He’d gotten other messages from Philippe, but never one accompanied by Philippe’s own ring. Sending the courier away, he broke the seal. Durand watched intently as John read the letter, and when he heard John’s sharp, indrawn breath, he could not hold his tongue. “Well?” he asked. “Is it good news or bad?”
John was studying the letter as if he could not believe what he’d just read. When he glanced up, his guard was down for the first time that Durand could remember, making him look suddenly younger than his twenty-six years. “It is good news for me,” he said, “but bad news for my brother. It seems that Richard has managed to get himself captured by the Holy Roman Emperor.”
Bleeding Christ! That would be a dagger through his queen’s heart. Durand smiled, saying laconically, “How careless of him.”
“Isn’t it, though?” John agreed. He had his mother’s hazel eyes; they were glowing now with light. “This changes everything!”
Even Ursula seemed interested in the news, for she’d risen from the bed, draping the fur coverlet strategically to cover her nudity. “What will happen now? Will the emperor kill your brother?”
“Not likely. Richard is worth far too much money to Heinrich.” John laughed suddenly. “Although Richard has a rare talent for provoking otherwise sensible men into deranged rages. Philippe all but froths at the mouth when anyone even mentions the English king!”
Durand yearned to snatch the letter from John’s hand, but he would have to be patient; unless John decided to burn it, he’d find a way to read it for himself later. With a surge of satisfaction, he realized that his services had become invaluable to the queen, for John had gone from being a minor threat to the peace of Richard’s realm to a major one. Ursula had crossed to John’s side, trailing her fur coverlet behind her, and he thought she was reassessing her own position, too, suddenly realizing she might soon be bedding a king.
“I do not see how this benefits you all that much, my lord,” she said, “at least not in the long run. Yes, you’ll gain valuable time to raise troops whilst the English king is being held prisoner in Germany. But sooner or later, the ransom will be paid and Richard will return to England to reclaim all he has lost, will he not?”
Durand thought that was a surprisingly astute observation from the apathetic Ursula, and he waited with interest to see how John would respond.
“Oh, I do not doubt that my lady mother will drain England’s coffers to raise the ransom for her beloved Lionheart,” John said, the corner of his mouth twisting down. “She’d see famine stalk the land and people begging in the streets without even blinking if that meant Richard’s freedom. But what she does not yet know is that she’ll not be the only player in this game. However much she is willing to pay to set Richard free, Philippe is willing to pay even more to see Richard rot in a dungeon for the rest of his born days.”
Ursula had slipped her arm through John’s. “Do you hate your brother so much, then?”
Durand was astonished that she’d dare to ask something like that. When John looked surprised but not offended, Durand decided his indulgence was proof that the woman must be even better in bed than he’d imagined. John actually seemed to be considering the question. “No,” he said, after a pensive pause. “I would not say that I hate Richard.”
Mayhap not, Durand thought, with a silent sneer, but you’re so bloody jealous of him that you’re like to choke on it.
Ursula was watching John with more curiosity than Durand had ever seen her show. “If you do not hate him, my lord, why do you want to see him ‘rot in a dungeon for the rest of his born days’?”
John had turned away, opening a coffer and rooting around for parchment, quill pens, and ink. He had no scribe with him and did not trust the castle chaplain to inscribe the message he meant to send to Philippe, so he’d have to write it himself. But he straightened up at her question, regarding her quizzically. “Why would you even need to ask, woman? Because there is a crown in the offing, of course.”
CHAPTER NINE
FEBRUARY 1193
Oxford Castle, England