“Mayhap not, but it will not matter. Whatever the Pope’s suspicions about Heinrich’s involvement in the crime, he has no proof.” And he’d likely not act even if he had a confession written by Heinrich in his own blood. Joanna kept that cynical viewpoint to herself, though, for she was touched by her sister-in-law’s innocent trust that justice would always prevail, be it in the papal curia or the king’s court.
Berengaria was prepared to argue further. She knew, of course, that all churchmen were not pure and incorruptible. Some of them were truly loathsome individuals, their holy vows notwithstanding. She frowned then, thinking of her husband’s enemy, the Bishop of Beauvais. But when the Church was confronted with such a shocking crime, the spilling of a bishop’s blood, surely sordid political considerations would not prevent the guilty from being brought to judgment. Before she could continue, there was a stir at the end of the hall.
When she saw the tall, dignified figure being escorted toward them, Joanna jumped to her feet. “My lord bishop! How the sight of you gladdens our eyes!” She hastened forward to welcome Hubert Walter, with Berengaria just a step behind, for they’d both become quite fond of the Bishop of Salisbury during their time in the Holy Land. Joanna appreciated his pragmatism, Berengaria had been grateful for the spiritual support he’d given her when Richard seemed likely to die of the lethal malady called Arnaldia, and they both valued the bishop’s unwavering loyalty to the English king.
Once greetings were exchanged and they were seated by the center hearth with wine and wafers on the way, Joanna was able to ask the question that had been hovering on her tongue from the moment she’d seen him entering the hall. “My lord bishop, when we left Acre, you were planning to sail with Richard. What changed your mind?”
“I did sail with the king, at least as far as Sicily. He insisted then that I disembark, for we’d learned that he was not going to be able to land at Marseille, and he said he wanted me to get to the Pope ere his enemies did, and then to hasten to England to help his lady mother and the justiciars rein in his brother. I arrived in the city last night and went to the papal palace this morning to pay my respects to the Holy Father. It was only then that I was told you were still in Rome, my lady.”
“After listening to my sister-in-law’s stories about their January crossing of the Alps,” Joanna said, with a fond glance at Berengaria, “we decided to wait till the alpine routes were more passable in the spring. She said at one point the women had to be slid down the mountain slope on ox hides!”
Berengaria smiled at the memory, which was easier to do now that it was part of her past. Accepting a wine cup from a servant, she waited until the bishop had been served before saying quietly, “I realize you’ve heard nothing about my lord husband, for you’d have told us at once. But you can ease my mind on one matter. He’d not fully recovered from the quartan fever when we sailed from Acre. Was he well when you parted from him in November?”
Hubert stalled for time by reaching for a wafer he had no intention of eating. While he might normally have dreaded female hysteria, he knew both women well enough to be sure they’d not lose control. Knowing how devastated they’d be, though, by what he had to tell them, he wished he could delay the moment of truth even longer. “He was fit when I last saw him, Madame,” he said, glad that he could at least assure Richard’s wife of that much. “But I do have news of the king. Whilst I was still with the Pope, a courier arrived with an urgent message from the Archbishop of Cologne. I deeply regret that I must be the bearer of such ill tidings. King Richard was captured near Vienna by the Duke of Austria and, according to the archbishop, he will soon be turned over to the Emperor Heinrich.”
Joanna had tensed with his first words of warning, and she thought she was braced for whatever he had to reveal. Now she discovered it was not so, for his news struck her like a physical blow. All the air seemed to have been expelled from her lungs and she found herself struggling for breath. When she glanced toward her sister-in-law, she suffered a second shock, for Berengaria was gazing raptly at the bishop as if he were one of God’s own angels, her face glowing.
“Gracias a Dios!” She turned toward Joanna then, her smile radiant. “He is alive, Joanna, he is alive!”
“And a prisoner of the German emperor!”