Here Be Dragons - 1 (106 page)

notknowinglywith thoughts of reconciliation. I was seeking answers only you could give me, Joanna, seeking to cauterize a wound that would not heal. But as I listened to you, I found myself able to understand why it had happened.
It was not my wife who lay with Will de Braose; it was John's daughter. Once I
realized that, I could balance the scales without bitterness, balance a marriage against a mistake

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albeit a monumental one." His last words were sardonic; his smile was not. "I want you by my side again, in my bed, at my table, as my lady lover, wife."
"They will never understand," she said unsteadily, and he nodded "Probably not. I daresay I'll forfeit a great measure of goodwill.
There will be men who'll think I've lost my wits, am in my dotage .J
know that. But they'll govern their tongues in my hearing. That," he said coolly, "I can damned well guarantee."
"Llewelyn . . . are you sure? Am I truly worth it?"
"Do you remember what you said last night about the de Braose marriages?" He leaned over, dried her tears with the back of his hand.
"This time, Joanna, this time I do mean to put you first."
NEITHER Welsh culture nor Welsh topography had been conducive to the development of English-style towns and villages. Small settlements had sprung up, however, around Llewelyn's manors at Aber, Llanfaes, and Trefriw, and monasteries often served, too, as beacons for community life. So it was for the cathedral church of St Deiniol at Bangor Fawr yn Arfon, episcopal see for the diocese of Bangor.
Although official fairs and markets were unknown in Llewelyn's domains, informal markets thrived wherever people tended to congregate, and this was such a market day in Bangor. Stalls had been set up in the churchyard, and the marketplace and street were crowded with those who'd come to barter, to browse, and to gossip with their neighbors. Vendors sold hot pies and rolled out kegs of ale for the thirsty; itinerant pedlars loudly hawked their wares;
animals offered for trade added to the clamor. It was the sort of chaotic market scene Joanna had often seen in England, but with a distinctly Welsh flavor, boisterous bedlam that ceased within moments of her arrival in their midst.
Llewelyn was known on sight to all in Bangor; to many, he was the only Prince they'd ever known. He'd first gained political power at twenty-one, and now, in his fifty-eighth year, he was well enshrined in local legend, eclipsing even his famous grandfather in the folklore of his people, the uncrowned
Prince of Wales. As word circulated that he'd just ridden into the town, men and women deserted the market stalls and the wrestling and archery bouts; some even abandoned a bloody cockfight, those with no money on the outcome.
But the cheering stopped abruptly as the people recognized Joanna. She heard shocked murmurings spreading through the crowd, heard the name Siwan repeated in growing wonder. As men doffed their caps/ Llewelyn held his stallion to a stately canter, and then slowed to a walkJoanna paced her mount with his, but her mouth was dry, her hear

