Here Be Dragons - 1 (76 page)

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rder the castle garrison to surrender if Louis would agree to spare their ves
Richard was with him, will be bringing word "
Richard had not waited for a servant's summons, he was already landing in the doorway One glance at his face, and John stiffened
"What is it7" he said sharply "You might as well tell me straight out, I'm getting used to bad news "
"It is bad, Papa, as bad as it could be I do not know how to teil you "
Richard was not easily discountenanced John had never seen him so shaken It was with relief, then, that he heard Richard say haltingly, "At Winchester amongst those who've gone over to
Louis
"I know already, Richard, know that your Uncle Warenne has broken faith, has done homage to Louis But I do not want to talk about it, not now "
"No no, you do not understand I'm not talking about my Uncle Warenne It's oh, God, Papa, it's
John's mouth went dry "Not Chester7"
"No, not Chester " Richard swallowed "It's your brother Papa, it's Will "
"No," John said "No, you're lying Not Will "
"Papa Papa, I saw him at Winchester with Louis I saw him1"
Isabelle gave a choked cry, thrust her baby at the nurse John was on his feet
He turned as Isabelle moved toward him His eyes were blind, focused upon her without recognition But she was too panicked to be able to respond to his pain, to be aware of anything except the ground giving way under her feet
"Will would never betray you unless it was truly hopeless, unless he knew you could not win' What shall we do now7 What will happen to me7 John, I'm so frightened1 What if they besiege Corfe7 If you lose
She'd caught his arm, was clinging as if he were her only anchor But her words struck John like stones He jerked free, shoved her away with such force that she stumbled backward, careened into the table
"Mama1" But Henry did not move He stayed where he was, petrified The other children had begun to cry None of the men moved, either
If you're so fearful for your future, why wait7 Why not go to Louis °W' strike your deal with him7 That's what you want to do, is it not7 et °ut, all of you1
I do not need Will, do not need any of you1 Go to Lou's and be damned'"
v 'he servants had already fled, and the nurses now gathered up the
P'ng children, hastened them from the chamber Peter des Roches k "is arm around Isabelle's shoulders, she had begun to sob, and of-
no resistance as he led her toward the door Richard had gone very

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white, but he stood his ground. "Papa, I'd not betray you. Nor would Isabelle.
She loves"
"Get outnow!" John's voice cracked. He spun around, fighting for control. When he turned back, Richard, too, had gone.
There were two large clay flagons on the table. He reached for the closer one, pulled it toward him. It was filled with a strongly spiced red wine; he drank directly from the spout, until he choked and tears burned his eyes. Picking up the second flagon, he hurled it toward the door. It shattered against the wood, sprayed dark wine all over the wall, the floor. He drank again, cleared the table with a wild sweep of his arm.
The rain had ended before dawn, and sunlight was pouring in from every window.
He moved from one to the other, pausing to drink from the flagon as he jerked the shutters into place, as the room darkened.
The floor was littered with debris, with books and documents and broken clay fragments. He stumbled over a brass candelabra, sank to his knees midst the wreckage of his morning's work. The flagon was half empty by now; his head was spinning.
"Why, Will?" he whispered. "Name of God, why?"
Johnny.
He froze, the flagon halfway to his mouth.
Thank God you've come, Johnny. Thank God.
He could not see into the shadows. "Papa?" he said softly. "Papa?"
Stay with me, Johnny. The pain is always worse at night. Stay with me.
He grabbed for the flagon, drank deeply, spilling as much as he swallowed. "I
did not understand, Papa." His voice echoed strangely in his own ears, sounded muffled, indistinct. "I was but one and twenty. At that age, we think we'll live forever ..." He set the flagon down, waited. But no one answered him. His voices were silent, his ghosts in retreat.
He was never to know how long he knelt there on the floor of his bedchamber, alone in the dark. When at last he lurched to his feet, he moved unsteadily toward the windows, fumbled with the shutters until the room was once more awash in sunlight.
A book lay open, almost at his feet. He reached down, picked it up He took an uncommon enjoyment in reading, always carried books w« him, even on campaigns.
This was one of his favorites, a French trans a tion of the Welsh legend of
King Arthur; but several pages were tornthe cover smeared with ink. He blotted the ink as best he could with sleeve, replaced the book upon the table.
"Damn you, Will! I trusted you. More fool I, but I trulv trusted y°u'

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You think I'm beaten. You think Louis has won. Well, not yet. As Christ is my witness, not yet."
41
CIRENCESTER, ENGLAND
September 1216
"I
L UNDERSTAND you will not be staying with us after all, Madame?"
Isabelle did not enjoy the company of clerics. Too often she found them dour and disapproving, for if women were all daughters of Eve, born to lead men astray, a woman as worldly as Isabelle must be the very incarnation of
Jezebel. But Alexander Neckam was no unlettered village priest. He was Abbot of the prosperous Augustinian abbey of St Mary, a man erudite and cultured, a man entitled to royal courtesy, and she found a smile for him.
"No, I regret not. My lord husband the King has decided it is too dangerous for me to accompany him any farther, and my son and I will be returning to
Corfe whilst he goes to raise the siege of Windsor Castle."
"We heard the King spent part "of the summer along the Marches. Was he able to win over the Welsh?"
"He did hire some Welsh men-at-arms, but he had no luck with the "elsh
Princes, with Llewelyn or Maelgwn. Nor with Reginald de Braose."
Neckam seemed to sense her preoccupation, for he made no at*jmpt to prolong their conversation, but murmured, instead, of duties sewhere. She was not long alone, however; Richard was coming up
Pathway. Falling into step beside her, he followed her into the abbey gardens.
. aome yards to their right, John was walking with his son. When ar"
started toward them, Isabelle laid a restraining hand on his arm.

