Joanna (32 page)

That agreement, Joanna thought, covered what might have been obvious otherwise. Suddenly, it seemed to her that few men wished to combat seriously against Eustace de Vesci and Robert FitzWalter. This was less obvious than it should have been because Vesci had married Alexander’s bastard half sister Margaret. It was thus natural for him to fight in Alexander’s party, and resistance against that party was not very strong. The increase of status that came with Vesci’s marriage also served to obscure how many men sought his attention.

“And why,” Ela hissed in Joanna’s ear, “does that dolt John think William of Scotland gave his daughter to Vesci? Does not William hope that this son-by-marriage will root out the incubus that oppresses him?”

However, in spite of Ela’s dire predictions and Joanna’s   fears, nothing happened. John continued to flaunt his power in the faces of his subjects. Joanna had a taste of it herself after she returned to Roselynde when she learned that the sheriff of Southampton had instructions to enclose the dock at Portsmouth with a strong wall. This in itself was not bad, but if fortifications were to be added to the wall, those fortifications would command the entrance to Roselynde harbor. It was a first step in a direction Joanna did not like at all. There was nothing she could do, except protest, and she was too wise to do that. The king had a right to build upon his own property, and it was most reasonable to build a structure that would be a protection to any ship that docked at Portsmouth. It would also be a protection against reavers or invaders from France. The only bad part was that the king could not be trusted. John’s character was such that, instead of being glad that the country would be protected from attack, Joanna felt the structure to be a threat against the king’s own subjects.

The news of the construction at Portsmouth arrived during the last week of May. Joanna sent a messenger posthaste to Alinor in Ireland and herself rode south to see what was being done. The visit and various conversations with the builder overseeing the work told her little. Nothing obviously threatening was being built, but she remained uneasy. Her feeling was shared completely by her mother, who replied by a letter that arrived in the third week of June. Alinor suggested that, if John was not in London, Joanna should betake herself there and use her feminine wiles on the officer of the royal Exchequer who was responsible for the purchase of materials and payments for the construction.

‘‘From him, if you are sufficiently clever,” Alinor wrote, “you will be able to determine what is truly intended. He will not tell you in words, but if more stone is ordered or more workmen than are reasonable for a wall, you will know that more than a wall will be built. Also ropes and timber fittings for trenchbuts and mangonels will point in which direction the wind blows. I do not need to explain these matters to you more fully, I am sure, but send to me   whatever information you uncover of any kind, more especially whatever might seem to you trivial or funny or unfitting. Also be sure you send to me by separate messenger, a trusty man instructed to put the letter into my hand secretly when my lord is not by, and who knows how to hold his tongue. If Ian hears of the task I have set you to, he will beat me witless for corrupting your purity of mind. For the same cause keep the matter close hid from Geoffrey, who is one ilk with’my beloved fool on this subject.”

The last two sentences gave Joanna the giggles. It was perfectly true that both Ian and Geoffrey would be horrified by Alinor’s suggestion. They would approve neither of Joanna’s attempt to discover what the king wished to keep hidden nor of the method suggested for uncovering the truth. Although Joanna was not nearly as amoral as her mother, having absorbed a great deal of Simon’s uprightness and love of justice, neither was she in the least bound by the codes of honor hammered into the brains of men. What she would do would harm no one and might be of infinite benefit to herself and her family.

Fortunately, there would be no problem in keeping the matter secret from Geoffrey. He was at present in the north with the king who was assisting King William of Scotland to capture Cuthred MacWilliam, the Celtic pretender to the throne. Joanna merely omitted to send Geoffrey word that she was going to London. Instead, she instructed Sir Guy to send on any messengers who might come as fast as relays of horseflesh could carry them. If the men rode day and night, changing horses as necessary when the animals tired, it would mean barely twenty-four hours’ delay in her reply.

