Here Be Dragons - 1

by Sharon Kay Penman

  333 a cup of watered-down wine. "I guess I'm now your mother!" She 'n^ hed suddenly. "But do not dare call me Mama!" "What shall we call you, Madame?" Joanna asked, at a loss, and Isabelle gave a comical grimace. "How serious she is, John! I am Isabelle, of course. Come, sit beside e On the bed and I shall tell you of my first meeting with your father. I tell her, can I not, John? It is six weeks to the day; we were wed without even posting the banns! John said he knew as soon as he saw me, knew he would have me for his Queen and no other." Joanna and Richard exchanged bemused glances. Both quiet by nature, they were overwhelmed by Isabelle, who seemed able to talk without even pausing for breath. But her friendliness set their fears at rest, and Joanna gladly did as Isabelle bade, settled herself upon the foot of the bed. She should have had more faith in Papa, she thought, should have known he would not have chosen a wife who'd scorn his children. H GWYNEDD, WALES AMflMrt 1201 XA.FTER passing the night at Basingwerk Abbey, Baldwin de Hodnet and his brother moved cautiously westward, keeping to the narrow coastal road. The sea was frothed with whitecaps, the sky flaming to the east in a sunburst dawn that promised a day of surpassing beauty. But Baldwin had no eye for God's wonders; he was too much taken up with man-made troubles. "How do you know where he is, Stephen?" "I do not. The Welsh court moves about no less frequently than John's. Llewelyn has palaces at Aber, at Aberffraw on the isle of Mon, at Caer yn Arfon, has palaces and hunting lodges scattered throughout the Eryri Mountains." "Well, then, how shall we find him?"

  132 "We will not. He'll find us," Stephen said, and withdrew from hi saddle pouch a brightly painted silk banner: quartered lions passant, red on gold. "Llewelyn's arms. What better way to make known that we seek him?" "Clever," Baldwin said grudgingly. "But to what avail? I'm damned if I know why I let you talk me into this. We'll find no welcome at his court, Stephen. How can we? Just last month he did sign a truce with King John, did agree to do homage to John as his overlord, and, jn return, was recognized as ruler of Gwynedd. Why should he risk angering John by aiding men branded as rebels?" Stephen laughed. "You do not understand the Welsh, Baldwin. You share all the common misconceptions about Llewelyn's people. Ask any lord at John's court to describe the Welsh character, and what is he like to say? That the Welsh are impulsive, quick-tempered, easily stirred by passion. That may well be true. But it is also true that in matters of statecraft, no people in Christendom are as pragmatic as the Welsh princes. They have to be, with England more than twenty times the size of Wales. Since the reign of Owain Fawr, their princes have sworn allegiance to the English kings, because they were shrewd enough to see they had no choice. The Welsh are realists, Baldwin, and an oath of allegiance is cheaper than blood as the price of sovereignty. Do not ever think, though, that Llewelyn sees himself as a vassal of John's. He does not." Stephen grinned. "The great weakness of the Welsh has always been their penchant for fighting amongst themselves, a weakness our kings have been quick to exploit. But Llewelyn has a rare gift for fishing in troubled waters. John may well find" "I'd as soon you spared me a lesson in Welsh history," Baldwin interrupted impatiently. "All that does concern me at the moment is whether we're likely to find refuge at Llewelyn's court. And you've yet to convince me that we will." Now it was Stephen who showed impatience. "We always knew it might come to this, Baldwin. When Fulk Fitz Warin rose up in rebellion against John, and we decided we could not do otherwise than support him as our kinsman and liege lord, we had no illusions about the risks, or the likely outcome. Tell me, would you rather seek exile in France?" "No," Baldwin conceded. "I ought not to be taking out my foul temper on you, Little Brother. As you say, better Llewelyn than PhilipHow long has it been since you saw him last?" "Three or four years, I think," Stephen said, and Baldwin let out an explosive oath. "Blood of Christ! You expect him to incur John's wrath for a man he has not even seen in years?"

