Here Be Dragons - 1 (21 page)

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. uejy privileged position; he alone dared speak his mind utterly
3 A freely to his brother, with no fear of incurring the King's disfavor.
* ... was honest enough to admit to himself that he relished the many gible benefits he derived from John's kingship, but even more did he rsh his special status as the King's brother and confidant. He prided h'mself on his candor, told himself that even if John did not always heed h's advice, at least John was always willing to hear him out, liked to think he alone knew how to appeal to John's better instincts, and in consequence, he'd been slow to feel the ground shifting under his feet.
He stood there alone for a time in the darkness, half expecting John to return, seeking to make amends. But John did not come back, and
Will was left with the envenomed echoes of that last lethal exchange, with the unhappy understanding that his influence over John was more illusory than not, that he must take John on his own terms ... or not at all.
PICKING up a brush, Joanna parted her hair and then began to plait it into two thick braids. Impatience made her clumsy, and the strands kept slipping through her fingers. But she persevered; she was nine now, too old for wild, unkempt hair, especially on the day of her father's return from Normandy.
Never before had he been gone so long, five lonely months. Always before, he had taken her with him; in the past four years Joanna had learned to look upon a Channel crossing as nonchalantly as a Londoner viewed an outing across the
Thames into Southwark. But when John had sailed for Normandy that past April, he'd left Joanna at Conisbrough, the Yorkshire castle of his uncle Hamelin de
Warenne, Earl of Surrey, home, too, to Hamelin's grandson, her half-brother
Richard.
Now it was October and Joanna was back at Westminster Palace, awaiting John's arrival. All around her, women were sleeping; she shared a chamber with the ladies-in-waiting to the noblewomen of John's court. Snapping her fingers to attract Avisa, she unlatched the door, moved into the stairwell, the spaniel at her heels.
Emerging out into the sunlight of the New Palace yard, she was just in time to collide with a man coming around the corner of the old hall. He stumbled, caught her as she reeled backward.
"I'm sorry, my lord."
"No matter, Joanna. If I cannot sustain a bruising from a little lass like you, I'd best retire to my hearth and give my lands over to my sons," he said and smiled at her. William de Braose, Lord of Brecknock, was an attractive man, fit and sun-browned, blond hair and beard only 'ightly touched by grey although she knew he was well into his fifties.

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He was one of her father's closest friends, and was unfailingly pleasant to her. There was no reason why she should be so ill at ease with him, and yet she was. It was with relief now that she saw de Braose was not alone, was accompanied by her father's half-brother Will, Earl Of Salisbury.
Will was family; with him, she need not stand on formality. "Papa's come?"
Will nodded. "We rode in from Freemantle late last night, so I expect he's still abed."
"I'd wager the surety of my soul on that!" de Braose said and laughed.
Will frowned and Joanna edged closer. "Uncle Will. . . Papa's new wife, is she comely?"
"Very comely, Joanna." Will looked intently into her face, and then put his arm around her shoulders, drew her aside. "Does it bother you, lass, that John has wed again?"
Joanna shook her head swiftly. "No, but. . . but I did not think he would wed again so soon." She fidgeted and then blurted out, "Unde Will, I heard some men talking last month after we had word of Papa's marriage. They . . . they said Papa's new wife was plight-trothed to another lord, that Papa stole her away from this lord. That is not true, is it?"
Will did not answer at once. Joanna was, he knew, normally well insulated from rumors and gossip; no rational man would dare criticize the King in the hearing of his daughter. But this marriage had been virtually guaranteed to stir up controversy. It was said that Hugh de Lusignan had gone berserk with rage, raving and ranting and swearing to avenge himself upon John, even if it took a lifetime. And Hugh found some sympathizers among the Poitevin nobility, men who disapproved of the clandestine, underhanded nature of the marriage, others who'd willingly seize upon any pretext for rebellion. The result was that a marriage which should have solidified John's hold upon Poitou was in itself proving to be a source of dissension, while John had alienated the more pious of his subjects by his lustful infatuation with a girl of Isabelle's tender years.
Will shook his head slowly, wondering just how to answer Joanna. "Yes, it is true, lass. Isabelle was betrothed to as untrustworthy a man as you could find in all of Christendom, and her marriage would one day have put into his hands all of Angouleme. Your father could not let that happen."
Joanna was quiet. "Is she truly only twelve?" she asked at last, and Will nodded. 4
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"I think I do know what frets you. But she is a lively, good-natured ss, and I/m sure y°U sha11 like her' 'That was not what was fretting Joanna at all. She was quite pre-
ed to like Isabelle, although she did think it distinctly odd to have a t nmother only three years older than she. Her fear was that Isabelle uld not like her. She had long since accustomed herself to her father's omen. Most were kind to her, sometimes cloyingly so; Adele alone h d not been friendly, and Adele's reign had been brief. One day she was gfne an<^ Joanna had learned a valuable lesson: Whilst Papa's ladies came and went, her own place in his heart was constant. But a wife ... a wjfe was not like a mistress.
Brooding on this as she crossed the bailey, she was pleased to see Richard coming toward her. She'd gained more than a father at Rouen, she'd gained six brothers, too. Most were well into their teens by now, and she saw them but seldom. With Richard it was different. He was only two years older than she, and from their first meeting he had appointed himself her protector, her guide and mentor. She could ask Richard what she could not ask Will, and as he fell in step beside her, she said, "Richard . . . what if she does not like us?"
Richard was eating manchet bread glazed with honey. He took a large bite, handed what remained to Joanna. "Papa will not love us any the less if she does not, Joanna. My mama says not to worry, that Papa is no man to be swayed by a woman's cajoling."
It occurred to Joanna that Richard was not as confident as he sounded, else he'd not have felt the need to consult his mother. But she took comfort, nonetheless, from his assurance. His mother was more than a onetime mistress.
Alina was John's first cousin, and had remained on friendly terms with him to this day, was often at court. Hers was a voice to be heeded.
"Richard . . . when your mama's family found out she was with child, were they shamed?"
"Angry, yes, but shamed . . . no. After all, Papa was a Prince. And then, too, my grandpapa Hamelin is baseborn himself; he was a bastard brother to King
Henry. Mama told me that Grandpapa and my uncle did berate her some at first, but they know women are weak vessels. They could hardly blame her for being true to her nature."
"My mama was not so lucky," Joanna said softly. "Her family shunned her for her sin." She hesitated. "I told you that my mama died. But I never told you that I did think it was my fault."
Richard had been reaching to reclaim the honeyed bread. He stopped, gave her a look of sudden interest. "You did? Why?"
The memories of her mother's death were so fraught with pain even

