Richard halted to allow Hadmar to translate his remarks into German for those who spoke no Latin. “Eventually I withdrew my opposition to Conrad, for I’d come to realize that it was not for us, who would be returning to our own lands, to choose a king for Outremer. We would go home, but the Holy Land was home for the Poulains, and the choice should be theirs, for they would have to live with it, not us. So I declared that I would accept whatever decision they made, and the Poulain lords unanimously elected Conrad. It was then that I acted to eliminate Guy as a threat to Conrad’s reign, whilst sending my nephew Henri, Count of Champagne, to Tyre to notify Conrad that he was to be king. He was overjoyed and at once dispatched Henri to Acre to make arrangements for his coronation. But it was not to be.”
Boniface of Montferrat had been given a seat on the dais, too, and the Bishop of Beauvais leaned over now to whisper something, but Boniface paid the other man no heed, keeping his gaze riveted upon the English king. His face was inscrutable; Richard had no idea what he was thinking.
“A few days later, Conrad went to dine with the Bishop of Beauvais, and on his way home, he was ambushed by two Assassins sent by Rashid al-Din Sinan, known as the Old Man of the Mountain. He was carried back, dying, to the citadel, where he instructed Isabella to yield Tyre only to me or to the rightful lord of the land. Would he have done that had he believed I was the one who had set the Assassins upon him? As little as he liked me, he knew I was not capable of such a vile act.”
Richard had been moving about the hall as he spoke. He now approached the dais, his eyes meeting those of Conrad’s brother. “This is a charge that is utterly foreign to my character. Not even my bitterest enemies have ever accused me of cowardice, and what could be more craven than to hire killers to strike a man down? Had I wished any man’s death, I would have challenged him openly, just as I would challenge any man who dared to accuse me of such a cowardly, foul murder now—were I free to do so.”
For the first time, Richard got a response from the audience; he could see some heads nodding at that, as if in agreement. “The captured Assassin was turned over to the Bishop of Beauvais, who would claim he’d confessed under torture that I had sent them to murder Conrad. This is an arrant lie. Moreover, the Assassins are not routiers, willing to sell their swords to the highest bidder, and anyone with any knowledge of the Holy Land would know that. But none of that mattered to the Bishop of Beauvais, who saw a chance to besmirch my honor and leapt at it.”
Hot color scorched the bishop’s face. He seemed about to speak, but Heinrich shook his head, and he sat back, giving Richard a look that was truly murderous.
Richard had wondered if he’d be interrupted or heckled, but apparently that was not proper protocol at an Imperial Diet and they’d so far heard him out in polite silence. Now, though, Boniface sent a murmur of surprise rustling through the hall. “So you are saying that the Bishop of Beauvais lied about it all?”
“The Bishop of Beauvais uses the truth the way other men use whores,” Richard said, and there was a ripple of laughter at that, quickly stilled. “I would gladly swear upon my honor that I had nothing to do with your brother’s murder, my lord marquis. But I daresay there are many in this hall who remain convinced I have no honor, for the good bishop has been slandering me the length and breadth of Christendom, blaming me for everything but the Great Flood. So to those of you who have swallowed the poison ladled out by the bishop, I can only tell you that men do not act against their self-interest. I am sure you all know that at the time of Conrad’s murder, I was in danger of losing my kingdom because of the French king’s plotting with my own brother, the Count of Mortain. The longer I stayed in the Holy Land, the more time I gave them to lay claim to my domains. I will freely admit I was desperate to get back to defend my realm. But I could not bring myself to break the vow I’d made to Almighty God, to abandon the Holy Land the way the French king did. I hoped that once Conrad was king, I could safely leave Outremer in his hands, for I knew his worth as a soldier.”
Boniface studied him in silence for a long moment, his expression still unreadable. “If you are not the one responsible for my brother’s death, who is?”