  133 Stephen was unperturbed "The Welsh make bad enemies, better , your trouble, Baldwin, is that you have so little faith'" "My trouble is that I have a price upon my head, and an mgrate of a ther set upon laying claim to my inheritance," Baldwin said sourly "What else would you expect from Walter7" "Better than this Did I not persuade Fulk to give him a place in his usehold7 And when he came to me, claiming he'd had his horse and or stolen, did I not lend him the money for another mount and hauberk7" "And I thought you were mad to do it, I still do As the eldest, you never knew him, Baldwin, not as Will and I did " "What else could I do, Stephen7 He's still blood km " "If he were drowning, I'd throw him an anchor," Stephen said flatly, and Baldwin gave his brother a surprised, speculative look "You truly mean that, do you not7 I did not realize" He stiffened suddenly, and then said softly, "Stephen, to your left " "I know I think we're about to be welcomed into Wales " There was a flash of movement through the trees, a lance thudded into the path a few feet ahead, quivered like a snake coiled to strike They both drew rein, waited A man emerged from the woods, came to a wary halt Stephen tilted his lance up so that Llewelyn's banner caught the breeze "Tangnefedd, ' he said loudly ' Rydu i Stephen de Hodnet, cyfaill o Llewelyn ab lorwerth, o Tywysog Gwynedd " There was a silence, other men were now coming out of the shadows Stephen ventured a few more sentences in halting Welsh, then turned to Baldwin, smiling "Did I not tell you7 These are Llewelyn's men, will take us to him I told them that I am his fnend, that he will want to see me " "You hope," Baldwin said THEY were traveling south, through a well-wooded river valley Stephen was carrying on a disjointed conversation with their guides, partly in his rudimentary Welsh and partly in their fragmented French, and from time to time he'd translate for Baldwin's benefit "We have to ford the River Conwy up ahead, and then veer west " "Did you, by any chance, think to ask where we're going7" "Dolwyddelan Castle " Anticipating Baldwin, Stephen grinned, said with exaggerated precision, "Dole-with-eflan I'd hoped Llewelyn would be at Aber or Aberffraw, wanted you to see the Welsh court But iJolwyddelan should be of interest, too, it's one of the few Welsh-built castles, belonged to Llewelyn's father lorwerth "

  234 135 That did interest Baldwin. So, too, did the countryside once th» were across the River Conwy. It was far more mountainous now; on a! sides the sky was silhouetted by snow-capped crags. Baldwin was in, pressed in spite of himself, forbore to mock as Stephen shared tK knowledge gleaned from their guides. "They say snow is sometim^ found all summer long upon the highest peaks. The steepest is that on to the south, Yr Wyddfa. And over to your right is Moel Siabod, whic), all but overshadows Dolwyddelan." "Little wonder the Welsh are so hard to dislodge," Baldwin said and shook his head. "Their whole wretched country is a fortress of sorts!" They reached Dolwyddelan Castle at dusk. It appeared without warning, seemed to spring suddenly from the rough-hewn rocks overlooking the River Lledr. Baldwin, appraising it from habit, with an eye to assault, saw at once that it would be no easy prize for the taking. On the south, the ground fell away sharply, and deep ditches had been cut into the rock to the west and east. But what impressed Baldwin was the high curtain wall. Most castles were enclosed by timber palisades, but Dolwyddelan was encircled by stone. Stephen, too, was regarding the curtain wall with surprise. "When last I was here, that was a wooden enclosure." "He's doing right well for himself if he could undertake an expense like that," Baldwin said thoughtfully, and Stephen frowned. "He's not just another Marcher border lord, Baldwin. He's Prince of Gwynedd. Power is power, be it Welsh or Norman; you'd best bear that in mind." Passing through a gateway in the north wall, they dismounted in the bailey. Baldwin's eyes catalogued the wooden buildings clustered along the walls, focused upon the two-story rectangular keep, its entrance protected by a wooden forebuilding. He noted with satisfaction that the stairs leading up into the forebuilding were of stone; a miscalculation for certes. But as he reached the top, he abruptly revised his opinion of the keep's defenses. A wide pit lay between the stairs and the door of the keep, a gap that could be spanned only by drawbridge. "Clever," he murmured to Stephen. But his brother was already hastening across the drawbridge, utterly sure of his welcom
e within. Following more slowly, Baldwin discovered that the entire first floor of the keep contained one large chamber. By the hearth, his brother was kneeling. As Baldwin watched, Llewelyn raised Stephen to his feet, and the two men then embraced. Stephen turned, gave Baldwin a smile shot through with triumph. his N leaned back in the window seat, only half listening to his l° , conversation with Llewelyn. He was more interested in his BAL /s conversation with Llewelyn. He was more interested in his kf° undings than in Stephen's boyhood reminiscences, and he glanced 5^ -,i- C-~*r^\r ^iirioiic prpc Thpv wprp in T IpiA/plvn'c hpHrhamflpr1 a with frankly curious eyes. They were in Llewelyn's bedchamber; a kf° undings than in Stephen's boyhood reminiscences, and he glanced SUfr t with frankly curious eyes. They were in Llewelyn's bedchamber; a curtained bed stood at the far end of the room. The furnishings killed Baldwin, in that they were so familiar: rushes for the floor, a 5 tie table, coffers, even a privy chamber tucked away into the thick- of the southeast wall. He could, Baldwin mused in surprise, quite jlv have been in the bedchamber of any Norman lord. He did not realize how nakedly his thoughts showed upon his face ntil Llewelyn looked at him, said, "Did you think to find us living in caves?" Although said with a smile, it carried a sting nonetheless, and Baldwin flushed. He was honest enough, however, to acknowledge he'd been fairly caught, and he summoned up a smile of his own. "To tell you true, my lord, I knew naught of how the Welsh do live." "We have our own ways, but we are not too proud to learn from others."

