Here Be Dragons - 1 (85 page)

544
Hugh de Lacy, Earl of Ulster, and Walter de Lacy, Lord of Meath. Walter is husband to Margaret de Braose, Maude's daughter."
"Ah, Joanna, what a tangled coil." But after a moment Richard started to see the perverse humor in Joanna's predicament. His mouth twitched, and he coughed, trying to camouflage a laugh.
Joanna gave him a look that was quizzical, half resentful. But there was something contagious about his amusement, and she was soon laughing, too. "I
knowit's ludicrous," she admitted. "I'm bloody well surrounded by de Braoses;
any day now I expect to find one under my bed!"
Their laughter had been a spontaneous, almost involuntary reaction to the absurd, and it ended as abruptly as it began. Much sobered, Joanna said quietly, "It is not so bad with Reginald, for I do not see much of him anymore; he and Llewelyn have not been on good terms for several years now.
But Jack de Braose is often at our court. We're polite to each other, Richard, too polite. But I cannot look into his face without remembering that his father and grandmother died in a Windsor dungeon, that he spent eight years in confinement at Corfe Castle. And if it is so uncomfortable for me, how must it be for him?"
Richard knew it was not the place, but the opportunity might not arise again.
"Joanna, I hope you'll not take amiss what I'm about to say. Your problem is not with the de Braoses. It's with Papa. Until you face the truth about him, about the manner of man he was and how you feel about that, you're going to continue doing this to yourself, and I hate to see it. Jesu, we earn enough guilt and remorse of our own in this life without taking on the sins of others."
"I have faced the truth! Do I deny the cruelties Papa committed, do I defend him? What more do you want of me?"
Joanna's voice had risen; several people were looking in their direction.
Richard leaned over and, in a rare gesture of public affection, kissed his sister on the cheek. "I'm sorry," he said, and was. He had no answers for
Joanna. What had worked for himdistancing himself from Johnobviously did not work for her. "I just want you to be happy, that's all."
"I am happy, Richard, in truth I am," Joanna said, and then she smiled. "I
think you are, too; I've rarely seen you look so relaxed. It must suit you, being Lord of Chilham, sheriff of Berkshire and Staffordshire."
"It does indeed. Whatever else may be said of Papa, he did right by us in our marriages."
"Yes," Joanna said, "he did. I only hope Llewelyn and I did as we for Elen."
veil

545
She was still thinking of that a few moments later, as she made her way across the hall toward Gwladys. How could a parent ever know which marriage would flourish and which would fail? Marared seemed utterly content with Jack de
Braose, had given him a son upon whom they both doted. But Gwladys and her husband treated each other with the cool politeness of strangers, and after seven years, their marriage was still barren.
"I'm so glad you were able to come, Gwladys," Joanna said warmly, for she'd not been at all sure that Reginald would agree to attend the wedding; he was rarely seen these days in the same company as his nephew. The feud between
Reginald and Jack had been dragging on for several years now, ever since Jack had regained his freedom and laid claim to the bulk of the de Braose lands, as the heir of Will and Maude's eldest son. Nor had Llewelyn eased the tension any by siding with Jack, allowing him to wed Marared.
Joanna had found it difficult to forgive Llewelyn for that, for putting additional strain upon his daughter's troubled marriage. But Gwladys kept her own counsel, and if she had regrets, none but she knew. She and Reginald seemed to find no lack of reasons for increasingly long absences apart, and now she said, quite composedly, "I'd have come with or without Reginald.
Surely you do not think I'd ever miss Elen's wedding?"
Both women turned, gazed across the hall. Elen was clad in a gown of
Alexandrine velvet, a brilliant blue-green shade that set off to perfection her free-flowing black hair, gleaming like polished ebony against a gossamer gold veil.
"She makes a lovely bride," Gwladys said, and Joanna nodded slowly.
"Yes . . . but not a happy one."
"I do not think you need fret about Elen, Joanna. She's so volatile that she needs a steadying hand. I expect John will be good for her."
Gwladys accepted a wine cup from a passing servant, clinked it against
Joanna's. "To Elen," she said. "And speaking of volatile spirits, my husband's wayward son has decided to put in an appearance after all."
"Will? He's here?"
"Indeed he is. And how like Will; he misses the wedding entirely, but arrives in time for the celebration. I am sorry about this, Joanna, hope you do not mind too much."
"No, I... I do not mind. You just caught me by surprise, for he did ^"TI down the invitation. Did he bring his wife?"

