Here Be Dragons - 1 (32 page)

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Joanna felt free to let her thoughts wander as they would. The gowns of the women were much like those at her father's court. But on their hair they wore only thin veils. Would Llewelyn want her to put aside her vvimples? The men looked rather like Papa's nobles, too, though not so finely garbed. She slanted a sideways look toward Llewelyn. His tunic ^as shorter than the gown in which he'd been wed, the long, lavishly furred robe of a highborn Norman lord; both tunic and chausses were a subdued shade of green, his boots higher than was fashionable at her father's court, reaching to the knee. She was glad he'd dressed so richly for their wedding, would not have wanted Chester and the other lords to scorn him for the strangeness of his Welsh ways.
Mayhap life would not be as harsh and austere as she'd first feared. Looking about the great hall, she might well have been at Windsor or Winchester. And her bedchamber was in no way inferior to the royal apartments set aside for
Isabelle's use. The rushes were sweet-smelling, the walls whitewashed, the bed hung with curtains, and the mattress filled with down, not straw. She'd not dared to ask Llewelyn if she would have her own quarters, like her stepmother and the queens on the Continent, and her relief had been intense and overwhelming upon finding it was so. But mingled with that relief was a reluctant sense of shame. No matter how often she told herself she had no reason for selfreproach, she flushed every time she thought of what she'd done at Rhuddlan Castle.
Llewelyn had taken Rhuddlan some ten years ago, and there they'd passed the second night of their marriage. They'd covered thirty-six miles, and Joanna was very tired. She was also utterly wretched, longing for what she'd left behind and dreading what lay ahead. Excusing herself soon after supper, she retired to their bedchamber, and when Llewelyn came to bed, she lay very still, pretended to sleep. Remembering that now, Joanna bit her lip, twisted her wedding ring until it chafed her finger. For a wife to deny her husband his marital rights was a sin of no small proportions. Not that she'd actually refused him, of course. But she could not stifle an uneasy suspicion that she'd violated the spirit, if not the letter, of her marriage vows.
Across the hall, her stepchildren had withdrawn into one of the
Vvmdow recesses. Joanna had been awaiting just such an opportunity to sPeak to them alone, and picking up Sugar, she made her way toward wm. They rose at her approach, the girls staring more at Sugar than at
°ar»na, for such small dogs were a rarity in Wales. Gruffydd, however, ePt his eyes focused upon Joanna's face; they were a vivid sea green, nged with thick golden lashes. He was a handsome lad, Joanna
°ught, if very unlike his father. His sister Gwenllian shared his color-
& had pale skin and auburn hair, burnished curls spilling down her

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back in a cascade of copper, while Gwladys and Marared were as dark Gruffydd and Gwenllian were fair. They were a striking quartet, but wary as fawns, would need gentle handling. Joanna smiled, held o the dog toward Gwenllian, the youngest.
"Would you like to pet her?" The child reached out, her finoe brushing Sugar's long, silky fur, but Gwladys hissed something l Welsh, and Gwenllian jerked her hand back.
"You need not fear; she'll not bite," Joanna said reassuringly. Qet ting no response, she tried another approach. "As I do not speak Welsh I should like to make sure that I am saying your names correctly. Grift. ith, is it not? And
G/ad-is? Your lord father told me that is Welsh for Claudia ..." Her voice trailed off, for a disconcerting thought had just come to her. "You do speak
French?"
The little girls were now looking not at Joanna, but at their brother Gruffydd drew an audible breath. Joanna caught but one word of the outburst that followed: Saeson. As ignorant as she was of Welsh, she knew Saeson to be a contemptuous term for the English. But even had she not known its meaning, she would have needed no translation. It was there for all to read in the defiant jutting of Gruffydd's jaw, in Gwladys's black eyes, in Gwenllian and Marared's shocked giggles.
"Gruffydd!" The voice was angry, was so like Llewelyn's that Joanna was startled to see a stranger. No, not a stranger, she amended, for this man's kinship to her husband was emblazoned upon his face for all to see. He had
Llewelyn's coloring, the same finely chiseled bone structure, the same deepset dark eyes. But his mouth was not Llewelyn's; thin and rigid, it spoke not of laughter, but of pain denied, of secrets never to be shared. He snapped a command in Welsh, and Gruffydd's color faded. Not looking at Joanna, he mumbled, "I ask your forgiveness, Lady, for my bad manners."
"Of course," Joanna said automatically. The boy's French was flawless. She watched as he fled the hall, his sisters in flustered pursuit, and all she could think of was her own first meeting with Isabelle, of how little it had taken to win her heart.
"You must pay my nephew no mind, Madame. Ten is a troublesome age."
"You must be Lord Adda, Llewelyn's brother." Joanna ventured a smile, and he nodded gravely, shifted his crutch so he could bow over her hand. Joanna almost implored him not to make the effort, checked herself just in time.
"Do call me Joanna." She hesitated, but who else was there to ask? "My lord .
. . Adda, will you tell me the truth? There was not much sentiment amongst your people for this marriage, was there?"
He did not reply at once, but she got the impression not that he was