  Llewelyn grinned, gestured toward the bed. "Take yon feather bed. That is one Norman custom I'm quite willing to adopt for Wales." "Papa even sleeps on a pillow," a voice said, right at Baldwin's elbow, and he jumped, turned to find himself under the unblinking scrutiny of a small boy. He looked to be about five, an unusually handsome youngster with dark red hair, wide-set green eyes, and a rather remarkable assurance for his years, volunteering now without waiting to be asked, "I'm Gruffydd ap Llewelyn." Llewelyn laughed. "My son Gruffydd, who does delight in giving away all my guilty secrets!" Gruffydd thrived upon attention, and he moved closer to Baldwin, confiding, "Papa has two pillows. But he lets my mama use one." Baldwin was not comfortable with children. "Does he indeed?" he said lamely. Adding, since the boy was obviously cherished, "You speak French very well, lad." "I know," Gruffydd said. "Are you English? Do you know what Papa says of the English? He says, 'Poor Wales, so far from Heaven, so dose to England!'" "Gruffydd!" Llewelyn frowned, sought without success to look disapproving. "Where are your manners, lad?" Not in the least amused, Baldwin managed a thin smile. Stephen, who was amused, diplomatically piloted the conversation toward safer waters, saying swiftly, "How is your lady? She's not here with you, I take it?" "No, she's at Aberffraw. Her babe is due next month . . . our

  136 fourth." A man now leaned over Llewelyn's chair, murmured a f^ words, and he rose. "Alun will escort you to the great hall, where our cooks have set out a meal for you. I'll join you directly I put this hellion to bed." Gruffyd

  237 ally- "Why?" he blurted out. "Why should you risk John's enmity for us'' Llewelyn looked amused. "Scriptures set forth Commandments for 11 Christians to honor. But my people honor other commandments, too, u se that speak to the difficulties of dwelling in England's shadow. Let t an enemy be thy neighbor. It is no deceit to deceive a deceiver. And the enemy of my enemy is my friend." Baldwin nodded slowly. "So you see John, then, as your enemy?" Llewelyn smiled. "I said that?" Reaching over, he clinked his cup against Stephen's. "Croeso i Gymru, Steffan. Welcome, Stephen, to Wales." THE man seated at Baldwin's left had been introduced to him as Rhys ap Cadell, but he seemed little inclined to polite conversation. The man on his right was Gwyn ab Ednywain, Llewelyn's Seneschal; he was friendly enough, but at the moment was concentrating all his attentions upon the food being ladled from chafing dishes: venison baked in coffyn pies; boiled pears flavored with honey, dates, and cinnamon; oatcakes; roast heron. It was, Baldwin acknowledged, a meal fit to grace any Norman table. He was beginning to think his stay in Wales would not be so great a hardship after all. He glanced around the hall with interest. Except that it was a ground-floor structure, it looked exactly like any Norman hall: three parallel rows of wooden pillars, the side aisles occupied by beds and partitioned off by screens. He and Stephen had slept here last night, as comfortably as ever they had in Fulk's Alberbury Castle, had been given places of honor near the hearth. Llywarch, Llewelyn's court bard, now moved toward the center aisle, carrying a small harp. The hall quieted at once. Men laid down their knives and spoons to listen as he began a haunting ballad, not a word of which Baldwin understood. He was rather surprised that Llywarch had so much standing at Llewelyn's court, being treated by all as a man of importance. Bards and minstrels enjoyed no such privileged status in England. There was much that Baldwin found odd in Llewelyn's world, but gratitude was proving stronger than bias, and he was determined to adapt as best he could. When the song ended, conversa"°n resumed again, and he leaned forward with interest when he heard tephen say, "You expect war with your cousin, Meredydd ap Cynan, my lord Llewelyn?" 'It may well come to that. When my cousin GruffyddMeredydd's "otherdid die last year of a wasting fever, I laid claim to his lands. As at gave me most of Gwynedd above the Conwy and all of Gwynedd

