‘Well come, Richard,’ said the King.

‘You are not well, my lord.’

‘It is my complaint. Richard, I like not the position. It would seem to me that the King of France is determined on war.’

‘He was ready to consider a truce.’

‘But on what terms? He wants to humiliate me, force me to do this and that.’

‘You mean relinquish Alice.’

‘Alice,’ cried Henry. ‘The Princess Alice? But you are to marry her … when the time is ripe.’

‘The ripening has been so long delayed. Do you forget, Father, that I am thirty, and Alice is no longer young.’

‘She is of a good age for marriage and you were not ready before.’

‘Why should you be so concerned at relinquishing her?’

‘I was not thinking of Alice. How I wish Louis were alive. I could reason with him.’

‘Philip is stronger than his father.’

‘He is a headstrong young man.’

‘I think he is more subtle than his father; he will be a clever ruler.’

‘I fear so. That is not good, Richard. I want to avoid a direct conflict. I see no good in fighting a war in which much blood could be shed to no purpose.’

‘It could be that there will be no alternative.’

‘I have thought of something. I am getting old, Richard, and my sins sit heavily upon me. It has often occurred to me that I should go to the Holy Land after all. You remember Heraclius, the Patriarch, and the ill news he brought us. It has sadly disturbed me that at the time I refused him, although it was on the advice of my ministers.’

‘I know full well,’ said Richard coldly, ‘on whose commands they advised against your going.’

‘My son, I had my dominions to govern. A king cannot forget his duty to his people for the sake of his own sins.’

‘That is what you wish to do now.’

‘Nay, nay. I will go on a crusade and ask Philip to give me a truce for two years while I am away. I believe he is a cynical young man but even he would not dare attack my dominions while I was fighting a holy war.’

‘I have always felt an urge to fight the Infidel,’ said Richard.

‘I know it, my son. We will go together. I shall send envoys into the French King’s camp and tell him of my intentions.’

When Philip heard Henry’s request he smiled slyly.

He sent for Philip of Flanders.

‘Do you know, Count, what the King of England suggests? That I give him two years’ truce while he goes to the Holy Land.’

‘He will never go to the Holy Land.’

‘I know that well.’

‘He is old and sick.’

‘Though a lion still.’

‘A mangy lion.’

‘He can still growl fiercely and has some of his teeth. Let us not forget that, Count.’

‘What will you do, my lord King?’

‘Accept the truce. Let him go to the Holy Land and we will see what happens to his dominions while he is away.’

‘You would attack them? While he was away on a crusade?’

‘Let us say that I would have no hesitation if I saw the opportunity. But rest assured, Count, he will never go on a crusade. That is what he told my father. He merely wants to postpone a battle. He has no intention of going to the Holy Land.’

‘What do you wish then?’

‘To say, yes. There shall be a truce for two years. Now let him go to the Holy Land! It is time Henry realised that I see right through his schemes. Let them go. I cannot wait to hear what the King of England has to say.’

Even before the envoys returned Henry was in despair.

He sent for Richard whose knowledge of warfare was so much greater than John’s.

‘I wouldn’t trust Philip,’ he said. ‘If I went on a crusade how should I know what was happening to my country? He is not like his father.’

‘Nay,’ agreed Richard, ‘he is indeed not like his father.’

‘It occurs to me that he may accept my terms. If he did, how could I go on a crusade? How could I, Richard?’

‘You would risk losing all if you did.’

‘Then how could I go? And the other alternative is war. I will take you into my confidence, Richard. All those years when Philip’s father was King there was conflict between his country and mine. Sometimes I think there always will be. What am I to do? I must have a truce. I must avoid war.’

Richard looked at his father. He could not believe that this was the great Henry Plantagenet speaking. How grey he looked, how drawn! He was more ill than he would admit.

‘Richard,’ he said, ‘you must see the King of France. Ask him for new terms for a truce. I am not prepared to go to war. The King of France is eager for it now, which can only mean that he is aware of his strength.’

‘I … see the King of France,’ cried Richard. ‘You would ask me to go … as a suppliant?’

‘I would ask you to go in all honour but to see if you can bring him to terms.’

‘You have offered him terms. You will go on a crusade for two years’ truce.’

‘I cannot go on a crusade! I dare not. Nay, Richard, there must be other terms.’

‘And you think he would offer those terms to me?’

‘You are my son, my eldest son …’

‘Methinks that is something you often forget,’ said Richard quietly.

‘Bring about this truce and I will remember it always.’

Spoken from the heart but what did that mean with Henry Plantagenet?

‘I see I must needs go,’ said Richard. ‘I must be humble and I like that not.’

‘Sometimes momentary humiliation is necessary for glory to come.’

‘Then,’ said Richard, ‘I will go to the King of France.’

Philip waited to receive him.

How beautiful he was! thought the King of France as Richard rode into his camp. Those cold blue eyes, that hair that was neither red nor yellow, the strength of the countenance and the tall straight figure!

How proud the King of England should be of such a son and how foolish he was to put his faith in John. The King of England’s folly was the gain of the King of France.

Ceremoniously Richard handed his sword to Philip. He was bareheaded as he knelt.

Philip put out a hand and touched the curling hair.

‘Rise, Richard,’ he said gently.

He took him into his tent as he had before.

Richard said: ‘I come in humility. My father asks for a truce.’

Philip smiled wryly. ‘That he may go on a crusade?’

‘He cannot go on a crusade. He wishes for a truce that you might parley together and come to terms.’

‘Come to terms with your father! But he does not know how to keep a promise. My father was continually coming to terms with the King of England and what good came of it for France?’

‘Still he asks for terms.’

‘Then I will meet him. Why, Richard, if I went into battle with him now I would defeat him.’

‘He has never been defeated.’

‘He is eager for a truce now because he knows that the time has at last come for him to face defeat. I am going to be lenient with him, Richard. You would fight with him. I would not wish you to suffer the humiliation of defeat … or possibly death. For your sake, cousin, I will consider this truce.’

‘What are your terms, my lord?’

Philip looked at that proud handsome face.

‘That the King of England gives me his son to stay with me a while that we may talk together of our difficulties.’

‘You mean … a hostage?’

‘I would not call it that. You will be treated as an honoured guest. I would not have you think that I would make a prisoner of you. I want your friendship, Richard. Aye, so much do I want it that I am ready to consider giving your father a truce – when I all but have him at my mercy – for the sake of it.’

A hostage! thought Richard. For that was what it was. He liked that not. And the alternative? Defeat in battle.

He must give way.