The mood in the chamber was subdued, with most of the men taking their cues from their emperor, who’d so far said very little. Leopold was just as taciturn, lapsing into a brooding silence after saying morosely to Heinrich, “I did warn you. The man can talk as well as fight.” Heinrich’s brother Conrad was currently holding forth, disgruntled that he’d been assigned the duty of placating the enraged Bishop of Beauvais, but few were paying heed to his complaints.
Count Dietrich von Hochstaden finally lost patience with Conrad’s grumbling and interrupted, his the confidence of one who stood close enough to the emperor to take such liberties. “I know who is to blame for this—Adolf von Altena. He was the first on his feet, the first to start cheering, and that set the other fools off. We ought never to have allowed him to attend.”
The Bishop of Speyer heard that as an implied criticism and was quick to take umbrage, for Otto von Henneberg was a prince as well as bishop, and not about to accept a rebuke from one he regarded as his inferior. “We had no choice. He was sent here by his uncle, the Archbishop of Cologne, to negotiate on behalf of the rebels, and you know that, my lord count.”
“‘Negotiate’? Spying is more like it,” Dietrich said with a sneer. “And since when do we negotiate with rebels? They deserve beheading, not cosseting.”
Before Bishop Otto could retort, Heinrich’s uncle rose to his feet. Konrad von Hohenstaufen had years of experience in navigating the sometimes stormy waters of imperial politics, and he was able to silence the squabbling merely by raising his hand. “This rebellion is not to be taken lightly, not when the Archbishops of Cologne and Mainz have joined it. What we must do now is to make sure that other prelates do not follow their example.” For a moment, his eyes rested upon Count Dietrich, for he knew the other man was never one to advocate compromise or conciliation. “I have overheard some foolish men saying that the emperor ought to have ignored the verdict of the Imperial Diet instead of embracing it. Nothing would have been better calculated to swell the ranks of the rebels than such an arbitrary act. My nephew, the emperor, handled it wisely and prudently, and I, for one, was proud of his conduct this day.”
He glanced then at Heinrich, marveling as always that the son should be so unlike the father. His brother, Friedrich Barbarossa, had been the embodiment of chivalry, a superb warrior, fearless in battle, shrewd, robust, genial, quick to laugh, and able to charm even his enemies, whereas Heinrich lacked all of those virtues. Heinrich did have an implacable resolve, extraordinary intelligence, and an unsettling ability to make decisions devoid of any emotional content, as Konrad thought he’d proved that afternoon in the Bishop of Speyer’s great hall. He found his nephew both admirable and repellent, single-minded in his determination to defend and expand their empire, but utterly unable to identify with the needs and desires that drove other men. Konrad was not yet sure if that would make him a great emperor or a monster.
He was thankful, though, that Heinrich had been astute enough to see he’d been backed into a corner by the English king and disciplined enough to accept it. Had Heinrich not acted so swiftly and decisively, Konrad was sure he’d have made enemies of most of the men in the hall, those under the thrall of the Lionheart and those who were seeking any excuse to join the rebels. And Heinrich already had more enemies than he could handle, thanks to that bloody, botched murder of the Bishop of Liege. Konrad did not think his nephew had given the command to have the bishop killed. He thought it more likely that some of his lackeys had acted in the belief he’d be pleased, and Konrad’s chief suspect was Count Dietrich von Hochstaden, brother of the man who’d contested that episcopal election. But he’d not asked Heinrich outright and knew he never would.
“I agree with the lord count,” Speyer’s bishop said firmly. “Word is already spreading of the English king’s convincing defense before the Diet. Now that he has cleared his name, the Church will begin agitating for his release. I say we end this as quickly as we can, putting the blame on the French king and—” He stopped himself, but not in time.
“And me?” Leopold was on his feet, glowering at the prelate-prince.
“Well, you were the one who first laid hands upon a man who’d taken the cross.”
“Because I was commanded to seize him by the emperor!”
The bishop shrugged and Heinrich’s brother, who had no liking for Leopold and enjoyed muddying the waters, said snidely, “I doubt you will be able to prove that when summoned before the papal curia, so I’d think of another defense if I were you, my lord duke.”