Here Be Dragons - 1

by Sharon Kay Penman

that soap was made and candles were dipped and bread baked, tna was hauled in from Cheshire brine springs and Spanish cottons fro great fairs at Winchester and Smithfield, that meat was salted for wm and linen woven from flax, that no man was turned away hungry Llewelyn's hearth, be he highborn lord or lowborn beggar- A^y ^ time was given over to the universal female pastime, sewing/

  672 queens were exempt from the demands of needlework 6 There was an embroidery frame in one corner of the bedchamber, it collected only cobwebs, Joanna had no one to sew for Now she . j her days with vain regrets, played listless games of chess, merels, , tables with Glynis, read and reread her meagre library, and yearned her freedom For Richard had been right, jeweled fetters were no less erous for being gilded, and she was no longer indifferent as to what . future might hold But she had decided not to accept her brother's ffer did not want to dwell at Chilham Castle upon his charity Llewelyn could banish her from Wales, but not from the Marches She had a Shropshire manor at Condover and a hunting lodge near Ellesmere, and srie meant to put down roots in the shadow of her husband's realm, as close as she could get to her son There was a Welsh proverb by which Joanna put great store these days For every wound, the ointment of time She fervently hoped it would prove true for Davydd, that eventually the breach between them could be mended But until she was free, she could do nothing to effect a reconciliation, and it was this aspect of her confinement she found most crippling How much longer did Llewelyn mean to hold her here7 Why had he not divorced her ere now7 She was baffled by his failure to act, for by nghts he ought to have repudiated her months ago He had ever been a man to cut his losses, to jettison useless cargo, and for a Prince, what greater encumbrance could there be than an unfaithful wife7 There was an hourglass on the table, but the sands seemed to have frozen No matter how often Joanna glanced at it, she could detect not the faintest trickle of time After unbraiding and brushing out her hair, she wandered aimlessly about the chamber, at last settling down with her harp The one benefit she'd gained from these months of enforced leisure was that her harp playing had improved dramatically since her first halting efforts under Llewelyn's tutelage Striking a chord, she began to sing softly "In orchard where the leaves of hawthorn hide, the lady holds a lover to her side Until the watcher in the dawning cried, 'Ah, God, ah, °Q, the dawn1 It comes how soon '" The song had five additional ver- s, but she did not continue, the melody was too plaintive, the lyrics to° easy to identify with Next to the hourglass was her most cherished possession, a small ry casket of letters, her only link with the world beyond Llanfaes ng the casket lid, she took inventory of these much-handled keep- 0 es four letters from Elen, two from Richard, one from Nell, and del 7~ rtkreakmgly bnef and stiltedfrom Davydd Sliding the can- a '°ward her, she picked a letter at random, one of Elen's, began

  672 "1 ante- to read aloud passages long since memorized. Her head jerked up at the sound of Bran's footsteps in the chamber; she knew he would not come to her at such an hour unle u had news of grave import. Her breathing quickened, for these month -6 isolation had honed her nerves to the breaking point. All too often h" tormented herself with morbid visions of Llewelyn lying ill and fever k refusing to send for her, damning her with his dying breath ne knowing that she loved him still. She'd become obsessed with this fe that death would end their estrangement, that as it had happened with John, so, too, would it happen with Llewelyn, and she rose hastily t her feet as the door opened. Bran's somber face did nothing to reassure her. "Madame," he said "my lord is here to see you." Joanna stared at him, doubt giving way to dawning joy, for Bran was Davydd's man and it did not occur to her that he could mean anyone but her son. When Bran stepped back, she was stunned at sight of her husband. Llewelyn closed the door with deliberation, but he did not slide the bolt into place. There was a part of Joanna's mind that noted this, for she seemed suddenly able to focus only upon irrelevancies, and she found herself noting, too, that the wool of his mantle was dry. The storm must still be nigh, she thought, and then: How tired he looks, and thinner; he's not eating as he ought. "Well?" Llewelyn said, and the challenging, hostile tone of his voice brought her abruptly back to the realities of their respective positions "Have you nothing to say to me?" Joanna swallowed. "These months past," she said huskily, "I've begged the Almighty for but one favor, that I might see you once more, have the chance to explain. Now . . . now you are here and suddenly I do not know where to begin." "I want the truth from you. Not what you think I'd rather hear, or what you'd have me believe. Can I trust you for that much, for the truth?" He'd turned words into weapons, each one inflicting a wound ot i own. Joanna nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "I will tell you the truth. But what was it? If only she could think coherently, calmly. Why had not forewarned her of his coming, given her time to prepare? She why, though. His was first and foremost a military mind, trained o advantage of surprise. He'd removed his mantle, flung it care 's across a coffer, but she read tension in his stance, in every line .gen body, and she changed her mind as she watched him. Tner ^ nothing premeditated about this visit; his was the taut wariness man acting on impulse, acting against his better instincts.

