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

not know how to swim. He stood very still, head held high, for he'd once seen a stray spaniel face down several larger dogs by showing no fear. They stepped in, tightening the circle, but made no move to touch him. He was never to know how long the impasse might have lasted, for at that moment one of the boys noticed Sul."Damn me if he does not have his own mount! Where would a Welsh whelp get a horse like that?""Where do you think?" Walter, too, was staring at the chestnut, with frankly covetous eyes. "You know what they say. Scratch a Welshman, find a horse thief."Llewelyn felt a new and terrible fear, for he'd raised Sul from a spindle-legged foal; Sul was his pride, his heart's passion. He forgot all else, and grabbed at Walter's arm as the older boy turned toward Sul. "He's mine, to me! You leave him be!"It was a grievous mistake, and he paid dearly for it. They were on him at once, all three of them, and he went down in a welter of thudding fists and jabbing elbows. He flailed out wildly, desperately, but he could match neither his assailants' strength nor their size, and he was soon pinned down in the trampled grass, Walter's knees on his chest/ his mouth full of his own blood."Misbegotten sons of Satan, the lot of you!" Walter panted "Bloody bastards, not worth the hanging . . ." And if the profanity &

If consciously on his lips, flaunted as tangible proof of passage into mysteries of manhood, the venom in his voice was not an affectawas rooted in a bias that was ageless, breathed in from birth.'"Know you what we mean to do now, Welsh rabbit? Pluck you as i an as a chicken ..." He reached out, tore the crucifix chain fromI levvelyn's neck. "Spoils of war, starting with that chestnut horse you tole You can damned well walk back to Wales, mother-naked, and just thank your heathen gods that we did not hang you for a horse thief! Go on Philip, I'll n°ld him whilst you get his boots ..."Sul. They were going to take Sul. His bruised ribs, his bloodied nose, hurt and humiliation and impotent furyall of that was nothing now, not when balanced against the loss of Sul. Llewelyn gave a sudden frantic heave, caughtWalter off guard, and rolled free. But as quick as he was, the third boy was quicker, and before he could regain his feet, an arm had crooked around his neck, jerking him backward. And then Walter's fist buried itself in his midsection and all fight went out of him; he lay gasping for breath, as if drowning in the very air he was struggling to draw into his lungs."Walter, no!" Stephen had at last found his voice. "He's not a nobody, he's highborn and kin by marriage to Lord Corbet of Caus! He's stepson to HughCorbet, Walter, and nephew to Lord Robert!"Suddenly, all Llewelyn could hear was his own labored breathing. Then one of the boys muttered, "Oh, Christ!" and that broke the spell. They all began to talk at once. "How do we know he's not lying?" "But Walter, do you not remember? Lord Fulk was talking at dinner last week about a Corbet marriage to a Welshwoman of rank, saying the Corbets hoped to safeguard their manors fromWelsh raids with such a union." "Will he go whining to Corbet, d'you think?""Since you got us into this, Walter, you ought to be the one to put it right!"After a low-voiced conference, they moved apart and Walter walked back toLlewelyn. The younger boy was sitting up, wiping mud from his face with the sleeve of his tunic. He was bruised and scratched and sore, but his injuries were superficial. His rage, however, was allconsuming, blotting all else from his brain. He raised slitted, dark eyes to Walter's face; they glittered with hatred made all the more intense by his inability to act upon it.'Here," Walter said tersely, dropping the crucifix on the ground at lewelyn's feet. The conciliatory gesture was belied by the twist of his outn, and when Llewelyn did not respond, he leaned over, grasped ewelyn's arm with a roughness that was a more honest indicator of his tfue feelings.Come, I'll help you up." Walter's voice softened, took on a hony malice. "You need not be afraid," he drawled, and Llewelyn spat

10in his face. It was utterly unpremeditated, surprising Llewelyn almost as much as it did Walter, and he realized at once that his Corbet kinship would avail him little against an offense of such magnitude. But for the moment the incredulous outrage on Walter's face was worth it, worth it all.Walter gasped, and then lunged. Shock slowed his reflexes, however, andLlewelyn was already on his feet. He sprinted for Sul, and the gelding raised its head, expectant, for this was a game they often played, and Llewelyn had become quite adroit at vaulting up onto the horse's back from a running jump.But as he chanced a glance back over his shoulder, he saw he was not going to make it; Walter was closing ground with every stride. Llewelyn swerved, tripped, and sprawled facedown in the high grass. There was no time for fear, it all happened too fast; Walter was on top of him, and this time the older boy was in deadly earnest, he meant to inflict pain, to maim, and his was the advantage of four years and fully forty pounds."Walter, stop!" The other boys had reached them, were struggling to dragWalter off him. Llewelyn heard their voices as if from a great distance; there was a roaring in his ears. His right eye was swelling rapidly, and an open gash just above the eyelid was spurting so much blood that he was all but blinded. Through a spangled crimson haze, he caught movement and brought his arm up in a futile attempt to ward off the blow. But the expected