The Heart of the Lion

Chapter XIII THE ROYAL FUGITIVE

The journey to Corfu was uneventful. During it Richard fully regained his health and had time to assess his situation.

The crusade had failed in its purpose. He might have left with Philip for he had gained very little by staying. Had he gone back to England then, he could have prevented whatever trouble was brewing with John, and he could have planned a greater crusade in the light of what he had learned from the last one.

He had emerged with but little gain: merely the three years truce during which time Christians could visit Jerusalem. But his reputation as a soldier had grown to spectacular magnitude. Richard the Lion-hearted was known throughout the Christian world; minstrels sang of his prowess and his courage in battle. He was the greatest soldier of his age and yet he had not been able to vanquish Saladin. Perhaps in his heart he had not wanted to, and he believed that Saladin had not wished to destroy him. Saladin would have preferred to make him his hostage. He knew that, because there had been several attempts to take him when he was in a vulnerable position, perhaps in some lonely spot with but a few of his knights. He could visualise such a situation. The courteous treatment, the honours, the conversation, the growing friendship. It would have been as it had in those long ago days when he had been a hostage of Philip of France. He would not have believed it possible then that Philip who had loved him so dearly in those days should now be plotting against him.

He had many enemies. This journey of his could be full of dangers. If he were to be washed up on some alien coast defenceless, many willing hands would seize him, and not in order to honour him. The French hated him. They had never agreed during their sojourn in the Holy Land. How often they had shown their enmity. And the Germans disliked him. Henry the Emperor would not forgive him for making an ally of Tancred and Leopold had a personal grudge against him.

He must get back quickly, and to do so he must go as far as possible by land, for who could tell when the sea was going to make progress impossible. At any time ships could be driven on to a coast if they were lucky and kept there for months waiting for favourable winds.

Time was important. His mother had made it clear that urgency was needed; and even after receiving her warning he had delayed.

He would make the journey by land and as it was going to be a dangerous one it would be folly to let it be known that the traveller was Richard of England. He must disguise himself; it was not easy for a king. He could wear the clothes of a beggar but somehow the arrogance, the dignity, the kingly air would seep through and betray him.

Such were his thoughts as he sailed away from the Holy Land and a month after leaving he reached the Island of Corfu.

Two days out from Corfu Richard sighted two vessels on the horizon.

He shouted to his friends to come and see.

‘By God’s eyes,’ he cried, ‘I know not to which country they belong. They would seem to be pirates.’

‘Better pirates, Sire,’ said one of his friends, ‘than French or German.’

‘Be ready,’ cried Richard. ‘We may have to fight them.’

One of the ships came alongside. It was well armed and Richard regretted that his fleet was not with him. He would have made short work of the impudent fellows if it had been there.

The sailors were ready with arrows and stones but Richard did not give the order to attack. He said that first he would try to parley with the pirates.

Using his trumpet he did this. It was not easy. They spoke a variation of Turkish and Arabic; but the stay in Palestine had helped him to understand something of this language and it was just possible to make himself understood.

The vessels were indeed pirates, looking for booty.

Richard had an idea. He cried: ‘If you attempt to board my ship I will have the blood of every man of you. But there is a way in which you could gain a great deal of money without fighting for it.’

The pirate leader was interested and Richard said that he would board the larger of their vessels to parley with him, accompanied by only two of his knights.

The pirate leader was astonished that he could so trust them, and said so.

‘Why, fellow,’ said Richard, ‘if you attempted treachery we would sink your two ships and your men with them. Have no doubt of that. But you have given me your word and I have given you mine. Wise men know that it is never good policy to betray a trust. If you wish to fight and take the spoils of my ship, then I will return to it and we shall battle together. But you are not so foolish.’

‘You are a great lord,’ said the pirate. ‘What is your will?’

‘I wish you to take me on board and convey me and a few of my followers to a spot I shall choose on the Adriatic coast. If you will do this you will be amply paid. If you fail you will surely die with all your sins on you – and a pirate could scarcely pursue his trade without indulging in a goodly number.’

‘You are a brave man,’ said the pirate.

‘It has been said of me.’

‘There is about you a manner different from that of other men. I would say that only great lords and kings have such manners.’

‘Then perhaps you are a discerning man.’

‘There is news around,’ said the pirate, ‘that a great king is on his way back to England.’

‘You hear news then.’

