RICHARD DID HAVE ONE NIGHT in which he was free from his own dark thoughts. Friedrich and Leo sneaked in to chat, bringing their cousin Ulrich, the young Duke of Carinthia. They wanted him to tell Ulrich how he’d ridden out alone to defy the Saracen army at Jaffa, translating freely for Ulrich, whose Latin was shaky at best. Leo seemed to have thawed considerably since their last meeting and Friedrich soon explained why, saying they were very glad that the English king had apologized to their father for disrespecting his banner. This came as a surprise to Richard, but as he listened to the youths chatter on, he realized what had happened. Leopold had taken his expression of “regret” for not having talked at Acre and expanded it to cover the entire incident for the benefit of his sons. Richard had no interest in salvaging Leopold’s honor, but he liked Friedrich and Leo and saw no reason to deny them a lie that obviously brought them comfort. They seemed to think the worst was over now, that the emperor and he would agree upon a ransom and he’d soon be free to return to his own lands, but Richard put that down to the wishful thinking and natural optimism of the young. They were in high spirits and indiscreet, confiding that their mother had wanted to accompany them to Regensburg, for she was fond of Heinrich’s wife, the Empress Constance. Yet their father had insisted she return to Vienna, which had sorely vexed her. Richard encouraged them to talk, wondering why Leopold would deny his wife a visit to the imperial court. He did not like the sound of that; did Leopold expect something to happen that he did not want Helena to witness?
As they rose to go, they conferred briefly and Leo declared that they had news to share. The emperor had ordered the king’s imprisoned men to be brought to Regensburg, too. Count Meinhard was bringing the eight men he’d seized at Udine, Friedrich von Pettau was coming with the six men he’d arrested at Friesach, and their father had sent word to fetch the three prisoners he was holding back in Vienna. They watched Richard, smiling, clearly thinking this would please him. But this was the last thing he wanted to hear—that his men would be caught up with him in Heinrich’s web. Leopold would have released them sooner or later, if only to soothe his conscience. Heinrich would see them as inconsequential.
ON EPIPHANY, GUNTHER REINED IN beside Richard, said, “Regensburg,” and held up his fingers to indicate they were only ten miles from their destination. Richard was taken by surprise, therefore, when they halted at a castle after riding a few miles, for they could easily have reached Regensburg before nightfall. Like Dürnstein, this stronghold was perched on a cliff high above the Danube River, a stark, brooding silhouette against a winter sky bruised by snow clouds. Hadmar would later tell him it was known as Donaustauf, or Stauf on the Danube, owned by the Bishop of Regensburg. For now, he was given no explanations, merely escorted to an upper chamber. It was not until he unshuttered the window and saw Leopold and his retinue riding away that he realized he was being left behind while they continued on to Regensburg. He found that puzzling, even baffling; surely Leopold would be eager to display his prize at the imperial court? But there was no one to answer his questions, only his German-speaking guards. He’d always found it easy to banter with his soldiers, and he thought he’d have been able to establish a rapport with these Austrian men-at-arms, too, if not for the insurmountable language barrier.
He did not sleep well that night and was tense and restless the next day, expecting at any moment that Gunther would arrive to take him to Heinrich. It did not happen. By the second day, his emotional pendulum was veering wildly from frustration to fury to despair and back again. His guards watched him warily as he paced, murmuring among themselves, this constant surveillance rubbing his nerves so raw that he soon developed a throbbing headache. He went to bed early, for there was nothing else to do. No sooner had he finally fallen asleep, though, than he was jolted awake by a loud pounding on the door.
The guards hastened to lift the bolt and Hadmar strode into the chamber, snapping a command in German that had them gaping at him in astonishment. “You must hurry and dress,” he told Richard, “for we are leaving tonight.”
Richard sat up and stared at him. “Leaving for where? It is rather late for paying a visit to Heinrich.”
Hadmar grimaced, growling another order to the guards. “We are not going to Regensburg. We are returning to Austria, so you must make haste.”