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

louvres, mayhap we can smoke them out. But ere we decide, I'd see if I cannot talk them out."Moving to the door of the gatehouse, he raised his voice. "I would speak with your castellan or constable!"There was a silence, and then a shutter was cautiously drawn back "I am SirRobert de Montalt. Identify yourself."Llewelyn and his friends exchanged surprised looks; they'd not ex-

209, to hook so large a fish. "I am Llewelyn ab lorwerth, Prince of fSynedd below the Conwy."The silence was even longer this time. "What would you say to me?""Just this. I shall take your keep. If nothing else, I need only wait, -ve you out. You can neither escape nor hope for succor. Your overd the Earl ofChester, is in Normandy with your King. The Lord de Montalt, yOUr brother, is known to be ailing; nor has he the men to break my siege. Remain mewed up within the keep and you do but prolong your own suffering, do only delay what is writ in blood. Yield now and with honor. Your lives shall be spared, and you may ransom your freedom, with no shame to you, for a fight well fought."The shutter opened wider. "And if I refuse to yield?""Need you ask? You know full well what's like to befall a besieged garrison that persists in holding out after all hope is gone. My people call this placeYr Wyddgrug: the burial mound. If need be, I'll turn this ground into a burial mound in truth. I shall take this keep, easy or hard, but take it I shall, and when I do, all within shall be put to the sword. So the choice is yours. I do give you two hours to decide."Llewelyn passed the next hour conferring with his captains, getting reports on the casualties suffered, the prisoners taken, and planning for their assault upon the keep, should it become necessary. There was still an hour remaining upon his deadline when Ednyved appeared at his side."Well, my lord, once more your silver tongue triumphs!" He pointed toward the keep. The door was opening. As they watched, elated, a ladder was slowly lowered over the side."MY grandfather took Mold Castle, too, Rhys. The garrison held out for three months before yielding, and he later said it was his sweetest victory ever.""My lord!" Llewelyn and Rhys turned from the window, toward the man just entering the solar. He was carrying a large bolt of emerald velvet; this he held out to Llewelyn, saying, "As soon as I saw this, my lord, I knew your lady should have it. Nothing better becomes a woman with red hair than the color green."Llewelyn fingered the cloth. "Indeed, you are right, Dylan. It shall please her greatly to make a gown of this.""Llewelyn?" Ednyved paused in the doorway. "Is it your wish to see de Montalt now? And our men captured two English knights up on *e road. I'll fetch them, too."Sir Robert de Montalt was no longer young, had advanced well into

110111his fifties, time enough to have acquired a philosophical approach to tk vicissitudes of fortune. If he felt any resentment now at being ushere(j/prisoner, into his own solar, he was too politic to let it show in his face"My lord Llewelyn," he said, stiffly correct. "I assume, of course that you mean to raze the castle.""Of course," Llewelyn agreed politely, secretly amused, as always at theNorman insistence upon preserving the amenities. As if war vete a game of sorts, to be played according to recognized rules.Robert de Montalt gestured toward the table. "I will, with your per. mission, write to my brother, tell him that our men shall be set free once your forces withdraw. May I ask what price you mean to put upon my freedom?"Llewelyn calculated rapidly. "I think seven hundred marks to be a fair sum."It was steep, but not exorbitant, and de Montalt nodded. "You will take partial payment in cattle and horses, I trust?""Naturally," Llewelyn said, no less gravely, not daring to meet Ednyved's eyes lest he laugh, reveal what a charade he thought this to be.The other men were now being escorted into the solar. The first was a flaxen-haired youth, expensively armed. He did not look particularly pleased by his predicament, but neither did he look all that worried. Here, Llewelyn saw, was another games-player, confident that men of rank would always make common cause against those of inferior birth, acknowledge their membership in an international aristocracy of class. They would never understand, Llewelyn knew, that he felt a greater kinship to the least-born Welshman than to the highest-born Norman lord.His eyes narrowed, though, at sight of the second man. "Well, torn," he said coolly, "you're a long way from home."Thomas was not cowed. "So are you," he shot back. "This is Powys, notGwynedd."Aubrey decided Thomas Corbet was indeed mad. All knew the Welsh were as unpredictable a people as could be found in Christendom, and common sense dictated that a man did not bait a bear in its own den. "You are, of course, Prince Llewelyn," he said hastily. "I am Sir Aubrey de Mara of Falaise, cousin to Lord Ralph and Sir Robert de Montalt." He turned then to de Montalt, smiled ruefully. "I regret I must impose upon our kinship, Cousin, must request that your brothe' pay my ransom. My lord father will, naturally, reimburse you."With such a victory, Llewelyn could afford to be generous. "AJd another hundred marks for your cousin, Sir Robert, and I shall be content."Aubrey grinned. "I do not know whether I should be thankful to escape so cheaply," he confessed, "or insulted that you do not value mySr^ore highly!"Llewelyn laughed, and upgraded Aubrey in his estimation; generwhen a man was bested in combat, his sense of humor was the first casualty-"Well, you two can barter what you will for your freedom, but I'll be damned ere I pay so much as a penny for mine," Thomas said trucuI ntly/ aru*Aubrey and de Montalt