  673 j-[e had yet to unbuckle his scabbard, had yet to move away from door Over the years she'd seen his moods range across the emo- j spectrum, had seen him enraged, jubilant, disheartened, sar, n)C> playful, calculating, and occasionally frightened But never had ue seen him so obviously ill at ease "Elen told me that you did not bring de Braose to our bedchamber that night Is that true?" "Yes," Joanna said "I swear it " But how could she make him be, eve that7 Her eyes strayed from his face to the open casket, and then sne was rummaging through the letters, scattering them about the table m her heedless haste "This letter explains it better than I could Will you read it, Llewelyn? Please7" She held out the sealed parchment to him, their fingers brushed as he took it, and she was jolted by even so brief and casual a contact as that Did he feel it, too7 She could not tell, for he was turning away, shifting so that she could not watch his face as he read The few moments it took him to scan her letter encompassed an eternity for Joanna "I tried to tell you," she said "And when I could not see you, I wrote that letter But you sent it back unread " Llewelyn glanced again at the letter and then dropped it onto the table "It would not have mattered I'd not have believed you " "Do you believe me now7" she asked, but he did not answer her Moving to the far side of the table, he reached for the flagon, splashed wine into an earthenware cup Joanna watched, bracing herself for whatever was to come His first question, though, was utterly unexpected "Do you blame me for his death7" She gave a startled shake of her head "No, of course not You had the right " His eyes had narrowed "You did not mourn him7" She shook her head again, and he took a step toward her "And what you said in your letter, it was true7 You did not love him7" "No, never " She drew a sharp, shuddering breath "In all honesty, 1 am not sure I even liked him His mouth twisted Striding forward, he grasped her by the wrist *nd jerked her toward him "Then why did you do it7 If you did not love m< why did you lay with him7 What did you get in his bed that you c°uld not get in mine7" She gasped and he loosened his grip But although she'd later find I 1Ses upon her wrist, now she did not even feel the pain Was there no ^e damage she'd done7 That Llewelyn of all men, Llewelyn ° was so confident, so secure in his sense of self, secure in his man- a< that he should have succumbed to doubts of this dark nature

  674 7 675 Jesu, if only she had could not have been Jesu, if only she had those October afternoons to live over' Her mfid i could not have been better calculated to penetrate her husband's arm ^ to strike with devastating effect at his one vulnerability, that he w *' man wed to a much younger wife A wife who'd then taken a love 1 thirty-two "Beloved, no, it was not like that1 No great passion burned betvve us I swear it, Llewelyn, swear upon all the saints," she cried, for at th moment she was willing to perjure herself even to the Almighty if Onl that would give Llewelyn a measure of comfort "You must believe me Will was never able to pleasure me as you did," she said, and realized that she was
not lying, after all, those feverish, urgent couplings with Will had never been more than flesh unto flesh, lacking utterly the deep and abiding intimacy of her lovemakmg with Llewelyn "You must believe me," she repeated "Think back upon our love making in the months after your return from Cen Did I want you any the less7 You know the answer to that, know how hot my blood ran for you Ah, Llewelyn we've shared so much, overcome so much What man could hope to compete with memories such as mine7 What man could hope to compete with you7" "Will de Braose " "He meant nothing to me' Why do you find that so hard to believe7 What of the women you've bedded with71 always told myself that yours were infidelities of the flesh, never of the heart Was I wrong7 What happened between Will and me did not touch upon the love I have for you It it was " She faltered and he said sharply, "Was what7 If it was not for love and not for lust, just why did you do it, then7 Christ, Joanna, why would you risk so much for so little7" "I I do not know if I can make you understand I am not sure I fully understand it myself even now But this I can tell youit would never have happened if he had not been Maude de Braose s grandson " She had so often rehearsed this very speech, as an act of faith But she found herself fumbling for words, so fearful was she that he d no hear her out "There there was a strange sort of bond between Will and me Nonot carnal, not like that'" She could no longer meet his eyes, for she was now getting into an area of half-truths and equivoc tion, denying a sexual attraction that had been magnetic, fateful a mutual But that was a secret she would take to her grave, and she s hastily, wretchedly, "I never meant for it to happen, Llewelyn seeking only to comfort him, to" , (0 "I see And in offering your sympathy, it seemed only natu offer yourself as well7 A veritable angel of mercy Tell me, Joanna of Will's cousin7 Jack de Braose suffered, too, at John's hands hi"1 ore than Will, for he lost both father and grandmother in that Windsor , ngeon What of his grieving7 What did you feel obliged to do for him7" Patches of hectic color stood out suddenly along Joanna's cheekbones "Do you truly believe that, Llewelyn, believe I had other lovers7 That Will was not the first7 Or did you say that just to hurt me7" Llewelyn stepped back, gave her a long, measuring look "No," he said softly "No, I do not believe there were others " And then he slowly unbuckled his scabbard, sat down at the table For Joanna, that simple act was fraught with significance She took a seat across from him, knowing now that he would listen to hertruly listenand she'd never asked for more than that 'Richard thinks it was an an act of atonement I told him that was lunacy, of course, but now I am not so sure I've never pitied anyone in my life as I

