Here Be Dragons - 1 (93 page)

595
On her heel. Will caught up with her in two strides and, still laughing, put his hand upon her arm.
Joanna gave him no chance to speak. She pulled free, faced him ^jth such fury that his laughter stilled. "If you ever touch me again, I yvill have you taken by force to Dolbadarn Castle and confined there till my husband's return."
He arched a brow. "I do not think your husband would like that. He eave orders that I was to be well treated."
At this moment Joanna did not much care what Llewelyn liked or not, and she almost blurted that out, catching herself just in time. "You've had one warning," she said coldly. "That is all you get." And this time when she turned away, he made no attempt to stop her.
ON one of her walks, Joanna had come upon an abandoned hut. A simple wattle-and-daub structure, circular in shape, it put Joanna in mind of the hafods she'd seen so often on the mainland, rudely built houses occupied only during those summer months when the Welsh drove their flocks to higher pastures. It surprised her to find a hafod here on the flatlands; she could only surmise that some unknown herdsman had once sought to fatten his sheep on the salty marsh grass. Whatever the reason for its existence, Joanna was grateful for the discovery, for October was a month of sudden rains and the hut provided welcome shelter, a solitary refuge from the antagonisms and tensions swirling about Rhosyr.
As the days drew closer to October 19, Joanna was caught up in a treacherous tide from her past, a backwash of painful memories. John always weighed heavier on her thoughts as the anniversary of his death approached, but never so oppressively as this. Suddenly she found herself yearning to make a pilgrimage to Worcester, to pray in the shadow of her father's tomb and have a
Requiem Mass said for his tormented soul. So very strong was the urge that it invoked in her a sense of superstitious unease; what if John himself was struggling to reach her, beseeching her help in escaping the sufferings of
Purgatory? But even if it was truly so, she was powerless, trapped in Wales by yet another of her husband's wars.
That was unfair to Llewelyn and she knew it, knew this latest war nad been Hubert de Burgh's doing. But she was not particularly con-
erned about fairness, not on this grey October noon after yet another eepless night, a night of tallying up grievances, marital debts long
Vfirdue. How fair was Llewelyn being to her? Was it fair to send Will de a°se to their court, knowing how she dreaded contact with any mem-

596
her of Maude's family? Was it fair to let a full month of silence go by? And when he returned, what then?
Would he expect her to beg his forgiveness, to disavow the action that might well have saved Davydd's life? Yet if he was still angry, what choice would she have? She'd have to placate him, to be properly remorseful and contrite, if that was what it took to heal her marriage. And while she did not question the cost, for she loved her husband, she could muster up no eagerness for a reconciliation such as that.
Glynis had insisted upon packing a basket for her, and when it began to rain, Joanna spread a blanket upon the hafod floor, prepared to eat a picnic meal under Topaz's hopeful eye. The sun soon broke through the cloud cover, spangling the dripping trees with iridescent light and giving false promise of abiding summer warmth. However brief this respite from the rain, it was heralded by a resurgence of meadowland music, the trills of thrush and wren, the raucous cawing of jackdaw. Joanna even thought she heard the nightjar's whistle and quickly crossed herself, for it was known to the Welsh as the
Aderyn corff, the corpse bird.
When Topaz bounded up, darted for the door, Joanna rose, too. Although she reached for her eating knife at sound of the dog's barking, hers was a gesture more of inbred caution than of alarm, for she knew there were neither wolves nor boars on the island, and she did not fear men; it was inconceivable to her that any Welshman would dare to offer insult or injury to Llewelyn's wife.
"Topaz, come!" she called, and the dog came frisking back into the hafod. A
moment later a man's shadow fell across the doorway, blocking out the sun.
"Jesii, but you're a hard woman to track down," Will complained, bending over to pat the spaniel, who wasto Joanna's intense annoyancefawning upon him as if he were family.
"You admit it, then?" she demanded. "You were following me?"
"Of course I was. I had no choice, what with you bound and determined to shun me at court. I thought if I could find you alone, mayhap you'd not be so quick to bolt."
Joanna was infuriated by the imagery his words suggested, that she was a skittish, high-strung filly to be gentled with soft words and sugar lumps. She was also faintly afraid, instinctively sensing danger of some sort. "I do not want you here. And if you do not leave, I shall."
He shrugged and moved aside so he no longer blocked the doo way. Nor did he attempt to touch her as she brushed past him. But a she stepped out into the sunlight, he said softly, "You truly are afraw me, Joanna. Why?" , Joanna stopped, turned reluctantly back to face him. "Just wha you want from me?"