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pounding. She knew that men ofttimes drew false cov^
companionship, knew, too, that the Welsh were mor^ a§e ltQ
avved by rank than the English, and she waited now j Ol)'spok %
shouts of derision. °r *he jA^ m '
None came. Llewelyn reined in before one of t^ S 1^ gk 8* '\t throat is right parched. What have you for such a thir^-^lc}^ ^^xM^011!^ /
"Wine, my lord. But it is poor stuff, not fit for YOUJ- ' \ 'Or h\J
protested, while fumbling for a clean, uncracked cup. '^/'tk '^ n\, ^"'
"It will do," Llewelyn said, and smiled at the ^x [ v\ , slowly, keeping his eyes upon the crowd; he found nojj a*V kje ^QIJ)'
' 4f his gaze. "Here, love, drink," he said, in Welsh, not J; W'^rie t Vx
**"a u the cup out to Joanna. rench, ar^>*A «-, ^ v /
She could not swallow, but she obediently put Wt* ~ots«i^n' i 'ffl mouth. Llewelyn never carried money himself, but ^ e CUP ^'J btiu^
TT and one of his men tossed a coin to the vendor. It was ^, .®estured" i
*lc'l,Vj f lyn urged his mount forward; Joanna followed. The ^ still , <\x ^ o) ^/
watching in stunned silence. rovvd fej, ^ n ^ * \ f
't
The road to Aber wound its way along the seaco^s '^^eslll s^!|/
perb view of the strait, but Joanna had eyes only for h^ ' °'%inp ^«»sd Ik
S*T^' was still astonished at their reprieve, so sure had sh^, L sban* it*i» Lit. i iv,i / \_t4±i ± iv.1 L7±t^.v **«»v*
i. ivtji iv^t. i_»i i\_ p-i^*. »vv»vj ' [nat c Ud T 11 A
lyn's profile. Not in my hearing, he'd said, and it was n^ ^a'1 ^ r A1^ <=> u
% L had happened in Bangor was as much a testament to ^( rava<)0 \v
%-ujisii * s^\^ to his power. But then, she thought, the two were one, ^Srsonal ^^wfelJi ^ V'f
"I only hope you can cast such a spell upon the i^, % s J1 ^tj»ffl d*1 a'\vL
said, mustering a strained smile; Aber was now less th^h a' Ab^ -,* -
;tL^ac''1 ^ tant. She slowed her mount, earning herself a quizzic^ 1VenijJe SK
, 9%^°%' / welyn. But then he, too, eased his chestnut. Joanna s^ H0J('l\tjT|8
'^e \V ahead; did Llewelyn ever think of that desperate midfl.redatt),e
^V*»0|bfti e»V/ swer to Senena's falsp summons? Davvdd's words «> ^nt HH« .
"jr\. "n "^fniJ,' \i swer to Senena's false summons? Davydd's words se^ ' % irV^»eLlni w\'i the wind: We half killed our horses . . . Only to arrive ^ed to ech V* m! S'
'I
COVer~ ^ndX^-B^**.1'
"Joanna, that serves for naught." ^\ vrno* ^li
Cl l tl 1. 1 l_ //T ' _ . _l \ JJ cj^l i.
cover
<^^$
"nd.V-i-BOi1 "Joanna, that serves for naught." VVr-roo.!, V
She gasped, then gave a weak laugh. "Jesii, what ^_ab[' ec\^J
lock?"
Na ^\
"I know you," he said simply.

,k
"I can well imagine her satisfaction," Joanna said^. ' jj> ^
"ad guessed, gambled, and gotten lucky beyond beliw'tter|y. $«, %'*1't''')
co^ was a man's life." '
*"" al,;> ^gl, '«ti
'^'t n^
4^

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"At first, mayhap. But her satisfaction soon turned sour. She'd somehow convinced herself that I would then free Gruffydd. As if r^ been holding him just for your pleasure ..." Llewelyn shook his head "I ought to warn you, though, breila. Senena is at Aber." He heard her sharp intake of breath, said dryly, "It should be a memorable homecoming."
WITHIN moments of their arrival at Aber, the bailey was packed with people.
Joanna was gripping the saddle pommel so tightly that it was digging painfully into her palm. Never had she seen a crowd assemble so fast. Many of the faces were familiar to her; all shared a common expression, one of utter disbelief.
Llewelyn had dismounted, was reaching up to help her from the saddle. Setting her down, he tilted her face up to his. The kiss was lingering, very deliberate. And then he turned to face his countrymen.
No one spoke. The silence was even more absolute than in Bangor. Llewelyn had known there would be no overt defiance, not at his own court. The sheer audacity of his act would paralyze dissent. There was a sudden stir. People were stepping aside. Ednyved had his wife's arm in an inexorable grip;
Gwenllian's body was stiff, resistant, but she followed him as he moved toward
Llewelyn and Joanna.
Reaching for Joanna's hand, Ednyved brought it to his mouth. "Welcome home, Madame."
Gwenllian's face was a study in frustrated fury. "Yes," she said tonelessly, while her eyes bored like gimlets into Joanna's.
There was nothing for the others to do then but to follow the example of
Llewelyn's Seneschal. One by one they came forward, mumbled grudging words of welcome, made awkward obeisances. Joanna had retreated into her public persona; her answers were automatic, and to many, she appeared aloof, unrepentant. She saw Senena standing some distance apart, but it was the hostility of the others that she felt most keenly. Adda's greeting had been edged in ice. How can I bear it? she thought. How can I live surrounded by so much hatred? But then Llewelyn touched her arm and she turned, saw her son.
Joanna forgot all else. She started toward Davydd; he quickened his step and they met in the middle of the bailey. "Your father has forgiven
J J9"
me," she said softly. "Do you think you can forgive me, too, Davydd.
"Yes," he said, "oh, yes."
Ednyved had remained at Llewelyn's side, and he seized this op' portunity now to say, very low, "Well, you've just set tongues wagging from Cricieth to
Colchester. They'll be gossiping about naught else tor