546
r
"No, thank God!" Gwladys said, and laughed at Joanna's startle^ look. "You do not know her, do you? Take it from me, the Lady Eva Marshal is a bitch, every bit as haughty and obdurate as her brother Pembroke."
Joanna was only half listening; she had no interest whatsoever in Will's wife.
She'd not expected this, that she'd feel so flustered at the thought of seeing
Will de Braose again. She did not truly know him, theirs had been a brief afternoon encounter more than twelve years past. But she'd thought of him often since learning of Maude's fate, and she knew suddenly that of all the de
Braoses, it was Will she'd always most dreaded to face.
"You do not like Will, do you, Gwladys? Would you tell me why?"
"Well, he did oppose my marriage to his father, so from the beginning there was tension betwixt us. But it's more than that, Joanna. I think he's a dangerous man, the sort that breaks hearts and heads with equal ease. Down in
Deheubarth, the Welsh call him Gwilym Ddu."
"Black Will?" Joanna echoed in surprise. "That's passing strange, for I
remember his hair as being very light, a flaxen color."
"It still is," Gwladys said, very dryly.
"I see. He's not very well thought of, then?"
"That depends upon whom you ask. Men do not like him much, women generally like him too much. There's been more than one scandal involving an angry husband, an errant wife. Will's not trustworthy, Joanna. Local legend has it that he once sold the same piece of land to three different buyers, and whilst
I cannot vouch for the truth of that, I'd not put it past him. He cuts with a sharp blade, does our Will, leaves himself no margin for error."
The dancing had begun; a circle was forming for the carole, and Elen and John the Scot were soon coaxed into the center. They danced well together, won themselves a round of applause when the figure was completed. Elen then shook her head and John led her back toward the sidelines. He had a naturally ruddy complexion, even more flushed now from the dance, and the same unruly, sandy hair as his cousin the Scots King, but he did have an engaging grin, which he flashed as he caught Joanna's eye.
Elen, however, had no smiles at all to offer. Although she was standing beside
John, her hand in his, she seemed set upon acting as" their proximity were mere coincidence. She was watching the other dancers, looking so aloof that
Joanna wanted to take her aside, to shake some sense into her. Remembering how she'd labored to hide her own reluctance from Llewelyn, it seemed to her that
Elen was behaving ve*> badly, and she started toward them, intent upon having a brief word 1
547
private with her daughter. For better or worse, Elen was now John's wife, and she must be made to see how important it was that she make an effort to please him.
So engrossed was Joanna in her concern that she did not notice the jjian until he moved into her path, so suddenly they almost collided. She stepped back, looking up at a stranger, a very attractive stranger, with bright blond hair and beard, clear grey eyes, an unsmiling, sharply sculptured mouth. The fourteen-year-old boy Joanna had remembered was utterly gone. But she still recognized him and smiled, said, not altogether truthfully, "I am glad to see you again, Will."
"Are you, Madame? Are you indeed?" he drawled, and while the words themselves were innocuous, he invested them with so much hostility that the blood surged up into her face.
Her reaction was instinctive, purely defensive. "Of course I am, Will," she heard herself say archly. "We'll talk later, I hope?" She managed another smile, polite but dismissive, and moved away before he could respond.
Joanna was more shaken by the encounter than she should have been; dimly she realized that. She did not doubt that Will was voicing what all the de Braoses thought; he just happened to be the only one who did not need her husband's

favor, who could afford to be honest. So why, then, did it hurt so?
She sought without success to catch Elen alone, had no more luck in tracking down Llewelyn. She danced several times, but could find no pleasure in it, for by then she was aware again of Will. He made no approach, but he never took his eyes from hera cool, challenging stare that she could neither ignore nor acknowledge. She endured it as long as she could, and then her anger broke through. Draining her wine cup, she turned, walked directly toward Will.
"I think," she said, "that it is time we talked."
She'd rarely seen eyes so compelling, or so cold. "What do we have to say?"
"If you do not want to talk to me, why are you staring at me? Why are you following me about the hall?"
"Was I?"
"You know damned well you were!" She heard her own voice, sharp-edged and shrill, and took several quick breaths. "I do not want to quarrel with you.
Surely we can talk without anger. You once told me hat you did not believe in blood guilt for women, remember?"
Something flickered in those grey eyes, too elusive for analysis. es'' he said, "I do remember. But your father taught me otherwise."
Joanna waited until she was sure she could trust her voice. "It eifls I was mistaken. I have nothing to say to you after all."

