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I've never known a Norman to speak such perfect Welsh; he"nds verity like a Welshman. Not that I mean to say your Welsh is so den] v, Madame?" Madlen all but bumped into Joanna, so sud-I d I S^e st°PPed- "Madame, you look so queer of a sudden! Why, dp R °St tnmk you'd seen a demon spirit of some sort. You know Lord Je°raose?"nna swallowed. "Yes," she said. "I know him."

594AS Llewelyn's daughter by marriage, the mother of his grandchildren Senena had every right to be at his court, however unwelcome Joann' found her presence.Senena made no more accusations, managed a brit tie, bitter courtesy in response to Joanna's strained civility. But sh watched Joanna constantly, with narrowed grey eyes full of accusation and implacable hate.Will de Braose's manners were less forced. To be taken captive in warfare was not an uncommon occurrence, and while costly, it was not shaming. Will accepted his plight with the fatalistic sangfroid of a man sure he'd eventually be able to purchase his freedom. If at Chester Castle he could seeJoanna only as John's daughter, he took care to accord her now the public politeness due Llewelyn's wife. But like Senena, he too, followed her with his eyes, eyes no less grey than Senena's, and although not as overtly hostile, somehow even more disquieting.Joanna had always enjoyed their stays on Mon; she liked the island climate, loved the magnificent views of the mainland mountain ranges. But now she began to feel as if Mon were as much her prison as Will's. She came to dread the evening meal, when she could neither avoid nor ignore her unwelcome guests, and she did whatever she could to make the dinner hour her only point of contact with Will and Senena. She took to riding the eight miles toTregarnedd, passing the mornings with Catherine. In the afternoons she andGlynis went for long walks around Rhosyr, and when Glynis fretted thatLlewelyn would not approve of their wandering about unescorted, Joanna then refused even Glynis's company, continued her walks in defiant solitude.Ordinarily she walked in the meadows near Rhosyr, taking care not to venture into the marshlands that lay off to the west, where the River Cefni wound its way to the sea. But on this particular afternoon she wandered down to the beach. The strait was rough, the winds coming not from the usual southwest but from the east, what the Welsh called gwynt each Amythig, the red wind ofShrewsbury. Joanna was just about to turn back when she rounded a sand dune, saw Will de Braose standing by the water's edge. She spun about, but not in time. Topaz had begun to bark, and she heard Will calling her name.He was panting slightly by the time he reached her. "Why are you so set upon avoiding me?"His smile was challenging enough to sting her into a rude rejoinae "Possibly because I do not like you much."Unfazed, he laughed. "Do you know what I think? I think you re afraid of me.". ^Even after so many years in Wales, Joanna knew but one obscenity. She used it now, snapping, "Twll dy din," and then turron

595On 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 aRequiem 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 ofPurgatory? 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 longVfirdue. 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-

596her of Maude's family? Was it fair to let a full month of silence go by? And when he returned, what then?Would he

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