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the next six months, on both sides of the border Are you sure, Llewelyn truly sure7"
Llewelyn's eyes were fastened upon his wife and son As he vvatched, they embraced He glanced back at Ednyved "Yes," he said "I am sure "
"ARE you certain she'll be at the waterfall, Davydd7"
"Not really But she does play there sometimes, and I know not where else to look " Davydd gave Joanna an oblique, inquiring glance "Are you positive you want to do this now, Mama7"
"I do not want to do it at all," Joanna admitted "In truth, I dread facing the child Does she blame me, Davydd, for her father's death7"
"I could not say Isabella is a timid little lass, keeps very much to herself I
confess I know naught of what goes on in her head I think she fears Papa I
suspect she fears me, too "
"Does she look ?"
"Like Will7 No, she favors her mother "
They were within sight of the cataract, it had been known to freeze during exceptionally bitter winters, but now it shimmered m the January sun, patterned the mossy rocks below with lacy foam and spray Davydd pointed "There she is Isabella1"
The girl whirled, and even at that distance Joanna could see how she flushed, as if caught in some flagrant misdeed Davydd moved toward the rocks, beckoned to her "Isabella, come here I want you to meet my mother "
"The Lady Joanna7" Isabella lifted her skirts, scrambled up the rocks "You've come back1" The change in her was startling, her face was eager, expectant "I
prayed you would, I prayed so hard, and the Almighty heeded me, He brought you back1"
Joanna reached out, took Isabella's hands between her own Her heart went out to this lonely little girl, but the last thing she'd expected was to be hailed as Isabella's saviour She smiled at the child, and then Isabella gave her the poignant answer to the puzzle
"You're so pretty," she breathed, and raised up to whisper shyly, "No wonder
Papa loved you so "
Over the girl's head, Joanna's eyes met her son's m mutual dismay, tf for different reasons Davydd was thinking that Isabella's attachment to his mother might prove politically embarrassing, only fueling gossip all the more Joanna was thinking that to keep faith with Isabella, she'd be obliged to live a lie
It seemed the ultimate irony to her that she should be given the responsibility of rearing Will's child, but it was both