‘We pick it up here and there. It is said that many great lords are looking for the King of England.’

‘For what purpose think you?’

‘That which would brook no good to him, I trow,’ said the pirate with a laugh.

‘And if they were to find him, I trow that would brook no good to them.’

‘He is a mighty man. One ’twould be good not to cross.’

Richard nodded and the pirate smiled slyly.

‘We will do your bidding, my lord,’ he said. ‘We will take you and some of your friends to the spot you choose and if you wish to reward poor men for the trouble they have had, they will be grateful.’

‘You shall be rewarded,’ said Richard. He looked down at the clothes he had adopted soon after leaving Corfu. They were those of a Templar. ‘You see me thus garbed.’

‘My lord, it does not become you as other garbs might.’

‘Then mayhap I should change it. I shall come to your ship as a palmer. Would that fit me better?’

The pirate shook his head. ‘Mayhap ’twill pass but I see you in shining armour, my lord, with a red cross on your breast.’

‘And I see you are a man of insight,’ said Richard, ‘which if it is tempered with discretion should serve you well.’

Thus Richard, in the garb of a humble pilgrim, and a few of his most trusted men boarded the pirate ship. His own he sent off to join his fleet if possible; if not to return to England.

The pirates treated him with a respect which grew during his voyage with them. That he was a man of great courage was obvious to them, that he was Richard the Lion-Heart was almost equally so. They knew they could trust him to reward them if they landed him safely for his honesty was as renowned as his courage. He was a guileless man in many ways; he gave a straight answer and he had so often been deluded because he had trusted others to be as frank as himself. Richard Yea and Nay was a man whose word was his bond.

When one of the ships ran into trouble and was forced on to the island of Lacroma he worked with the men during the violent storm in the hope of saving the ship. As this was impossible he with the other members of the crew transferred to the remaining ship and he travelled in that to Ragusa. There he took his leave of the pirates after paying them as he had promised and still dressed as a pilgrim, accompanied by a band of followers and with rich garments, jewels and money on pack mules, he began his journey across the land.

It was ill luck which had brought him to Ragusa, for the governor of that land was related to Conrad de Montferrat who had been murdered by the Old Man of the Mountains just as he had been declared King of Jerusalem.

When he landed Richard found a lodging which was not very grand, explaining that he was a merchant who was returning from pilgrimage. There he called his followers together and decided what must be done.

‘First, my friends, we must conceal our identity. Our party must consist of Sir Baldwin de Bethune and his retinue. I shall not be of that retinue for it seems to me that if I attempted to ape a servant I should fail in some way. For myself I shall take the role of a wealthy merchant from Damascus who had joined your party for company. My name shall be Hugo ... Hugo of Damascus.’

‘Where shall we go from here, my lord?’ asked Baldwin.

‘We must make our way to the coast, avoiding French territory, for I should not care to fall into the hands of the King of France.’

‘Nor those of Leopold of Austria, my lord,’ said Baldwin.

‘I liked him not,’ said Richard. ‘An arrogant fellow who came to the crusade in no humble spirit. He sought only gain. Do you remember how he flew his flag on the walls of Acre and refused to help us rebuild the walls of the cities?’

‘Aye, Sire, I remember it well,’ answered Baldwin, ‘and doubtless he does.’

Their host chatted with them as they sat at his table. He had been told he would not regret his hospitality.

Richard asked if they had many pilgrims passing through the land.

‘Nay,’ was the answer, ‘they do not often come this way.’

‘Any Christian country would allow pilgrims to pass through unmolested, I believe,’ said Richard.

‘Nay, Master Hugo, that is not so. Those who wish us ill could so easily hide their identity behind the pilgrim’s robe and palm.’

‘’Tis true enough,’ said Richard, ‘and it may be that the most honest of merchants would be suspected.’

It was so difficult for him to deceive. He was not meant to play any role but that of a king. His manners would have betrayed him again and again to any who was suspicious.

‘We are watchful,’ said their host. ‘I shall be obliged to let it be known that a party of pilgrims has passed this way. Did you know that King Richard has left Palestine?’

‘Is that so?’ said Baldwin before Richard could speak.

‘He has to return to his kingdom where his brother is causing trouble and it seems that he made many enemies when he was in Palestine.’

‘It is difficult not to,’ began Richard.