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t. ne his words, rather that he was weighing her, assessing her abilv/el"
accept honesty "No," he said at last "Most of Llewelyn's subjects
Id rather he'd wed a Cymraes a woman of our blood But a
^ I u wife would bring few political gams, so they'd reconciled them-
1 es to a foreign marriage It was thought Llewelyn would wed the j ehter of the Manx King, but then your father did offer you in her d Llewelyn would have had to be utterly mad, of course, to refuse t not all are as clear-sighted as he, and some were affronted that he uld take an
English wife I do not mean to offend you, but the Welsh have been given little reason to love the English "
Joanna had never thought of herself as English, in fact, to one of
Norman-French descent, that qualified as an insult She did not quibble at
Adda's inaccuracy, however, realizing that to the Welsh, the distinction drawn between Norman and Saxon was irrelevant But that understanding only intensified her sense of isolation, her awareness that she was a political pledge, a hostage for England's amity
"I thank you for your honesty, Adda Be honest with me now, too Tell me if you believe Gruffydd will come to accept me as his father's wife "
Adda was silent for some moments "He's a headstrong boy, thinks the world of
Llewelyn and for five years he has not had to share his father's love It is only natural that he should resent you, see you as a nval, an intruder " But
Joanna was, after all, very young herself, and Adda compromised his candor with a half-truth, adding, "Mayhap with time "
"Yes, with time," Joanna echoed, lowering her lashes to hide her hurt
JOANNA'S life as Princess of Gwynedd was not utterly devoid of compensations or satisfactions Never before had she her own private bedchamber Never before had she money of her own All her life she'd been dependent upon the generosities of others But as Llewelyn's consort, she had her own privy purse, was entitled to one-third of his private mcomes As far as she knew, English law made no like provision for tnglish queens Nor had she ever before experienced the sweetness of giving commands, of having them obeyed at once
She'd been greatly pleased when her father had engaged Blanche for her Now she had her Wn household chaplain, seneschal, chief groom, handmaiden, candle earer, doorkeeper, page, even her own cook and food taster If she wanted to write to her Aunt Ela, she need only dictate to her chaplain, within the hour a couner would be dispatched to Salisbury Castle ad' a staple of the Norman diet, was not as often found upon Welsh

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tables; they were herdsmen, not farmers. Joanna had casually confess to a longing for wheaten bread, making but idle conversation wlt, Blanche and Enid, her Welsh maid. The next day a freshly baked 10 was laid out by her trencher, and at every meal thereafter.
For the first h'me in her life, Joanna understood what a potent drink power could be. And she realized, too, that she'd not known herself a well as she once thought, that she was not so lacking in ambition, afte all. It seemed that she was Eleanor of Aquitaine's granddaughter in more ways than one, a thought that gave her amusement and astonish ment in equal measure.
But these pleasures were of fleeting moment, fireflies in the dark The summer that followed her marriage was the most miserable of her life. Unable to speak
Llewelyn's language, she felt herself an isolated island in a sea of Welsh.
Since she had no duties to perform, her days were unstructured, endless. She was not blind to the beauty around her. Aber fronted on the sea, offering spectacular views of the Eryri Mountains. But at night she lay awake, longing for the sounds of the city, shivering at the distant howling of a wolf pack on the prowl. London, York, and Winchester seemed as far away as Jerusalem. Her husband's domain held neither towns nor cities. No fairs or markets. It was, to Joanna, a wild and awesome land, and she knew that Gruffydd was not alone in thinking her an intruder.
She was desperately homesick in those first weeks. Her yearning for her loved ones, for what was known and familiar to her, was a constant, unrelenting ache. She so wanted to go home, and knew that what she most wanted was now forever denied her.
The worst of her loneliness was that she did not feel connected to any other living soul. Her father and Isabelle were in Gascony. So, too, were Richard and her Uncle Will. Blanche, never a comfort even in the best of times, had become all but insufferable; she hated Wales, looked askance at the Welsh, drove Joanna to distraction with her whining, her constant complaints. Enid's
French was inadequate for more than the most rudimentary conversation. Most of the women at Llewelyn's court spoke no French at all. One of the few who did was the Lady Gwenllian, wife to Llewelyn's friend Ednyved ap Cynwrig. But
Gwenllian offered no friendship; even her courtesy seemed grudgingly given.
Nor did Joanna have any better luck with the men. For a time she'd hoped to find an ally in her husband's brother. But Adda did not encourage her overtures. Aloof and reserved, he went his own way; only with Llewelyn did he thaw, let his defenses down. Ednyved, Joanna avoided if possible. She realized his sarcasm was not meant to be spi'e ful, but all her life she'd been wary of sardonic tongues. Rhys ap CadeH» her husband's other intimate friend, was rarely at court that summer<