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now that Joanna had never been able to share them with anyone but John, and she said evasively, "Oh, because she was so unhappy. But Papa explained it all to me, told me that the blame did lie with my mama's family, not with me."
Richard's interest waned. "Well, you'reJoanna, look. There's Uncle Will."
Will raised an arm, beckoned. "Joanna, Richard, make haste. Your lord father is ready to see you now."
ST Edward's chamber had been for well over a hundred years the traditional bedchamber of the King, was still used even though it was part of the old palace of the Confessor. John was sitting on a coffer as his barber carefully trimmed his beard, but he waved the man away at sight of his children.
Joanna ran to him, into his arms. "Papa, I missed you so!"
"I missed you, too, sweetheart. But keep your voices down. Isabelle is still asleep."
Joanna and Richard quieted at once, cast subdued glances toward the curtained bed. John smiled at them, gave Richard a playful poke. "You need not act as if you're in church! Come over here and see what I brought back for you."
Lifting the coffer lid, he fished around, at last unearthed their presents:
spurs for Richard, a carved ivory comb for Joanna. "I do have a second gift for Joanna, lad, but that is because I did miss her birthday. Here, sweetheart."
Joanna gave a delighted gasp, slipped the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect topaz, set in silver, but too big, was sliding over her knuckle until she made a quick fist.
"John . . . John, where did you go?" The voice was young, sleepily content.
Richard and Joanna turned as a tousled head poked through the bed hangings.
Joanna felt a sharp pang of envy; as she'd suspected, Isabelle's hair was a lustrous swirl of sunlight. She yawned like a lazy kitten, blinked at them with long-lashed, lavender-blue eyes. Joanna could not, of course, begin to comprehend the complicated sexual cravings that made this beautiful child-woman so desirable to a man with jaded sensibilities, a man in need of novelty. But she could see how undeniably lovely Isabelle was, and her fear came rushing back. How could Papa not be influenced by Isabelle?
"You must be Joanna and Richard." Isabelle jerked the bed hangings aside and, wrapping herself in the sheet, accepted a servant's offer-

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a cup of watered-down wine. "I guess I'm now your mother!" She 'n^ hed suddenly. "But do not dare call me Mama!"
"What shall we call you, Madame?" Joanna asked, at a loss, and Isabelle gave a comical grimace.
"How serious she is, John! I am Isabelle, of course. Come, sit beside e On the bed and I shall tell you of my first meeting with your father. I
tell her, can I not, John? It is six weeks to the day; we were wed without even posting the banns! John said he knew as soon as he saw me, knew he would have me for his Queen and no other."
Joanna and Richard exchanged bemused glances. Both quiet by nature, they were overwhelmed by Isabelle, who seemed able to talk without even pausing for breath. But her friendliness set their fears at rest, and Joanna gladly did as
Isabelle bade, settled herself upon the foot of the bed. She should have had more faith in Papa, she thought, should have known he would not have chosen a wife who'd scorn his children.
H
GWYNEDD, WALES
AMflMrt 1201
XA.FTER passing the night at Basingwerk Abbey, Baldwin de Hodnet and his brother moved cautiously westward, keeping to the narrow coastal road. The sea was frothed with whitecaps, the sky flaming to the east in a sunburst dawn that promised a day of surpassing beauty. But Baldwin had no eye for God's wonders; he was too much taken up with man-made troubles.
"How do you know where he is, Stephen?"
"I do not. The Welsh court moves about no less frequently than John's.
Llewelyn has palaces at Aber, at Aberffraw on the isle of Mon, at Caer yn
Arfon, has palaces and hunting lodges scattered throughout the Eryri
Mountains."
"Well, then, how shall we find him?"

