Here Be Dragons - 1 (104 page)

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done, but I do not think she's forfeited all claims to fairness. She was your wife for nigh on twenty-four years. All the love and loyalty she gave you cannot be blotted out as if it had never been, not for one wretched mistake."
"Mistake?" he echoed incredulously. "That is rather a quaint way to describe adultery, Elen."
Elen was too deeply committed now to recant. "A mistake, Papa She let herself be seduced at a vulnerable time in her life, at a time when you and she were estranged. She erred. But she repented of it, she"
"Indeed?" he said scathingly. "Was that what she was doing with Will de Braose in my bedpenance?"
"Nothing happened that night, Papanothing. They were together, yes. But it was
Will's doing, not Mama's. She did not lay with him."
Llewelyn's face was very still, suddenly unreadable. Elen took a step closer, and then he said, "Do you expect me to believe that?"
"I believe it, Papa."
They'd all but forgotten Ednyved. He spoke up unexpectedly, laconically. "For what it's worth, Llewelyn, so do I."
Llewelyn glanced toward Ednyved, and then away. Could there be any truth to
Elen's claim? Could it be that Joanna had not brought de Braose into this chamber, into her marriage bed? But why did he care? Why did he want so to believe it?
He swung back toward his daughter, said roughly, "That changes nothing. She has never denied laying with de Braose. Does it matter when ... or where? She was unfaithful. She betrayed me. Do you think I could forget that? Or forgive?"
"No," Elen admitted. "No, I do not. Nor does Mama. Even though she always forgave you."
"Just what do you mean by that?"
Elen had never meant to go so far. But she could no longer control her tongue, heard herself say, "I mean, Papa, that you were not always faithful to Mama.
She knew that, too ... and yet loved you no less."
Llewelyn's anger was tempered by disbelief. "What are you saying, Elen? Are you truly likening my occasional lapses to Joanna's adultery with de Braose?"
Elen smiled wanly, sadly. "Those were Mama's very words'occasional lapses.'
She agrees with you, Papa, sees her sin as unforgivable. But I ... I find myself wondering why marriage vows are only i°r women. Why is it so one-sided, Papa? Why is it so damnably unfair.
"Because," Llewelyn said bluntly, "if it were not, how would a man ever know if a child was his?" He saw at once, though, that his daughter had given his words a meaning he'd never intended. Elen paled, then held out her hand in instinctive entreaty.
"You do not doubt that, do you, Papa? You do believe that Davydd arld I are yours?"
Llewelyn drew a sharp breath. "Ah, Elen . . ." He swiftly closed the space between them, took her in his arms. "I know you are, lass. I've never doubted that, not even for a moment."
"Papa, I want only for you to be happy again. I think I understand yvhy you've not yet divorced Mama. It's . . . it's like repudiating your past, like an amputation of the soul. But sometimes amputation is the only way. You've seen enough battlefield injuries to know that."
Elen had rehearsed her plea often enough so that it came readily to her lips now, but she could not altogether stifle a sense of guilt at what she was doing, urging her father to forsake Joanna. Yet what else could she do? If
Papa could not forgive Mama, he had somehow to forget her. But however much she told herself that, she still felt that hers was at once an act of healing and betrayal. Raising up, she kissed Llewelyn on the cheek, then all but ran from the chamber.

Ednyved rose without apparent haste. "Let's leave the rest of the game till the morrow."
He had almost reached the door when Llewelyn said, "What would you or Rhys
..."
He regretted the impulse in mid-sentence, let the words trail off into oblivion. Ednyved stopped, gave him a pensive, searching look. "I've thought on that," he conceded. "I daresay there's not a man at your court who has not.
I suspect Rhys would have slain them both, Catrin and her lover. I'd have hanged the man, divorced Gwenllian." He paused. "But then Rhys loved Catrin too much, and I love Gwenllian too little."
Llewelyn said nothing. Ednyved reached for the door latch, glanced back over his shoulder. "I'd not presume to advise you, Llewelyn. But whatever you decide, my friend, do it soon. One way or another, lay your ghosts to rest."
Llewelyn stood motionless in the center of the room, staring at the bed, the bed in which Joanna had lain with Will de Braose. Or had she? He swore under his breath. The silence was illusory; so, too, was ^s solitude. He swore again. "Lay my ghosts to rest. Christ, if only I could ..."

i6
LLANFAES, NORTH WALES
January 1251
I OANNA drew the shutter back, gazed up at a sky opaque and dark. Clouds had begun to drift over the island shortly after dusk.
It was unseasonably mild for late January, and the air was damp and drizzly.
She caught muffled echoes of thunder, a sound as ominous as it was uncommon;
winter thunderstorms were ill-starred occurrences, often portents of coming grief, untimely death. Joanna crossed herself, pulled the shutters into place, closing out the sounds of night and sea, but not those forebodings born of superstition . . . and solitude
Loneliness was an unrelenting foe, one that Joanna had come to know well in the past nine months and thirteen days. It could never be conclusively defeated; at best, she could hope for a stalemate, but in the last week it had gained hard-fought ground, for Glynis had departed for a fortnight's visit with her family.
If loneliness was the enemy, time was its ally. Never had the hours in a day seemed so interminable to Joanna. For more than twenty years, hers had been a life of constant activity and unremitting responsibilitiesIn learning Welsh, she'd taken up the obligations of a woman of rank, and from dawn till dusk she'd been occupied in the management of her husband's vast household, acting as consort, wife, mother. Hers vver supervisory skills; she was not expected to turn her own hand to d°m tic chores. But it was for her to see that those chores were perform > 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/

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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

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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.

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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

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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