Here Be Dragons - 1 (80 page)

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k sincerity, and she felt shame for having assumed Isabella's SUdI would be so easily assuaged g°e , jje nacj begun to pace "John was a a law unto himself, was asv man to understand or to live with Especially these last n0' s But I think I made him happy, and I I loved being his
^W Joanna As far back as I can remember, I could turn heads, at-
t'tention, but that was only because men found me fair to look
113 vVhen I was Queen, it was different, I truly mattered People ht to please me, to court my goodwillbecause they knew John
A me And now now I might as well be a deaf-mute for all the d they pay me Without John, I count for naught "
"Surely you exaggerate," Joanna said slowly, and Isabelle gave a vehement shake of her head
"I know I'm no Eleanor of Aquitame It never occurred to meor to anyone else, obviouslythat I should act as regent But I ought to have some say in my son's upbringing, and I have none at all Nor will I, as long as Chester and Pembroke have the government They like me not, Joanna, think I'm frivolous and vain and foreign, a bad influence upon Henry Yes, that is what I saidforeign For suddenly my birthplace has become a liability People now look at me askance because my mother is a first cousin to the French King, as if that somehow makes me suspect'"
'Isabelle might you not be oversensitive, seeing slights when none was meant7"
"Then why did the Pope feel the need to issue a stern warning last February, forbidding people to harass me or molest my property and goods'"
Joanna's emotions were too ambivalent to allow for dispassionate analysis The realization that Isabelle grieved more for the privileges and prerogatives of queenship than for the man who'd made them possible had done much to sour her sympathy for the other woman And yet she c°uld not help but identify with
Isabelle's isolation, her sense of ahenah°n, for she, too, had suffered for the sin of foreign birth wlthI!*belle had st°pped before a small table It was littered with jars, ^ belladonna and kohl and mangold balm, casting-bottles of jasmine a ' Pernjrnes, vials of rosewater, Joanna had never seen such an denl
Went Isa^el'e was picking up jars at random, she seemed sudVeij V~and uncnaracteristicallyuncertain Jerking off her wimple and it Wa* e loosened her hair, shook it free about her shoulders Although now to Ot as Pure a shade as in her early youth, and owed something ^okine nS8S W1* 'emon wafer, her hair was still soft and shimmering, Joanna an unexpected and nostalgic memory of her mother

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Clemence, so many years dead, Clemence with her swirlin bright blonde hair. 8 °ud of
"I might as well say this straight out, know no other w you." Isabelle leaned back against the table, as if bracing h ° ^ asked you to come to Windsor because I think of you as a siste "'
. . . and I wanted to bid you farewell." r/ J°ann*
"Farewell? I do not understand."
"I am more than the widow of a dead King, Joanna. I am C of Angouleme in my own right, and I have decided to go home $S back to my own lands, my own people." ' ^°
Joanna was stunned, at a loss for words. It did not surprise her th Isabelle should, even after seventeen years, have so little loyalty to E gland, for she did not feel truly bound to her own husband's homeland But Isabelle would never be allowed to take her children. In abandonin England, she was abandoning Henry, Dickon, Nell, and Isabella and Joanna could conceive of no circumstances, however wretched, under which she would willingly forsake
Davydd and Elen.
Although she said nothing, Joanna's shock showed plainly in her face, and
Isabelle frowned, said defensively, "It is for the best, Joanna. It's not as if they'll want for anything. Moreover, I have another daughter. Joannayour namesakeis seven now, and I've not seen her since she was four."
"But the de Lusignans have custody of her. Will they let you see her?"
"I think so. Hugh is a reasonable man, after all. Why would he not agree?"
"Reasonable?" Joanna echoed incredulously. "Hugh de Lusignan?"
Isabelle laughed. "No, I was speaking of his son, of the younger Hugh." She'd picked up a mirror, was gazing pensively at the image it reflected, at the beauty not even polished metal could distort. "No, she repeated softly, "I do not think Hugh will refuse me."

DOLBADARN, NORTH WALES
February 1218
SITUATED on a rocky knoll eighty feet above Llyn Pattern, Dolbadarn Castle commanded the route from Caer yn Arfon to the Conwy Valley This was Joanna's first visit to Dolbadarn since Llewelyn had constructed the two-story circular keep, and she was dazzled at sight of mountains mirrored in the deep blue depths of a snow-fed lake She stood now at the window in the upper chamber, gazing out at the regal heights of Yr Wyddfa, a stark, snow-shrouded pinnacle framed against a cloudless winter sky
"I wonder if I'm falling under the spell of Wales at long last Or does it seem so spectacular merely because I'm so happy7 Shall I tell you why7 Last night I
had a letter from my brother Richard, telling me that his wife has given birth to a daughter And this morning Llewelyn gave me a gift of immeasurable value
He has agreed to make peace with Henry, which means no more warfor a time, anywayand a chance to visit my brother's court, and most blessed mercy of all, the papal legate Guala will now restore Llewelyn to God's grace Oh, indeed7
e"< that might not mean much to you, but it means everything to me1"
Her audience, a small, amber-colored spaniel, yawned again, and Joanna laughed, scooped up the puppy "I know I'm silly, but I feel like lng silly this morn What shall we do now7 Go play in the snow7"
castle bailey seemed carpeted in crystal, so brilliant was the j,a, ° upon the drifts of ice and snow Joanna's puppy ran in circles, ^ "8 joyously, and
Joanna wished suddenly that she were not snow *' *^at s^e were sn^ young enough to make angels in the m°um ° S^m *^ S^e was d^zy/ drunk on the utter purity of the icy
''T
'oanna P*Z] Tr*e puppy was barking at a woman crossing the bailey wiled again, hastened to retrieve her errant pet The hood of the

