Lionheart A Novel - By Sharon Kay Penman Page 0,106

to be magnanimous now that victory was within reach. “I have never blamed the lass. We know women are weak and easily led into sin, and we know, too, that kings are ones for getting their own way. Release me from my promise to wed Alys and I am content. I will gladly return her to your custody and that will end it.”

Until that moment, Philippe would not have thought it possible to loathe another man as much as he now loathed Richard. “And are you going to return Gisors Castle and the Vexin, too?” he snarled. “A fine bargain you want me to make. You get to keep her dowry and I get back a woman whose value on the marriage market is—”

“My liege, this serves for naught.” The Bishop of Chartres was regarding Philippe somberly. “We are in agreement that the plight-troth is no longer binding upon the English king. I would suggest that we select trustworthy men to conduct the necessary negotiations, but this is neither the time nor the place.”

Philippe opened his mouth, closed it again. If Bishop Renaud, who was his cousin as well as one of his prelates, saw Richard as the wronged party, then this was a war he’d already lost. “So be it,” he said through gritted teeth and turned on his heel, shoving aside anyone in his path as he stalked from the chapel.

As the other men exited the church, Richard leaned over and retrieved Philippe’s letter from the floor rushes. He’d been confident he would prevail, having the bishops and Leviticus on his side. But the letter had undoubtedly made his task easier, for Philippe’s men were more receptive to his argument after seeing their king’s treachery laid bare like this. What Philippe failed to understand was that many of his vassals had been proud to take the cross and they did not think Christian kings should be fighting each other instead of the infidels. Richard rolled the parchment up, tucking it into his belt. He was free of Alys at long last and he still held Gisors and the Vexin. Not a bad day’s work.

He glanced up at the sound of footsteps. Not everyone had left, for the Count of Flanders was several feet away. Sauntering toward the altar, Philip ran his hand admiringly over the reliquary. “It was clever to confront Philippe here. Does this truly contain a sliver of the True Cross?”

“Of course it does. I borrowed it from the Archbishop of Messina.” Richard had been surprised when Philip had indicated his willingness to speak honestly about their meeting at Mantes. Now that the count had proven true to his word, he was grateful. But he was also puzzled by the other man’s motivation, for selfinterest had been the guiding force of Philip’s life, and he did not see how his cousin had benefited from his candor. To the contrary, he’d just made a mortal enemy of the French king.

“I’d be hard put to decide which one of us Philippe hates more at the moment,” he said, and Philip laughed softly.

“If it were a horse race, I’d wager that I win by a nose,” he said, “for he felt the prick of my blade at his throat. But then I unexpectedly showed mercy and he’ll never forgive me for that.”

Richard laughed, too, for he thought that was an astute assessment of the French king’s character. “By not revealing that Philippe was the one who’d told you about the seduction rumors? No, that is something Philippe would not have wanted known. I’ve often wondered about that. Think you that he invented the story out of whole cloth?”

“I’ve thought about that, too. It is true that he feared you’d reconcile again with your father, as you’d done so often in the past, and that would be far less likely if you believed your father had been swiving your betrothed. But I doubt that he was the source of the story, for Philippe is too protective of his own honor. I think he probably heard it from one of his spies, who’d picked it up from any of your father’s legion of enemies. To hear some of them tell it, Harry was like a stag in rut, always on the prowl. I remember a similar accusation made against him some years earlier, that he’d deflowered the daughter of a rebellious baron in Brittany, so it might be the Alys tale had its roots in that charge. Any truth to that