Lionheart A Novel - By Sharon Kay Penman Page 0,101

heavy-lidded eyes. While they were obviously on the defensive—it was difficult to mount a convincing argument for the claim that Messina could not have accommodated Eleanor’s entourage—they were not giving any ground, insisting that their king must act in the best interests of his own subjects. And Richard’s patience, always as ephemeral as morning mist, soon evaporated in a surge of exasperation.

“I have a suggestion,” he said abruptly. “At this rate, Easter will have come and gone ere we’ve made any progress whatsoever. Counselors always seem to have time to waste; kings do not. So it would be in our mutual interest, my lord Tancred, if you and I threshed out the wheat from the chaff by ourselves. Unless, of course, you feel more comfortable here in the council chamber. . . .”

It was a challenge few kings could have refused and Tancred was quick to accept it. Shoving back his chair, he got to his feet and said tersely, “Follow me.”

AS THE MONARCHS APPROACHED the gardens, they were watched with curiosity and some amusement by the palace guards, for the two men could not have presented a more dramatic contrast. Even Richard’s enemies acknowledged that he looked like a king out of legend, tall and athletic and golden, whereas even Tancred’s most devoted supporters would admit that there was nothing regal about his appearance, for he was of small stature and very ill favored. But there was affection, not derision, in the smiles of the guards, for in the fourteen months since he’d claimed the crown, Tancred had displayed qualities that men-at-arms valued more than a handsome face and a royal bearing: courage and energy and tenacity.

Tancred would have been greatly surprised had he known the English king agreed with his soldiers. Richard had devoted most of his life to perfecting the martial skills that had won him such fame, but he did realize that he’d been blessed by the Almighty with physical advantages not given to all—uncommon height and strength and cat-quick reflexes. It was obvious to him that Tancred’s military prowess had been earned by sheer force of will, by his refusal to accept his body’s limitations and his willingness to risk all on the field of battle. To Richard, that made him a man deserving of respect, and he stopped as soon as they came to a marble fountain so Tancred would not have to struggle to keep pace, for his shorter legs required him to take two steps for every one of Richard’s.

Perching on the edge of the fountain, Richard regarded the other man thoughtfully. “We are both kings. But we are both soldiers, too, and I cannot believe that you fancy these diplomatic dances any more than I do. So let’s speak candidly. Unless I know your real reason for refusing to permit my mother to sail from Naples, we do not have a prayer in Hell of reaching any sort of understanding.”

Tancred continued to pace back and forth, keeping his eyes upon Richard all the while. “Do you truly want to reach an understanding?”

Richard blinked. “Why would I not? We are allies, after all.”

“Allies of expediency,” Tancred said bluntly, “dictated by circumstances. But who is to say what will happen if those circumstances change? And the death of Frederick Barbarossa is a great change indeed.”

“So you feel the need to take greater precautions now that Heinrich is stepping into his father’s shoes. You want to protect your borders. I understand that. But surely you do not see my aging lady mother as a threat, Tancred?”

Tancred was quick to respond with sarcasm of his own. “Come now, Richard. Your ‘aging lady mother’ is no matronly widow in her sunset years, content to embroider by the hearth and dote upon her grandchildren. In the game of statecraft, Eleanor of Aquitaine has been a high-stakes player for more than fifty years. You could not have chosen a better agent to confer with Heinrich. Did they reach an accord at Lodi? Or did she merely open the door so you could then pass through?”

Richard was more astonished than angry. “Is that what this is about? You think my mother was scheming with Heinrich? Their meeting at Lodi was happenstance, no more than that, and to hear my mother tell it, it was awkward for both of them.”

“Happenstance is like charity in that it covers a multitude of sins. Suppose I accept what you say—that their meeting at Lodi was by chance—however unlikely that seems. But that still