The trial was soon over, and without a single dissentient the King of England was acquitted of all the charges brought against him. But the money was not yet raised, and King Richard was taken back into the heart of Germany. At length, by prodigious exertions, half the amount claimed was collected, and upon the solicitations of the pope and of the counts of his own empire, the emperor consented to release Richard upon receipt of this sum, and his royal promise that the remainder should be made up.
Not as yet, however, were the intrigues at an end. Prince John and King Philip alike implored the emperor to retain his captive, and offered to him a larger sum than the ransom if he would still hold him in his hands. Popular opinion, was, however, too strong. When the news of these negotiations became bruited abroad the counts of the empire, filled with indignation, protested against this shame and dishonor being brought upon the country. The pope threatened him with excommunication; and at last the emperor, feeling that he would risk his throne did he further insist, was forced to open the prison gates and let the king free. Cuthbert, Blondel, and a few other trusty friends were at hand, and their joy at receiving their long-lost sovereign was indeed intense. Horses had been provided in readiness, and without a moment’s delay the king started, for even at the last moment it was feared that the emperor might change his mind. This indeed was the case. The king had not started many hours, when the arrival of fresh messengers from Philip and John induced the emperor once more to change his intentions, and a body of men were sent in pursuit of the king. The latter fortunately made no stay on the way, but changing horses frequently—for everywhere he was received with honor and attention—he pushed forward for the coast of the North Sea, and arrived there two or three hours only before his oppressors. Fortunately it was night, and taking a boat he embarked without a moment’s delay; and when the emissaries of the emperor arrived the boat was already out of sight, and in the darkness pursuit was hopeless.
On landing at Dover, the first to present himself before him was Prince John, who, in the most abject terms besought pardon for the injuries he had inflicted. King Richard waved him contemptuously aside.
“Go,” he said, “and may I forget your injuries as speedily as you will forget my pardon.”
Then taking horse, he rode on to London, where he was received with the most lively acclamation by his subjects.