He lay brooding, thinking of the wasted months, of what was happening in his kingdom, of the treachery of John and Philip – an ill-assorted pair – of the nobility of Saladin.
* * *
When the ring was brought to Meinhard of Goritz he looked at it intently.
‘A merchant gave it?’ he said. ‘A merchant Hugo who is with a band of pilgrims?’
He sent for his jeweller.
‘It is a very fine ring,’ said the jeweller.
‘Scarcely one that a merchant would bestow for a free passage,’ said Meinhard.
He dismissed the jeweller and discussed the matter with his ministers.
‘There is something unusual about these pilgrims,’ he said. ‘I hear that one has a bearing of great dignity. He is said to be a merchant but the other members of the party seem very respectful towards him while attempting not to be.’
His chief minister smiled slowly. ‘My lord Count,’ he said, ‘we know that Richard of England has left Palestine. He will be wishing to reach England by the shortest route. This might well be by land.’
Meinhard nodded. ‘And you imply that our merchant Hugo could be the King of England?’
‘Who but a king would bestow such a ring as though it is a trifle. What is of great value to most men is a bagatelle to a king.’
‘If this is indeed King Richard, the murderer of my uncle, then what shall we do?’
‘We will take him prisoner. The Emperor will not easily forgive us if we allow him to slip through our fingers.’
‘I will send for the messengers whom we have been holding and give them back the ring. Then we will take him captive.’
‘There are many who would not forgive us if we did not make it known that he had arrived.’
Meinhard of Goritz sent for the messenger.
‘Take this ring back to your master,’ he said. ‘It does not belong to Hugo the Merchant. It belongs to King Richard of England. I have given my word to seize and question all pilgrims who pass through my territory and not to take gifts from them in return for a safe conduct. But this is a different matter. This is the King of England whose fame has travelled ahead of him. It is Coeur de Lion himself. Therefore take the ring and tell him that I have given my word not to accept gifts but because of his greatness and his generosity in offering it to me, I will give him free leave to go.’
When the messenger rode back with the ring and the message there was consternation among Richard’s friends.
‘I like not those words,’ said Baldwin. ‘There is a threat beneath them.’
‘I think so too,’ answered Richard. ‘We will not leave by sea. They will be watching the coast, and if I travel with a large party I shall be recognised immediately. I will go from here with a few of you and some of my possessions and I will start at once. I feel that to delay would be dangerous.’
They parted company and Richard set out. He had not been gone more than an hour when troops arrived at the lodging. Those who remained of Richard’s followers were arrested and taken to Meinhard of Goritz.
When they were brought before him he said: ‘Where is the merchant Hugo?’
Baldwin said: ‘I know not. He left us to pursue his journey alone.’
Meinhard was furious. He saw that he had acted in a manner to arouse suspicion. He should have sent the troops back with the ring. He had presumed that Richard would have accepted his promise for safe conduct and have landed right into his net.
There was no help for it. He had lost the King ... but temporarily, he promised himself.
There was no time for reproaches. He sent messengers at once to his brother Frederick of Betsau, for the host of the previous night when questioned had revealed in which direction Richard had gone, which indicated that he must pass through Frederick’s lands.
Frederick was to look out for the King of England. Every house likely to be used by pilgrims must be watched.
When he received the message, Frederick sent for his cousin Roger of Argenton.
‘A mission for you, Roger,’ he said. ‘The King of England is nearby. He has slipped through my hands but I don’t intend to allow him to continue to do so. I want to capture him. This would mightily please the Emperor. And if he escapes I shall doubtless be reprimanded for allowing him to. He murdered Conrad de Montferrat.’
‘I believed that to have been the Old Man of the Mountains,’ said Roger.
‘Nay, it was Richard who was his enemy. The Old Man’s followers swear that it was Richard who had him killed.’
‘Murderers often like to shift their crimes on to the shoulders of others.’
‘No matter who murdered Conrad, I need Richard here. Go, Roger, and bring him to me. Do not spare yourself or anyone, but bring me Richard.’
* * *
Riding across the country Roger of Argenton encountered a company of pilgrims. There was one among them, tall, fair and of such dignified carriage that Roger’s suspicions were immediately aroused.
He asked permission to ride with them. This was granted for Richard liked the look of the young man. He asked him to ride beside him.
‘Tell me,’ said Roger, ‘what is your destination?’
‘We are on our way to England,’ said Richard. ‘Do you know of a nearer route than the one we are taking?’
‘You should head northwards,’ Roger told him, ‘and to the west. You would in due course come to France and from there cross to England.’
‘We have a long journey ahead of us,’ said Richard. ‘Tell me, my friend, have you travelled much?’
‘I have been in Normandy.’
‘Normandy. Ah, a fair land.’
‘As a Norman I agree with you.’
‘By God’s eyes, you are a Norman. I knew it.’
‘How so?’
‘Your bearing, your height. You have the look of a Norman.’
‘That is a compliment.’
