This, however, was not all. Isaac, the tyrant of Cyprus, whom Richard had brought with him as a captive, was also connected with the Suabian and Austrian houses;[1629] his capture was another ground of offence. Next, when the siege of Acre, which the united forces of eastern and western Christendom had been pressing in vain for nearly two years, came to an end a month after Richard joined it,[1630] Richard and Leopold quarrelled over their shares in the honour of the victory; Leopold—so the story goes—set up his banner on the wall of the conquered town side by side with that of the English king, and Richard tore it down again.[1631] Besides all this, as Richard’s superior military capacity made him an object of perpetual jealousy to the other princes, so his policy in Holy Land was in direct opposition to theirs. Since the death of Queen Sibyl in October 1189,[1632] they had one and all aimed at transferring the crown from her childless widower Guy of Lusignan to the lord of Tyre, Conrad, marquis of Montferrat. Montferrat was an important fief of the kingdom of Italy; Conrad’s mother was aunt both to Leopold of Austria and to Frederic Barbarossa;[1633] he thus had the whole Austrian and imperial influence at his back; and that of Philip of France was thrown into the same scale, simply because Richard had espoused the opposite cause. Guy of Lusignan, with a fearlessness which speaks volumes in his favour as well as in Richard’s, had thrown himself unreservedly on the generosity and justice of the prince against whom all his race had for so many years been struggling in Aquitaine; his confidence was met as it deserved, and from the hour of their meeting in Cyprus to the break-up of the crusade, Richard and Guy stood firmly side by side. But they stood alone amid the ring of selfish politicians who supported Conrad, and whose intrigues brought ruin upon the expedition. Philip, indeed, went home as soon as Acre was won, to sow the seeds of mischief in a field where they were likely to bring forth a more profitable harvest for his interests than on the barren soil of Palestine. But the whole body of French crusaders whom he left behind him, except Count Henry of Champagne, made common cause with the Germans and the partizans of Conrad in thwarting every scheme that Richard proposed, either for the settlement of the Frank kingdom in Palestine or for the reconquest of its capital. Twice he led the host within eight miles of Jerusalem, and twice, when thus close to the goal, he was compelled to turn away.[1634] Conrad fell by the hand of an assassin in April 1192;[1635] but Guy’s cause, like that of Jerusalem itself, was lost beyond recovery; all that Richard could do for either was to compensate Guy with the gift of Cyprus,[1636] and sanction the transfer of the shadowy crown of Jerusalem to his own nephew, Henry of Champagne.[1637] Harassed by evil tidings from England and forebodings of mischief in Gaul, disappointed in his most cherished hopes and worn out with fruitless labour, sick in body and more sick at heart, he saw that his only chance of ever again striking a successful blow either for east or west was to go home at once. After one last brilliant exploit, the rescue of Joppa from the Turks who had seized it in his absence,[1638] on September 2 he made a truce with Saladin for three years;[1639] on October 9 he sailed from Acre.[1640]

Stormy winds had again parted the king’s ship from the rest of his fleet when, within three days’ sail of Marseille, he learned that Count Raymond of Toulouse was preparing to seize him on his landing,[1641] no doubt in vengeance for the attack made upon Toulouse a few months before by the seneschal of Gascony. Capture by Raymond meant betrayal to Philip of France, and Richard knew Philip far too well to run any needless risk of falling into his hands. Under more favourable conditions, he might have escaped by sailing on through the strait of Gibraltar direct to his island realm; but contrary winds made this impossible, and drove him back upon Corfu, where he landed about Martinmas.[1642] Thence, in his impatience, he set off in disguise with only twenty followers[1643] on board a little pirate-vessel[1644] in which, at imminent risk of discovery, he coasted up the Adriatic till another storm wrecked him at the head of the Gulf of Aquileia.[1645] By this time his German enemies were all on the look-out for him, and whatever his plans on leaving Corfu may have been, he had now no resource but to hurry through the imperial dominions as rapidly and secretly as possible. His geographical knowledge, however, seems to have been at fault, for he presently found himself at Vienna, whither Leopold of Austria had long since returned. In spite of his efforts to disguise himself, Richard was recognized, captured and brought before the duke;[1646] and three days after Christmas the Emperor sent to Philip of France the welcome tidings that their common enemy was a prisoner in Leopold’s hands.[1647]