  pitied Will that day He told me, you see, told me just how his grandmother and uncle died Maude went mad at the last Will told me she oh, God, Llewelyn, they found her teethmarks in her son's face1 And Will was not spared that He was but fourteen, and still they told him " Llewelyn had not known the gruesome details of Maude's death But it stirred in him no pity for Will, only outrage that he should have shared so grisly a secret with Joanna, the one woman least able to bear such a burden He reached for the wine cup but did not drink, pushed it, instead, across the table toward Joanna He was beginning to understand A clever man, de Braose God rot him, too clever by half Starvation and seduction and John again Always John Joanna drank deeply, gratefully She was perilously close to tears I sometimes dream of Maude, that Windsor dungeon Once or twice I ve even awakened screaming And I keep wondering if John knew, or if he would have cared " "You cannot blame yourself for John's cruelties, Joanna " ' I know And I do not But I can blame myself for loving him For I did love him, Llewelyn There's a part of me that still does even n°w I think that's what I find hardest to admit or to understand, that I c°uld still bve him " Llewelyn found himself responding to the pam in her voice Re- aiming the cup, he, too, drank deeply Joanna reached out, her fingers °Pped just short of his But then she drew back, said quietly, "I am not Baking excuses, Llewelyn, truly I am not But I wanted you to under- n

  676 known Will as a lad, had not been able to identify so readily with his pain. If you had not" Llewelyn set the cup down with a thud. "What?" When she hesitated, he said, "Tell me, Joanna. We agreed this would be a night for truths. Tell me." "I am afraid to tell you, afraid you'll think I am blaming you." "What are you talking about?" "About the de Braose marriages." She saw him stiffen and she leaned across the table toward him. "You can so easily misconstrue what I'm about to say. I shall risk it, though, ask only that you hear me out. Llewelyn, I understand why you sought those alliances, I truly do. You did not act lightly, had compelling reasons for wanting the marriages. But that did not make it any easier for me. Four times I had to stand by as you married your children into the de Braose clan, four times I" "You said you understood why, understood I was acting for Gwynedd's good." She nodded. "And I did understand. But. . . but I think I needed just oncefor you to put me first. When you did not, I was hurt. .. and aggrieved. More than I knew. I truly thought my anger was over, quenched. But there were embers still smoldering, and I can see now that they fueled our quarrels. Unacknowledged anger acts like flint to tinder, can spark fires where we least expect them." Llewelyn shoved his chair back. "What are you saying? That your anger led you into adultery?" Joanna rose as he did, hastened around the table toward him. "No, that is not what I am saying. I did not take a lover to spite you. Does that sound like me?" Her eyes were riveted upon his face, eyes full of entreaty. As he looked into those eyes, his mouth softened. "No," he admitted. "No .. it does not." "I did not knowingly act upon that anger, Llewelyn. That I swear to you upon the surety of my soul. Nor did I ever seek to justify my infidelity by tallying up grievances of my own. I knew from the beginning that there was no justification for what I was doing. But I am trying to be honest with you, honest with myself . . . and I'll never be sure I did not unwittingly let that resentment taint my judgment, my" She stopped abruptly, for he was shaking his head. "Since that is not a question you can ever answer, Joanna, what point is there in dwelling upon it? Can you not see the folly in holding yourself accountable for thoughts you are not even sure you had?" The corner of his mouth quirked; it was only a phantom, fleeting shadow of the smile that could invariably catch at her heart, but it w still a smile, and she responded to it. It seemed almost miraculous to