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r woman's mantle shadowed her face, and Joanna did not recognize her until they were several feet apart. When she did, her exuberance vanished as if it had never been. Grabbing for the dog, she politely greeted Gruffydd's bride.
"Good morrow, Madame."
Joanna opened her mouth, shut it again. She'd twice suggested that Senena call her by her given name; what more could she do? It annoyed her that she should find conversation so difficult with this girl; she'd thought she'd long since prevailed over the anxieties and insecurities of her own girlhood.
Seeing Senena glance down at the dog, she said, "Topaz is a gift from my husband. I'd had a dog for nigh on thirteen years, did not think I wanted another when Sugar died. But Llewelyn was right, and I find Topaz a joy."
"I like dogs," Senena said. Hers was a breathless, little-girl voice that made her seem even younger than seventeen. So, too, did her size; she was barely five feet tall, looked incredibly fragile and tiny when standing next to her husband. She was not a beauty, was too pale, with unfashionable freckles and thick eyebrows she refused to pluck. Her eyes were undeniably her best feature, wide-set and compelling, a dark sea-grey, but to Joanna, they were too watchful, too unrevealing.
Joanna had made one or two halfhearted attempts to befriend Gruffydd's young wife, but she was not altogether sorry when Senena did not respond to her overtures. She was a quiet girl who rarely spoke in company, and Joanna had assumed she was shy. She was no longer so certain that was the case, was slowly concluding that Senena's reticence was not so much timidity as it was wariness. More and more, she reminded Joanna of a cat put down in strange surroundings, cautiously learning the lay of the land.
Senena was still studying Topaz. "I prefer a larger dog, myself," she said in the colorless little voice that made it so difficult to determine whether she meant to give offense. "I think dogs should be useful, not just decorative. If you'll excuse me now, Madame, Gruffydd awaits me in the great hall."
"By all means." Joanna stood watching as Senena walked away, no moving until
Topaz pawed at her skirt. "Well, Topaz, I'm afraid you've just been dismissed as a decadent Norman trinket. Like me, no doub But she felt no real surprise.
Senena was Gruffydd's cousin. She w also his choice; their marriage had come about because he wanted i ^ It was only to be expected, therefore, that he and Senena shared m than a bed, that they shared a common outlook, a common enemy
Senena had a surprisingly lithe, athletic stride, was already VaSS the West
Tower. As she did, a small figure darted out behind her.

