Here Be Dragons - 1 (35 page)

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"I understand Llewelyn does return from Cricieth in a fortnight, . Men the court moves to Mon?"
311 (oanna nodded. "He has a ... a plas at Aberffraw, does he not?"
"Aye/ but he'll go to Rhosyr. He has no liking for Aberffraw, not more." Joanna had not realized her curiosity showed so nakedly til Rhys added matter-of-factly, "The Lady Tangwystl died at Aberf, w " He did not pause for her response. "The Lady Catrin, my wife, ,. j ~ve birth just a month ago, was stricken after with the milk fever. She is better now, God be thanked, but she's not yet able to travel. She . very eager, though, to meet you, and I
would ask a favor of you." He stopped, turned to face her, and Joanna realized he had not been making idle conversation, after all.
"When the court moves to Rhosyr, would you come to my manor at Tregarnedd? It would mean much to my Catrin, Madame, in truth it would."
Joanna could find in herself no enthusiasm for meeting the Lady Catrin, not after making the acquaintance of Ednyved's wife. But she could think of no graceful way to decline, and she said, "Yes, of course."
They walked the rest of the way in silence. As they approached the gateway, they saw Blanche pacing back and forth distractedly. She gave a glad cry at sight of Joanna, ran to meet her.
"Madame, thank God you've come! Sir Hugh Corbet has just ridden in, is awaiting you in the great hall!"
"Oh, sweet Lady Mary!" Joanna tried to collect her thoughts, tried to remember all she must do for an honored guest. Give orders for a special meal, one of several courses, ask Llywarch to sing for Hugh. See that a chamber was prepared for his stay, that his men were bedded down, too. What else? Jesu, what of a bath?
Joanna came to a sudden stop. It was customary, of course, to offer a bath to any guest planning to pass the night. If the guest was of high rank, it was expected that the lady of the manor herself would assist him in bathing. To neglect so basic a courtesy would be no small insult. But Isabelle had never performed such tasks; was a Princess, too, exempt? Nor did she even know if this ancient Norman custom was followed amongst the Welsh. It would be dreadful to slight her husband's stepather. But neither did she want to embarrass Llewelyn by turning her hand to a task better left to her maids. If only she knew what was exPected of her, if only there was a woman she could ask.
Well, she must blunder through as best she could. Mayhap Hugh j^ould give her some hint as to what he expected. Why was it that, the st tee she had to act on Llewelyn's behalf, the guest must be one so lmPortant, must be her husband's kin?

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Hugh resolved her dilemma, however, in a way she'd not arttic pated. He could not pass the night, he explained regretfully, for it wa urgent that he reach
Llewelyn as soon as possible.
"I fear Llewelyn is some miles to the south, in the commote of ft fionydd. He is building a seacoast castle at Cricieth, wanted to judge the progress for himself. If you are set upon departing in such haste, we will gladly provide you with an escort and fresh mounts." Trying to hide her relief, Joanna racked her brains to recall what little she knew of Welsh geography. "You could pass the night at Dolwyddelan, or at Beddgelert Priory, should you get that far."
She hesitated, for the first time seeing the fatigue already well etched into
Hugh's face.
"Sir Hugh, may I ask why you are in such a rush to see my husband? Is there trouble?"
"Of a sort." He drew her toward the privacy of the window seat, said in a low voice, "Prince Gwenwynwyn of Powys has been a widower since the spring. Two days ago he was wed to my niece Margaret Corbet, my brother Robert's daughter.
I want to get to Llewelyn ere he hears of it from anyone else."
Joanna needed to hear no more; after four months as Llewelyn's wife, she had no doubts whatsoever as to what his reaction would be. "It sounds rather as if it were something of a hole-and-corner marriage," she said coolly. "Why? To keep Llewelyn from finding out beforehand?"
"Exactly." Hugh grimaced. "My brother can be a fool at times. Had I only been consulted, I'd have told him Llewelyn would be sure to take such a marriage as a personal insult. But he pays too much heed these days to my nephew torn, and torn is no great thinker. Neither he nor Rob seems to realize that times have changed. It did work well once to play off the Welsh princes, one against the other. Fifteen years ago, such a marriage would have been a shrewd maneuver.
But those days are gone. Gwenwynwyn's goodwill counts for little against
Llewelyn's. I only hope they do not have to learn that to their cost."
"What will Llewelyn do?"
"For the moment, nothing. It's done and beyond changing. But he's not likely to forget, even less likely to forgive. Stupid and shortsighted, the both of them. They have yet to get it into their heads that Llewelyn is not just another Welsh prince, to be bought off or duped as their need dictates. I've told them that the day may well come when he'll hold all of Wales, but they laugh. Fools. I only do hope I'm wrong, for Llewelyn5 sake as much as ours. No
English king could ever permit a Welsh prince to wield so much power; John would have no choice but to break him- '< for one, would not want" He stopped suddenly, having remembered too late to whom he was speaking.
Joanna had gone very white; her eyes suddenly seemed enormous/

