by Jean Plaidy
But what were we to do?
It seemed that we must first find out where he was.
The news traveled fast. Soon everyone was talking about the capture of Coeur de Lion. What sort of prisoner would he be? A caged lion. I could imagine him prowling about his dungeon, his frustration, his attempts to escape; and I prayed for his safe return to me.
Why had he ever undertaken this crusade? What good had it done? Made it possible for Christians to go to Jerusalem. For how long? Saladin might honor the pact, but what of other Saracen leaders? What mistakes people make! First Henry, now Richard.
A wonderful thing happened soon after that. It was like an incident from one of the romantic ballads which used to be sung at my grandfather’s Court.
Blondel de Nesle, the charming young minstrel of whom Richard had been so fond, had adored his master. When he heard that Richard was a prisoner in Austria, he went in search of him. That would seem almost laughable—a young man with nothing but an exquisite voice and a musical talent to set himself such a task. His method of search was original. He would rely on his talents. He went to Austria, knowing only two things: his beloved King was a prisoner and he was in a castle in that country. With the confidence of youth and the spur of devotion, Blondel set forth on what most people would have said was an impossible task.
He traveled through Austria and sang outside every castle he could find. I could imagine his strong voice carrying over the air. He sang a song which he loved beyond all others because he and the King had composed it together. No one had sung it but those two. It was in the form of a duet.
Blondel sang this song beneath the walls of castles and one day when he sang he heard a voice taking up the duet. They sang in unison; then each took his part.
There was no doubt that Blondel had found the King.
He came home with speed. One could hardly credit the story, yet it was true. No one knew that song but Blondel and Richard; and Blondel would know the King’s voice anywhere.
Richard was a captive in the tower of Drrenstein Castle. He was in the hands of a bitter enemy but at least we knew he was still alive.
John was furious that Richard had been found. He had been fervently hoping that his brother was dead. He had already gone to Normandy, declaring himself King of England and Duke of Normandy. I was glad the Norman barons rejected him. Then he had gone to Paris and become a close ally of Philip Augustus.
I had to bring Richard home somehow.
Now that the news that he was incarcerated in Drrenstein was broken, he had been taken out of Leopold’s hands and delivered into those of Henry Hohenstaufen, the Holy Roman Emperor.
I knew what would happen next. A ransom would be demanded. How delighted Richard’s enemies must be! It was not so much the King himself whom they hated but the power of the Plantagenets. The Emperor, Philip Augustus, Leopold of Austria and the rest had seen that empire extending over Europe. It had been the realization of Henry’s dream. They wanted to smash it, and they thought to do so by demanding a ransom that would cripple not only England but the French provinces as well.
Richard was taken to Haguenau—no longer the prisoner of the petty Duke of Austria but of the Holy Roman Emperor—and the ransom asked was 100,000 silver marks. Two hundred hostages would have to be submitted until the money was paid, and those hostages must be from the noblest families in England and Normandy.
I could hardly believe it when I heard it. How could we raise such an amount? But we should have to do so. The people were already complaining of the taxation necessary to finance the crusade. How much better it would have been if that money had been used for England’s needs, and Richard had remained at home.
But at least we could now communicate with him. He wrote to me, his beloved mother. What joy it gave me to read his letters! He had seen a draft of that letter which the Emperor had written to the King of France, and he was indignant. There were other matters, too, which annoyed him. He wanted to know why he should be held in captivity like a common thief. He had not taken Jerusalem, and that was held against him. He would have taken it but for the treachery at home in England which had made it necessary for him to return. Philip Augustus had slandered him. This was due to pure jealousy because the King of France had broken his oath and, being unable to endure the hardships of the crusade, had shirked them. He was angry because he, Richard, had been more successful in battle.
This was true, of course, but I thought it wiser to hold back recrimination until after his release.
It was a busy time that followed. I had to think of every means of raising money. And what a difficult task it was! It was not so long since we were making demands for the crusade. Richard was proving an expensive monarch. But it had to be; England was unsafe while Richard was a prisoner. John was not to be trusted, and now that Philip Augustus had become Richard’s vicious enemy we were in danger. I gathered together a council of barons and clergy and we decided on new taxes. We had to ask for a quarter of their income from all men; a fee of 20 shillings from every knight; and we must have gold and silver from every abbey and church in the country; the Cistercians, who had no gold and silver but whose wealth was in sheep, must contribute a year’s wool. No one could escape.
All through those anxious weeks, the wagons came into London with their goods, and they were all placed in coffers and stored in St. Paul’s Cathedral.
While I was calculating the accumulation of the ransom, I had to be watchful of John. He was with Philip Augustus and was offering him parts of Normandy and Touraine if he would make him ruler of all Plantagenet territory in France. I was relieved that the people of Normandy had rejected him, and I succeeded in getting the barons’ agreement to confiscate his English territory so that he could not offer that as bribes to the King of France; while Normandy remained loyal, John was a pest rather than a menace.
That had been a year I would never forget, and I hoped never to pass through another like it. It was December before the ransom was ready. It was loaded onto one of the ships. I must go to deliver it. I would not let such a task be left to anyone else.
