Here Be Dragons - 1 (105 page)

pitied Will that day He told me, you see, told me just how his grandmother and uncle died Maude went mad at the last Will told me she oh, God, Llewelyn, they found her teethmarks in her son's face1 And Will was not spared that He was but fourteen, and still they told him "
Llewelyn had not known the gruesome details of Maude's death But it stirred in him no pity for Will, only outrage that he should have shared so grisly a secret with Joanna, the one woman least able to bear such a burden He reached for the wine cup but did not drink, pushed it, instead, across the table toward Joanna He was beginning to understand A clever man, de Braose God rot him, too clever by half Starvation and seduction and John again Always John
Joanna drank deeply, gratefully She was perilously close to tears I sometimes dream of Maude, that Windsor dungeon Once or twice I ve even awakened screaming And I keep wondering if John knew, or if he would have cared "
"You cannot blame yourself for John's cruelties, Joanna "
' I know And I do not But I can blame myself for loving him For I did love him, Llewelyn There's a part of me that still does even n°w I think that's what I find hardest to admit or to understand, that I c°uld still bve him "
Llewelyn found himself responding to the pam in her voice Re-
aiming the cup, he, too, drank deeply Joanna reached out, her fingers
°Pped just short of his But then she drew back, said quietly, "I am not
Baking excuses, Llewelyn, truly I am not But I wanted you to under-
n

676
known Will as a lad, had not been able to identify so readily with his pain.
If you had not"
Llewelyn set the cup down with a thud. "What?" When she hesitated, he said, "Tell me, Joanna. We agreed this would be a night for truths. Tell me."
"I am afraid to tell you, afraid you'll think I am blaming you."
"What are you talking about?"
"About the de Braose marriages." She saw him stiffen and she leaned across the table toward him. "You can so easily misconstrue what I'm about to say. I
shall risk it, though, ask only that you hear me out. Llewelyn, I understand why you sought those alliances, I truly do. You did not act lightly, had compelling reasons for wanting the marriages. But that did not make it any easier for me. Four times I had to stand by as you married your children into the de Braose clan, four times I"
"You said you understood why, understood I was acting for Gwynedd's good."
She nodded. "And I did understand. But. . . but I think I needed just oncefor you to put me first. When you did not, I was hurt. .. and aggrieved. More than
I knew. I truly thought my anger was over, quenched. But there were embers still smoldering, and I can see now that they fueled our quarrels.
Unacknowledged anger acts like flint to tinder, can spark fires where we least expect them."
Llewelyn shoved his chair back. "What are you saying? That your anger led you into adultery?"
Joanna rose as he did, hastened around the table toward him. "No, that is not what I am saying. I did not take a lover to spite you. Does that sound like me?"
Her eyes were riveted upon his face, eyes full of entreaty. As he looked into those eyes, his mouth softened. "No," he admitted. "No .. it does not."
"I did not knowingly act upon that anger, Llewelyn. That I swear to you upon the surety of my soul. Nor did I ever seek to justify my infidelity by tallying up grievances of my own. I knew from the beginning that there was no justification for what I was doing. But I am trying to be honest with you, honest with myself . . . and I'll never be sure I did not unwittingly let that resentment taint my judgment, my"
She stopped abruptly, for he was shaking his head. "Since that is not a question you can ever answer, Joanna, what point is there in dwelling upon it?
Can you not see the folly in holding yourself accountable for thoughts you are not even sure you had?"
The corner of his mouth quirked; it was only a phantom, fleeting shadow of the smile that could invariably catch at her heart, but it w still a smile, and she responded to it. It seemed almost miraculous to