"No," she said. "Give them time to say their farewells. And wh'l still alone, tell me the truth. Can John win?" ' st We're
"Had you asked me that in June, I'd have said no. Now not so sure. There are straws in the wind, a growing discontent °^'m French. Some of the rebel barons are belatedly beginning to r '^e realitythat should Louis prevail, they'll have a French King a p^nKe court. Already they're seeing what that would mean;
each tim f^ has taken a castle, he's given it to one of his French followers L
i*"5 know no man more dangerous to underestimate than my father "
Isabelle nodded. "When I'm with John, I cannot but believe th will prevail against his enemies, that all will be well for us. But wh * we're apart, I...
I lose faith. I think of what could happen to us sho IH evil befall John, and
I become so frightened, Richard, so"
"Mama!" Henry was running toward them. "Papa says he's eom to give me one of his falcons! Papa, you'll not forget?"
John, following at a more sedate pace, smiled and shook his head "I'll give the order tonight, Henry. Richard . . . I've decided I do not want you to come with me. I'd rather you escort Isabelle and Henry back to Corfe, then return to Wallingford Castle, hold it for me till further notice."
"If that is truly your wish, Papa."
Turning, then, toward the child, John smiled again at his son "Henry, stay here and talk to your brother. I want a few words alone with your lady mother ere you depart."
Taking Isabelle aside, John led her toward a trellised arbor As soon as they were within, Isabelle moved into his arms. The air was sunwarmed, fragrant with honeysuckle; she could almost convince herself that summer was not dying.
"I'm so glad I had these ten days with you But. . . but when will we see each other again?"
"I do not know," John admitted. "Louis has been besieging Dover Castle for some six weeks now, but to no avail. Windsor, Lincoln, and Barnard castles are also under siege. If they can hold out for me
Isabelle shivered. "You must promise me, promise you'll take care John, I...
I'd be lost without you!"
Her fear was more than disheartening, it was contagious. Jo " tightened his arms around her, kissed her on the mouth, the throa . ^ clung to him, but without passion, and when he kissed her againtasted her tears. j |S.
"Papa!" The voice was Henry's, high-pitched, excited. John an ^ abelle moved apart, moved back into the sun. Henry was sp ^ toward the arbor, gesturing. "A
courier, Papa, with urgent ne the North!"
One of the black-garbed Augustinian canons was standing

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away- "There's a man seeking to talk with you, my liege. He fewr fee ^^
Barnard Castle, from Hugh de Balliol. May we bring savs he u?,, ^"At once."
John had paled. As Isabelle clutched his arm, he said d "If Barnard Castle has fallen ..."
WU A messenger was being ushered into the abbey gardens. He was led and travel-stained, but John saw only his smile, the triumsmile of a man bearing tidings sure to please. "The Scots King and ^ rmy assaulted the castle, my lord, but we drove them off." "Thank God!"
"In truth, my liege. Shooting down from the battlements, one of bowmen loosed an arrow at Eustace de Vesci. The Almighty guided h aim lord. It struck de
Vesci in the head; he was dead ere he tumbled from the saddle."
John caught his breath. And then he began to laugh. "I want the name of the bowman. That arrow of his is worth its weight in gold to me1" As he swung around, back toward Isabelle and Richard, they saw that his eyes were ablaze with light. "What better omen than this? I think my luck is about to change for the betterat long last!"
THE Wash was a wide bay of the turbulent North Sea, fed by four rivers, extending more than twenty miles inland into the counties of Lincoln and
Norfolk. The seaport of Lynn had grown up where the River Great Ouse emptied into The Wash. In early October its citizens were alarmed when they got word of an advancing rebel force. But by then John had reached Lincolnshire. He swung south again, detoured toward Lynn, and the rebels fled at his approach.
On Sunday, October 9, the grateful townspeople of Lynn welcomed their King, and on the following day a feast was given in John's honor at the Benedictine priory of St Mary Magdalene, St Margaret, and All Virgin Saints.
However boundless their goodwill, their resources were limited; ' ey could not hope to equal the exotic fare that had been set before John J|» happier days.
But they did what they could with what they had, and , ' whose expectations were minimal, was pleasantly surprised. Am. e PIn8s of stewed pomegranates and pears were served, to much row"8' f°r aU knew such fruits were aphrodisiacs.
Tarts filled with marPeac S^ar/ and 8rour>d pork were offered next, followed by a roasted skinn *e C°°ks had labored nours to strut the bones and refit the beenas? feathers so as to give the illusion of life everlasting. A pig had egg.yola,Ughtered and cut in half, the hindquarters stuffed with suet and and f0 "read crumbs, then carefully sewn together with the head Part of a capon, thus creating a wondrous beast to delight both