‘None greater. Let us talk of Normandy.’
They talked of that land for which it was clear they both had a great affection.
‘Tell me,’ said Richard, ‘did you ever meet its Duke?’
‘To my regret I never did. But he is King of England now and on a crusade to the Holy Land.’
‘Kings mayhap should stay in their own kingdoms, think you?’
‘’Tis a noble thing to fight for the Cross, but it is said that duty lies first to the homeland.’
‘It may well be that you are right,’ answered Richard quietly.
Roger suggested that they should stay a night at one of his castles. There he would be happy to entertain a party whose company he had so much enjoyed.
As they entered the castle Richard could see that his friends were uneasy.
‘My lord,’ whispered one of them, ‘can we trust this man?’
‘I trust him,’ said Richard.
Alas! thought his men. Was Richard perhaps a little too trusting?
The pilgrims were given a large room in which they could spend the night and they were invited to eat in the great hall with Roger’s family.
Afterwards Richard sang for them and they brought a lute for him to play. Then Roger asked that Richard play a game of chess with him.
They removed to a quiet corner of the hall and sat there, the board between them.
Richard noticed the fine handsome face, the noble bearing, the fair colouring, the long Norman legs, and liked well what he saw.
‘I could find it in my heart to linger here,’ he said.
Roger flushed slightly and said: ‘Naught would delight me more, my lord.’
Richard saw that the hand on the piece Roger held trembled a little. He had not noticed he had called him my lord.
Their eyes met and there was understanding between them.
Here is a man whom I could love, thought Richard.
He looked at the rafters above the hall, at their companions still at the table, at the serving men and women passing back and forth.
‘It has been a day I
shall remember,’ said Richard. ‘I shall never forget you, Roger of Argenton.’
‘Nor I you, my lord.’
‘What do you know of me, Roger?’
‘That you are no humble pilgrim.’
‘Pilgrims are not always men of humble standing.’
‘Nay, but there is that about you that proclaims you to be of the highest rank.’
‘Do you know who I am?’
‘I know who I believe you to be.’
‘And who is that?’
‘I dare not say, my lord, but if you would tell me it would make me happy.’
‘Can you keep a secret, Roger?’
‘I would let them pull out my tongue, my lord, rather than betray one you told me.’
‘Then here is one: I am Richard of England. Nay, do not rise. It is our secret, remember.’
‘You know they are seeking you?’
‘I know I am surrounded by enemies.’
‘They seek to trap you.’
‘Let them try.’
‘There is an order in this land that you are to be sought and when found taken to the Lord Frederick.’
‘Fret not, Roger. I will elude them. Think not that Coeur de Lion will be disturbed by some petty ruler like this Frederick.’
‘But if you fell into his hands ... as you are ...’
‘He would be the one who would have to fear. Come, I have put you in check.’
They returned to the game which Richard won and then he said that it was time for retiring.
He lay on his pallet but he could not sleep. He was thinking of Philip who had betrayed him and then he thought of the gentle eyes and the Norman bearing of Roger of Argenton.
Would he would follow me, he thought.
He was awakened by one of his attendants. ‘What now,’ cried Richard. ‘Is it morning then?’
‘Nay, my lord, just past midnight. Roger of Argenton is without. He says he must speak to you. It is of the greatest importance.’
Richard rose from his bed.
‘Have a care, my lord.’
‘Fear not. I trust this man.’
One of his knights put a robe about his shoulders and he stepped out of the room.
Roger immediately knelt at his feet.
‘Pardon, my King,’ he murmured. ‘Pardon.’
‘What is your sin?’ asked Richard, ‘that you get me from my bed to ask forgiveness for it.’
Roger was on his feet, his eyes wide. ‘My lord, you must fly from here without delay. I have had a horse made ready. Do not delay.’
‘Why so? You were hospitable enough last evening and now would be rid of us.’
‘I must confess. I knew who you were. I was sent by Lord Frederick to intercept you, to bring you here, to trap you. I want you to go before they come for you. I would rather die than be the one who betrayed you.’
‘So you set out to do that then, Roger?’
‘I was ordered by my lord. But I cannot do it, Sire. That is why I warn you. You must go at once. The horse is ready. I shall tell them that I was mistaken. That you are not in this area.’
‘Thank you, Roger.’
‘I could not betray you, for I love you.’
‘I love you, too,’ said Richard. ‘Nor shall I forget this night.’
‘Then prepare and be gone. It has been the greatest honour of my life to receive you here, but I shall not rest until you have gone.’
Richard drew Roger to him and kissed him.
Then he turned and went back into the room.
‘Dress!’ he cried. ‘Prepare. We are leaving here without delay. Roger of Argenton was meant to betray us and he has saved us instead.’
* * *
When Roger reported to Frederick that the pilgrims were in fact a certain Baldwin de Bethune and his companions, Frederick was bitterly disappointed. So much so that he said he would like to examine the pilgrims himself and he sent out orders for their arrest.
