THE CISTERCIAN ABBOTS HAD LEFT after Easter, but Hubert Walter and William de St Mère-Eglise had delayed their departure until the last day of March. Richard had not realized how much comfort he’d taken from their presence until they’d gone, and he had a restless night. He was not pleased, therefore, to be awakened early the next morning by Johan, the guard who spoke a smattering of French.
The youth kept stammering and repeating the words “the emperor,” and Richard could only conclude that he’d been summoned by Heinrich. A knight was standing by the door, arms folded, and looked blankly at Richard when he spoke a few words of Latin. As much as he resented being dragged out of bed like this, he realized there was nothing he could do about it and he flung the covers back.
When he emerged into the garth, trailed by his guards, Richard saw that he already had an escort waiting, yawning as they slouched by their horses. He was surprised to see how early it was, the sky just beginning to lighten toward the east. He recognized the man in command, for Hadmar had pointed him out on several occasions: Sir Markward von Annweiler, an imperial ministerialis and Heinrich’s seneschal. He came forward at once, introducing himself with a deferential bow and displaying the command of Latin that a court official would need. He was no longer young, into his fifth decade, but he appeared fit and energetic, his reddish-brown hair showing no grey yet. Unlike many of the Germans, he was clean-shaven, with striking moss-green eyes, and he had an unexpectedly charming smile. Richard thought cynically that he’d probably been able to seduce far more than his share of women with that smile—unless a woman had been vigilant enough to notice that the smile never reached his eyes.
“The emperor wants to see me?” Richard asked, and Markward confirmed it, signaling for a horse to be brought forward. There was so much that Richard had missed in the three months and ten days since his capture at Ertpurch. He missed having a woman in his bed, missed the easy camaraderie he’d enjoyed with his soldiers and the knights of his household, missed the people who mattered the most to him, missed his music and books and his favorite falcons, the sense of purpose that had driven all of his days. But he’d not expected how much he would miss riding a purebred stallion, that sensation of being one with a spirited creature eager to outrun the wind. The mount he was offered now was a horse he’d never have chosen for himself, a docile gelding that could not hold a candle to Fauvel, the magnificent Cypriot destrier that he’d ridden to so many victories in the Holy Land. This one had no bridle and reins, of course, just a halter with a lead attached, the ultimate symbol of his impotence.
Inwardly seething, he swung up into the saddle just as Markward told his guards that they would not be needed. Their disappointment was so obvious that Richard assumed they’d been looking forward to a rare opportunity to be called into the emperor’s presence. “Consider yourself lucky, Johan,” he said, but the young German did not understand, of course, and watched in puzzlement as the English king rode out of the precincts of the episcopal palace with his new guards.
The city was just coming awake and the streets were still deserted. Richard thought it passing strange that Heinrich should summon him at such an hour, yet he did not become suspicious until they turned into the street that led to the Old Gate, the main entrance to Speyer from the west. It was still barred, but a curt command from Markward sent the guards scrambling to open it. Richard took advantage of the brief delay to call the ministerialis by name, too loudly to be ignored. “I thought you said we were going to the imperial palace!”
Markward responded with another of those beguiling smiles. “Ah no, my lord king. You misunderstood. We ride to the village of Annweiler, where I was born.”
“Why?”
“I do not question my emperor,” Markward said blandly. “But I know your safety is of great concern to him. You are a very important guest of the empire, after all.”
Richard’s eyes narrowed on the other man’s face. “I was told that I would be accompanying the emperor to his palace at Hagenau. Surely I’d be safe enough there.”
The other man’s shoulders twitched in what may have been a shrug. By now all of Richard’s survival instincts were on full alert. None of this made sense to him, but he did not like it, not at all. The best soldiers had a sixth sense when it came to danger and he’d long ago learned to pay heed to his. “What sort of game is Heinrich playing?”
Those green eyes shone now with open amusement. “His favorite game, my lord king,” Markward said cheerfully. “The one where he gets to change the rules.”