I took with me a company of all the highest in the land and arrived at Speyer in January. There I learned that there had to be a delay. I could not imagine why. We had the ransom for which they had asked. What more did they want from us?
To my horror it transpired that Philip Augustus and my son John had offered an equal sum to the Emperor if he would keep Richard prisoner. I was appalled by such venom from Richard’s onetime great friend and his own brother, and I was amazed that the Emperor could contemplate acting so dishonorably, after having settled terms with which we had complied.
Fortunately the Emperor’s advisers were also shocked by the idea of accepting money to keep Richard prisoner, and they prevailed upon him not to tarnish his reputation by such an act. He therefore declared that he would release Richard if he would be a vassal of the Holy Roman Empire.
I was able to see Richard. He took me in his arms and we embraced warmly.
“It is so wonderful to see you,” I cried. “I would never let myself believe you were dead . . . but it was hard sometimes, Richard.”
“One of the hardest things to bear in my captivity was the thought of the anxiety I was causing you,” he replied.
“Let me look at you. You don’t appear to have suffered much.”
“It is true. This climate has suited me better than that of Acre, and Drrenstein was more comfortable than the Holy Land.”
“It was wonderful the way young Blondel found you.”
Richard laughed. “I thought I was dreaming. To hear that pure young voice out there. Then I knew who it was . . . and I answered in song. Thank God I have a good strong voice.”
“I have rewarded Blondel.”
“I am glad of that.”
“Oh, it is good that we have found you. John . . .”
“I know of John. He is a young fool . . . urged on by Philip Augustus.”
“He hates you now
, Richard.”
“I know. It is the way of the man.”
“And now the Emperor wants to make you a vassal.”
“I will never agree.”
“But the alternative . . . to stay here. It is what he demands, and remember he is in a position to demand.”
“I will never do it.”
“I have had consultations with the justiciar. The act would be quite meaningless. It would be considered illegal.”
“Then why does he ask it?”
“He is a proud man. He wants to see Coeur de Lion kneel before him.”
“I cannot do it, Mother.”
“Do you want to remain a prisoner? Do you want to let John take over your kingdom? John as King . . . can you imagine that? The Emperor is on good terms with Philip Augustus. Think of what they might concoct between them.”
“Do you mean kneel to him? Make myself a vassal?”
“It is meaningless and will bring about your release.”
“It is hard to do it.”
“Never mind if it brings your freedom. Better to pretend to humiliate yourself for a few moments than lose everything you have.”
He did at last see the point of this but before paying homage to the Emperor he defended himself before those who had accused him of treachery and accumulated mischief, and with such skill and grace did he do this that the Emperor was moved to tears. He went to Richard and embraced him.
Thus, after being a prisoner for a year and six weeks, Richard was free.
On a March day we landed at Sandwich and on our way to London passed Canterbury to give thanks at the shrine of St. Thomas Becket.
London gave a great welcome to the returning King. There were banners everywhere and singing and dancing and general rejoicing. For this day the citizens had forgotten what it had cost to bring him out of captivity. He was the returning hero; he might not have captured Jerusalem but he had been acclaimed wherever he went . . . Coeur de Lion, the greatest warrior the world knew. Richard was made for pageantry. He stood out against all others with his magnificent height and dazzling fair looks; his godlike appearance made of him a natural hero.
So the return of the King was celebrated.
But there was one who was not there to welcome him: his brother John. I guessed he was in Paris, gnashing his teeth with Philip Augustus, asking himself what his best move would be.
It was wonderful to be with my beloved son. Now that he was home, I told him, he must not go away again; and I think he agreed with me. Prison had had its effect on him. But, of course, he was an adventurer by nature.
“You must now show yourself to your subjects,” I told him. “You have been too little in England. The English want to see their King. We shall make a tour of the countryside. It is the perfect time of the year to do this. Spring is the best time in England.”
He was very grateful to me for all I had done. He knew that I, and I alone, had kept his kingdom intact during his absence, and he was fully aware of what a difficult task it had been. He was ready to take my advice.
There followed a happy time for me. We were together, as close as ever. We talked freely and frankly. He told me how he had traveled across Europe disguised as a merchant.
“I called myself Hugo of Damascus. It was interesting to stay in inns and to hear the talk of how King Richard was traveling in disguise across the country. One innkeeper told us that he would have to report our presence to the governor because we were strangers and they were told they must be watchful everywhere for the King in disguise.”
“That should have been a warning to you.”
“It was. Then there was Roger.” His eyes were soft, he was smiling. “I wish you could have met Roger. He was such a charming fellow. I knew him for a Norman as soon as I saw him; he had the fair looks and long limbs of a Viking.”
“One of your own kind,” I said.
“We met on the road. He asked us where our destination was and we told him England. He then said that we could spend a night or two at his castle. I liked the man on sight. Do you know, dear Mother, I trusted him. The others did not. They were very suspicious. But then they were suspicious of everyone.”
“And rightly so.”