Philip at once forwarded the news to John, with a renewal of the proposal which he had made to him a year before. John hurried over sea and formally did homage to the French king for all his brother’s continental dominions; but the seneschal and barons of Normandy refused to acknowledge the transaction, and he hastened back again to try his luck in England.[1648] There he met with no better success. He called the justiciars to a council in London, assured them that the king was dead, and demanded their homage; they refused it; he withdrew in a rage to fortify his castles, and the justiciars prepared to attack them.[1649] Before Easter a French fleet sailed to his assistance, but was repulsed by the English militia assembled at the summons of Archbishop Walter.[1650] While the justiciars laid siege to Windsor, Geoffrey of York fortified Doncaster for the king, and thence went to help his gallant old suffragan and rival, Hugh of Durham, who was busy with the siege of Tickhill.[1651] The castles had all but fallen, and John was on the eve of submission, when the victorious justiciars suddenly grew alarmed at their own success. Richard’s fate was still so uncertain that they dared not humiliate his heir; and at Eleanor’s instigation they made a truce with John, to last until All-Saints’ day.[1652]

The six months of tranquillity thus gained were spent in negotiations for the king’s release. As soon as the justiciars heard of his capture they had despatched Bishop Savaric of Bath to treat with the Emperor, and the abbots of Boxley and Robertsbridge to open communications, if possible, with Richard himself;[1653] this however was a difficult matter, for of the place of his confinement nothing was known except that it was somewhere in the Austrian dominions, and these were to most Englishmen of that day a wholly undiscovered country. How the captive was first found history does not say. Tradition filled the blank with the beautiful story of the minstrel Blondel, wandering through Europe till he reached a castle where there was said to be a prisoner whose name no one could tell—winning the favour of its lord and thus gaining admittance within its walls—peering about it on every side in a vain effort to catch a glimpse of the mysterious captive, till at last a well-known voice, singing “a song which they two had made between them, and which no one knew save they alone,” fell upon his delighted ear through the narrow prison-window whence Richard had seen and recognized the face of his friend.[1654] It may after all have been Blondel who guided the two abbots to the spot; we only know that they met Richard at Ochsenfurt on his way to be delivered up on Palm Sunday to the Emperor Henry at Speyer.[1655] Thenceforth the negotiations proceeded without intermission; but it took nearly a year to complete them. Personal jealousy, family interest, and pride at finding himself actually arbiter of the fate of the most illustrious living hero in Christendom, all tempted Henry VI. to throw as many obstacles as possible in the way of his captive’s release. Taking advantage of his own position as titular head of western Christendom, he demanded satisfaction for all the wrongs which the various princes of the Empire had received, or considered themselves to have received, at Richard’s hands, and for all his alleged misdoings on the Crusade, from his alliance with Tancred to the death of Conrad of Montferrat, in which it was suggested that he had had a share.[1656] Not one of the charges would bear examination; but they served Henry as an excuse for playing fast and loose with Richard on the one side and Philip of France on the other, and for making endless changes in the conditions required for Richard’s liberation. These were ultimately fixed at a ransom of a hundred and fifty thousand marks, the liberation of Isaac of Cyprus, and the betrothal of Eleanor of Britanny to a son of the Austrian duke.[1657]

The duty of superintending the collection of the ransom and the transmission of the hostages required by the Emperor for its payment had been at first intrusted by Richard to his old friend and confidant, the chancellor William of Longchamp. William, however, found it impossible to fulfil his instructions; before the justiciars would allow him to set foot in England at all, they made him swear to meddle with nothing outside his immediate commission; when compelled to meet him in council at S. Albans, Walter of Rouen refused him the kiss of peace, and the queen-mother and the barons all alike refused to trust him with the hostages.[1658] Prompt and vigorous measures were however taken for raising the money. An “aid for the king’s ransom” was one of the three regular feudal obligations, which in strict law fell only upon the tenants-in-chivalry; but all the knights’ fees in Richard’s whole dominions would have been unable to furnish so large a sum as was required in his case. In addition therefore to an aid of twenty shillings on the knight’s fee, the justiciars imposed a wholly new tax: they demanded a fourth part of the revenue and of the moveable goods of every man, whether layman or clerk, throughout the realm. Severe and unprecedented as was this demand, it provoked no opposition, even from the clergy;[1659] it had indeed the active co-operation of the bishops, under the direction of a new primate—Hubert Walter, the bishop of Salisbury, who had been one of Richard’s fellow-crusaders, and was now at Richard’s desire elected to the see of Canterbury.[1660] The nation seems to have responded willingly to the demands made upon it; yet the response proved inadequate, and the deficiency had to be supplied partly by a contribution from the Cistercians and Gilbertines of a fourth part of the wool of the flocks which were their chief source of revenue, and partly by confiscating the gold and silver vessels and ornaments of the wealthier churches.[1661] Similar measures were taken in Richard’s continental dominions, and they were so far successful that when the appointed time arrived for his release, in January 1194, the greater part of the ransom was paid.[1662] For the remainder hostages were given, of whom one was Archbishop Walter of Rouen.[1663] This selection left the chief justiciarship of England practically vacant, and accordingly Richard, before summoning the Norman primate to Germany, superseded him in that office by bestowing it upon the new archbishop of Canterbury, Hubert Walter.[1664]