Poor Richard! He must have felt defeated and for such a man defeat was the worst thing that could happen. He had to admit that, after all the lives that had been lost, all the gold with which his people had supplied him, he had failed.
He was going back to his country with his mission unfulfilled.
Joanna and Berengaria went off before he did. Berengaria was often in my thoughts, and I wondered what she thought of her husband’s aloofness. As far as I could gather, they had rarely been together. What hope was there of an heir? Very little, I feared.
Richard eventually sailed away. Anselm said he leaned over the rail watching until the land had disappeared and murmured: “Oh Holy Land, I commend thee to God. May He of His mercy grant me such space of life that I may one day bring thee aid. And it is my hope and determination, by God’s will, to return.”
In due course Joanna and Berengaria arrived in Rome. As for Richard, he sailed off ... into mystery.
Richard may have failed in his mission, but his fame was known throughout the world. Everywhere people talked and sang of Richard the Lionheart. He was reckoned the greatest soldier of his age, although he had been unable to conquer another who was said to be as great as himself, Saleh-ed-Din, known throughout the Christian world as Saladin.
Anselm, who had sailed with him, had been able to tell me much up to this point.
In glowing terms he told me of the encounter with pirate ships and how Richard’s courage impressed the pirates who allowed him to board their ships. Richard had decided to go home overland; he knew that he had many enemies and wished to travel incognito. He therefore sent his ships back to England while he, in the garb of a merchant, proposed to make his way across Europe. The pirates agreed, for a sum of money, to take him where he wanted to go.
Richard left Anselm on the ship, and that was the last the priest had seen of him.
I was desperately anxious. Where was he? How much better it would have been if he had stayed with the ships. How could he have thought he would be safer traveling overland dressed up as a merchant! Richard was the sort of man who could never be anything but a king and whatever garb he was in would not disguise that.
I was glad to have heard Anselm’s story but frustrated that it stopped short of the vital part.
And so we waited, but news of Richard did not come.
I could not believe he was dead. I wondered how long it would be before John claimed the throne. If Richard’s absence continued, the way would be clear for him. And what of Arthur? His mother, Constance, was ambitious for him. Would he attempt to claim the throne? And what would the choice of the people be? Arthur, the young foreigner of whom they knew little, or John of whom they knew too much?
And so I waited, fearful of the future.
Then one day there was news. I had very good people working for me in those Courts where I thought there might be information useful to me—and none was more important than France. Philip Augustus’s love for Richard had now turned to hate, so I could expect treachery from that quarter, and I respected Philip Augustus as one of the wiliest kings in Europe. How different from his father! And for that reason I greatly feared him.
News came from the French Court that Philip Augustus had had a letter from the Holy Roman Emperor, a very good friend of his at the time, and it explained the reason for Richard’s continued absence. A copy of this letter had been smuggled out of France and brought to me.
It ran as follows:
Richard the King was crossing the sea for the purpose of returning to his dominions and it so happened that the winds brought him, his ship being wrecked, to the region of Istria at a place which lies between Aquileia and Venice where, by the sanction of God, the King, having suffered shipwreck, escaped, together with a few others. A faithful subject of ours, Count Maynard of Grtz, and the people of the district, hearing that he was in our territory and calling to mind the treason and accumulated mischief he was guilty of in the Land of Promise, pursued him with the intention of making him prisoner. However, the King taking flight, they captured eight knights of his retinue. Shortly after, the King proceeded to a borough in the archbishopric of Salzburg, which is called Frisi, where Frederic de Botestowe took six of his knights. The King hastened on by night, with only three attendants, in the direction of Austria. The roads, however, being watched and guards being set on every side, our dearly beloved cousin Leopold, Duke of Austria, captured the King in a humble house in a village in the vicinity of Vienna. In as much as he is now in our power and has always done his most for your annoyance and disturbance, what we have above stated we have thought proper to notify to your nobleness ...
Given at Creutz on the fifth day before the calends of January
When I read this, I felt an immense relief. So he was alive! That was great cause for rejoicing. Next came the serious consideration of what we must do. We had to start to work at once for his release.
I remembered what Anselm had told me about his quarrel with Leopold of Austria, and it was very unfortunate that he had been the one to capture Richard.
What was happening to my dear son? Whatever it was, I told myself, he would be able to withstand his enemies, and they would not for long triumph over him.
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.