Here Be Dragons - 1 (103 page)

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gerly had he offered a tour of the stables. But when Gwladys volunteered to take her, she hung back, blue eyes imploring Nell not to desert her, not to forsake her so soon.
"I'll be along shortly, Isabella. I promise," Nell said, and the adults watched in troubled silence as Gwladys led the girl away. Nell's eyes, no less blue than Isabella's but a good deal more vivid, flicked from face to face. A
deal struck in theory could prove to be quite different in fact, in the flesh-and-blood embodiment of a terrified ten-year-old. Did they she wondered, still think Buellt Castle was worth the price of purchase?
Gilbert Marshal cleared his throat, said with overly hearty assurance, "I
daresay she just needs a little time. She's a gentle, biddable lass, and it's not as if she had a particular attachment to her father"
"That's simply not so," Nell interrupted. "The girl thought the world of Will.
And you need not glower at me like that, Gilbert. Better that they know the truth. Davydd, you will bear that in mind, and watch what you say to her?"
Her tone was a shade too peremptory for Davydd's liking. "Yes ... Aunt Nell,"
he said dryly, but Nell was oblivious to the sarcasm, so single-minded was she in the pursuit of her own ends.
"Llewelyn, I must talk with you . . . about Joanna."
She at once felt the change in atmosphere, the sudden chill. Llewelyn's eyes grew guarded, gave away nothing of his thoughts, at once remote and utterly aloof. Davydd looked no less distant. Elen, too, had tensed. Gilbert hastened into the breach, said sharply, "Nell, you have no right"
Nell refused to retreat. "Yes, I do. Who will speak for my sister if I do not?
Llewelyn, it has been more than five months now. How much longer do you mean to hold Joanna at Llanfaes?"
Nell was the first one to put that question to Llewelyn; until now, no one else had dared. It may have been the challenging thrust of her query, as if he had to defend what he'd done. It may have been that he was unaccustomed to being interrogated by a fourteen-year-old girl. Or that he had no answer for her. But whatever the reasons, the result was a sudden flare of anger, intense enough to prevail over the constraints of courtesy, and he said curtly, "As long as I choose."
No one spoke. Nell flushed, lost some of her aplomb, showed herself vulnerable, after all, to the insecurities and misgivings of adolescence.
"I'll . . . I'll go and see to Isabella now," she said, sounding so subdued that Elen, too, excused herself, followed Nell from the hall.
They walked in silence for some moments. Nell at last gave Elen a look that was both apologetic and embarrassed. "I did not help Joanna much, did I?"
"No," Elen said tartly. "For certes, you did not."

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"I meant well, truly I did," Nell said, and sighed. "Henry says I'm too forthright for my own good. I suspect that's a polite way of saying I talk too much. But Elen, do you not think it strange that your father has n0t yet divorced Joanna?"
"Yes," Elen admitted, and she, too, sighed. "Yes ... I do."
ELEN had persuaded her husband to come back to Wales for Llewelyn's Christmas court at Aber. She understood the political considerations behind Llewelyn's choice; he could not let his subjects think him reluctant to return to his chief residence. But it was a political decision undertaken at great personal cost; never had Elen seen her father look so haggard, so bone-weary, so suddenly aged. Aber's atmosphere was proving oppressive to them all. An aura of gloom overhung the court, and the Christmas revelries were muted, lacking spontaneity or any genuine sense of joy.
Elen was standing with her husband John, and with Gwladys and Ralph de
Mortimer, for Gwladys, too, had felt the need to be with her father on this particular Christmas Eve. As Elen watched, Isabella bade Davydd good night and made an unheralded, unnoticed departure from the hall. "That poor little lass," she said sadly, unconsciously echoing Joanna's prophetic judgment. As difficult as it was for Papa and Davydd to be back at Aber, might it not be hardest of all upon Will's daughter? "That child flits about like a wraith, does not even seem to cast a shadow. John, what say you we have her with us for a time?"
"Another bird with a broken wing, Elen?" John's smile was indulgent. "Mayhap in the spring," he temporized. But then Isabella was forgotten. A few feet away a woman in blue velvet was holding forth to a small but attentive audience; John recognized her as the Lady Gwenllian, wife to Ednyved. She had a loud, carrying voice, a distinctive laugh, and her words came clearly now to
John's ear, words of venomous contempt, words that brought a rush of hot color into his wife's fece, and he said hastily, "Let it lie, Elen. You do not want to cause a scene."
"No? Just watch me." Elen evaded his restraining hand, pushed her way through those encircling Gwenllian. An embarrassed silence fell at Slght of her; few had realized she was within hearing range. Even Gwenllian was slightly discomfited, but too proud to show it. She smiled archly, said, "Lady Elen?"
and Elen very deliberately tilted her ^ne cup, poured the contents onto
Gwenllian's velvet gown.
Gwenllian screamed loudly enough to turn heads, stared at her ^ine-stained skirt as if she could not believe the evidence of her own