Baldwin interrupted: ‘There will always be rumours. It is well not to believe them all.’ Even as he spoke he threw an apologetic look at Richard for interrupting him. It was not only impossible for Richard to disguise himself; it was almost equally so for his men.

‘I have heard it said often that the king of France and the Emperor of Germany are against him, as well as Duke Leopold of Austria. My own Governor had reason to hate him.’

‘What reasons are these?’ demanded Richard hotly.

‘My Governor is Count Meinhard of Goritz, nephew of the Marquis Conrad de Montferrat, who was murdered on the orders of Richard of England.’

‘That is not true,’ cried Richard indignantly.

Again Baldwin had the temerity to interrupt. ‘Who says this?’ he asked mildly.

‘All say it. The Marquis was to be King of Jerusalem. Richard of England did not wish this, wanting the crown to go to his own man, Guy de Lusignan; but it was Conrad who had the right. The King of England finally relented and gave his consent to the appointment. It is said that he did this because he was planning to despatch the Count.’

‘It was not the King of England who murdered him,’ said Richard. ‘I swear it, on my pilgrim’s palm.’

‘Ah, my dear merchant, what can we know of these matters? Very soon after Conrad’s election he was returning home after dining with a friend when he was set upon by assassins and stabbed to death.’

‘These assassins were in the employ of the Old Man of the Mountains.’

‘Rumours have come from the mountains that it was Richard of England who ordered the murder of the Count.’

‘Then the Old Man lies.’

Their host looked furtive. Then he said: ‘I must beg of you not to speak ill of the Old Man at my table.’

‘So you fear him,’ cried Richard.

‘All wise men fear the Old Man, sir. It is said that he never forgets a slight. I would not care to be set upon by one of his men. Nay, I speak well of the Old Man. I but wish to warn you that as pilgrims it will be necessary for you to have safe conduct from the Governor.’

‘This Count ...’ began Richard.

‘Count Meinhard of Goritz, nephew of the Count Conrad de Montferrat.’

‘Very well,’ said Richard. ‘We will ask his permission to pass safely through his land.’

In the room assigned to them they talked in whispers.

‘Think you he knew who I was?’ asked Richard.

‘It is certain, Sire, that he knew you were no ordinary merchant.’

‘Do not call me Sire. People listen. Call me Hugo. Now, Baldwin, we shall have to ask permission to cross the country. Do you think this fellow is suspicious of us?’

‘It might well be so, Sire ... Hugo.’

‘I will send the Count a gift – a ring I have. I will tell the messenger that I bought it from a Pisan merchant at a bargain price. I would wish him to have it to show our gratitude for giving us free passage through his land.’

‘My lord ... Hugo,’ said Baldwin, ‘that ring is a very fine one.’

‘Nay,’ said Richard, ‘but a bauble. Let us send it without delay, for I am eager to proceed with the journey. Now we must get a night’s sleep and in the morning be ready to continue our journey.’

He lay down on the pallet his host had provided. One of the men lay across the door, while the others placed themselves in strategic positions.

He lay brooding, thinking of the wasted months, of what was happening in his kingdom, of the treachery of John and Philip – an ill-assorted pair – of the nobility of Saladin.

When the ring was brought to Meinhard of Goritz he looked at it intently.

‘A merchant gave it?’ he said. ‘A merchant Hugo who is with a band of pilgrims?’

He sent for his jeweller.

‘It is a very fine ring,’ said the jeweller.

‘Scarcely one that a merchant would bestow for a free passage,’ said Meinhard.

He dismissed the jeweller and discussed the matter with his ministers.

‘There is something unusual about these pilgrims,’ he said. ‘I hear that one has a bearing of great dignity. He is said to be a merchant but the other members of the party seem very respectful towards him while attempting not to be.’

His chief minister smiled slowly. ‘My lord Count,’ he said, ‘we know that Richard of England has left Palestine. He will be wishing to reach England by the shortest route. This might well be by land.’

Meinhard nodded. ‘And you imply that our merchant Hugo could be the King of England?’

‘Who but a king would bestow such a ring as though it is a trifle. What is of great value to most men is a bagatelle to a king.’

‘If this is indeed King Richard, the murderer of my uncle, then what shall we do?’

‘We will take him prisoner. The Emperor will not easily forgive us if we allow him to slip through our fingers.’

‘I will send for the messengers whom we have been holding and give them back the ring. Then we will take him captive.’

