bed to play a plaintive melody on the lute. After a time, he began to try different chords, creating his own song, one that expressed all he could not put into words. He was so intent upon the music that he did not hear the steps approaching the door and was taken by surprise when it opened suddenly, for Hadmar rarely visited him in the evening.
The guards were startled, too, staring at the two youths poised in the doorway. Richard sat up, interested in this unexpected development. The boys looked so similar that he guessed they were brothers or cousins; he put their ages at about sixteen or seventeen. He assumed that the Austrians and Germans followed the same practices of England and France, sending highborn youngsters to apprentice as squires in noble households. But as he watched them argue with the flustered guards, he decided they might well be Hadmar’s own sons, for they had the easy assurance of those favored from birth. When the nervous guards continued to protest, one of the boys moved closer and Richard heard the clink of coins as pfennigs were exchanged. That did the trick; the guards stepped back, and the youths approached the bed.
They seemed wary and he thought again of that chained bear. But their eyes were shining with excitement. “I am Leo,” one said, in schoolboy but understandable Latin, “and this is my brother, Friedrich. We wish to talk with you.”
Friedrich seemed to think his brother had been too brash, for he added quickly, in better Latin, “Will you speak with us, lord king?”
In his present mood, Richard would have welcomed any diversion. “Why not?”