677
that they could be talking together like this, without rancor or recriminations, and she hesitated to say or do anything to jeopardize this fragile, astonishing accord. But she had to know.
"Llewelyn . . . why have you not yet divorced me?"
He looked at her, saying nothing. She reached out; her hand brushed his sleeve. "Will you tell me this, then? Will you tell me what you mean to do?"
"Until tonight," he said, "I did not know."
"And now?"
But even as she spoke, the storm broke. A sudden gust of wind blew the shutter back, quenching candles and scattering her letters about the floor. Rain was slanting in through the window, and they both flinched as thunder cracked directly overhead.
They exchanged startled looks, and then sheepish smiles. "Christ, but that one was close," Llewelyn said, and moved hastily to relatch the shutter while
Joanna gathered up her letters, sought to comfort her cowering spaniel.
"Llewelyn, stay here tonight. Please do not attempt a crossing of the strait in weather this vile."
"All right."
"You mean it? You'll stay?"
He shrugged, gestured toward the window. "What choice do I have?"
Joanna nodded slowly. "Yes," she echoed, "what choice?" More fool she, to read so much into his ready assent; what else could he do, in truth? "Llewelyn, there is something I must say to you. I'd not blame you if you did not believe me, but I must say it all the same. I love you. I've loved you since the summer of my fifteenth year, and divorce will not change that. Nothing will."
He stood very still, for one of the few times in his life at a loss for words, troubled in no small measure to realize how much he wanted to believe her.
I°ANNA awoke sometime before dawn. The chamber was dark, but the hearth log still burned. Taking care not to disturb Llewelyn, she rose from the bed. He did not stir, not even when she settled down beside tooi again, having placed a candle in one of the headboard niches. His "Bathing was even, deep. He seemed to have shed years in his sleep, and looked so peaceful that she found herself blinking back tears.
If not for the fact that they were still clothed, this could have been °ne of a thousand nights she and Llewelyn had passed in this bedCamber, in this bed.
But it would be the last. Come morning he would

678
awaken, arise, and walk out of the bedchamber, out of her life. She had two, mayhap three hours at most.
Leaning over, she drew the coverlets up around his shoulders. How had he been able to fall asleep so easily? She'd lain awake for hours That was not an uncommon experience for her; there'd been many a night in these past months when her body's cravings had banished sleep, when memories of their lovemaking would set her to trembling The needs of the flesh were not always easy to subordinate to enforced involuntary chastity, and she was finding it increasingly difficult to be so tantalizingly close to Llewelyn now, to be sharing his bed but not his embrace.
His lashes flickered; opening his eyes, he looked up at her. As always, she marveled at his ability to shift so smoothly from sleep to wakeful alertness;
his dark eyes showed no disorientation, no surprise at sight of her. "Is it dawn?" he asked, and she shook her head.
"No, not yet. Go back to sleep."
He raised up on his elbow, glanced upward. "Why the candle?"
Color crept into her cheeks, but she gave him an honest answer. "I wanted to watch you."
His mouth curved. "It is not sporting to watch a man whilst he sleeps."
Pushing the pillow back against the headboard, he regarded her in silence for several moments. "It ought to feel strange, waking up beside you after so many months. But it does not feel strange at all, feels very natural."
"I'm glad," she said rather breathlessly, "so glad you came." He had yet to take his eyes from her face, and her color was deepening. "Do you know now what you will do ... about me?"
"I've always known what I ought to do." He reached for a strand of her hair, entwined it about his fingers. "But now . . . now I know what I want to do."
"What?" she whispered, not daring to move, to risk breaking the spell.
"This," he said, and leaned toward her. The kiss was very gentle, almost tentative. But then her arms went up around his neck, and he felt her tears on his face. When he kissed her again, her mouth clung to his, and it was as if they'd never been apart. Theirs was suddenly a world bounded by bed hangings of Tripoli silk, a world without yesterdays or tomorrows, just the here and now and two halves made wholeall too briefly.
-all too
JOANNA'S breathing had yet to slow; it still came in loud, uneven gasP ' She heard Llewelyn panting, knew his climax had been no less intens /

679
no less overwhelming than her own. When he started to withdraw^ s^ tightened her arms around him. "No," she entreated, "no, not yet."-" j_j\ snifted so that his weight no longer bore down upon her, and the-^ ^\ jallghed, a sound
Joanna had never thought to hear again. \
"I was just thinking," he said, "that there's more to be saicg fo laying one's ghosts to rest than most people realize." *
She kissed the corner of his mouth. "Llewelyn . . ."
Their eyes met, held. "No, breila," he said. "Not now."
She nodded, disappointed but not surprised. She was afraid ty, a{ tach too much significance to their lovemaking. It was too easy tQs, ex plain it away as a one-time occurrence, a natural male responSve j.. intimacy and opportunity. Common sense warned that there wa^ n place in a Prince's life for a discredited, sullied wife. But lying no^ j^ Llewelyn's arms, his breath upon her cheek, his hand upon her hip^ g^ could not help but hope, and she settled back against him, closing^ ^e eyes. After a time, the change in his breathing told her he slept. 5^, watched the hearth log burn down, listened to the lulling rhythm of rajj. upon the slate roof. Shortly before dawn, she fell asleep, too.
When she awoke, the rain had stopped, the room showed the s]^ajs owy half-light of early morning, and she was alone. She sat up, pusl^mR her hair out of her eyes, her brain clouded with sleep. "Llewely,n?'. Reaching over, she jerked the bed hangings all the way back; the chyarris her was empty. If not for the sight of her discarded clothing scatt^recj about the floor, she might almost have believed she'd dreamed it ajj The fire had gone out and the air was chill; she shivered, fumbled for> ^et bedrobe, and began numbly to follow her routine upon rising, as sl^g'^ done every morning for the past nine months.
Five minutes later she halted her brushing in mid-stroke, sat d<^wri in the closest seat. She'd known that what happened between a t^n and woman in bed was not a reliable indication of intent. But how^ver acute his morning-after regrets, how could he have left her like t^jg without even a word of farewell?
A knock sounded at the door and a young man entered, carrying a tray. "Where shall I put this, my lady?"
Joanna had never seen him before. "Who are you?"
He was staring past her at the bed, at its telltale dishevelment, j^s eyes wide and wondering. When he turned back to Joanna, his exp res. s'on made it clear he thought her a practitioner of sexual sorcery, a I\jor_ ttian-French
Circe. "I am Phylip, Madame," he mumbled. "I came Q4Ver ast night with my lord; he ordered me to fetch this from the kitcho>n " ^d only then, as he set the tray upon the table, did Joanna see th^t it held food for two.
Although she caught the enticing aroma of hot baked bread, Joa^,na