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"We will not. He'll find us," Stephen said, and withdrew from hi saddle pouch a brightly painted silk banner: quartered lions passant, red on gold.
"Llewelyn's arms. What better way to make known that we seek him?"
"Clever," Baldwin said grudgingly. "But to what avail? I'm damned if I know why I let you talk me into this. We'll find no welcome at his court, Stephen.
How can we? Just last month he did sign a truce with King John, did agree to do homage to John as his overlord, and, jn return, was recognized as ruler of
Gwynedd. Why should he risk angering John by aiding men branded as rebels?"
Stephen laughed. "You do not understand the Welsh, Baldwin. You share all the common misconceptions about Llewelyn's people. Ask any lord at John's court to describe the Welsh character, and what is he like to say? That the Welsh are impulsive, quick-tempered, easily stirred by passion. That may well be true.
But it is also true that in matters of statecraft, no people in Christendom are as pragmatic as the Welsh princes. They have to be, with England more than twenty times the size of Wales. Since the reign of Owain Fawr, their princes have sworn allegiance to the English kings, because they were shrewd enough to see they had no choice. The Welsh are realists, Baldwin, and an oath of allegiance is cheaper than blood as the price of sovereignty. Do not ever think, though, that Llewelyn sees himself as a vassal of John's. He does not."
Stephen grinned. "The great weakness of the Welsh has always been their penchant for fighting amongst themselves, a weakness our kings have been quick to exploit. But Llewelyn has a rare gift for fishing in troubled waters. John may well find"
"I'd as soon you spared me a lesson in Welsh history," Baldwin interrupted impatiently. "All that does concern me at the moment is whether we're likely to find refuge at Llewelyn's court. And you've yet to convince me that we will."
Now it was Stephen who showed impatience. "We always knew it might come to this, Baldwin. When Fulk Fitz Warin rose up in rebellion against John, and we decided we could not do otherwise than support him as our kinsman and liege lord, we had no illusions about the risks, or the likely outcome. Tell me, would you rather seek exile in France?"
"No," Baldwin conceded. "I ought not to be taking out my foul temper on you, Little Brother. As you say, better Llewelyn than PhilipHow long has it been since you saw him last?"
"Three or four years, I think," Stephen said, and Baldwin let out an explosive oath.
"Blood of Christ! You expect him to incur John's wrath for a man he has not even seen in years?"

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Stephen was unperturbed "The Welsh make bad enemies, better , your trouble, Baldwin, is that you have so little faith'" "My trouble is that I have a price upon my head, and an mgrate of a ther set upon laying claim to my inheritance," Baldwin said sourly "What else would you expect from Walter7"
"Better than this Did I not persuade Fulk to give him a place in his usehold7 And when he came to me, claiming he'd had his horse and or stolen, did I not lend him the money for another mount and hauberk7"
"And I thought you were mad to do it, I still do As the eldest, you never knew him, Baldwin, not as Will and I did "
"What else could I do, Stephen7 He's still blood km "
"If he were drowning, I'd throw him an anchor," Stephen said flatly, and
Baldwin gave his brother a surprised, speculative look
"You truly mean that, do you not7 I did not realize" He stiffened suddenly, and then said softly, "Stephen, to your left "
"I know I think we're about to be welcomed into Wales "
There was a flash of movement through the trees, a lance thudded into the path a few feet ahead, quivered like a snake coiled to strike They both drew rein, waited
A man emerged from the woods, came to a wary halt Stephen tilted his lance up so that Llewelyn's banner caught the breeze "Tangnefedd, ' he said loudly '
Rydu i Stephen de Hodnet, cyfaill o Llewelyn ab lorwerth, o Tywysog Gwynedd "
There was a silence, other men were now coming out of the shadows Stephen ventured a few more sentences in halting Welsh, then turned to Baldwin, smiling "Did I not tell you7 These are Llewelyn's men, will take us to him I
told them that I am his fnend, that he will want to see me "
"You hope," Baldwin said
THEY were traveling south, through a well-wooded river valley Stephen was carrying on a disjointed conversation with their guides, partly in his rudimentary Welsh and partly in their fragmented French, and from time to time he'd translate for Baldwin's benefit "We have to ford the River Conwy up ahead, and then veer west "
"Did you, by any chance, think to ask where we're going7" "Dolwyddelan Castle
" Anticipating Baldwin, Stephen grinned, said with exaggerated precision, "Dole-with-eflan I'd hoped Llewelyn would be at Aber or Aberffraw, wanted you to see the Welsh court But iJolwyddelan should be of interest, too, it's one of the few Welsh-built castles, belonged to Llewelyn's father lorwerth "