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fe was in the last stages of a troublesome pregnancy, and Rhys frs d upon his own estates, awaiting Catrm's time Men like Morgan S Bleddyn, Llewelyn's chaplain, and Gwyn ab Ednywam, his Sene-
aP i were well into their forties, had little in common with a girl of gcn^ '
fourteen
As for her stepchildren, all of Joanna's fears had come to pass Grufdd was not to be won over Every smile Llewelyn bestowed upon her, rmffydd begrudged Each time he heard her addressed as "Madame" "Your Grace," his face shadowed
Gwladys, the most devoted of disoles, loyally followed her brother's lead, and between them they effectively curbed any conciliatory inclinations that
Marared or Gwenlhan mieht have harbored To Joanna, this was the most bitter disappointment of all
Perversely enough, that which she had most reason to be thankful for Llewelyn's solicitudewas yet another source of anxiety Because he was so very good to her, she despised herself all the more for her discontent Each time she thought of the French Queen Ingeborg, thought of the wives who'd have bartered their very souls for a husband like hers, she felt an utter mgrate When compared to women who were beaten for trifles, treated as chattels, used only as brood mares, what had she to complain of, in truth7
Isabelle had been right, many women would indeed envy her
Not that Llewelyn was without flaws In fact, the qualities she most admired in him, his easy self-assurance and his intelligence, were virtues with the potential to become vices His self-assurance was occasionally flavored with arrogance, and like many quick-witted people, he was often impatient when others were slow to follow the swiftness of his thought^ He had a tendency to lose sight of the immediate in pursuit of the long-range goal And his ambition was frightening to Joanna For if her father aimed to prevent a Welsh-French alliance, Llewelyn had aims of his own He saw their marriage as a way to keep
John out of Wales, enabling him to deal with his old enemy, Gwenwynwyn of
Powys But Joanna did not think her father would give Llewelyn the free hand in
Wales that he seemed to expect She remembered all too well her father's remark upon the day of her betrothal, that Llewelyn needed to be reined in " She could imagine nothing worse than conflict between the wo, to find herself torn between her husband, to whom she owed her 'oyalty, and her father, to whom she owed her love
But Llewelyn's faults seemed of little consequence when she nought back to Chester's aloof moodmess or William de Braose's suave natality And in the three months of her marriage, Joanna had found uch m him to admire For all that he expectedand gotprompt obe-
lence' he was not arbitrary, and he was rarely unfair Once, when he'd

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flared up at his clerk, Hwfa ap Pilthe, in an unjustified public rebut he'd later sought Hwfa out and offered apology; Joanna could n 1 remember her father ever apologizing to anyone for anything, g Llewelyn was much more easygoing than her father. He was quick t laugh, even at himself, had been amused, not affronted, when Joann could not resist teasing that she wished she could be as sure of one thin as he was of all things. And he was unfailingly kind to her.
It was true that he did not treat her like a wife. His was more the casual, affectionate playfulness of an older brother for a much younger sister. But he never failed to smile at sight of her, saw that she was accorded all due respect as his Princess, just as he'd done on their wedding day, when he'd backed her up before Maude de Braose; she was convinced now that there was nothing coincidental in his providential appearances that night. And since their marriage, he had always been there when she most needed him, as on that dreadful day when her dog chased a squirrel onto the wooded slopes of Maes y
Gaer, and she'd come running to him in a panic, for Sugar was all she had of home. He had soothed her, sent men out to search for the dog, had even forborne to tease, at least until after the animal was found.
Above all, Joanna appreciated Llewelyn's kindness in not flaunting his concubines at court. Even had she been sharing his bed, she would not have expected him to be faithful; fidelity was a marriage vow for women. She did not doubt that Llewelyn had a mistress. But he did not do as so many Norman lords did, parade his conquests before one and all, heedless of his wife's discomfort. Not all men did swagger over their sins, of course. Her father had amazed many with his unexpected discretion after taking Isabelle as his bride.
He was not faithful to Isabelle, but for a man notorious for his wenching, he showed a surprising sensitivity to Isabelle's pride. Joanna alone had not been surprised, for she knew that, in his way, her father loved Isabelle. But
Llewelyn did not love Joanna, and that made his consideration all the more remarkable to her, made her all the more grateful for it.
Llewelyn was her one comfort in a world that frightened her, and she regretted deeply that he was so often gone from Aber. He was a man ever in search of additional hours in the day, juggling innumerable interests like so many colored balls, presiding over the Uchel Lys, his High Court, fortifying his various mountain strongholds, consulting with vassal lords, with his rhaglaws and rhingyllsbailiffs and court officials. Like John, he traveled extensively about his realm. But John always took Isabelle with him, and Llewelyn never offered to take her.
THE great hall was lit by rushlight; torches were used sparingly in Wales/
pine and fir trees being less common there than in England. It was a