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eyes. Shock gave way almost at once to outrage, and she cried, "You'Ve ruined my gown, you spoiled, willful"
Gwenllian choked off further utterance so abruptly that Elen knew there could be but one reason why, and she turned, found Llewelyn was close enough to touch. She felt no surprise that he should have materialized with a suddenness that a sorcerer might envy; she was all to0 familiar with his uncanny sense of timing. He took in the situation at a glance, said without emotion, "How careless of you, Elen."
Gwenllian opened her mouth, closed it again. She saw her husband standing at the edge of the crowd, but he did not contradict Llewelyn; his face was impassive, and Gwenllian yearned to rake her nails across that dark, weathered skin, to damn Elen as she deserved, to spit and scratch and call down the wrath of the Almighty upon the lot of them. She did nothing, though, for greater than her fury was her fear of public humiliation. She bit down until her jaw muscles ached, until she could trust herself to say, "No matter. Who amongst us has never spilled a little wine?" She even managed a grimacing smile of sorts, but dared not let her eyes meet Elen's. Or Ednyved's. She'd saved face. But she would not forget, would not forgive.
"Elen." Llewelyn's voice was very low. As people drifted away, began to disperse, his hand closed on Elen's wrist. "I would talk with you," he said, and Elen could gauge the full extent of his anger by the unremitting pressure of those hard, bruising fingers. She followed him to a far corner of the hall, with Ednyved but a step behind. "Well?" Llewelyn said coldly. "You do owe me an explanation."
"I think I'm entitled to one, too," Ednyved interjected, no less coldly.
"I could not help it, Papa. She . . . she called Mama a slut."
Llewelyn's mouth thinned, twisted down. He glanced toward Ednyved. The other man nodded, said, "I'll see to it."
Llewelyn looked at his daughter, and then he did something he'd not done since she was a child; he tilted her face up to his, and kissed her upon the forehead, with enough tenderness to bring tears to her eyes. But when she started to speak, he shook his head, then turned and walked away.
Across the hall, Elen caught her husband's eye. John slowly shook his head. He was too well-bred to berate her before witnesses, but she knew she'd earned herself a long lecture on decorum and proprietyGwladys and Davydd were making their way toward her; they, to°' looked judgmental.
"When," Davydd said, "will you learn not to act upon your emotions?"

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as sas
"Never, I hope," Elen said, and saw that her brother was not jjsapproving as he'd have her think. ^»t as
"Elen, do not mistake what I am about to say." Gwladys paus^ S
jntent upon choosing just the right words, for Joanna was a sensit^^d, H subject between them. "I am not defending Gwenllian, not at all. J ^tive there's more to her bad manners than sheer make. Gwenllian and J &ut
^ nyved's youngest son made up a bawdy, satiric song about Joanna a^ Ed-
u yVill de Braose, and then he was foolhardy enough to boast of theT^^d u thorship. As you'd expect, Papa was enraged; so, too, was Ednyv*
«uGvvenllian thought it prudent to pack her son off'o Ireland fora stay Ve^j give Papa's anger time to cool. But the incident put some noticea?'- to cracks in her marriage, and she finds it easier to blame Joanna than ^ble blame her son." \ t0 ~
Ednyved had nine sons in all. Most of them were comparari, strangers to Elen, and when she asked Gwladys for the rash poev^ve name, it meant nothing to her.
But it would from now on. Gruffudd^t's Ednyved. She would remember him. She would make a point of it. afc
Gwladys soon wandered away. Elen and Dayydd stood alone fo^ time, watching the dancers circle back and forth Elen loved to daru\ * ^ but she could find in herself now not the slightest desire to join r^e, carole. "I would have expected Papa to be wrotli with Gwenllian; K.W pride would demand as much. But
I saw more tlian anger in his facx^is Davydd, he still loves her." ^e.
"I know," Davydd said. "And how much easier it would be for hi > if he did not. I would that there were some stranje alchemy to chanx*11 love into hate, to blot out memories, to banish yesterdays ..." ^e "Are you speaking for Papa? Or for yourself?' "For Papa, Elen." Davydd sounded annoyed, and a silence fell b\ tween them. But then he said very softly, "I could never hate
Mama ^~ "Papa looks so tired. I worry about him so much, Davydd ^"
Elen's eyes searched the hall, seeking her father. "Who is that woma^'' with him? The one in green." ^h
"You mean . . . Hunydd?"
"If that be her name. Who is she, Davydd? IVe never seen her b^, fore." She looked at Davydd expectantly, was surprised to see colcx^ mount in his face.
^f
"It has been over eight months, Elen." But eren then she did ncx understand, not until he added defensively, "Wha did you expect Papy * to do, take holy vows?" ^
Elen's eyes narrowed, focusing upon Hunydc with sudden, proH ^8 intensity, subjecting the older woman to an exacting scrutiny, on x that was far from friendly. Hunydd's were quiet attractionsa smile c\