‘There are many who would not forgive us if we did not make it known that he had arrived.’

Meinhard of Goritz sent for the messenger.

‘Take this ring back to your master,’ he said. ‘It does not belong to Hugo the Merchant. It belongs to King Richard of England. I have given my word to seize and question all pilgrims who pass through my territory and not to take gifts from them in return for a safe conduct. But this is a different matter. This is the King of England whose fame has travelled ahead of him. It is Coeur de Lion himself. Therefore take the ring and tell him that I have given my word not to accept gifts but because of his greatness and his generosity in offering it to me, I will give him free leave to go.’

When the messenger rode back with the ring and the message there was consternation among Richard’s friends.

‘I like not those words,’ said Baldwin. ‘There is a threat beneath them.’

‘I think so too,’ answered Richard. ‘We will not leave by sea. They will be watching the coast, and if I travel with a large party I shall be recognised immediately. I will go from here with a few of you and some of my possessions and I will start at once. I feel that to delay would be dangerous.’

They parted company and Richard set out. He had not been gone more than an hour when troops arrived at the lodging. Those who remained of Richard’s followers were arrested and taken to Meinhard of Goritz.

When they were brought before him he said: ‘Where is the merchant Hugo?’

Baldwin said: ‘I know not. He left us to pursue his journey alone.’

Meinhard was furious. He saw that he had acted in a manner to arouse suspicion. He should have sent the troops back with the ring. He had presumed that Richard would have accepted his promise for safe conduct and have landed right into his net.

There was no help for it. He had lost the King ... but temporarily, he promised himself.

There was no time for reproaches. He sent messengers at once to his brother Frederick of Betsau, for the host of the previous night when questioned had revealed in which direction Richard had gone, which indicated that he must pass through Frederick’s lands.

Frederick was to look out for the King of England. Every house likely to be used by pilgrims must be watched.

When he received the message, Frederick sent for his cousin Roger of Argenton.

‘A mission for you, Roger,’ he said. ‘The King of England is nearby. He has slipped through my hands but I don’t intend to allow him to continue to do so. I want to capture him. This would mightily please the Emperor. And if he escapes I shall doubtless be reprimanded for allowing him to. He murdered Conrad de Montferrat.’

‘I believed that to have been the Old Man of the Mountains,’ said Roger.

‘Nay, it was Richard who was his enemy. The Old Man’s followers swear that it was Richard who had him killed.’

‘Murderers often like to shift their crimes on to the shoulders of others.’

‘No matter who murdered Conrad, I need Richard here. Go, Roger, and bring him to me. Do not spare yourself or anyone, but bring me Richard.’

Riding across the country Roger of Argenton encountered a company of pilgrims. There was one among them, tall, fair and of such dignified carriage that Roger’s suspicions were immediately aroused.

He asked permission to ride with them. This was granted for Richard liked the look of the young man. He asked him to ride beside him.

‘Tell me,’ said Roger, ‘what is your destination?’

‘We are on our way to England,’ said Richard. ‘Do you know of a nearer route than the one we are taking?’

‘You should head northwards,’ Roger told him, ‘and to the west. You would in due course come to France and from there cross to England.’

‘We have a long journey ahead of us,’ said Richard. ‘Tell me, my friend, have you travelled much?’

‘I have been in Normandy.’

‘Normandy. Ah, a fair land.’

‘As a Norman I agree with you.’

‘By God’s eyes, you are a Norman. I knew it.’

‘How so?’

‘Your bearing, your height. You have the look of a Norman.’

‘That is a compliment.’

‘None greater. Let us talk of Normandy.’

They talked of that land for which it was clear they both had a great affection.

‘Tell me,’ said Richard, ‘did you ever meet its Duke?’

‘To my regret I never did. But he is King of England now and on a crusade to the Holy Land.’

‘Kings mayhap should stay in their own kingdoms, think you?’

‘’Tis a noble thing to fight for the Cross, but it is said that duty lies first to the homeland.’

‘It may well be that you are right,’ answered Richard quietly.

Roger suggested that they should stay a night at one of his castles. There he would be happy to entertain a party whose company he had so much enjoyed.

As they entered the castle Richard could see that his friends were uneasy.

‘My lord,’ whispered one of them, ‘can we trust this man?’

‘I trust him,’ said Richard.

