ROYAL CONVERSATION

As Joimus looked around her dining room table at the faces of her husband and their guests, she couldn't help smiling. She'd come to know Alistair and Ahnna very well already and now here were Robin and Julie, come at last out of their hidden bower somewhere on the other side of the Glen. She caught the sparkle in Maximus' eyes as he talked earnestly with Loxley, a clear bonding of understanding forming quickly between the two men.  They spoke a common language of the knowledge of the hardship and danger of battle, of endless rides, of seemingly insurmountable odds. Glancing at Alistair, she could see his interest in watching the other two men at the table, his awareness of their shared experience of life. He had had no part of such things himself. His battles were different in nature. Her eyes prickled with sudden tears as she observed him, thinking of what he had been through, of what a genuinely good man he was. Ahnna was seated just to her left around the corner of the big table, and Joimus reached under it to squeeze Ahnna's hand. When Ahnna turned to look in her direction, Joimus nodded slightly toward Alistair, whose eyes were on Robin, and she smiled and squeezed Ahnna's hand again.

Ahnna smiled back, understanding that Joimus was commenting in silent appreciation of Alistair. She mouthed, 'I know,' and turned to look at him herself.  How good it was to see him looking so healthy again. Except for a little cough now and again, he was pretty much back to normal.

Alistair was interested in the Crusades and asked Robin, "King Richard, this was a genuine quest for him then, not just politics?"

"He meant it, all of it, Alistair," Robin replied. "It was a thing he wished to do for his Lord, get back the Holy City. It was a simple, straight-forward desire but also gnawed him inside like a fire."

"I can't even imagine the logistics of such an undertaking," Julie commented.

"He was on top of it all, too. He was aware of everything, every aspect. I doubt there's ever been such a hands-on king." Robin sat back a little, his lips curving at the memory of his great monarch. "But he knew well that 'the show' was a big part of everything, of getting the loyalty and enthusiasm of others to be what was needed. The motto of the Plantagenets was, you know, 'As we are seen, so are we esteemed.'  He knew better than anyone how to enter a city and make it adore him."

"His appearance didn't hurt, either, I suspect," Julie smiled.

"He was, yes, the ultimate warrior-king...tall, well-built, strong, extremely handsome. Even the day he was finally freed from his Austrian captivity, he was attired in scarlet velvet and green, emblazoned with gold and pearls. It was the second of February and he entered the cathedral in Mainz in full shackles, hands and feet, came down the aisle and up the steps to the platform. Never was a man in shackles so unconquered. He stood there and raised his chained arms over his head, tipped his chin far up, and the people began to shout, 'Long live the king! Long live Richard!'  When his mother, then in her mid 70's came up to his side, he bent and kissed her and everyone stood and began to holler 'We love Richard! We love Richard!' over and over and over. Silently his lips formed, 'I love you' and wild cheers broke out and continued so long it seemed they'd never stop."

"Oh, my!" Julie breathed. "How I wish I could've seen that!"

"Emperor Henry, though, read a letter from King Philip of France, a terrible and accusing diatribe of hatred and manufactured crimes. The mood in the cathedral changed to angry muttering as the letter ended with a demand that Richard not be freed, that he be turned over to Philip and to Prince John instead. There was such a rustle of swords as I've only heard before at the start of battle. Richard had had a flashing smile on his face earlier but as the letter went on, the famous Angevin rage supplanted that."

"I imagine so," Maximus said softly.

"Then," Robin continued, "Archbishop Walter said that the king would conduct his own defense and such a roar of approval went through those gathered there. Richard, still shackled, took a step forward, robed in absolutely authority and said that as an anointed king he was accountable to no one but God. How his voice rose as he said the word 'God'. He was magnificent. But then he went on that he would voluntarily and cheerfully answer all the charges in the letter so the world might know his innocence." Robin smiled, his eyes half closed. "Then he stamped his shackled foot and all the English in the cathedral stamped theirs in response. He spoke for a long while, his words eloquent, captivating, and he ended with his voice reverberating through the dome, 'Forget the calumnies of my foes! Put faith in my actions! With God as my witness!' It was as though a great lion were roaring, and he raised his long, shackled arms above his head again. The crowd then screamed, howled for justice for their king, even all the bishops, and Emperor Henry was alone with his accusations. Still the Emperor had one last barb for his victorious prisoner. He demanded that Richard kneel and do homage to him. Richard's face bore clear evidence to what he thought of that, but his counselors advised him to consent, and so he did. Immediately his shackles were unlocked and everyone rushed up to embrace their freed king. We hoisted him up on our shoulders and as we carried him from the room, he reached down to touch fingers with those he passed."

So caught up was he with his description, he failed to notice he'd switched from 'they' to 'we'.

Joimus saw Maximus look at her and they exchanged understanding glances. Dinner conversation, Joimus thought. One never quite knew where it might lead.