Our salvation came soon afterwards in the form of a squadron of Henry’s Imperial Guard which, according to its Captain, had been sent to escort us to Mainz, to appear before the Emperor once more. This time, the meeting would be held in the presence of several dignitaries from the Lionheart’s Empire, including his redoubtable mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine.
Our weapons and armour were returned to us, and we were given good horses. As soon as we were ready to leave, the Lionheart turned to the Captain of the Guard.
‘Am I still a prisoner?’
‘Yes, sire.’
‘May an imprisoned King issue a chivalrous challenge?’
The Captain hesitated a little, but then answered clearly.
‘I don’t see why not, my Lord.’
The King rode over to where the Castellan was standing and looked him in the eye.
‘I told you that you would feel my wrath.’
He then turned back to the Captain.
‘Captain, you are my witness. I challenge Rudolph of Landau to meet me in combat at Mainz; Sir Ranulf of Lancaster will be my second.’
The Captain looked at the Castellan, who was distinctly perturbed. But after composing himself, he nodded his agreement.
I was concerned that it was reckless of the Lionheart to issue a challenge to a man of little consequence – especially as he was still far from strong and healthy. But it was typical of him, and a sign that the fire had returned to his belly.
Never one to pass up the opportunity to right a wrong, or avenge a slight, the King meant to have his revenge.
30. Debauchery and Decadence
The gathering at Mainz, at the beginning of February 1194, was held in a red sandstone cathedral as imposing as its twin at Speyer, and with a similarly impressive guest list. But this time there were some significant differences.
The King was not asked to stand in front of the Emperor like a common criminal, and he looked much healthier than he had done before. He was dressed in his royal regalia, which had been brought from Westminster, and stood proudly with a large contingent from his Plantagenet Empire, the most important of whom was Eleanor, the Dowager Queen. Despite now being over seventy years of age, she was the most striking woman there.
She had personally escorted a caravan of silver bullion so large that it took a fleet of ships to get it across the Channel and an army 2,000 strong to escort it from its landfall in Antwerp. With her were many of the great and good of the land. England’s Chancellor, William Longchamp, who had been battling with Prince John for years to keep him at bay and had helped Eleanor raise the ransom, was on her right. On her left stood Walter of Coutances, Archbishop of Rouen, and Savaric of Bohun, Bishop of Bath. Flanking them in their finery were all five of the Grand Quintet, the finest soldiers in Christendom, beaming at the King from ear to ear.
Perhaps the most heart-warming presence for me was the dozen members of the King’s personal conroi, from Westminster. Men from my own corps, they were Englishmen to a man; all were over six feet tall and looked immaculate in their red mantles. They stood as a guard of honour behind the Queen who, as usual, wore a dazzling, pure-white kirtle and cape.
To the King’s great satisfaction, facing him on the opposite side of the Emperor Henry were not only the same nobles who had heard his stirring speech at Speyer, but also his nemesis, Leopold, Duke of Austria. The King made sure to catch his eye whenever he could, and on each occasion he smiled broadly at him, rubbing salt into the wounds of his liberation and his public shaming of Leopold at Speyer.
There was little drama in the formal proceedings at Mainz, other than the flamboyant kiss of peace delivered by the Emperor to the Lionheart as he handed a Plantagenet son back to the bosom of the dynasty’s grand matriarch. It was an egregious act the King later called the most expensive kiss in history.
Eleanor said nothing; her serenity and dignity spoke volumes, as did her fortitude in making the recovery of her son her personal crusade. Her great resilience was not lost on her German audience.
There was also a moment of mocking humour from the Lionheart when Henry gave the King a copy of the letter he had received from his brother, Prince John, and King Philip, offering a huge inducement to detain the Lionheart in Germany. The King laughed out loud as he read it, and exclaimed at the end.
‘I must applaud my brother’s assessment of my worth. All the silver in England; what a compliment he pays me! I will be sure to thank him when I see him.’
There was just one more issue to resolve for the Lionheart before we left the Holy Roman Empire. He dealt with it early the next morning, on Mainz’s Champ de Mars. The King had told few people about his challenge to Rudolph of Landau and there were no more than a dozen people present.
The Lionheart did not want any public accolades, just vengeance. A duel with swords and shields was agreed.
Just before the men came to blows, a priest from the cathedral appeared, an emissary from the Emperor.
‘Sire, the Emperor asks that you show mercy to the Castellan; he was only doing what was asked of him.’
The King was blunt in his response.
‘Tell the Emperor that I hope the Castellan was doing far more than was required of him. Even so, he should be comforted in knowing that I will show the man the same mercy he offered me and that I will return to him in equal measure the courtesies he extended to me.’
Rudolph of Landau looked terrified. He knew he had little chance against the legendary warrior, and that he would be given no quarter. But he had no choice; the challenge had been made in front of one of the Emperor’s captains and could not have been declined.
No words were exchanged between them. The King had said all that needed to be said at Trifels.
The Castellan carried a huge longsword, longer and heavier than any I had ever seen. It made no difference. Even though the King was debilitated by over a year of harsh treatment, he parried his opponent’s wild swings with ease. The Lionheart was far nimbler than the Swabian – especially in coordinating his blade and his shield – and he was soon able to get under the arc of the man’s attempted blows. The King’s deadly thrust came quickly, as he bent one knee and plunged his blade deep into the ample gut of the German.
The big man fell to his knees, mortally wounded.
The Lionheart removed his blade as the Castellan looked at him with the woeful eyes of a dying stag. His plaintive expression did not incline the King to hesitate; he took a mighty swing, which almost severed his adversary’s head.
The Lionheart had already turned, and had taken a stride, by the time Rudolph of Landau hit the ground with a heavy thud.
The King did not look back.
Preparations were soon made for our long procession up the Rhine. The King wanted to thank his old friend, Adolf, Bishop of Cologne, who had helped Queen Eleanor in her negotiations with the Emperor, and so planned to spend a few days with him. When I heard that, I asked the King for permission to travel to Rupertsberg to see Negu.
He was effusive in his response.
‘Of course, my friend. If the flame still burns brightly between you, bring her back to England. I promised you a future when we return; there is one for both of you, if you wish. She can have a nuns’ foundation in parallel with the one I intend to create for Abbot Alun. It is the least I can do.’