548
THE porch of the great hall connected directly to the chapel in Caesar's
Tower; the chamber above it had been set aside for Joanna's little sister But
Nell had shown herself to be as strong-willed as the grandmother after whom she'd been named, resisting bedtime until she was half asleep on her feet.
Only then had she yielded, allowing Joanna and her nurse to put her to bed.
Joanna lingered longer than necessary, sitting on the bed and stroking Nell's hair, sunlit ringlets that curled around her fingers like finely spun silk.
There had been no need for her to accompany Nell, just as there was no need for her to remain. But she was in no hurry to return to the hall. As miserable as her own wedding had been, her daughter's was proving to be no less an ordeal.
She could delay only so long, though, for it was almost time for the bedding revels. Soon she would have to help put Elen to bed, as she'd just done with
Nell. But unlike Nell, Elen would not be sleeping alone. She swallowed the last of her wine, moved reluctantly toward the door.
The spiral stairway was not lit; the cresset light had burned out, and she'd forgotten her candle. She'd had too much to drink, was feeling lightheaded and had to stop repeatedly, groping her way blindly in the darkness, a few steps at a time.
She had no warning, nothing to alert her that she was no longer alone. She simply turned a bend in the stairwell and there he was, looming over her, barring her way. She recoiled against the wall, a scream starting in her throat, and he swiftly put his hand over her mouth.
"Jesii, but your nerves are on the raw," he muttered, and Joanna sighed with relief, recognizing his voice.
"You startled me, Will!" she said indignantly. "How did I know who it was?
What are you doing here? Did you follow me?"
"Would you believe me if I said I was looking for a privy chamber?"
"No, I would not." Joanna was becoming aware now of the untoward aspects of this encounter, becoming acutely aware of Will. She was standing on the step above him, but he was still taller than she, and so close that she could smell the sugared wine on his breath. "I think you'd best let me pass," she said, her voice suddenly husky, and he laughed.
"You wanted to talk, did you not? Well, here I am."
"You're drunk, Will. Let me by."
"Suppose . . . suppose I do not want to do that," he murmured, and when Joanna pushed against him, he did not move.
"What do you want from me?" she whispered, feeling behind he for the wall, seeking to orient herself in this eerie black well.
"I do not know." He, too, was whispering now, his breath n against her cheek.
And then his hand was on her throat, and his mou

549
On hers. She'd been expecting violence, but he was surprisingly gentle with her, and the kiss was unhurried, almost tender. It was that which held her immobile for several seconds, which kept her from struggling at first. But the spell did not last. With a gasp, she tore her mouth from his, shoved against his chest.
Again he surprised her; when she pulled free, he let her go. She stumbled, nearly lost her balance on the stairs. Her head was spinning; she could not seem to catch her breath.
"Have you lost your wits? Jesus God, my husband would kill you if he knew!"
"Are you going to tell him?"
To her fury, he did not sound particularly impressed. But as much as she wanted to tell him yes, she was going to Llewelyn, common sense prevailed.
"No," she said, as coldly as she could. "No, I'd not do that to Elen, would not stain her wedding day with blood."
Her words sounded hollow to her, even a little pompous. Will apparently thought so, too, for he laughed. He was above her now; the way below was clear, and she turned away, started down the stairs. He stopped laughing, for the first time called her by her name. She ignored him, lifted her skirts and plunged around the final bend in the stairwell, into the light. He caught up with her at the bottom of the stairs, reached for her arm, saying, "Joanna, wait."
She jerked away. "Do not touch me," she spat. "Not ever again, do you understand?"
Some of the guests had overflowed from the hall, several couples seeking privacy in the empty chapel. They turned toward the stairwell at sound of voices, and Will faded back into the shadows. Joanna stood there alone for a moment, leaning against the wall. And then she scrubbed the back of her hand vigorously across her mouth, stepped out into the torchlit chapel. Will watched from the stairwell as she reentered the hall.
THE bedding revels were not as raucous as they might have been, due in large measure to Llewelyn's presence in the bedchamber. Even the most obstreperous of wedding guests tended to be somewhat circumspect, to curb their cruder jests in the hearing of the bride's father. But Joanna still found the experience exceedingly painful. The sight of her daughter naked in bed with an unwanted stranger tore at her heart. She no longer Cared at that moment about the cogent, convincing arguments that °uld be made in favor of this marriage, not when she looked at Elen's ace. Elen had lost her air of defiance; she clutched the sheet against her reasts, looking unbearably young to Joanna, utterly vulnerable. When