597
"To talk. I think I owe you an apo]ogy » He was standing in shadow, and she moved cautiously back jnto tne ftafod so she could see his face. He did not seem to be mocking ^ but she was still assailed by doubts; who knew the depths of those inscruW^'6 grey eyes?
"You said you like me not. I expect j gave you cause, that night at Chester
Castle. But you do not strike me as ^ vvoman who'd nurse a grudge. Can we not agree that I was in my cupg and put it behind us?"
"Yes ... if I could be sure you me^n wnat yfu say-"
"I do." He smiled, ever so slightly

j califiot Sa7 l reSret kissing you;
that would be both unchivalrous and untrfe' But l d° regret hurt' jng you, and
I regret lying to you."
Joanna took a step closer. "Lying to me? vVr'en'>"
"When I told you I now believed in blood gf'Jt for women- For l do not, Joanna, not for you."
Joanna bit her lip, said nothing. R9re]y nad sne been so torn' s° pulled by ambivalent emotions. Will's wOrds could not have been better calculated to disarm her defenses; she wanted to believe him'to believe Maude's ghost could be exorcised at long ]ast 0tit a second self stood apart and jeered: What was this if not the sugar lumP? she wavered, and then chose to heed the voice of her heart. "* would rather bury a grudge than nurture it. If you truly want that flight forgotten, it is, then."
Will smiled. "Let us say, then, that ve are ffi^nds reunited for the first time in many years, that we last rr,et on tjiat beach at Cricieth. Agreed?"
And when she nodded, he gesti,recj tow3rd tne basket- "Have you enough for two? I'm famished."
Taking her consent for granted, he sat down 0n the blanket' began to root in the basket. "Glory to God, roast chicken!" he exclaimed' with such boyish exuberance, such irrepressit,]e enifri)siasm tnat Joanna could not help herself; she sat down, too.
Will pushed the basket toward her. "lSfovv that J think on it, I lied to you once before. You remember asking me wrtv I'd c°me to your rescue fl>at day on the beach? I told you it was because j wijf>ted to do Gruffydd an "II turn, and that was true enough. But jt was ^o^ than that- I was ra*her taken with you, Lady Joanna, thougnt you quite the most allurmg< exotic creature I'd ever seen!" He grinned su^denly' "Eveiy lad sh«uld have a memory like that tucked away remenlbrances of a beau" °ful older woman who helped to guide him ajong fre way to manhood, ^rettably, we never reached that road, but "
Joanna suspected she should be offended 'but in a11 honesty she h as not.
Instead she felt a certain guilty pleasure in |cnowing Wil1 found .Desirable, even now at thirty and seven. But she d'd not think if wise >How the conversation to take too intimate a turn, 3nd she Said hast"
' allo-

m

598
ily, "Will, I think I'd best say this plain out. I know that for many the line between friendship and flirtation blurs, but not for me I 'V6s friend, not a lover." nt a
Will laughed. "Who has been telling tales on meGwladvs?" u was one of those men who talked with his hands, and as he ge h now, he brought his drumstick too close to Topaz's nose. She took th as an invitation, snatched it as Will gave a startled yelp and Joanna c H* "Stop her, Will! A chicken bone can choke her!"
It took several chaotic moments before they managed to retrieve th bone from the disgruntled dog. Will finally collapsed, laughing, on th blanket as Joanna stripped the bone of meat and hand-fed it to Topaz "I cannot believe all this bother about a dog. Are you always so tende toward those you love? If so, your husband is indeed a lucky man."
"Yes," Joanna said very evenly, "he is." Will was sucking on a finger, claiming the dog had bitten him. His hair had tumbled down across his forehead; it shone like silver where the sun touched it, and she wondered how it would feel. "I ought to be getting back," she said abruptly, and he sat up at once, began to protest.
"Not yet. If you go, I'll have nothing to do but return to Rhosyr, brood about the exorbitant ransom your husband will demand for my release. Or try to coax a civil word from the sour-tongued Senena. On my first day here, I did but bid her good morrow, and she drew back her skirts as if she'd just come across a pox-ridden beggar!"
Joanna had to laugh. "You have not changed as much as I first thought," she said, and Will grinned.
"By all accounts, that holds true for Gruffydd, too. He was God's greatest fool at fourteen, is no less of one today. Tell me, Joanna, just how did he end up at Deganwy Castle? I've been indulging in some discreet eavesdropping, enough to gather you had a hand in it."
Joanna's jaw muscles tensed. "Yes," she said defiantly. "I did. I deliberately provoked Gruffydd into a heedless rage, hoping he'd force my husband into banishing him. Why? Are you going to stand in judgment upon me, too? I suppose you think a woman has no right to me die in the concerns of men, that I ought to have done nothing, just le my son lose" ^
"Do I get a chance to speak? I think you ought to be proud yourself."
"Truly?" Joanna said uncertainly. "You mean that?"
"Indeed I do. I'll grant you, I might feel differently if you were^ ^ wife and pulled such a trick on me. But since you are not, I am ^ give credit where due. It was a deed well done, Joanna. Just 1 tnneu, what befell Rhys Gryg last year. His own son lured him to Llan*r CaStook him prisoner, and held him till he agreed to yield Llandove

