Canterbury – refused to join the conspiracy.
Lesser men, jealous of the Lionheart’s prowess and reputation, had him in their grasp and were going to exact a high price for his release. In geld, their price was 150,000 Cologne Silver Marks – ?100,000 sterling – almost more bullion than anyone had ever counted before. But more than that: they required that the King pay homage to them in all his lands and domains.
The demands were unprecedented and created uproar across Europe among fair-minded people – not that this made any difference to the King’s plight. Pope Celestine excommunicated Duke Leopold for the crime of imprisoning a brave crusader, and all chivalrous knights – including French and German men of honour – were appalled. But Europe’s most powerful men were playing for stakes that allowed no respect for chivalry.
All my instincts cried out to me to rush to the Danube to be with the King, but it made no sense. He was being held deep inside the German Empire, behind the walls of a formidable fortress; it would take an army to free him, or all the silver in Europe.
Within two weeks, Queen Eleanor had pulled the Empire together and called a Great Council of England at Oxford to begin the process of raising the immense ransom. When she addressed the great men of the land, they gasped at the size of the ransom. As the Archbishop of Canterbury said, it was at least four times the revenue that the King would expect to raise from the entire realm in a year. It would impoverish everyone, from the highest to the lowest, and at a time when the country had not yet recovered from the huge burden it had to carry in order to pay the Saladin Tithe, to fund the Great Crusade to the Holy Land.
Even so, the process began.
Every knight had to pay one pound of silver, every lay person had to give a quarter of his income, and every church had to deliver all its chalices and plate in gold and silver. Every lord was required to make a personal contribution proportionate to his wealth, and all the merchants of the wealthy burghs – especially the Jewish brokers and financiers – were asked to do the same. William the Lion of Scotland sent 5,000 pounds, and the Jews of London raised over 30,000 between them, while those of York sent 15,000.
The silver was melted into ingots and carried to St Paul’s in London, where it was stored in large chests in the crypt under the guard of an elite corps of warriors from the King’s retinue. It soon became the largest treasury England had ever assembled.
When Queen Eleanor was sure that it was possible to raise the geld, she summoned me to see her at Westminster.
Although the Queen was seventy years of age, she still looked like a woman in the prime of middle age. She also retained her uniquely intimidating aura, which had only been enhanced by age. As I walked across Westminster’s Great Hall, she was standing at a table with several of her entourage, staring intently at plans for what appeared to be a new wharf by the Thames.
I stood and waited for my summons to approach her. I could hear her asking clear and concise questions and issuing precise instructions. There was no doubting who was ruling England in the Lionheart’s absence.
I looked around, admiring the beautiful tapestries that almost covered every inch of the hall’s cold stone walls. There were no hunting dogs by the fire and no straw on the floor to collect the detritus of man and his animals; this was the hall of an elegant Queen, not an earthy King. Eleanor’s floor was covered by ornately woven carpets that she had brought back from Palestine. Instead of dogs sprawling on them, young men lounged, playing music for the ladies of the court, who hovered around them, smiling in appreciation.
The men-at-arms who stood sentry at the doors, although large and imposing, were much more handsome and far younger than the usual garrison soldiers. They were also dressed more like courtiers than warriors, and wore bright-blue capes and tunics braided with cloth of gold. I smiled to myself, wondering how I would look in such an outfit.
Queen Eleanor finally noticed that I had arrived, and turned to look at me. She was remarkably slim and attractive in an immaculate pale-blue kirtle and matching wimple. I bowed and she nodded in response, with just the hint of a warm smile.
‘Sir Ranulf, I want you to go to the Germans. The King knows you and trusts you. Keep your Hospitaller’s black mantle and cape; they will ease your passage. You will travel with two Cistercians, the Abbots of Boxley and Robertsbridge. Both are Lotharingians; they are clever and speak German, but are totally loyal to me. Both are also physicians, in case the King is in need of care.’
The Queen was at her impressive best. She had thought of everything and, although she was a mother in distress at the fate of her son, she spoke with authority and clarity.
‘Tell the King that all is well with the Empire and that the ransom will soon be ready. Prince John is under control, and Philip Augustus will not make a move as long as I’m alive.’
‘Very well, ma’am. What of Queen Berengere? He is certain to ask.’
‘Do you mean, has she produced an heir?’
‘Well, ma’am, we all know he is anxious about the succession.’
‘She miscarried shortly after she returned from Palestine; it is the third time. I fear she may not be able to carry a child to full term. However, the King does not know about the earlier miscarriages.’
‘Should I tell him?’
‘Yes, he needs to know that at least she’s fertile. I don’t want him to put her aside just yet. There’s still hope. And, in any event, until he returns, it makes no difference.’
I bowed and prepared to make my exit.
Queen Eleanor walked towards me and lowered her voice. In so doing, she became the mother who had been disguised by the Queen.
‘Sir Ranulf, give him my love when you see him and bring him home safely.’
‘Of course, ma’am.’
I bent down on one knee and kissed the ring on her left hand. As I did so, she gently rested her right hand on my head. It was a gesture meant for her son, a humbling moment I would never forget.
Before I left, I was given letters from both Queens, gifts from the Grand Quintet and many others, scrolls of vellum concerning matters of state, and two chests of books, clothes and keepsakes of various kinds. I left my precious casket in the crypt of St Paul’s.
I met my two companions at Rochester, and we were soon beyond Antwerp and sailing down the Rhine. The spring of 1193 was in the air and the journey, despite my two somewhat dour ecclesiastical companions, was pleasant enough.
When we got close to Abbess Hildegard’s monastery at Rupertsberg, I could not resist the impulse to pay a visit to find out what had become of the beautiful Negu. It had been almost fifteen years since we had travelled here together, but my memory of her was still vivid.
To my great disappointment, although Negu was still at Rupertsberg, she was visiting another foundation downstream on the Rhine, a monastery we had passed early the previous day. I was intrigued to discover that Negu had developed a beautiful singing voice and had become one of the most learned nuns at Rupertsberg. She was even being talked of as a future Mother Superior.
Although I was not able to see Negu, I did pay my respects at Hildegard’s grave. A simple affair with just her name, carved in her own alphabet, on a plain stone slab, it was set in the open fields of the monastery, not far from the main gate. She had said she wanted to be buried on productive land so that her remains would enrich the earth, rather than have them fester in a churchyard. I smiled when I heard the story and remembered fondly her warmth and humour. Perhaps Negu had become like her?
When we reached Nuremberg, we heard that the King had been moved to a new place of captivity. Leopold of Austria had bartered the Lionheart, like a rich man’s concubine, to Henry, the Holy Roman Emperor, who had imprisoned him in Trifels Castle in Swabia, an enormous edifice on the Queich River, a tributary of the Rhine. Infuriatingly, we had to retrace our steps.
When we finally reached Trifels, it was the middle of April. The King had been in captivity for over three months, and I was concerned for his welfare. He was the most restless and impatient man I had ever met; I was worried about his health and his state of mind.