  138 below the Conwy, Meredydd took it amiss, and there's been naught bi discord between us for months now." Llewelyn did not sound particularly grieved about this, and Balj win smothered a smile with his napkin. He did not know Meredydd ao Cynan, but he had a strong suspicion that, having snapped at the bait Meredydd was about to bite down upon the hook. Llewelyn drained his wine cup. "I was sorry to hear of your lor(j father's death, Stephen." "Thank you, my lord. His death was a tragedy twice over for us, as Walter is now laying claim to my father's estates, lands that should by rights have passed to Baldwin." "I see. Baldwin is under attainder, so Walter moves in for the kill." Stephen nodded glumly. "And there is little we can do to stop him." "Mayhap not. But I rather think I can. Shall I?" "You mean that? Jesu, we'd be ever in your debt! Baldwin, did you hear?" Baldwin did not share Stephen's excitement. "That would be very kind of you, my lord," he said slowly, "but in truth, I do not see how you can help." Llewelyn's smile was suddenly cool. "You'd not care to wager upon that?" Stephen laughed. "I'd not take him up on that, Baldwin. You see, Walter has long owed him a debt!" Llewelyn laughed, too. "Not so, Stephen. That debt was discharged in full some eight years ago; did Walter never tell you? No, this I do for you." Stephen did not reply; he was staring across the hall, at the man standing in the door. A slender, silver-haired priest in his mid-forties, he looked somehow familiar to Stephen. "My lord Llewelyn, I may be wrong, but is that not your chaplain, Morgan ap Bleddyn?" Llewelyn turned at once. "Yes, it is. Strange, he knew I'd be back at Aberffraw by week's end. I wonder what could not wait. . ." "My lord ..." Morgan knelt, rose stiffly to his feet. "A word with you, if I may . . . alone." Llewelyn pushed his chair back. "Morgan, are you ill? I've seen corpse candles with more color. Here, take some wine ..." "Llewelyn ..." The priest waved the cupbearer away. "If we might retire behind the screen ..." Llewelyn moved around the table, grasped the older man by the arm. "Tell me," he said. "Tell me now." "It happened yesterday morn. Tangwystl was entering the chapel*' somehow she stumbled, fell upon the stairs. As soon as your doctor saV

  139 birth pangs had begun, he did summon the midwives." Morgan oped, drew a deep breath. "You have a daughter, Llewelyn. I'll not to you; she's fearfully tiny and frail. But with our prayers . . ." "I'll leave for Aberffraw as soon as the horses can be saddled. You Id Tangwystl you were coming to fetch me?" "Llewelyn . . . she began to bleed. The midwives, they did what they could, but. . . they could not save her, lad." "She's dead?" Llewelyn's was the calm of utter disbelief. He stared at Morgan, saw tears well in the priest's eyes. He was aware now of the others. The hall was very quiet, but all else looked as it had only moinents before. Dogs still lurked under the tables, snarling over bones. Summer sun still spilled through the unshuttered windows. Out in th
e bailey a curlew cried, a rising mournful plaint that went unanswered. Morgan pressed a crucifix into Llewelyn's hand. "Come with me to the chapel. I'll say a Mass for her soul, and afterward, we'll talk ..." Llewelyn looked at the crucifix, let it drop into the rushes. Turning away from Morgan, from them all, he walked rapidly across the hall. Unlike Baldwin, who'd been listening in utter bafflement, Stephen had grasped enough for appalled understanding. He took a quick step toward the door, but Ednyved caught his arm. "No," he said. "Let him be. There is nothing any man can say now that will ease the pain. I know; I did lose my wife in childbed, too." Morgan retrieved the crucifix. "It is God's will," he said, sounding very tired, and Ednyved turned upon him with something much like anger. "I can tell you, Father, that is but little comfort to a man who's just lost his wife!" "It is all we do have, Ednyved." Morgan's grey eyes met Ednyved's brown ones, held them steadily. "I know Llewelyn, better even than you do. AH his life he has always gotten what he wanted, has shrugged at obstacles that would have daunted other men. It has been his strength, that utter assurance, the certainty that he can shape his own destiny. But you see, he's never learned to deal with defeat. He's never had tountil now." Ednyved nodded. "Yes," he said softly. "You do understand." THE air was cool and damp against his face. Llewelyn slid from the saddle. The sky was no longer visible, stars hidden by leafy clouds of oak, torch, and hazel. Here was no woodland quiet; the night echoed with 'he white-water sounds of river raging against rock. Llewelyn could see a ghostly gleam of white through the trees as the cliffs rose up above the bank. The roaring was louder now. Rhaeadr Eywnnol.his people called