599
rniffydd may be half mad, in truth, I think he is But so is a woodj and if it bites you, you're like to die "
"You do understand11 had to give Davydd time to reach manhood, WJ1, had to put him first "
He nodded "Is this why you've been so unhappy, Joanna7 Because r husband blames you for what happened?"
Joanna had no intention whatsoever of discussing either her unhap-
ss or Llewelyn's anger "My husband does not blame me, Will If % ,e seemed disquieted, it is because of Senena " Casting about for a fer topic of conversation, she said hurriedly, "But I do not want to talk / },er I'd rather hear about you I know you wed the Earl of Pembroke's sister And I seem to remember Gwladys telling me you have daughters How old are they7 What are their names7"
"Daughters I have, indeed, in overabundance," he said ruefully "No less than four1 My oldest is nigh on nine, the youngest still in her cradle We christened them with the family names of de Braose and Marshal Isabella, Eva, Eleanor and Maude "
Maude Of course he'd have named a daughter after the grandmother he loved.
Fool that she was, had she truly thought they could ever be friends7 Joanna rose, sought to busy herself in brushing off her skirt "I have to go," she said, not meeting his eyes.
He rose, too "Joanna, wait There is something I must ask you Your son Davydd told me that you and John were estranged during the last years of his life Is that true7"
"I do not want to talk about it, Will "
"Joanna, I wantnay, need to know "
Joanna's throat had tightened "Why7 What does it matter now7"
"It matters," he said grimly "You could not have loved him, not a man like that What sort of father could he have been7 The Angevin temper was one with legend The Devil's brood And John John was
*e worst of the lot You had to have suffered at his hands, to have
"ed him "
'No, Will No, it it was not like that My father was always good me "
I do not believe that, do not believe you Why do you defend him m*' Christ, if any man knows the truth about John, I do1"
am not defending him11 am not denying what he has done You e every reason to hate him But I will not he to you Whatever evil he " ave committed, he was still a kind father, even a loving one "
A 1
n loving father7 God in Heaven, do you hear yourself7 He was "\ utter'y evi' and beyond redemption, and for you to"
0 Joanna's voice was shaking "My father repented his sins,

600
died in God's grace. His soul is in Purgatory, not in Hell. The Almighty says there is forgiveness for all, that"
"Not for John. Never for John!"
"Do not say that!" Joanna was appalled. "He did repent ere he died, and God will forgive him. He was not utterly evil, he was not! He was capable of kindness, too, and the Almighty will take that into account when judging him."
"Kind? Because he gave you hair ribbons and sugared quince? Do you truly think such trifles can be balanced against the gallows, the rotting bodies?"
"I was not talking of trifles!" Joanna drew a labored breath, sought to call to mind John's acts of charity, of compassion. "My father truly loved England, as his father and brother did not. And he cared for his subjects' weal. He was the most accessible of Kings, was hearing appeals even whilst fighting for his throne, that last fortnight of his life."
When Will would have interrupted, she cried, "No, hear me out! You asked for particulars and you shall have them. The son of a friend was recently stricken with leprosy. I know I need not tell you the horrors of such a fate. Yet, as pitiful as the leper's plight is, it can be even more wretched if his king or lord lacks pity. Under such lords, lepers have ofttimes been burnt, even buried alive. But my father did pity them, Will, and he did whatever he could to ease their travail. At Shrewsbury he entitled the lepers to a portion of all flour sold at market. At Bristol he granted lepers a settlement of their own, where they could dwell under the protection of the crown. He even founded
St Leonard's Hospital at Lancaster long ere he became King, when he was but two and twenty! Do such acts sound like trifles to you? Would a man utterly evil care for the least of his brethren?"
"You want to talk of John's pity? Let's begin, then, at Windsor Castle. I am sure my grandmother and uncle were fearful, for they knew John well. But I
doubt even they could have guessed what he had in mind for them. They were dragged to an underground dungeon, thrust into the dark, and left to die. They were given no candles, no water, no food but a basket of oats and an uncooked ham. For ten days they were left alone in that hellhole, with the door barred against their screams. On the eleventh day the guards entered the cell, found them both dead. There was no way of knowing just when they'd died, how long their suffering had lasted. The guards could tell, though, that my uncle had died first and that my grandmother had gone mad at the last. Shall I te you why, Joanna? Shall I tell you how they knew that?"
"No," she whispered. "No, please ..."
"Because my uncle's cheek was bitten and chewed, as if gnawed , a rat. But it was not a rat who'd eaten his flesh, it was his own motr>e