“Yes, indeed, rightly so. But there was a feeling between myself and Roger. I knew he would not betray us.”
“Because of his handsome looks?”
“Oh far more than that. There was a rapport between us. He gave us a great welcome at his castle. I can see it now . . . the smell of roasting venison, the sweet sound of music, the warmth of the great hall. He had a good voice and we sang together; we played a game of chess. I checkmated him. I think he may have allowed me to.
“He said to me after the game, ‘You are no ordinary merchant. I think you are a great nobleman.’ I had a feeling that he knew who I was, and I asked him if this were so. I said to him bluntly: ‘Do you know who I am?’ And he answered, ‘I think I do. You are the great Coeur de Lion. There could not be another who looks as noble as you, and I have heard that the King of England is the most noble-looking man on Earth.’ Such was the understanding between us that I did not deny it.
“He looked worried. He said, ‘You are in danger. There are those here who would make you prisoner. There is an order throughout the land that any who suspect a traveling merchant may be the King must immediately get a message to Frederick of Betsau.’ He was more afraid for me than I was for myself, and I found that touching.”
He paused, looking straight ahead, smiling tenderly.
Then he went on: “He said, ‘You must leave here at once. You are unsafe. In a few hours they will be here to take you.’ ‘You have not told them I am here?’ I asked. He fell on his knees and, taking my hand, kissed it. He said, ‘I was to set the trap. I was to bring you here. I was to have you here in bed when they arrived to take you. There is little time to lose. Go from here. But do not travel with your companions. You must have just one to accompany you.’ ‘You have deceived your master,’ I said. He nodded. ‘Why so?’ I asked. He said, ‘Because, my lord, I love you.’ I knew he spoke the truth.
“I went back to my friends. I told them what had happened. They said they knew that Roger was laying a trap for us, but I replied that he had opened the trapdoor and we should all be the better for having walked into it. So we rode away and I traveled with only one page to look after me.”
“When I think of the dangers through which you have passed, I tremble,” I said.
“Life is all danger. Compared with what we suffered in the Holy Land, this seems like a small adventure.”
“And it was when you were with your page that you were taken?”
“Yes. Perhaps we were careless. He used to go into the town to buy food. I would be outside in the country. I gave him jewels to sell. We had to have food somehow. It was inevitable, I suppose, that sooner or later someone would ask what a young page was doing with such gems. What we think of as of little value seems very grand to some people. My page was taken and threatened with torture. Poor lad, he was a good boy, but he did not want to lose his eyes or have his tongue cut out, so he told them where I was. We were staying the night at the cottage of a workman and his wife. They were glad to have us for a little recompense. When I heard the horsemen approaching, I went into the kitchen and tried to look like a yokel watching the meat on the spit.”
I laughed at the thought. “You could storm the walls of Acre with more success than you could pretend to be a yokel watching meat on a spit.”
“There were two guards and a captain. They burst into the kitchen. The captain said, ‘You are the King of England and I have come to arrest you.’ ‘On whose orders?’ I asked. He replied, ‘On those of my master, Duke Leopold of Austria.’ I knew I could expect little mercy then. Leopold of Austria, my great enemy!”
“Oh Richard,” I said, “we should never make enemies. They have a habit of turning up at the most awkward moments.”
“‘I demand you give me your sword,’ said the ca
ptain. I replied, ‘I will not give my sword to you, Captain. Your master will have to come to take it.’ He was nonplussed. I doubt he had ever arrested a king before. He set one of his men to guard me while he went off, and after a while he returned with Leopold, who was smiling smugly. He said, ‘This is a little different from the walls of Acre, eh?’ I replied that there was naturally a difference, but he was arrogant then and I saw no change in him now. ‘But the positions are reversed,’ he said. ‘You are my prisoner. There are men all over Europe who will sing my praises and rejoice when I have you under lock and key.’ ‘Those who are afraid of me, you mean,’ I said. ‘Weak men who yearn for the glory they have not the courage to win.’”
“You were in his power. Was it wise to speak to him thus?”
“I said what I meant, and you may rest assured he was discomfited.”
“But you were his prisoner . . . and all that time. You must never put yourself in danger again.”
“I am home now. There is much to do here. It is my great pleasure to be with you and to know that you are well.”
“Now that you are back,” I said, “what of Berengaria?”
“She is happy enough where she is.”
“She would be happier with you. Richard she must come to England. She cannot stay so far away. She must be brought here, and when she comes you must live together as man and wife. There must be a child. Think of John and Arthur. His mother, Constance, is a very ambitious woman. It would be disastrous if there was war.”
“I intend to live a long time yet.”
“Long enough to get an heir and see him climb to manhood. But Richard, Berengaria must return.”
“Yes,” he said, “you are right.”
But I knew he would shelve the matter. He did not want a wife.
Our tour was successful. The people clearly rejoiced in such a handsome King. What a difference appearances made! And with his reputation they were proud of him.
I thought: We must keep it so.
After leaving Canterbury we came to St. Albans, and from there we went to Winchester where Richard was crowned again. That was a splendid ceremony.