All went smoothly enough at first. Joanna presented herself with a muddled and incoherent complaint about a demand (which, in fact, had never been made) from the Exchequer for timber for the works at Portsmouth. Before the matter was explained to her satisfaction, she was very nearly a favorite daughter of the man involved. The information she obtained from him was both good and bad. It was clear that John did intend further fortifications at   Portsmouth, but, at present, at least, these were not proposed for the purpose of threatening Roselynde. Summons had already gone out, Joanna was told, for an army to be assembled and sent into Poitiers. From there, John intended to attack Philip and win back Normandy. The works at Portsmouth had the double purpose of protecting the fleet that was to be assembled there and to guard against reprisals from Philip.

Although Joanna’s immediate questions were answered, she did not leave London at once. She wanted to discover, in addition, who would command the establishment at Portsmouth. As soon as that was known, friendly relations had to be established with the man. In this Joanna was less successful, not because her influence was failing but because the answer was as yet unknown.

There was no particular reason for Joanna to be at Roselynde or anywhere else, so she decided to remain in London a week or two longer on the chance that the appointment to governorship of Portsmouth would be made. This would also give her the opportunity to watch over the newly established garden of the London house at a critical time and ensure that it would have a firm foundation that would need only minimal care for the remainder of the summer. Besides, Joanna was developing a taste for London itself. Roselynde town was a fine port that commanded all the luxuries, but the variety of London was infinite.

It was not destined to absorb her for long, however. On the fifth of July, Joanna received a message sent on from Sir Peter at Clyro Hill. He did not know the truth of the matter, the scribe wrote at Sir Peter’s dictation, but he wished his lady to be warned even if the rumors turned out to be false later. He had heard that the king’s strongholds in Wales were under attack. He was seeking more definite information while he stuffed and garnished his keep for war. This was a mere precaution, Sir Peter said, and should not alarm Lady Joanna. He did not think they were in any danger, since he had taken Lord Geoffrey’s warning the previous autumn to heart. All the walls were strong and the machines of   war were new and ready. Moreover, he had taken good care that word of his readiness should be spread abroad. If she wished to come to oversee what was done, Lady Joanna would be most welcome, Sir Peter concluded, but if she could not come she could rest assured that he would send her news as soon as he heard it himself and he would defend the castle and the lands faithfully.

There was no need for Joanna to wait for more uncertain rumors to be passed on by Sir Peter. Geoffrey came storming into her London house five days later. He had ridden down from the north at breakneck speed only to find Joanna missing from Roselynde. None of the servants could tell him where she had gone (a precaution she had taken to prevent Geoffrey from learning of her trip that backfired badly) but all knew that a messenger from Wales had come. Unfortunately, Geoffrey did not ask whether the messenger had come before or after Joanna had left the keep and no one thought to pass along that piece of information. Sir Guy returned from hunting barely in time to prevent Geoffrey from setting out to follow Joanna to Wales. Having first convinced Geoffrey not to murder him for allowing Joanna to go off alone on such a venture, he then assured the young lord that Joanna was safe in London. Sir Guy expected that Geoffrey would rest there that night and was resolving in his mind some tactful, if untruthful, explanations for Joanna’s trip. He then realized that Geoffrey did not intend to demand any further explanations from him; he was bent upon obtaining the rest of his information direct.

Reasonably enough, Geoffrey was gaunt and holloweyed and somewhat out of temper when he arrived in London long after compline. Joanna was not exactly pleased to see him either, but she got up from her bed, put on a night robe, greeted him with composure, and invited him upstairs.

“What the devil are you doing in London? What the devil was in that message from Clyro?” Geoffrey snarled as soon as they were in the relative privacy of the solar. “Have you not heard that Wales is risen?”   “Sir Peter sent me word there were rumors of it, but Clyro is quiet, and he had, when he wrote, no certain news.” Since Joanna had no intention of telling Geoffrey what she was doing in London, she was relieved that his main interest seemed to be Wales.

“It is certain,” he snapped. “I had a letter from Owain. Llewelyn has not yet joined the other princes, but it is his intention to do so soon. I near killed myself riding south.

“But why?” Joanna asked in amazement. “You could have sent me a letter to say what had happened. What was the need that you come yourself and wake me in the middle of the night?”