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na did not notice But Joanna did, sharply cried out her daughter's name
Elen whirled She flushed at sight of her mother, hid her hands behind her back, but not before Joanna caught a glimpse of the snowball in her daughter's fist
By the time she reached Elen, Senena had disappeared into the hall, apparently oblivious of the thwarted ambush Joanna took Elen's arm, drew her aside
"Elen, what am I to do with you7 If you must throw snowballs, at least pick your victims with greater care Believe me, Senena would not have been amused "
Elen shrugged "I do not like her "
"Why ever not7"
"Because because she's Gruffydd's wife "
Joanna stared at her daughter "But you've always been very fond of Gruffydd, and he of you Have you quarreled7"
Elen looked down at the ground, her hair was loose, windblown, fell forward to hide her face Joanna suddenly understood, drew a sharp, dismayed breath
"It's Davydd," she said, and Elen nodded
"Gruffydd hates him " She no longer sounded sulky, looked up at Joanna, brown eyes full of bewilderment "The day ere we left Aber, I was playing at the waterfall Gruffydd and Senena were walking by the river When they did not see me, I hid in the rocks so I could surprise them I did not mean to eavesdrop, Mama, not really They were saying mostly silly things, the way grown people do
Laughing and kissing, you know But then Gruffydd began to talk about you and
Davydd He was telling Senena that you meant to deprive him of his rightful inheritance He was saying hateful things about Davydd Mama, he he even said
Davydd should never have been born1"
Joanna bit her lip It was so unfair, so unjust that Davyddand now Elenshould be caught up in adult passions, m ambitions and antagonisms beyond their ken
They were too young, she thought, too young' But she had no comfort for her child, could not lie "I am so ^Orry, Elen," she said, after a troubled silence
"I truly wish you could °ve both Davydd and Gruffydd But since you must choose, I'm very W you chose Davydd "
I had to, Mama Gruffydd has Gwladys and Marared and ^enlhan But Davydd has only me "
Never had Joanna felt so inadequate, so unequal to the task ^motherhood "The hardest part of being a mother, Elen, is that we so much to protect our children from all evil, all hurt And we
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"I do not need to be protected, Mama," Elen protested indignantly But when
Joanna put her arm around the girl's shoulders, Elen did not pull away, and she stayed by Joanna's side as they walked together toward the great hall.
They had not yet entered the hall when they heard shouting and quickened their steps, for they recognized the voices as Gruffydd's and Llewelyn's.
"But you turned down the English last September, rightfully re_ fused to take part in the peace between Henry and the French Prince. Why have you changed your mind, Papa? Why should you now be willing to submit to the English?"
"I do not consider it submission," Llewelyn snapped. "When they offered peace last autumn, it was conditioned upon our surrender of all the lands we'd taken from them in South Wales. Of course I refused, and then I waited. It was well worth the wait, Gruffydd. Yes, I have now agreed to do homage to Henry. But in return, Guala will absolve me of excommunication and lift the Interdict from
Wales. Our past conquests will be recognized. I will be invested with custody of the royal castles they call Carmarthen and Cardigan, will hold them until
Henry comes of age. The English have even agreed to acknowledge my authority in Lower Powys until Gwenwynwyn's sons reach manhood. Moreover, they"
"Acknowledge? Who are they to acknowledge or legitimize your rights? You're a
Welsh Prince, are not dependent upon the whims, the indulgence of the English crown!"
"For the love of Christ, Gruffydd, when will you" Llewelyn stopped abruptly.
This was not the way, and for certes not the place. "Come outside where we can talk in private," he said curtly, and turned without waiting to see if
Gruffydd was, in fact, following him. By the time he'd reached the bailey, he was once more in control of his temper and determined that this time it would be different, this time he would somehow make his son understand.
"Gruffydd, listen to me. I know how you feel. When I was your age, I felt just as you do, wanted what you wantan utterly independent Wales, free of all foreigners, united under my control."
"Is that so foolish a dream?" Gruffydd challenged, and Llewelyn slowly shook his head.
"No, lad, it is not. But it's a dream beyond our reach. God n decreed otherwise. We're too sparsely populated, too contentious, a we dwell in the shadow of England, a country some twenty times size of ours. We will always have to seek some sort of accomrnoda with the English. The realities of power dictate that, Gruffydd/
When Gruffydd started to speak, he said, "I am not done; hear

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out. I fought against believing it, too, Gruffydd, refused to admit that my horizons could be limited, my dreams denied. I followed my heart and not my head, let my pride lure me into disaster, into a near-fatal confrontation with the King of England. It was only by the luck of the angels that I survived it, that I did not lose all, that Gwynedd did not become an English shire." He paused, put his hand upon Gruffydd's arm.
"I see so much of myself in you, Gruffydd. But in just three days I
shall be forty and five, and you're not yet twenty and two. I want you to be able to benefit from my years, my experience. I do not want you to make the same mistakes I did."
"Whatever mistakes you may have made in the past, Papa, they are nothing when compared to the one you're about to make now." But the emotion in Gruffydd's voice was no longer anger, and as he looked at Llewelyn now, his green eyes were misty, almost pleading. "England has a boy King, Papa. This is a
God-given opportunity for us, and you're throwing it away. You're throwing it away and I cannot understand why!"
Llewelyn's hand slipped from Gruffydd's arm. "No," he said at last, "you truly cannot, can you?"
"Papa, you're not a coward. I'd kill any man who called you one. But why, then, must you make the craven choice, demean yourself before men not worthy of your piss? Why will you not"
"This discussion is done, Gruffydd. I go to Worcester next month to meet with
Henry. And this time you shall go with me."
"No! Never!"
"You will have to live with the lords of Henry's court, have to deal with
Pembroke and Chester and Peter des Roches. So it is time you met them, learned what manner of men they are."
"No, Papa. I will not go."
"Yes," Llewelyn said, "you will," and Gruffydd's eyes were the nrst to waver.
He swung about, all but fled across the bailey. Llewelyn le* him go, for he knew he'd won. But it was not a victory to give him l°y- He stood motionless, staring down at Gruffydd's footprints in the snow, and suddenly he was remembering a childhood mishap, remem^ring that long-ago encounter with Walter de Hodnet.
'God help you, Gruffydd," he said softly, "but you'd never have °ne what
Walter demanded. You'd have forced him to break your arm, 0 'eave you maimed for life."
ja ELYN found Joanna by the river wall in the Bishop of Worcester's en«- It had been a wet, chill March, and nights of killing frost had