Alas! thought his men. Was Richard perhaps a little too trusting?

The pilgrims were given a large room in which they could spend the night and they were invited to eat in the great hall with Roger’s family.

Afterwards Richard sang for them and they brought a lute for him to play. Then Roger asked that Richard play a game of chess with him.

They removed to a quiet corner of the hall and sat there, the board between them.

Richard noticed the fine handsome face, the noble bearing, the fair colouring, the long Norman legs, and liked well what he saw.

‘I could find it in my heart to linger here,’ he said.

Roger flushed slightly and said: ‘Naught would delight me more, my lord.’

Richard saw that the hand on the piece Roger held trembled a little. He had not noticed he had called him my lord.

Their eyes met and there was understanding between them.

Here is a man whom I could love, thought Richard.

He looked at the rafters above the hall, at their companions still at the table, at the serving men and women passing back and forth.

‘It has been a day I shall remember,’ said Richard. ‘I shall never forget you, Roger of Argenton.’

‘Nor I you, my lord.’

‘What do you know of me, Roger?’

‘That you are no humble pilgrim.’

‘Pilgrims are not always men of humble standing.’

‘Nay, but there is that about you that proclaims you to be of the highest rank.’

‘Do you know who I am?’

‘I know who I believe you to be.’

‘And who is that?’

‘I dare not say, my lord, but if you would tell me it would make me happy.’

‘Can you keep a secret, Roger?’

‘I would let them pull out my tongue, my lord, rather than betray one you told me.’

‘Then here is one: I am Richard of England. Nay, do not rise. It is our secret, remember.’

‘You know they are seeking you?’

‘I know I am surrounded by enemies.’

‘They seek to trap you.’

‘Let them try.’

‘There is an order in this land that you are to be sought and when found taken to the Lord Frederick.’

‘Fret not, Roger. I will elude them. Think not that Coeur de Lion will be disturbed by some petty ruler like this Frederick.’

‘But if you fell into his hands ... as you are ...’

‘He would be the one who would have to fear. Come, I have put you in check.’

They returned to the game which Richard won and then he said that it was time for retiring.

He lay on his pallet but he could not sleep. He was thinking of Philip who had betrayed him and then he thought of the gentle eyes and the Norman bearing of Roger of Argenton.

Would he would follow me, he thought.

He was awakened by one of his attendants. ‘What now,’ cried Richard. ‘Is it morning then?’

‘Nay, my lord, just past midnight. Roger of Argenton is without. He says he must speak to you. It is of the greatest importance.’

Richard rose from his bed.

‘Have a care, my lord.’

‘Fear not. I trust this man.’

One of his knights put a robe about his shoulders and he stepped out of the room.

Roger immediately knelt at his feet.

‘Pardon, my King,’ he murmured. ‘Pardon.’

‘What is your sin?’ asked Richard, ‘that you get me from my bed to ask forgiveness for it.’

Roger was on his feet, his eyes wide. ‘My lord, you must fly from here without delay. I have had a horse made ready. Do not delay.’

‘Why so? You were hospitable enough last evening and now would be rid of us.’

‘I must confess. I knew who you were. I was sent by Lord Frederick to intercept you, to bring you here, to trap you. I want you to go before they come for you. I would rather die than be the one who betrayed you.’

‘So you set out to do that then, Roger?’

‘I was ordered by my lord. But I cannot do it, Sire. That is why I warn you. You must go at once. The horse is ready. I shall tell them that I was mistaken. That you are not in this area.’

‘Thank you, Roger.’

‘I could not betray you, for I love you.’

‘I love you, too,’ said Richard. ‘Nor shall I forget this night.’

‘Then prepare and be gone. It has been the greatest honour of my life to receive you here, but I shall not rest until you have gone.’

Richard drew Roger to him and kissed him.

Then he turned and went back into the room.

‘Dress!’ he cried. ‘Prepare. We are leaving here without delay. Roger of Argenton was meant to betray us and he has saved us instead.’

When Roger reported to Frederick that the pilgrims were in fact a certain Baldwin de Bethune and his companions, Frederick was bitterly disappointed. So much so that he said he would like to examine the pilgrims himself and he sent out orders for their arrest.

Roger was ahead of him. He knew in which direction they had gone and he reached them before they were discovered.