gomery to the ground. He then pressed on into the de Braose lands, burning and pillaging on such a scale that the English bishops excoriated him as a
"despoiler of churches."
This was the third time that Llewelyn had been excommunicated for what he saw as political sins, and he would later joke about installing a turnstile for his private chapel. But Joanna had never seen any humor in it, and her relief was inexpressible when Llewelyn was restored to God's grace in December, after a botched campaign by Henry and de Burgh.
The following year was one of uneasy truce along the Marches. Peter des
Roches, Bishop of Winchester, was back from his Holy Land pilgrimage, and he was so successful in blaming Hubert de Burgh for the Welsh fiasco that in July
Henry stripped de Burgh of his high office, demanded an accounting; by
November, he was being held at the Tower. But 1232 was also the year in which death claimed the man who'd shown himself to be Llewelyn's most steadfast ally; in October, Ranulf, Earl of Chester, died at his manor of Wallingford in his sixtythird year.
The precarious peace of 1232 did not long endure into 1233. As Nell and
William Marshal had been childless, the earldom of Pembroke passed to
William's brother Richard. But the relationship between Henry and Richard
Marshal had gone sour from the start, fraught with suspicion and mutual mistrust. After months of misunderstanding and strife, Henry yielded to Peter des Roches's urgings, proclaimed Marshal a traitor, thus making of the man a reluctant rebel, a rallying point for dissent. A civil war erupted and
Llewelyn was not long in entering the fray upon Richard Marshal's behalf, even though Marshal was a partisan of the disgraced Hubert de Burgh. Llewelyn's objective was always the same, to weaken the power of the English crown in
Wales, and he saw in Richard Marshal's rebellion an opportunity that would not come again.
Once again the Marches took fire, and once again Joanna had to watch helplessly as her husband and son rode to war. But the outcome was not long in doubt. Henry was no general, and found himself facing two of the most experienced battle commanders in his realm. In November 1233, he fled in disarray as the royal encampment at Grosmont was overrun by Marshal's Welsh and English allies. In January 1234, Llewelyn and Richard Marshal ravaged
Shropshire to the very gates of Shrewsbury, and Henry found himself under increasing political pressure to come to terms. In March he agreed to a truce, and in April he capitulated to Marshal's demands, dismissed Peter des Roches and his other Poitevin advisers, and vowed to keep faith with the Runnymede charter.

But Richard Marshal never knew he'd won. He'd crossed over to Ireland to see to his estates there, and in early Api-ji he was wounded in a skirmish with
Henry's supporters, taken prisoner, and treated so harshly that he died within days. It was left to Llewelyn to gain reparations for the followers of his fallen ally. On June 21 the Archbishop Of Canterbury met Llewelyn at the
Shropshire village of Middle, and peace returned to Henry's realm.
The Pact of Middle was the crowning achievement of Llewelyn's reign, the culmination of a lifetime's struggle against the English Kings But on this, the eve of the festivities planned to honor her husband's triumph, Joanna was thinking not of Llewelyn's victory celebration but of their dead. So many deaths. William and Richard Marshal. Llewelyn's sons by marriage, Jack de
Braose and William de Lacy. Chester. Maelgwn. Maelgwn's brother, Rhys Gryg, slain at the siege of Carmarthen Castle. Morgan, dead nigh on a twelvemonth now. Llewelyn rarely talked of him; he could not. She gazed down at the parchment. So many deaths. And each time she looked into Llewelyn's face, she could not but wonder how much time remained to them. How precious days and hours became with the realization of how few they were.
"You look so solemn, Joanna. What are you thinking of?"
"That Llewelyn and I have been wed twenty-eight years. That sounds so long, Nell, but in truth it passed in a blur of light, days into months into years
..."
"Your mind takes the most morbid turns," Nell admonished. "Fretting about time's passing will not slow it down one whit. Let's talk instead of tomorrow's revelries. Have all the guests arrived? I hope none of the Marshals will be coming; I did tell you, did I not, how disagreeable they've been since
William's death, begrudging me my dower rights?"
"Repeatedly," Joanna said, and smiled to soften the sting, "i Q{1^ to find
Isabella; I promised I'd help her decide what to wear tomorrow."
"Come to my chamber first. I want to show you the gown I bought in London at
Whitsuntide, a samite silk of willow green."
"I'd love to see it," Joanna said, remembering in spite of herself the ceremony in which Nell placed a gold band upon her finger to symbol^ her marriage to Christ, adopted a nun's habit of homespun. She still wore the ring, but she'd long since put aside the homespun, resumed her rightful place at her brother's court.
As if reading her thoughts, Nell said suddenly, "I know people were quick to judge me when I began wearing bright colors again. But I've not abjured my oath, and that should be what matters to the Almighty, should it not? It vexed me beyond bearing to think Of others gossiping behind my back, poking their noses into my life. And when I
o n o if