Day of Deliverance

September 15th was a really slow medieval history day, so it seemed a good time to do a Ransom update. I am happy to report that Richard has finally escaped the clutches of the sociopathic Holy Roman emperor, having had to pay a ransom that would be computed in the trillions of dollars in current money, according to Ripley’s Believe it or Not. He also endured an eleventh hour double-cross by the shameless Heinrich, who actually whipped out letters from Philippe and John, offering a lot of money to continue Richard’s captivity, and inviting Richard to better it. Fortunately for Richard, he’d made some German friends in high places during his confinement, and they took advantage of the universal revulsion to Heinrich’s newest treachery. The Germans were already uneasy about imprisoning a crusader-king under the protection of the Church, and this was the final straw for them. They forced Heinrich to honor the terms of the agreement he’d struck with Richard for his release. Heinrich still had a nasty last-minute surprise for Richard, refusing to release him unless he did homage to the emperor for his kingdom. Eleanor persuaded her outraged son to agree, for she was a pragmatist and knew that it was meaningless since it was done under duress. To Richard, though, it was a source of great shame. The real Richard was set free on February 4th, 1194. My Richard won his freedom in mid-September, 2012. Below are three excerpts from this chapter.
This first is after Eleanor has convinced Richard that he has no choice but to do homage to Heinrich if that is the only way he can regain his freedom.
* * *
Turning away, Richard sat down in the closest chair, and the slump of his shoulders told Eleanor that she’d won. His pain tore at her heart, but his freedom mattered more. She hoped that in time, he’d come to see that, too. But even if he did not, she would have no regrets. There was nothing she would not have done to get her son out of Heinrich’s power---nothing.
* * *
After bidding farewell to the hostages and to Constance, who’d remained in the hall long after Heinrich had departed, Richard paused in the doorway to savor the moment, one in which he was no longer trailed by German guards. Glancing over his shoulder at Heinrich’s empress, he switched from French to the safer lenga romana. “I feel as if we are leaving one more hostage behind.” Looking back at Constance, Eleanor felt the same way.
* * *
Eleanor had forgotten one of Richard’s needs, something he found as essential as air. But Andre had not, and as Richard stood beside his new stallion, talking soothingly to accustom the animal to his presence before mounting, Andre approached with a large hemp sack. “I thought you might want this,” he said, opening the bag to reveal a scabbard of Spanish leather.
Sweeping his mantle back, Richard fastened the belt and then drew the sword from its scabbard. He saw at once that a superior bladesmith had labored to create this superb weapon, with a thirty inch blade and an enameled pommel, reminding him of the sword he’d been given by his mother upon his investiture as Duke of Aquitaine at age fifteen. He admired its balance, his eyes caressing that slender, steel blade as a lover might, and when he glanced toward his cousin, Andre thought that he finally looked like himself.
“Do you know how long it has been since I’ve held a sword in my hand, Andre?”
The other man shook his head.
“One year, six weeks, and three days.” For a moment, their eyes held, and then Richard sheathed his sword, swung up into the saddle, and gave the command to move out.
* * *