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singular sweetness, a tranquil composure. There was nothing gaudy Or obvious about her appearance, nothing garish in her dress. She \vas listening attentively to Llewelyn, but she was not clinging to him, was not giving herself proprietary airs. That mattered little to Elen; she still found herself seething with resentment, with a child's sense of betrayal and loss.
Davydd was watching her. "The marriage is dead, Elen," he said quietly.
"I know." Elen tore her gaze from Hunydd. "But tell me the truth, Davydd. Tell me it does not bother you to see that woman in Mama's place."
Davydd beckoned to a passing servant, claimed a cup of mead. He drank, glanced at his sister, and drank again. "It bothers me," he said, and passed the cup to Elen.
They looked at one another. All around them swirled the sounds of music, of harp and crwth. The hall was bedecked with evergreen boughs and Christmas holly, lit by blazing torches, flickering rushlights, gilded candelabras. But to Elen it seemed as festive as a wake. "Davydd ... is it always like this?"
"No," he said, giving her a bleak smile. "Sometimes it is not nearly so cheerful."
AT low tide, the white sands known to the Welsh as Traeth Lafan lay exposed and men could venture out upon them with little risk. Davydd stood at the water's edge, watching as his sister was ferried across the strait, and as the boat touched bottom, he strode forward, held out his hand to help her alight upon the sand.
"Dismiss your men," he said, "and I'll escort you back to Ab^r-" Elen linked her arm in his, and they began to walk up the beach. "Tell me," he said, after a few moments, "how is Mama?"
"The truth? Wretchedly unhappy."
"Did you give her my letter?"
"You know I did." Elen stopped, put her hand imploringly upon his arm. "Summon the boatmen back, Davydd. Go and see her. It would mean so much to her if you"
"No," he said hastily. "No ... I cannot."
She stepped back, stared at him. "How can you be so sel^ righteous, so unwilling to forgive? Jesii, Davydd, Mama would have forgiven you any sin under God's sky!" j
"I know," he admitted. "Do you not think I want to see her? DU cannot, Elen. I
cannot do that to Papa."

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"But Davydd, Papa knows I go to Llanfaes. I've made no secret of it; nor has he ever attempted to dissuade me."
"You're not his son."
"Davydd, he would not"
"You just do not understand. You do not see Papa every day, as I do. All his life, Papa has been the most decisive of men. Yet now he does nothing. Men expected him to divorce Mama months ago. But he has not. He cannot bring himself to do it... not yet. The wound is still too raw. It's not healing as it ought, Elen, and till it does, I'll do nothing that might add to his pain."
"Ah, Davydd . . ." But she did not know what to say, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.
"AM I intruding, Papa?"
Llewelyn shoved his chair back, smiled at his daughter. "An opportune intrusion, lass. As you can see/' he said, gesturing toward the chessboard, "Ednyved has maneuvered me into a right perilous position."
Elen closed the door, came forward into the bedchamber. As she did, she could not help envisioning the desperate drama that had been played out in this chamber at Eastertide, and she thought, How can Papa bear to sleep here?
"Papa, we do need to talk . . . about Mama."
Llewelyn's smile froze, and when Ednyved started to rise, he said, "There is no need to go. Elen, I've told you this before. There is nothing to say."
"But there is, Papa, and I beg you to hear me out. Not only for your sake, for
Davydd's."
Llewelyn pushed his chair back still farther, got to his feet. "Davydd?"
"Papa, he is being torn in two. He thinks he cannot be loyal to you unless he disavows Mama."
Llewelyn frowned. "I never wanted that, would never have asked it of him."
"I know, Papa. But until you act, Davydd is not free to act, either. He cannot reconcile with Mama, will not even go to Llanfaes. Papa, do you not see? To go on like this, month after month, with nothing resolved ... it only causes greater pain. It is not fair to you, to Davydd, to me ... or to Mama."
"Fair to Joanna?" Llewelyn's voice had taken on a cutting edge, and "en's resolve began to waver; she'd never found it easy to gainsay her father.
"Please, Papa, hear me out. I'm not defending what Mama has