  677 that they could be talking together like this, without rancor or recriminations, and she hesitated to say or do anything to jeopardize this fragile, astonishing accord. But she had to know. "Llewelyn . . . why have you not yet divorced me?" He looked at her, saying nothing. She reached out; her hand brushed his sleeve. "Will you tell me this, then? Will you tell me what you mean to do?" "Until tonight," he said, "I did not know." "And now?" But even as she spoke, the storm broke. A sudden gust of wind blew the shutter back, quenching candles and scattering her letters about the floor. Rain was slanting in through the window, and they both flinched as thunder cracked directly overhead. They exchanged startled looks, and then sheepish smiles. "Christ, but that one was close," Llewelyn said, and moved hastily to relatch the shutter while Joanna gathered up her letters, sought to comfort her cowering spaniel. "Llewelyn, stay here tonight. Please do not attempt a crossing of the strait in weather this vile." "All right." "You mean it? You'll stay?" He shrugged, gestured toward the window. "What choice do I have?" Joanna nodded slowly. "Yes," she echoed, "what choice?" More fool she, to read so much into his ready assent; what else could he do, in truth? "Llewelyn, there is something I must say to you. I'd not blame you if you did not believe me, but I must say it all the same. I love you. I've loved you since the summer of my fifteenth year, and divorce will not change that. Nothing will." He stood very still, for one of the few times in his life at a loss for words, troubled in no small measure to realize how much he wanted to believe her. I°ANNA awoke sometime before dawn. The chamber was dark, but the hearth log still burned. Taking care not to disturb Llewelyn, she rose from the bed. He did not stir, not even when she settled down beside tooi again, having placed a candle in one of the headboard niches. His "Bathing was even, deep. He seemed to have shed years in
his sleep, and looked so peaceful that she found herself blinking back tears. If not for the fact that they were still clothed, this could have been °ne of a thousand nights she and Llewelyn had passed in this bedCamber, in this bed. But it would be the last. Come morning he would

  678 awaken, arise, and walk out of the bedchamber, out of her life. She had two, mayhap three hours at most. Leaning over, she drew the coverlets up around his shoulders. How had he been able to fall asleep so easily? She'd lain awake for hours That was not an uncommon experience for her; there'd been many a night in these past months when her body's cravings had banished sleep, when memories of their lovemaking would set her to trembling The needs of the flesh were not always easy to subordinate to enforced involuntary chastity, and she was finding it increasingly difficult to be so tantalizingly close to Llewelyn now, to be sharing his bed but not his embrace. His lashes flickered; opening his eyes, he looked up at her. As always, she marveled at his ability to shift so smoothly from sleep to wakeful alertness; his dark eyes showed no disorientation, no surprise at sight of her. "Is it dawn?" he asked, and she shook her head. "No, not yet. Go back to sleep." He raised up on his elbow, glanced upward. "Why the candle?" Color crept into her cheeks, but she gave him an honest answer. "I wanted to watch you." His mouth curved. "It is not sporting to watch a man whilst he sleeps." Pushing the pillow back against the headboard, he regarded her in silence for several moments. "It ought to feel strange, waking up beside you after so many months. But it does not feel strange at all, feels very natural." "I'm glad," she said rather breathlessly, "so glad you came." He had yet to take his eyes from her face, and her color was deepening. "Do you know now what you will do ... about me?" "I've always known what I ought to do." He reached for a strand of her hair, entwined it about his fingers. "But now . . . now I know what I want to do." "What?" she whispered, not daring to move, to risk breaking the spell. "This," he said, and leaned toward her. The kiss was very gentle, almost tentative. But then her arms went up around his neck, and he felt her tears on his face. When he kissed her again, her mouth clung to his, and it was as if they'd never been apart. Theirs was suddenly a world bounded by bed hangings of Tripoli silk, a world without yesterdays or tomorrows, just the here and now and two halves made wholeall too briefly. -all too JOANNA'S breathing had yet to slow; it still came in loud, uneven gasP ' She heard Llewelyn panting, knew his climax had been no less intens /