For some incomprehensible reason, Geoffrey looked mortally offended at her innocent questions. Then he laughed harshly. “Knowing you, Owain bid me restrain you from rushing off to Wales to oversee the preparations at Clyro Hill yourself.”

“Is there need?” Joanna asked urgently, her hands already moving toward the belt of her robe as if she would undo it and begin to dress in that moment. “Do you think they will attack Clyro?”

“No, no, Clyro is quite safe. Owain assures me that those who rebelled against Llewelyn are now most humble, pleading that he lead them and promising submission and obedience. You know that Llewelyn will not trouble your mother’s lands. His intention is only to root out all of the king’s strongholds.”

Joanna looked alertly at Geoffrey. It grew more puzzling by the moment why he had ridden in from the north. “Is that why you came in such haste? To muster men for the king?”

Geoffrey’s tired face became even more haggard, but he only said, “You know the summons are gone out already to arm and gather for war”

“But that was against France.”

“Yes, and when I left the king that was how matters remained.” Geoffrey’s voice was constricted. “John was speaking of a small punitive expedition to go into Wales.”   “Did you not” Joanna began and then bit her tongue on the rest of the sentence as she saw Geoffrey wince.

“Am I a traitor to my oath of fealty?” he muttered. “I spoke out and said I thought the matter was more serious, but I would not say why I believed it. I could not betray Owain, could I?” He put a hand to his face. “I will go mad, Joanna. I am being torn in two.’’

Not for men, nor yet to keep her from riding into Waleswhich he must have known she was too sensible to doGeoffrey had come to her for comfort, to have a hurt healed. Joanna went to him at once to offer the insidious solace of loving attention. “Sit down,” she murmured, avoiding the topic, and began to unlace his mail hood. She went for a cloth while he pushed the hood back and when she handed it to him wiped the streaming sweat from his face and rubbed at his hair.

“What am I to do?” He looked at the cloth in his hands as if he had never seen such a thing before and had no idea of what he was doing with it. “I cannot go into Wales and burn it again. I cannot, Joanna. When my father and the king said I always saw black in Wales, I held my tongue and told myself it was out of loyalty to Owain, but I fear”

“Let me take off that hauberk,” Joanna urged.

“Do you understand what I am saying to yot;” Geoffrey asked sharply.

“Enough to know you are worried about nothing,” Joanna remarked calmly. “It does not matter a hair or a pin what you told or did not tell the king. Since the army is summoned anyway, it cannot do any harm that you did not insist upon the danger in Wales. When the men are assembled, John has only to order them to march into Wales instead of taking ship for Poitiers.”

Geoffrey looked blankly at his betrothed. “It is not a question of what harm might come,” he said, his voice rising. “It is a question of my duty and honor. If John orders us into Wales, will I be able to do my duty, knowing it to be hopeless, knowing that the death and the burning will go on and on endlessly?”   Helplessly, Joanna shook her head. What ailed Geoffrey to talk such nonsense? What was really troubling him? Moreover, it was usless to say what a woman thought of a man’s duty and honor. Besides, she was a lady and did not use such languageat least, not often.

“Let me unarm you,” she insisted, not knowing in what other way to help him.

She bent forward to grasp the hauberk so that Geoffrey need only lift himself a few inches for her to draw it over his hips. The scent of spice and roses was very strong on her night-warm body. Geoffrey’s arms went around her and pulled her down onto his lap. He kissed her hungrily, her lips and throat.

“God knows when we can marry,” he groaned. “Do you understand that this time the Welsh will not yield? They have had a taste of John and do not want another. They will empty their cities and let us burn them. The war may continue for years.”

Pleasure rushed through Joanna. It was not politics but passion that was unsettling Geoffrey. She pulled her face away enough to take in Geoffrey’s hungry eyes, his usually flexible, thin lips full and rigid now with desire. The thin silk night robe was little protection against the rings of steel that bruised her arms and back. She did not know what to say and her treacherous body was urging her to yield, desire already overriding discomfort, dulling the pain his fierce embrace gave her. Indeed, his grip was little less brutal than Braybrook’s when he seized her in the boat, but Joanna did not shrivel with fear and revulsion.