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j rjc they were almost black. "Do not say that," she pleaded. "That must never happen."
Cursing himself for his clumsiness, Hugh made haste to repair the age done. "Indeed it will not, Lady Joanna," he said soothingly.
"When I am tired, my tongue tends to outrun my brain; such talk means thing- Your husband and father are more than allies of the moment;
are the living link that binds them together."
Joanna nodded; color slowly began to come back into her face. Hugh gave her shoulder a reassuring pat, wondering for whom she feared, John or Llewelyn.
As eagerly as she awaited Llewelyn's return, Joanna felt some anxiety, too, remembering her father's rages, his dark, moody silences. But however violent
Llewelyn's initial reaction might have been, he had his temper well in hand by the time he got back to Aber, made no mention whatsoever of his Corbet kin.
Joanna began to wonder if she had misjudged him; she'd been so sure he would take the marriage as a mortal affront. She had to know, at last asked him point-blank how he felt about it.
He looked at her with a faint smile. "My cousin torn has ever been one for grazing on both sides of the hedge. That is his misfortune." And Joanna saw that she had not misjudged him at all.
IT was a mild October afternoon four days after their arrival at Rhosyr.
Joanna was in no hurry to reach Tregarnedd, had covered the eight miles at a leisurely pace. She only hoped the Lady Catrin spoke some French. On the other hand, if she did not, that would be as good an excuse as any to cut the visit short. At least it was a delightful day for a ride. And she would confess to some curiosity about the woman Rhys had married, wondered if Catrin would be a mirror image of her handsome husband.
Tregarnedd was an agreeable surprise; it was much like a village, for tdnyved had a manor here, too, and, as in England, there were people who preferred to dwell, for safety's sake, in the shadow of a lord. But e real surprise waited within, a smile of welcome upon her face.
I am Lady Catherine, Madame. How good of you to come to me e this; in truth, you honor our house. I've so longed to meet you. For e hrst time in my life, I did regret that I know not how to write. Of
Urse, I could have dictated a letter to our chaplain, but. . ."
Joanna stared at the other woman, astonished. It was not Cather-
s appearance that so startled her, although she was not the ravishing

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beauty Joanna had been expecting. She was a buxom, pretty worna with fair, creamy skin, thick golden lashes, and hair so blonde it w almost white. It was her speech, however, that riveted Joanna's eve upon her; her French was not only fluent, it was colloquial.
"You are Norman!" Joanna blurted out, and then blushed. But Catherine merely laughed.
"Indeed. Did Rhys not tell you? Ah, that man!"
On reflection, Joanna realized there was no reason for such surprise.
Intermarriages were not that uncommon, after all; the Corbets were not the only Marcher border lords to see the advantages in a Welsh connection. It was just that Rhys, so proudly, defiantly Welsh, seemed the last man to choose a
Norman wife.
As if reading her thoughts, Catherine said, "I know no people who value bloodlines as do the Welsh. But they have never balked at accepting foreign wives, for a woman takes on her husband's nationality, and any children of such a union have full rights under Welsh law. It becomes rather more complicated when a Welshwoman does wed with an alltud ... a man of foreign blood. But I expect Llewelyn has explained all this to you . . ."
Ushering Joanna into the great hall, she at once sent for wine and wafers, settled Joanna in the seat of honor by the hearth, and beckoned a nurse forward to show Joanna a small, dark-haired infant swaddled in folds of soft linen.
"My daughter Gwenifer. Rhys always does hope the girls will have my coloring, and always in vain. This is the fifth time I've been brought to childbed, and each one has hair black as sin."
Joanna laughed. She'd all but forgotten how wonderful it was just to sit and talk, to make inconsequential, easy conversation. She had, of necessity, learned to tune out the disgruntled Blanche's litany of cornplaints, and her encounters with Llewelyn were so fraught with sexual tension that she could take little pleasure in them.
"Now ... do tell me how you like Wales. Llewelyn is well? I must confess that
I'm half in love with him, do not know a woman who is not, in truth! My husband may turn all female heads, but yours is the one they'd run off with if
. . ." Her words trailed off, for Joanna's color had deepened, dark patches showing high on her cheekbones. Catherine realized she had trod amiss, but she was puzzled as to how. Surely the girl knew she was but joking? Unless . . .
unless she knew about Cristyn? Catherine was now the one to be embarrassed, sought hastily for safer subject matter.
"Should you like, my lady, to hold Gwenifer? You do know, I'111 sure, that you have all our heartfelt prayers that you may soon have a babe of your own. It must weary you, in truth, to have the women ever

