Here Be Dragons - 1 by Sharon Penman (best ebook reader android TXT) 📗

past. I would that it were.""Even after three years . . . ?""Oh, it gets easier, Nell, with each passing year. But for some, three lifetimes would not be enough time for me to expiate my sins. They've accepted me because Llewelyn gave them no choice, but they will never truly forgive me.I've had to face that, to learn to live with it, even though that includes some of my husband's own family. His daughter Gwladys, his brother Adda. My family, too. Our Aunt Ela for one. Elen's husband for another. John will never understand how Llewelyn could take me back."Joanna had been sketching aimlessly as she spoke; the letter to Eleanor was covered with interlocking circles. She looked down at her handiwork, put the pen aside. "Nor do I think I'll fare well at the hands of Welsh historians. Iought not to mind what's said about me once I'm safely dead, but I'm afraid Ido." Her smile was rueful. "I never hungered for fame, much less notoriety, but I seem fated to be remembered as Llewelyn's wanton foreign wife."Nell did not dispute her; she knew how swiftly gossip became enshrined as gospel. "What matters, Joanna, is that you and Llewelyn have been able to salvage your marriage. In all honesty, I was not so sure you could.""In all honesty, neither was I," Joanna confessed. "At first we were so wary with one another, so painstakingly polite we'd have put a couple of saints to shame! And God pity us, but we went on like that for weeks, so anxious not to tread amiss that we could scarce move at all. Luckily a day came when I had a right sharp headache, a day when I walked in and found Llewelyn ransacking our bedchamber for his privy seal. The room looked as if a whirlwind had struck; Iregret to say neatness has never been one of Llewelyn's virtues. And as Istood there surveying the wreckage, Llewelyn demanded to know where the seal wasas if I stored the blasted thing under my pillow. I lost my temper, snapped at him; he snapped back, and as quickly as that, we found ourselves in a flaming row, like any husband and wife on a bad dayThat realization hit us both at once, in mid-shout. We stopped, looked at each other, and then, as if on cue, we burst out laughing." And in remembering, Joanna laughed again. "It was then," she said, "that I truly began to believe we might make it, after all."

691JOANNA was standing beside her brother, bringing him up to date on the happenings at her husband's court. "Llewelyn's cousin Madog is here, as isMaelgwn's son. Gwenllian is still in Ireland, but Llewelyn's other daughters are present, and Tegwared and his wife; they've given Llewelyn and Ednyved four grandchildren so far. Gwladys, too; did you know? After thirteen barren years with Reginald de Braose, she found herself with child within a twelvemonth of marrying Ralph de Mortimer, has two sons by him now. There'sGlynis; you remember her from Llanfaes? Llewelyn and I made a most advantageous marriage for her, and I stood godmother to her firstborn. That isMarared over to your right; did I tell you she's to marry Walter Clifford?"Richard had been listening indulgently, having no real interest in Welsh weddings and birthings. But an alliance with a Marcher lord like Clifford was of no small significance, and he said admiringly, "So Llewelyn has entangled another Norman fish in his nuptial nets. He's pulled in quite a catch over the years: Chester, de Braose, de Mortimer, de Lacy . . . and now Clifford. Had he only a few more daughters and a sister or two, he might have won over theMarches by marriage!""Strange you should say that. Morgan, may God assoil him, once told Llewelyn the same thing, almost word for word.""I heard he'd died."She nodded. "Last year. No great surprise, for he'd been ailing, and he'd reached a venerable age. But Llewelyn took his death hard, still misses him sorely."A sudden burst of laughter drew their attention. They turned to discover thatNell was displaying the same magnetic allure for males that her mother had so often demonstrated; she was surrounded by bedazzled admirers, a vision in willow green, and Richard murmured, "Jesu, how like Isabella she is. The man on her left, the one gazing at her as if bewitched, damn me if he does not look remarkably like the Earl of Winchester.""That's because he is. And the man laughing is his younger brother, Robert deQuincy." Richard did not comment, but Joanna felt a need to elaborate further, to explain why the sons of one of their father's bitterest enemies were guests at her hearth. "Saer de Quincy," she said. "How Papa hated him. And how long ago it all seems. Roger and Robert de Quincy came with John the Scot and Elen.They are kin to John; his aunt was once wed to their uncle.""You owe me no explanations, Joanna. As you say, it was a long hrrte ago.Seeing Nell brings it back, though, for she could be Isabelle at eighteen, in truth she could. Do you ever hear from herfrom Isabelle?"

692"Not for years. What with Hugh de Lusignan's intrigues and I belle's yearly pregnancies, when would she find the time to write?"Richard grinned. "I've lost count; how many children has she born de Lusignan?Seven? Eight? For certes, we know what they do vvhe they're not plotting against Henry or the French King." Nell's laughte came to them again, and he shook his head. "That chastity oath of hers was an act of arrant lunacy, Joanna. She'll never hold to it. How can she? Look at her; she's the most beautiful woman in the hall.""Not so." Neither had heard Llewelyn's approach; they turned as he said, "Elen is the most beautiful woman at Aber . . . and that's because she so resembles her mother."Fair coloring was prized no less by the Welsh than by the English was