Roger was ahead of him. He knew in which direction they had gone and he reached them before they were discovered.
‘The pilgrims will be arrested,’ he told Richard. ‘They are to be taken before Frederick. You, my liege lord, must not be with the party when it is taken. Leave it now. Your horse will carry you a long way from here. Take with you but one servant. Go northwards as fast as you can. Do not seek rich lodgings. Be careful that you are not noticed.’
So once again Roger had saved him, for a day after Richard had parted with his knights they were discovered, arrested and thrown into prison.
* * *
There he was, the King of England, accustomed to being surrounded by a retinue of followers, alone in a strange land, save for one page. When he had left his friends he and his page had galloped northwards for some hours until his horse was exhausted; when they had come to a forest, the page tethered the horses to a tree, spread out a cloak upon the grass and they slept.
It was dawn when Richard awoke. He looked about for his friends and seeing only the sleeping page realised with dismay what had happened.
He faced the situation. Richard of England was wandering across Europe, with no knowledge of geography, realising that he was surrounded by enemies, with no servants except the page and only the treasure they could carry to pay for his journey.
It was an incongruous situation. The man who had but a short time ago commanded men in their thousands was now a fugitive.
He was not entirely dismayed. This was adventure, although of a different kind from those that usually came his way, but he was ready for any sort of adventure.
He shouted to his page, who hearing his voice sprang up in confusion.
‘Come, page,’ he said, ‘we must be on our way. We have to reach the coast somehow and take ship for England. There are just the two of us which is not a bad thing, for none would suspect a king would travel with just one servant. I doubt not you are as hungry as I am. We will ride on and perhaps find food somewhere.’
The page brought his master’s horse and they started off.
For three days they travelled, living as they could. Richard would wait outside a town in a thicket, if that were possible, while the page went and bought food. They rode through the day and slept from exhaustion in fields and woods and on the third day they came to a city.
Richard did not realise that this city was Vienna and that he was in the heart of that territory which belonged to his bitterest enemy, Leopold of Austria.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘we must find a humble lodging and there we shall rest for a while before pursuing our journey. While we stay we will find out where we are and what direction we should take. But first we must rest and eat to sustain ourselves after these days of hardship.’
The page had grown closer to his master than he had ever been and was filled with pride to think that fate had chosen him to be the one to accompany King Richard on this perilous journey.
They found a humble lodging on the outskirts of the town where no questions were asked when they explained they just needed a room. Richard told the woman of the house that he was a merchant and dealt in fine objects. This would allay her suspicions if she saw any of the treasures he had managed to bring with him. He told her that he and his servant would like to stay for a week or so for they were tired with travelling and still had far to go. When he asked her the name of the nearby city she told him it was Vienna.
‘Ah,’ said Richard, ‘that would belong to Leopold of Austria.’
‘He is our noble Duke,’ said the woman.
Richard smiled inwardly recalling that occasion when he had kicked the fellow for refusing to help build a city’s walls. What would he say if he knew the King of England was now travelling through his realm?
He was determined this time not to betray himself and prepared to learn the ways of humble folk. He found he enjoyed talking to the woman and her husband. He could speak their language tolerably well and he took an interest in their way of life. He would sit in the kitchen while the woman baked and
would watch her and chat while she worked. She took to giving him little tasks and he was often set to turn the meat as it roasted.
He was recovering from the three days spent in riding fast and picking up food where it could be found. He was strong but he always had to remember that that virulent fever could overtake him at any time and he must always be prepared for it.
The page penetrated deeper into the town to find where he could find food. He would take some article which Richard gave him and sell it. One of these articles was the jewelled belt – a beautiful thing most delicately wrought and which had often been admired when Richard wore it, which was often. He was sorry to part with it; yet it was necessary to pay for food and lodging.
In the market place it was inevitable that the page should be noticed. The goldsmith to whom he sold the belt had rarely seen such a fine piece of workmanship. He talked of it and showed it to certain of his noble customers. It was bought by one who was most curious about it.
Who was this young man who came every day and spent so lavishly?
One of the traders said to him: ‘You are clearly a gentleman of quality.’
‘I serve a greater,’ boasted the page.
‘Who is this rich and noble gentleman?’
‘He is a merchant.’
They talked of him when he was not there and watched for him.
The page greatly enjoyed the sensation he made. He was so proud to be serving the King. One day he took one of the King’s gloves which was very richly embroidered and stuck it in his belt before he went into the market.
There was one man leaning against a stall who watched him. He swaggered up to him and said: ‘That is a fine glove, my man.’
‘Is it not?’ answered the page.
‘And not yours I’ll swear. How come you to be wearing it?’
‘It is my master’s,’ answered the page. ‘I wear it because I am proud to be in his service.’
‘Where is this master of yours?’
‘He is making a journey and resting here but a while.’
‘A rich merchant is he not?’
‘Aye, ’tis so,’ answered the page.
The man took the glove and studied it intently.
The Heart of the Lion Page 25