Ji^^,

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the appetite and the eye. But what amused John the most was th tlety, a sensual mermaid sculptured of marzipan, tail dyed gr 6 ^ parsley juice, her flowing hair a spill of saffron. Wl'h
As entertainment, there was an acrobatic act and an alarrni ept juggler who seemed continually in danger of stabbing himself ^ "" his own knives. But for the townspeople, the true attraction of th ning was the presence of their King, and they listened, spellbound rare firsthand account of the momentous happenings in the world KJ* yond the marshy
Fens, beyond Lynn.
"Upon reaching Windsor, I found I did not have enough men f direct attack, but
I was able to end the siege by acting as bait. As I moved north out of the
Thames Valley, the French abandoned the siege and out in pursuit. Rather halfheartedly, since they soon gave up and re turned to London. Which surprised me not in the least; Louis seems willing to fight to the last
Englishman."
As John had expected, that drew laughter. "I continued north, for we knew that the Scots King had come to Dover to do homage to Louis It was my hope that I
could intercept him on his way back into Scotland. Unfortunately he managed to elude our scouts, but we were able to wreak havoc upon the lands of our enemies in the shires of Cambridge and Lincoln."
Swallowing the last of his wine, John pushed aside the stale trencher that had served as his plate. "Does your almoner save these for the poor?"
"Yes, sire."
Glancing about at his men dining at the lower tables, John said loudly, "Let no one throw his trencher to the dogs," and signaled for more wine before resuming. "On the Thursday ere Michaelmas, we entered the city of Lincoln. I
know there were those who thought Nicholaa de la Haye no fit castellan for
Lincoln Castle, but she has shown herself to be as steadfast, as stalwart as any man in holding the castle for the crown. The townspeople had not her courage, however, and yielded the city to the rebels. They had no stomach for fighting, though, fled even as we approached. We pursued them north, and then headed back when we heard you were in need."
"And thankful we are for it," the Prior said fervently, and others in the hall took up the refrain, expressing their gratitude in terms so ophantic that one of the young monks laid his bread down in disgu his appetite utterly gone. a
Brother Thomas was incensed that his Prior should make we ^^ blasphemer, a man with such mortal sins upon his soul. The A g ^ were ungodly, evil men. Thomas, who had been named after ^^ martyr Thomas a Becket, did not doubt that Henry and his son

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pjell John, too, would feel the flames of perdition Nothing t,urmn& ^^ ^ there was no contrition in his heart When the land C A under Interdict, he had shamelessly mocked the clergy, men of waS estmg the hearthmates and concubines of village priests, deC°°' faat the priests ransom their illicit loves He had heaped scorn
111311 tempt upon Stephen Langton, a man of Thomas's own Linan h re and, like
Thomas, of Saxon blood Nor had John mended his C° nS after making peace with the Holy Father Thomas had been ap" n d to hear that John had allowed his soldiers to stable their horses in P Brew's priory church during his siege of
Rochester Castle And not weeks ago he had burned and plundered the Benedictine abbey at
Qoyland
No such a man was damned forever and aye, as surely as if he were jew or infidel Saracen, and Thomas cursed his own cowardice, the fear that froze his tongue and kept him from crying out in ringing, clarion tones that liars are loathsome to the Eternal and the wrath of God is fearful to behold
"I shall have to depart on the morrow, but I'll leave one of my most trusted captains, Savanc de Mauleon, in Lynn to see to your safety Not that I expect the rebels to threaten you again," John added, sounding so cheerful, so confident that Thomas could endure no more
"You said a number of disloyal lords had returned to their true allegiance, disavowed the French," he blurted out, half-rising from his seat Was one of these lords your brother Salisbury7"
His words seemed to echo endlessly in his own ears All heads turned in his direction Those seated beside him drew back so precipitantly that, in other circumstances, their recoil might have been comical Thomas sat alone, seeing through a blur the shocked and outraged faces of his Pnor, the townspeople, awareas he'd never been aware of anything beforeof the sudden and utter stillness of the King
It seemed forever to those watching before John moved, completed an action frozen in time and space at mention of Will's name Bringing s ^P UP to his mouth, he took a swallow of verney The sweet white
^ne burned his throat like vinegar Setting it down, he glanced toward mas, saw only a fearful youngster, beet-red and speechless, as if in ated realization of his gaffe Sj^ , °' "e said, his voice very measured and remote, "the Earl of
ThJ W3S n0t amon8st them "
Prior ST^ were re'leved murmurings among the people at that The
5c°ith ° lcnew Thomas as John did not, gave the errant monk a "lent k *nat promised retribution at the earliest possible mo-
'0|>n s old ec^ I0r a more suitable topic of conversation It was nend and comrade Peter des Roches who came to their res-