Richard set his wine cup down so abruptly that wine sloshed over the rim. “Does Leopold have reason to think my physical safety would be put at risk?”
Hadmar shrugged, drank again, and belched. “Knowing our esteemed emperor is reason enough, especially now that he has the blood of a bishop on his hands.”
“What mean you by that?”
“We arrived at Regensburg to find Heinrich has embroiled himself in a scandal of monumental proportions. Nigh on eighteen months ago, the Bishop of Liege died on his way home from the Holy Land and two candidates soon emerged for his See. Albert of Louvain was an Archdeacon of Liege and, more important, the younger brother of the Duke of Brabant and the nephew of the Duke of Limburg. He was not yet thirty, the canonical age for consecrating a bishop, but oddly, no one bothered about that, not even the Pope.”
He paused to drink again. “The second candidate was another Albert, the Provost of Rethel, whose primary qualification seems to have been that he is the maternal uncle of Heinrich’s wife, the Empress Constance. He was backed by Baldwin of Hainaut, the Count of Flanders, who was not about to accept any man proposed by his rival, the Duke of Brabant. The first Albert won the election easily but the second Albert continued to protest, as did Count Baldwin, and the whole matter was referred to the imperial court. The emperor formed a committee of bishops and abbots to resolve it. They proved not to be the stuff of which martyrs are made, deciding Heinrich should declare the winner. He then proceeded to infuriate both sides and violate canon law by giving the bishopric to Lothar von Hochstaden, who happens to be the brother of Count Dietrich von Hochstaden, one of the emperor’s battle commanders and probably the closest that Heinrich has ever come to having a friend.”
In vino veritas, Richard thought. He was no longer angry at Leopold for his craven escape back to Vienna, for he’d never have gotten such wine-fueled candor from the duke. “So what happened then?” he prodded. “I’m guessing neither Albert raced to congratulate Heinrich’s handpicked puppet.”
“Indeed not,” Hadmar confirmed, peering at Richard owlishly over the rim of his wine cup. “The first Albert headed for Rome to appeal to the Pope, whilst the second Albert, too old for such travel, stayed at home and sulked. The Holy Father submitted young Albert’s claim to the papal curia and they voted in his favor. Apparently Celestine was willing to overlook a small matter like canonical age in order to vex the emperor, for he even honored Albert with the rank of cardinal and sent him off with a saddlebag filled with money and papal letters ordering his consecration.”
Looking surprised to find his cup empty, Hadmar poured himself a generous helping and splashed wine onto the table as he sought to refill Richard’s cup. “The Archbishop of Cologne enraged Heinrich by refusing to consecrate his choice, so he then dragged Lothar to Liege, where he forced the citizens to acknowledge him. Since the dissenters had their houses torn down, most rallied around Lothar. But Albert was now safe in French exile—or so the poor man thought—and there the Archbishop of Reims, who happens to be a papal legate and cardinal himself, was quite happy to consecrate Albert. This was last September. In October, three German knights arrived in Reims, claiming they were fleeing the wrath of Emperor Heinrich. They soon met Albert and won his trust. But this newfound friendship was short-lived, for on November 24, he agreed to go riding with them outside the city walls, and they promptly drew their swords and dispatched him to the afterlife. At least they had the decency not to slay him in a cathedral like your sainted Thomas of Canterbury. The killers then fled and guess where they sought refuge? Yes, indeed, straight as a crow flies to the imperial court.”
While Richard could think of a few bishops he wouldn’t mind dispatching himself to the afterlife—the Bishop of Beauvais came at once to mind—he was dumbfounded by the brutality and audacity of this crime. “Knowing what Becket’s murder cost my father, how could Heinrich be so stupid?”