‘The pilgrims will be arrested,’ he told Richard. ‘They are to be taken before Frederick. You, my liege lord, must not be with the party when it is taken. Leave it now. Your horse will carry you a long way from here. Take with you but one servant. Go northwards as fast as you can. Do not seek rich lodgings. Be careful that you are not noticed.’

So once again Roger had saved him, for a day after Richard had parted with his knights they were discovered, arrested and thrown into prison.

There he was, the King of England, accustomed to being surrounded by a retinue of followers, alone in a strange land, save for one page. When he had left his friends he and his page had galloped northwards for some hours until his horse was exhausted; when they had come to a forest, the page tethered the horses to a tree, spread out a cloak upon the grass and they slept.

It was dawn when Richard awoke. He looked about for his friends and seeing only the sleeping page realised with dismay what had happened.

He faced the situation. Richard of England was wandering across Europe, with no knowledge of geography, realising that he was surrounded by enemies, with no servants except the page and only the treasure they could carry to pay for his journey.

It was an incongruous situation. The man who had but a short time ago commanded men in their thousands was now a fugitive.

He was not entirely dismayed. This was adventure, although of a different kind from those that usually came his way, but he was ready for any sort of adventure.

He shouted to his page, who hearing his voice sprang up in confusion.

‘Come, page,’ he said, ‘we must be on our way. We have to reach the coast somehow and take ship for England. There are just the two of us which is not a bad thing, for none would suspect a king would travel with just one servant. I doubt not you are as hungry as I am. We will ride on and perhaps find food somewhere.’

The page brought his master’s horse and they started off.

For three days they travelled, living as they could. Richard would wait outside a town in a thicket, if that were possible, while the page went and bought food. They rode through the day and slept from exhaustion in fields and woods and on the third day they came to a city.

Richard did not realise that this city was Vienna and that he was in the heart of that territory which belonged to his bitterest enemy, Leopold of Austria.

‘Now,’ he said, ‘we must find a humble lodging and there we shall rest for a while before pursuing our journey. While we stay we will find out where we are and what direction we should take. But first we must rest and eat to sustain ourselves after these days of hardship.’

The page had grown closer to his master than he had ever been and was filled with pride to think that fate had chosen him to be the one to accompany King Richard on this perilous journey.

They found a humble lodging on the outskirts of the town where no questions were asked when they explained they just needed a room. Richard told the woman of the house that he was a merchant and dealt in fine objects. This would allay her suspicions if she saw any of the treasures he had managed to bring with him. He told her that he and his servant would like to stay for a week or so for they were tired with travelling and still had far to go. When he asked her the name of the nearby city she told him it was Vienna.

‘Ah,’ said Richard, ‘that would belong to Leopold of Austria.’

‘He is our noble Duke,’ said the woman.

Richard smiled inwardly recalling that occasion when he had kicked the fellow for refusing to help build a city’s walls. What would he say if he knew the King of England was now travelling through his realm?

He was determined this time not to betray himself and prepared to learn the ways of humble folk. He found he enjoyed talking to the woman and her husband. He could speak their language tolerably well and he took an interest in their way of life. He would sit in the kitchen while the woman baked and would watch her and chat while she worked. She took to giving him little tasks and he was often set to turn the meat as it roasted.

He was recovering from the three days spent in riding fast and picking up food where it could be found. He was strong but he always had to remember that that virulent fever could overtake him at any time and he must always be prepared for it.

The page penetrated deeper into the town to find where he could find food. He would take some article which Richard gave him and sell it. One of these articles was the jewelled belt – a beautiful thing most delicately wrought and which had often been admired when Richard wore it, which was often. He was sorry to part with it; yet it was necessary to pay for food and lodging.

In the market place it was inevitable that the page should be noticed. The goldsmith to whom he sold the belt had rarely seen such a fine piece of workmanship. He talked of it and showed it to certain of his noble customers. It was bought by one who was most curious about it.

Who was this young man who came every day and spent so lavishly?

One of the traders said to him: ‘You are clearly a gentleman of quality.’

‘I serve a greater,’ boasted the page.

‘Who is this rich and noble gentleman?’

‘He is a merchant.’

They talked of him when he was not there and watched for him.

The page greatly enjoyed the sensation he made. He was so proud to be serving the King. One day he took one of the King’s gloves which was very richly embroidered and stuck it in his belt before he went into the market.

