28. Trial at Speyer
My anxieties about the Lionheart deepened when I saw the Castle of Trifels. The Emperor could not have chosen a worse place. It sat on a thin crest of rock high above the river valley, surrounded by thick forests. It was as if the castle walls were an extension of the rock itself; they were so high, with so little level ground around them, as to make them impossible to besiege. The nearest village was two hours away, on the valley floor, and was no more than a small hamlet.
I said a silent prayer to thank God that it was spring, because it must have been even more depressing in the depths of winter.
The villagers confirmed that Trifels did, indeed, hold an important foreign king. But they warned us that the Castellan was a brute of a man. They also said that his garrison was an unpleasant crew of thugs, who caused trouble in the surrounding area whenever they ventured out in search of amusement.
After negotiating the steep and rutted track to the castle’s barbican – so steep that our pack horses found the ascent exhausting – we found the drawbridge up and the portcullis closed. There were no sentries to be seen on duty. We had no option other than to shout loudly to announce our arrival.
We got no response for almost an hour, after which time a sergeant appeared at one of the barbican’s arrow slits and told us, in no uncertain terms, to go away. Despite our protestations, he just walked away without any further comment.
The hour was late and there was little point in going back down to the village, so we found a comfortable place in the nearby forest and made camp for the night.
We were woken early the next morning by the sound of the drawbridge being lowered and the portcullis being raised. Shortly afterwards, half a dozen men rode out to confront us. At their head was a very large man, who looked like he had once been a formidable warrior, now gone to fat. His manners matched his unwholesome appearance.
‘What business brings you to Trifels?’
‘I am Ranulf of Lancaster, and my companions are Clovis, Abbot of Boxley, and Charles, Abbot of Robertsbridge. We are from England, the realm of King Richard, and are sent by his mother, Eleanor, Dowager Queen of England, Duchess of Aquitaine, Countess of Poitiers.’
‘That is an impressive list of titles, but they mean nothing here. I am Rudolph of Landau, Castellan of Trifels. This is the domain of Henry, Emperor of the Germans, and his brother, my Lord, Conrad, Duke of Swabia. Be gone with you, Hospitaller.’
‘We are emissaries from a mother to her son. She would like to know if he is well.’
‘He is well.’
‘We would like to see him.’
‘This is the Emperor’s repository for his coronation regalia and his crown jewels; no visitors are allowed.’
‘We pose no threat. I am a one-armed man, and my companions are men of God.’
He circled me on his mount, a prodigious black stallion big enough to carry a man of his significant proportions.
‘Listen, my friend, you would not be a threat if you were three of the greatest warriors in Christendom; this fortress is impregnable, its garrison a match for anyone. Leave, before you are taken inside to join your King.’
‘I will not leave; I’m sure your Emperor would not be happy if he knew you had denied access to an emissary of a Dowager Queen, sent to ascertain the well-being of her son.’
I could see the Castellan vacillate at the mention of the Emperor’s name, but his hesitation did not last long.
‘This is your last warning. Your King is kept in our largest chamber, almost as big as mine, but there are real dungeons at lower levels. They will become your resting place if you don’t leave now.’
I had a decision to make and, with few options available to me, I made it quickly. I grabbed the bridle of the Castellan’s horse and yanked it hard, making the stallion rear wildly. The move caught the big Swabian by surprise and he tumbled out of his saddle, hitting the ground hard. I seized the moment, put my foot on his chest and my sword to his throat.
‘My companions are going back to the village and will wait for word from me. You can lock me away with my King, but let these men of God go, so that they can take words of comfort back to his mother.’
Rudolph of Landau squirmed and grimaced, but he knew that the tip of my sword was pressed hard against his Adam’s apple. He hissed at me.
‘You’re a dead man, either now or very soon.’
I hissed back.
‘I don’t think so; if you kill me as an emissary from a queen to a king held for ransom, your Emperor will not have a friend in Europe. He will have you skinned alive.’
The Castellan knew I had a point. After a moment’s thought, and a deep breath, he relented.
‘Agreed. The monks can go to the village – but no further, until I hear from my Lord, the Duke. You must surrender yourself to me.’
I gestured to the two abbots to make a hasty return down the hill, handed my sword to one of the Castellan’s henchmen and began to walk across the drawbridge. Rudolph of Landau was helped to his feet, which he managed with some difficulty, and then followed me into the castle.
As the portcullis fell and the drawbridge rose, I stood in the centre of the bailey and feared the worst. My dread reminded me of my tribulations at Wolvesey at the hands of Earl Harold’s chilling inquisitor, Maedoc.
I was right to make the comparison. Within the blink of an eye, I felt a sickening blow to the back of my neck, and then – nothing.
The next sensation I felt was the chill of the unyielding surface of a cold, dank stone floor. My neck was so sore and stiff, I could not move it; my hook and arm had been removed, as had my cape, mantle, weapons and armour. I was left wearing just my chemise and braies and was chilled to the bone. My head throbbed, as it had done at Wolvesey, and I felt the same sense of desperation. In many ways, my situation was worse; I was considerably older and had only one good arm with which to defend myself.
Several days passed, during which my only contact with the outside world was a daily bowl of thin stew that was passed through a small door at the top of my cell and placed on a high ledge. There was no light, and it was impossible to see even a glimmer of anything around me, but my good hand soon calculated the dimensions of my space. It was a tall, thin rectangle, the length of a man and a little wider than the span of a pair of shoulders. In height, the shelf was about as far as I could reach; I guessed the door in the ceiling to be a little higher.
I counted my blessings; at least I could lie down, and it was possible to turn round. But that was the best of it. Moments of panic came often and were hard to suppress; to all intents and purposes, I was in a tomb.
It was also totally silent, the air putrid, mainly from the stench of my own waste, and the walls and floor dank. The fact that I could not feel mortar joints between the stones of a man-made oubliette, led me to assume that I was entombed deep in the bowels of the castle in a chamber carved from solid rock. My nightmarish ordeal at the hands of Maedoc at Wolvesey, almost twenty years ago, had come back to haunt me.
The worst parts of my torment were the bitter cold – even though it was spring outside, the icy rock knew nothing of the seasons – and the sense of total isolation. This was particularly hard to deal with, so severe that it seemed like Hell on earth. At Wolvesey, at least, I had known that I was being put to the test and could cling to that knowledge to help save my sanity. This time, I was at the mercy of a brute just like Maedoc, but one who had no particular reason to keep me alive.
I lost track of the days; I was in a state of utter terror most of the time, not far short of losing my mind. I think I had been there for about ten days, but it could have been more, when relief finally came.
The small door above me suddenly opened, which allowed in an unbearable shaft of light. A ladder was lowered, on to which I was able to clamber, and I was helped to a room much higher up in the castle. It was hardly a lord’s chamber, but at least it had a window and a bed. A half-butt of warm water was produced, in which I could cleanse myself, and my clothes, weapons and armour were returned to me, as were my hook and arm. I felt whole again. I was given reasonable food and my chamber even had a garderobe, so that I no longer