T
680
. ,.hpre the tray untouched before her, did not stir. She was still *£**£'« ner Je and he crossed swiftty when
Llewelyn returned - One gia To her side. "Joanna?" gone/- she said, and he drew her to her irSnds « - ^^ With . jerk of his head "Gone? What did you thmkth^ ^ ^
ume g sake?
toward the canopied bed, tne
»"?L »,«« w» »«*"-«*- q"-tad'°
^a^^«-^^^^s^^= c^^--saS?i»-----'-'
^.^^'S^^Ud-.***-^
Sh« sounded so ^ted haS to teak, ]o,nn>." .
«M"»5-K^5£»
s^s-^^^---^'*
HeWd her face up to J»- tOU*^tomises, can only say I«» »*
S^:^^^""^'1"''"*
SonLlthinUfswo^then*.
«u-*.««, - -£ ;rh»rs «£*£ s;^:r^^rsr^^^
the sky, the turquoise of the M ' and her mantle was soon
^r^T^S-^TS
=^?^jbs=«s.-"
-^%^S±^^fS
Bangor. Ahead, a herdsman and_tas d g ^.^ ^ foad and the,r
=5K^^tfc5se.i?.i=S'Si
"Good morrow to you, my His jaw dropped; his woi saX£=MK~
683
Llewelyn appeared indifferent to this peculiar behavior. Glancing over his shoulder, he beckoned to one of his men. "Seth, give this fellow a hand."
The herdsman did not even acknowledge his lord's kindness, for he could not take his eyes from his lord's wife. He was gaping at Joanna as if she were an apparition, one to be warded off with incantations and henbane. Only then did
Joanna comprehend the true magnitude of what Llewelyn meant to do.
"Llewelyn, wait!" She urged her horse forward, caught at his sleeve.
"Llewelyn, this is madness. Your people scorn me as an adulteress, feel I
betrayed you both as wife and consort. They'll never understand, never accept me."
"They may not understand, but they will accept you," he said, and his voice was suddenly grim.
Joanna bit her lip, stared at him in despair. "But.. . but what if they will not? They hate me now, Llewelyn, and that hatred might well spill over onto you if you take me back. There will be those who'll say I've bewitched you, and . . . and others who'll think you've grown soft, weak . . ." There was no need to continue; she saw that. She was warning him of dangers he knew far better than she. When had he ever acted without considering the consequences?
She'd been the blind one, the selfish one.
"How can I let you do this? How can I let you risk so much on my behalf?" She saw his facedark, haggard, but still handsomethrough a haze of tears. "I know
. . . know what I ought to do. But I am not strong enough, beloved, cannot give you up . . ."
"The decision is mine, Joanna, not yours. You bear no responsibility for it."
He held up his hand, halting his men upon the pathway, and taking the reins of
Joanna's mount, he led her off the road into the woods.
He drew rein in the shadow of a silver birch, stripped naked by winter winds.
The ground was covered by decaying leaves, broken branches. Joanna inhaled the scent of spruce, the scent of the sea. "You said our reconciliation was worth the risk. But is it, Llewelyn? Is it truly worth what you might lose?"
He did not answer at once; his eyes swept the horizon, tracked a cormorant's shooting dive into the sea. "When I came to you last night, it was