There was one man leaning against a stall who watched him. He swaggered up to him and said: ‘That is a fine glove, my man.’

‘Is it not?’ answered the page.

‘And not yours I’ll swear. How come you to be wearing it?’

‘It is my master’s,’ answered the page. ‘I wear it because I am proud to be in his service.’

‘Where is this master of yours?’

‘He is making a journey and resting here but a while.’

‘A rich merchant is he not?’

‘Aye, ’tis so,’ answered the page.

The man took the glove and studied it intently.

‘A royal glove, I’d say,’ he commented.

The page snatched it from him and sticking it in his belt did not stop to buy what he had come for. He was terrified that he had betrayed his master.

Hurrying back to the lodging he found the King in the kitchen talking to the woman of the house. He signed that he must speak to him without delay and Richard went to the small room they shared.

‘Sire, we must fly without delay. They know who you are.’

‘How can they know that? You did not tell anyone?’

‘Nay, Sire. I never would. But they watch me. They ask me questions about my master.’

‘And you told them I am a merchant.’

‘Yes, I told them that.’

‘Well, since they are asking questions, we must be wary. We will make our plans to leave within a few days.’

‘But, master ...’

‘You are trembling. Why should they guess who I am? They but think me a merchant. If we left too hurriedly they would be suspicious. Nay, since they are curious about you, do not go to the market today. Go tomorrow and buy what we need. Then we will be off and I will tell these people that I am ready to pursue my journey within the next few days.’

The page was terribly apprehensive. He dared not confess that he had worn the royal glove in his belt and that it had been seized and studied by a man who had asked if his master was royal.

When the page next went to the market he was aware of two men who followed him. He paused at a stall and they came up beside him.

‘Who are you?’ he stammered.

‘You will discover. Come with us.’

‘Nay, I cannot. I have to buy and return to my master.’

His arms were seized and he was dragged from the stall.

He was taken into a building where men sat at a board on trestles. Those who had seized him took him to this board and held him while one of the men with a hard cruel face smiled at him. It was a smile which made the page feel as though a snake was coiling itself about him.

‘You come to the market to shop now and then,’ said this man.

‘Yes, I do,’ answered the page.

‘And you bring objects which you sell.’

‘’Tis true. I see no harm ...’

‘Who talks of harm? It may be that you have done much good. Who is your master?’

‘He is a merchant ...’

The smile again distorted that cruel face.

‘It would be better to tell the truth. It could save us much time and you much pain.’

‘I am answering your questions. What more can I do?’

‘You can tell us the truth.’ One of the men beside him twisted his arm. ‘Come, fellow. The truth.’

‘I tell you that he is a merchant ...’

‘Silence. His name. They are pretty eyes. I doubt not that they serve you well. Have you ever thought what it would be like to be deprived of them?’

The page began to tremble.

One of the men seized his head and forced him to open his mouth. He took his tongue in his hands and twisted it. The page gasped with pain and the man released it.

‘See, it is still there. Have you thought what it would be like to lose it? Come, foolish fellow. We have strong suspicions who your master is. You have but to confirm it and you keep those pretty eyes, that useful tongue. But, by God and his Heavens, if you refuse us you will most certainly lose them.’

There were tears in the page’s eyes. ‘I will not betray my master.’

‘Oh, so there is something to betray! Whose glove did you wear in your belt? What a fine glove. It was like a king’s glove. Be sensible. Do you want to suffer in vain? We are asking very little of you. The name of your master – his true name which you know and which you are going to tell us. Give us his name. Lead us to his lodgings and you go free unharmed. Refuse us and you will be thrown into prison and dealt with as we have already explained.’

The page fell on his knees. ‘Let me go, master.’

‘Assuredly when you tell us what we want to know. Don’t be a fool. We know already. We merely want you to confirm this. We shall not blame you. You are a servant. You must do as you are bid. Come, think of the hot irons and your precious eyes. Think. You would never be able to speak again. So look while you can and speak while you can – for you might as well be dead when we have done what we will do to you if you refuse to tell us.’

The page broke down. ‘I will tell you. My master is Richard the King of England. I will take you to our lodging. He is trying to reach England and we lost our way ...’

‘Enough. He is a good and wise fellow after all and deserves to keep his eyes and tongue. Come, show us the way.’

The dwelling was surrounded by soldiers. The news had circulated that Richard Coeur de Lion was in the house.

