THIS THURSDAY BEFORE HOLY WEEK would prove to be a day of surprises for Richard. Only a few hours after the arrival of Hubert Walter and William de St Mère-Eglise, Hadmar ushered in two more visitors, men clad in the distinctive white cloaks of the Cistercians. They were exhausted, jubilant to have finally found their king, and mildly disappointed to see that they had not been the first to reach him. As fond as Richard was of the Bishop of Salisbury, he was even more elated by the arrival of these abbots from England, for their presence was proof that his plight was now known to his justiciars and his mother.
They brought more than news—a stack of letters so thick he thought every lord in his realm must have sent one. He read his mother’s letter first, then those of his justiciars, and when he was done, he no longer felt so alone. Their outrage all but scorched the parchment, the pen strokes as slashing as sword blades as they railed at the blatant disregard of Church law and the laws of war. This was what he needed to hear, not his queen’s pious certainty that Pope Celestine would prevail upon Emperor Heinrich to set him free.
“My lady mother says that you will tell me of my brother’s conniving with the French king,” he said, and they did, sharing all they knew of John’s treason. Richard listened without interruption and then began to stalk back and forth as his anger caught fire. After Henry’s death, men like Will Marshal had feared they’d suffer for their loyalty to the old king. But with fine inconsistency, Richard had rewarded those who’d stayed with Henry until the end and mistrusted those who’d been so eager to court his favor. Only John had not been chastised. Their mother had some misgivings about the generous provisions he made for John, and he still remembered his response, telling her that “Johnny deserves a chance to show he can be trusted if I play fair with him,” adding with careless confidence that he did not see Johnny as any great threat.
Of course, he’d never expected that three years later, he’d be a prisoner of the Emperor Heinrich, unable to protect his own body, much less his distant domains. For the first time, he fully understood how his father must have felt upon being told that his best-loved son had betrayed him, and not for the first time, he wondered if the Almighty was punishing him for the part he’d played in Henry’s downfall. But thoughts like that were reserved for those sleepless hours when he struggled to understand and accept God’s Will. It was Johnny’s treachery he must deal with now. Fortunately, he knew how to do that, knew what weapon would draw the most blood, would gash Johnny’s pride to the bone. Mockery was the one thing Johnny could not abide.
Turning to face the other men, he smiled derisively. “My brother John is not the man to conquer a kingdom if there is anyone to offer the least resistance.”
THIS WAS EASILY RICHARD’S BEST DAY since they’d sailed from Ragusa. While he was by nature an optimist, nearly three months in isolation had taken its toll. For all of his courtesy and occasional kindnesses, Hadmar von Kuenring was no friend, and Richard dared not forget that. But until Hubert Walter’s unexpected appearance, he had not realized how lonely he was. Being able to speak freely to men he knew he could trust—and in French—did much to raise his spirits. After they departed, promising to return the next day, he was feeling cheerful enough to reach for Hadmar’s lute. He could hear the music in his head and was strumming exploratory chords when he glanced up to find Hadmar standing several feet away. The Austrian’s face was inscrutable; that in itself was warning enough. “I do not suppose you’ve come to tell me that my queen has arrived for a conjugal visit.”
“I received a message from Duke Leopold,” Hadmar said, his voice no more expressive than his face. “He said that we are to leave on the morrow for the imperial court.” He waited for a response from Richard. Not getting one, he started to turn away and then stopped. “My duke did tell me that he was able to get the emperor to promise that you will suffer no bodily harm.”
Richard deliberately picked up the lute again. “And we both know how much the emperor’s promises are worth,” he said, striking another chord. When he looked up again, Hadmar had gone.