EIGHT
“Check.”
Henry glared at the chessboard. It was the third time Richard had threatened his king. The English monarch’s style of play was confounding in both its irreverence and cunning. Richard had little regard for the safety of his pieces, but each white piece tantalizingly dangled in front of Henry turned out to be a trap. He had almost lost his queen twice already, and staring at the pieces on the board, Henry realized that he was definitely going to lose her this time when he moved his king to safety.
He was spared the loss by the appearance of Wecelo beside the table. “The wagons from England are here, Your Highness,” his steward said.
“They are?” Henry said, and then he caught himself. “Yes, of course they are,” he said in a much calmer voice.
Richard was smiling at him, and Henry fought the urge to knock the chessboard aside. “We can come back to this game later,” he said.
Henry tipped over his king. “It’s not that important of a game,” he said, rising from his chair.
“No,” Richard said, that infuriating smile still on his lips. “It isn’t, is it?”
Henry made a strangled noise in his throat and stalked out of the room, his steward and the king of England trailing behind him. Henry tried to figure out what could have possibly gone wrong with his plan. Had he not been clear enough with Otto? Had Otto missed the caravan? Had the ambassadors stayed on the Rhine all the way to Speyer? There were too many questions, and he forced them all aside. He would have answers soon enough.
He strode out of the castle, blinking heavily as he emerged into the clear winter day. There had been frost on the ground and rooftops this morning, a sure sign that winter was rapidly approaching. He peered at the wagons clustered in the great yard of his estate. There were more than he’d expected, and they were all bursting with barrels and crates.
He stared at the men who stood beside their horses. They weren’t wearing his colors.
“What’s this?” he exclaimed.
“It would appear to be an inordinate amount of silver,” Richard said, coming up behind him.
“I can see that,” Henry snapped. He waved a hand at the men. “Who are these men?”
One of them strode forward. He stopped before Henry and dropped to his knee in an appropriate bow. His white surcoat was stained with dirt and something darker, and he was wearing maille beneath it, but Henry recognized him. It was the man who had been with Richard at Dünstein—the man the king had claimed was his personal attendant. “I am Feronantus, knight initiate of the Ordo Militum Vindicis Intactae,” the man said. “And my brothers and I are delivering the shipment of silver from Queen Eleanor of England.”
“What?” Henry said. “Where are my ambassadors? Where is my imperial guard?”
“It is with great sadness that I tell you that they are all dead,” Feronantus said. “We came upon your party as they were being attacked by bandits and marauders. We did our best to save them, but alas, we were too late.”
“Bandits?” Henry couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Yes,” Feronantus said. He raised his head and looked up at the emperor. “German bandits.”
Henry shut his mouth quickly, swallowing his response.
Richard leaned over, chuckling. “Just because I am your prisoner,” he said quietly in Henry’s ear, “does not mean I am a fool. Check, and mate, Your Highness.”
After taking a long and relaxing bath, putting on a new gown, and having an opportunity to get all of the tangled knots out of her hair and re-braid it, Maria presented herself at Richard’s quarters.
The king was seated by the window of his room, a writing desk across his lap. He looked up as she came in, and he idly motioned for the servant to leave them before returning his attention to his letter.
Maria wandered over to a nearby chair and sat, folding her hands in her lap.
“Everything worked out?” Richard asked as he finished signing his name to the letter.
“For the most part,” she replied.
“And Berengaria’s portion of the ransom?”
“Redistributed to English hands,” she said.
Richard nodded. “I will suffer this ransom to be paid for the sake of peace between the Holy Roman Empire and England, but I will not suffer my wife having to pay any portion of it.”
Maria hesitated. “Should I tell her?” she asked eventually.
“Of course not,” Richard snorted. “Whom did you give the money to?” he asked.
“A freeman named Robin, of Locksley.”
“And what is he going to do with it?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “He was…”
“What?” Richard asked when she trailed off.
“He was a charming man,” she said, “but somewhat prone to indignation.” She weighed whether she should say anything more and decided she had said enough.
“Do you think he’ll spend the money foolishly?” Richard asked.
“No,” she replied.
“Wisely?”
“No,” she said after a moment.
“Hmm,” Richard said. “Perhaps you should go to England and offer your assistance.”
“I should?”
“Yes, I think you should,” Richard said. “I have received word that my brother John is spending too much time in Paris, letting the king of France fill his head with nonsense. My mother has enough on her mind that she doesn’t need to worry about my brother getting it into his head that he might be a better king of England than I.”
“What do you expect me to do?” Maria asked.
“Distract John,” Richard said. “I’m sure you can think of some way to get under his skin. Talk to this Robin of Locksley; change his mind about what he should do with the money.”
“Are you asking me to start a rebellion in England?”
Richard shook his head. “You? No,” he said. “I am asking you to do no such thing.”
Maria shook her head. “The queen warned me to be careful of your devious nature,” she said.
“Of course she did,” Richard said with a grin.
Maria stood, smoothing the front of her gown. “Your Majesty,” she said, curtsying, “I regret that I cannot stay longer here at Speyer.”
“I am saddened by the idea of your departure as well,” Richard said. “I bid you a safe journey.”
“And I hope that you may be reunited with your homeland soon,” she said.
Richard made a small noise in reply, and his gaze drifted toward the window. She took this as a sign their conversation was over, and she curtsied one last time before leaving Richard to his contemplation.
“Oh, Maria.” Richard stopped her as she reached the door. “Take Feronantus with you. Now that Henry knows he is no longer a simple servant, there is no point in him staying here, is there?”
“No, Your Majesty,” Maria said. She pressed her hand against her breast. “I don’t see any reason he should stay.”
“He’s good company, isn’t he?” Richard said.
Maria was glad the king couldn’t see the flush rising in her cheeks. “Yes,” she said quietly, “he is.”
- END -