“I understand that, I do. But these new terms are a great improvement over what they first tried to extort from him. I think we should accept them and get the king out of here as fast as horses can run.”
“I agree,” Hubert said, with another weary smile. “Now we need only convince Richard of that.”
RICHARD HEARD THEM OUT in a foreboding silence that made William de St Mère-Eglise and the Cistercian abbots uneasy, expecting his anger to erupt at any moment. Hubert Walter had come to know the king well during their time in the Holy Land and he interpreted that silence differently, seeing it as evidence that Richard had reluctantly come to the same conclusion as they had—that his first priority had to be regaining his freedom. Richard’s common sense was their ally; it was his lacerated pride that they must win over.
“We understand why you are loath to consent, my liege. You have right on your side and thanks to your brilliant defense on Monday, you have demolished any possible legal justification for your detention. Yet none of this changes the fact that you are still in Emperor Heinrich’s power, a man we know to be untrustworthy and dishonorable. They need to save face, and as much as I hate to say it, we need to let them.”
“Bishop Hubert speaks the truth, my lord king,” William said earnestly. “It is not safe to defy Heinrich, not until you are free again. Then you can pressure the Holy Father to move against them, as he ought to have done from the outset.”
“There is another reason to accept their terms,” Hubert continued. “The longer you remain in Germany, the more time that gives the French king and your brother to wreak havoc in your domains. Philippe has already led an army into Normandy and the queen’s spy warned her that John hoped to gather a fleet at Wissant to invade England. You can spare your subjects much suffering if you get home ere that happens.”
Richard said nothing, but when he sat down in the closest chair, the slump of his shoulders and his bloodshot eyes spoke eloquently of his exhaustion, of the toll this was taking upon his body and his spirits. Hubert thought he was about to agree—until the Abbot of Boxley made the mistake of pointing out how much more reasonable the new demands were. Richard’s head came up sharply at that, his eyes glittering. “I doubt that Tancred, the Cypriots, my niece, or Anna would agree with you,” he snapped.
Dismayed to have blundered, the abbot looked to Hubert for help and the bishop did his best to provide it. “Tancred’s fate will not rise or fall upon your providing Heinrich with fifty galleys. He has always expected Heinrich to launch another invasion and will be ready for it. Nor are the Cypriots at risk if Isaac regains his freedom. He is a broken reed, no longer posing a threat, for he lacks what any despot most needs—money.”
“Nor are the marriages disparaging ones, my liege,” William said quickly. “The Lady Aenor might do better, I admit, being the niece of England’s king. But it is no disgrace to be the Duchess of Austria. Leopold’s House is a proud one, with blood ties to many of the royal courts in Christendom. His mother was a Greek princess, his duchess the sister of a Hungarian king, and he can claim kinship to the Hohenstaufens, too. As for the Lady Anna, her prospects are not so promising, even if you were to provide a marriage portion for her. Isaac is disgraced and deposed, and he never had a legal right to Cyprus in any event. I suppose she might be welcomed by her mother’s kindred back in Armenia, but few lords of high birth would see any benefits in taking her as a bride. So marriage to Leopold’s younger son may be the best she can hope for.”
“William is right, sire,” Hubert said, just as quickly, wanting to head off any objections from Richard. “The girls could do far worse. Unless you object to Leopold’s sons, fear that Friedrich and Leo will not do right by them?”
“No . . . they are good lads, both of them. I have no reason to think they would not be decent husbands to my niece and Anna.”
Encouraged by this grudging concession from Richard, Hubert smiled. “We ought to remember, too, that not all betrothals lead to the altar. For certes, yours to the Lady Alys did not. And if my memory serves, your lord father and Emperor Friedrich were once talking of a marriage between you and one of the emperor’s daughters, which came to naught.”
“Thank God for that,” Richard said fervently. “Had it come to pass, Heinrich would have been my brother by marriage.” And when they laughed, he managed a thin smile of his own.
“So may we tell them on the morrow that you accept the terms?” Hubert would not have posed that question were he not already sure of the answer. He still held his breath, though, until Richard nodded, apparently finding the words themselves too bitter to the taste.