Three days and nights Richard traveled, accompanied only by some youth who could speak German and a certain William di Stagno about whom old documents reveal nothing. At length, pressed by hunger and weariness, they entered a village near the Danube in Austria. The German youth they sent to market but he flourished more bezants than he should and behaved with overmuch conceit, and being asked who he was, claimed to be employed by a very rich merchant. So he was looked at with suspicion. When he once more went to market he imprudently tucked Richard’s gloves beneath his belt to swagger about and show his worth. The magistrates seized him, tortured him, and threatened to cut out his tongue unless he confessed where the king was hiding.
Archduke Leopold, being apprised, felt overcome with joy since at the conquest of Acre he was humiliated when Richard threw his banner in a cesspool and heard himself mocked by Norman jesters. Thus did he send people to take the haughty king. Richard, with no better idea what to do, slung a cloak about his shoulders, rushed to the kitchen of the hostel where he stayed and sat himself down to turn chickens on a spit. Even so, a king has not the demeanor of a cook. Leopold took him and imprisoned him, charged with murdering Conrad de Montferrat. He languished first at Dürnstein castle, later at Trifels, because Leopold and Emperor Henry VI both were relatives of Conrad. Tedious months he whiled away composing ballads and singing, the legacy of his grandfather Duke William of Aquitaine who was renowned as a troubadour.
Now the jongleur Blondel le Nesle had been much favored by Richard. At court they composed and sang together, for the king had a passing sweet voice. Blondel therefore took upon himself to go about strange lands until someone in a familiar way might speak of the king’s presence. Accordingly he set out, singing as he journeyed. Not for two years did he catch the least tiding, not until he went into Germany to the castle where his sovereign was held. He found lodging nearby with an old woman and when he asked who might own such a fine castle she told him it belonged to the duke of Austria. Is there any prisoner? he asked.
Certes, the old woman answered. Yea, these four years past, albeit we know not who he is. They do guard him well. We think he must be some august lord.
Then it seemed to Blondel in his heart that he had found what he sought and he was joyous. He lay down to sleep until the watchman’s horn, next to church and prayed to God for help. Then to the castle like any jongleur to make friends of the castellan, a merry young knight who bade him stay. So he went and fetched his viol and other instruments to serve the household. There he lived all winter but could not find out who the prisoner was. But one day in spring while he wandered through the garden adjoining the keep he thought of a song he and Richard had composed. He began to sing, loud and clear. Presently he heard from within a gloomy turret the voice of King Richard singing.
Now back to his chamber, took his viol and played a strain, rejoicing because he had found his lord. With the castellan he stayed until Pentecost, then declared he would go to his own country from which he was long absent.
Ah, Blondel, I do entreat thee! the castellan protested. Stay awhile! Abide with us!
But he would not. Seeing how it was, the castellan gave him his discharge, a new robe, and a sumpter horse. Many a day Blondel traveled until he got to England. There he told the barons he had found King Richard. They took counsel, debating who should go to beard the duke and redeem their king. Two wise and valiant knights were chosen.
Anon they greeted the duke. We have come on behalf of England’s barons, said they. We have heard you hold King Richard prisoner. We beseech and pray you to accept ransom, so much as seems to you right and honorable.
Do you wish him, said Leopold, he will cost you two hundred thousand marks sterling. And speak no further, lest your journey be wasted.
The emissaries took their leave and when they got back to England the barons considered. Because they did not want Richard kept in bondage they went about collecting what Leopold wanted. And so the king returned. Still, on his account the realm was grievously impoverished. For a long time after Richard got his liberty, according to the narrative of Reims, mass was said with chalices made from wood or pewter because churches gave up jeweled chalices to help.
He was called an impetuous, violent lord. I am born of a rank that admits no superior save God, said he to Emperor Henry. Would any that knew him gainsay it? While oversea he put up gallows. Young or old, man or woman, native or stranger, no plea availed. Malefactors danced a desperate jig on air. So he was the Lion that let no mischief creep out of sight as King Philip was the Lamb that winked at wrongdoing. Once, from a rocky crag near Andelys, Richard flung three bound prisoners to horrible death. The castellan of Saint Michel, told of his return, dropped dead of fright. Yet here was a monarch eagerly served,