The captain of the troop strode into the house and was met by the woman who came from her kitchen to discover what the noise was about.

‘King Richard of England is in this dwelling,’ said the captain.

‘I have no king here,’ was the reply. ‘There is no one but a merchant who is a pilgrim.’

‘We want that pilgrim,’ said the captain.

‘He is in the kitchen watching the chickens on the spits.’

They burst into the kitchen.

‘There he is,’ cried the captain.

Richard stood up to his full height. ‘What means this?’ he demanded.

‘We know you to be the King of England,’ said the captain. ‘We have orders to take you.’

‘Whose orders?’

‘From a high place, Sire.’

‘From your Duke no less. From Leopold. Go and tell Leopold that I will give my sword to no one less than himself.’

The captain was undecided what to do but at length he kept his guard on the house and sent a messenger to the Duke to tell him what had happened.

Later that day Leopold arrived.

They faced each other in the kitchen. Leopold was smiling smugly. ‘It is a little different now from when we were on the walls of Acre,’ he said.

‘Is it?’ retorted Richard. ‘You were arrogant then and at no good business and so you are now.’

‘You are mistaken. This is very good business. You are my prisoner and there are many who will rejoice to hear it.’

‘Weak men such as yourself who are afraid of me?’

‘I am not afraid of you now, Richard of England.’

Richard laughed aloud. ‘You are backed by your soldiers and I stand alone. That makes a very brave man of you.’

‘You are under arrest.’

Richard bowed his head. ‘Allow me to present my sword to you. I do not keep it in the kitchen.’

He went to the room he had shared with the page and taking his sword handed it to Leopold.

‘Now,’ he said, ‘you may tell your masters that you have captured the King of England.’

High on a hill, dominating the landscape, built as a mighty fortress against any invaders, its dungeons so strong that no man had ever escaped from them, the castle of Dürenstein was the ideal prison for the most important prisoner in the world. Built on the banks of the Danube where that river cuts through rocky gorges with the few houses which comprised the little town of Dürenstein clustered at its feet, it was remote and isolated, for few travellers came that way; and here in this fortress, Richard was placed in the custody of one of Leopold’s most trusted officers, Hadamar von Kuenring.

The importance of his charge had been impressed on von Kuenring and he was determined to hold him against no matter what odds.

The two men quickly became friendly in spite of the fact that one was jailer, one prisoner. Richard liked to talk of battles he had won and von Kuenring listened eagerly; they played chess together and each looked forward to enjoying the company of the other. Through Kuenring Richard learned a little of what was happening outside. There was excitement throughout Europe, Kuenring told him, because it was being whispered that Coeur de Lion was the prisoner of his enemies.

‘If they know where I am, I shall soon be rescued,’ cried Richard.

‘They do not know. The Duke is determined that your prison shall be kept a secret. I will tell you something. Leopold has sent word to the Emperor that you are his prisoner.’

‘He would not dare to do otherwise,’ commented Richard and added ruefully, ‘Much good will that do me. The Emperor is no friend of mine since I became the ally of Tancred.’

‘My lord, you made many enemies.’

‘For a man such as I am that is inevitable,’ said Richard sadly. ‘Even those who I thought were my friends turn against me. But never fear. It will not always be so. Think not that I shall spend my life in this prison.’

Von Kuenring looked wistful. He wished it were in his power to help his prisoner escape.

Richard understood his feelings and gripped his hands saying: ‘You have your duty. Think not I would wish you to forget that.’

He was fortunate to have such a jailer.

When Philip of France heard the news he was filled with an excitement he could not fully understand. They could never be friends again. The old days had gone for ever, and Richard was his enemy. His feelings were difficult even for him to understand. How he wished that Richard were his prisoner! He visualised how he would have gone to him and treated him with tender respect as he had when they were younger. But now a fierce exultation seized him. Richard had been wrong to linger in Palestine. What good had he achieved? How much wiser, he, Philip, had been, to leave when he did.

And now Richard was a prisoner. Let him remain so. It was better for France that he did; and let sly, greedy John take the throne. There was nothing for France to fear from England with a king like John.

It was different with Richard.

And so those who had recently been his allies against the Saracens now gloated on his imprisonment. There in his fortress on the banks of the Danube Richard could look out on the ragged rocks on which it stood. His was a prison from which it would not be easy to escape.