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suring your waistline, whispering if you so much as miss a meal!
111 jt is always so with newly wedded wives, and when your husband is Our lord
Prince..."
Joanna came to her feet so abruptly that she knocked her wine cup to the floor. Would she never learn? This woman was even more mali-
OUS than Maude de Braose and Gwenllian, for they at least had pre-
nded no friendliness. But Catherine drew blood with a smile, and for that, Joanna would never forgive her. "Your jest is little to my liking,"
she said, all the more furious that her voice was not as steady as she would have wished.
"But Madame . . . what have I said? How have I offended you?" Catherine, too, was on her feet now. Her distress seemed so genuine that Joanna felt the first glimmer of doubt.
"The entire court does know. Surely your husband would have told you . . ."
"Rhys never gossips," Catherine said simply. "I do not know of what you speak, my lady, I swear I do not."
For a long moment, Joanna stared at her, and then sat down again. "If I did missay you, I am indeed sorry. You see, I thought you were mocking me.
Llewelyn and I... we do not share a bed, and there is not a soul at Aber or
Rhosyr who does not know that..."
"I did not know, Madame," Catherine said, after some moments of silence. "That is not something Rhys would think to mention. It is not that unusual, after all, when the wife is quite young and her husband some years older than she."
Some of Joanna's shame gave way to gratitude. Whether Catherine believed that or not, it was kind of her to say so, and she was very much relieved when
Catherine began tactfully to talk of other matters.
Joanna was never able to pinpoint the exact moment when she let her defenses down. For the first time in five months she had a sympathetic ear, and it was perhaps inevitable that she would find herself confiding in Catherine, Catherine who spoke her own tongue, who knew what it was like to be a bride in a foreign land, Catherine who offered friendship. She did not lower all of the barriers, spoke of Llewelyn in only the most conventional, cautious banalities. But she did speak of her loneliness, her homesickness, spoke of the utter isolation and the cries of wolves on the wind and a forgotten fifteenth birthday.
There was a great relief in sharing; hers were secret sores much in need of healing balm. But there was unease, too, once she realized just °w much she'd revealed. Isabelle was the only confidante she'd ever . ' ar>d entrusting a secret to Isabelle was rather like toting water in a Ieve- Very thankful that her tongue had not completely run away with er< that she had not betrayed the one secret that truly mattered, Joanna

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watched as Catherine bathed Gwenifer, then turned the child over t the wet nurse for suckling. She'd always nursed her own, Catherin admitted, although the Lady Gwenllian and others mocked her for u S
would have suckled Gwenifer, too, had her fever not dried up her miix
Catherine was emerging as more and more of an enigma to Joanna She was, by her own admission, not educated. She'd made a self. disparaging remark about marriage portions when their conversation had turned to Margaret Corbet and
Gwenwynwyn, laughing and sayirw she'd brought Rhys naught but headaches.
Joanna had been distinctly taken aback; it was almost unheard of for a Norman lord to take an undowered wife. And if she was, in truth, no heiress, how in the name of Heaven had they even met, much less married?
"Catherine . . . would you think me rude if I asked how you came to marry Rhys?"
Catherine smiled. "I'd not mind in the least, Joanna. That is a story I never tire of telling. My first meeting with Rhys goes back some thirteen years, to the autumn of the year after King Richard was taken captive on his way home from the Holy Land. My father was bailiff on Lord Fitz Alan's manor of
Middleton, in Shropshire. I was the youngest of six, the only girl. My mother died when I was four, and my father made rather a pet of me; so, too, did my brothers. That spring I did turn fifteen, and it was more or less understood that, come winter, I'd be wed to a neighboring knight, Sir Bernard de Nevill.
He and my father were talking of a betrothal at Martinmas, a wedding after
Advent." "Were you willing, Catherine?"
"I was not offered a choice, Joanna. I felt it was my duty to do as my father bade me. And it was indeed an advantageous match. Sir Bernard held his own manor of Lord Fitz Alan; I'd be lady of the manor, with my own household and servants. And since Sir Bernard had no children b\ his first marriage, a son of mine might one day inherit the fief; not mam second wives could say as much. Moreover, he seemed to be a good man, a devout Christian, well thought of by all. But... he was also nigh on fifty, and balding, with breath rank enough to stop a mule in its tracks. So I'd not say I was counting the days till the marriage!" "What prevented the marriage?"
"A sunlit September day," Catherine said and laughed. "My brother Adam was taking an oxwain into Blanc Minster, had a load ot wool skeins to deliver to
Will the weaver. Blanc Minster was only three miles away, but I was never allowed into town without one of my brothers. On that particular day Adam agreed to take me along, and so' happened that I was sitting out in the oxwain at noon as Rhys rode byThe Welsh often came into Blanc Minster to trade for goods, and even111 war I never saw a merchant turn down their money. I did not kn°^
(coutM,th,,^-^rs°n'ythathewaslhehand"
then, of co h d to see in this lite. h ened then?"
^T-i^st-^^-^riSss somestmaui~:;; .
"He is that, Joanna agreed generously, wuai. "«rr "He drew rein right there in the street, stared at me, and when he "led I I fe^ m l°ve- But then ne dismounted, and 1 realized he nt to speak to me. At that I panicked.
If Adam had ever seen me IkinS with a stranger, I'd have been beaten black and blue. As for Rhvs Adam would have run him through ... or tried to. You can alavs tell if a man be handy with weapons, and Rhys had that look about him So when he started toward me, I scrambled off the oxwain, fled
- -- t^,^f;Dri ,-hat ne might follow me in. He did not, !- ^:j
4
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him',he weaver's. I was terrified that he mig tely/ he did
Lt e w- still there when ,*****/^feel his eyes on me all the butne
..!.:.,. HP inst looked at me. i LUU ar,vrme in all