Here Be Dragons - 1 by Sharon Penman (best inspirational books txt) 📕

herself up awkwardly on her elbows, he gathered her gently into his arms."The baby . . . where is he? Has he been fed?""He is fine, breila." Seeing the doubt in her eyes, he beckoned, and a wet nurse approached the bed, gave Joanna her sleeping son."You've arranged for the christening, Llewelyn?" she asked anxiously, not wanting to wait a moment longer than necessary to put her child under God's protection, and he nodded."This evening in the chapel; I'll tell you about it after. Catrin has come;she rode in just after you fell asleep. I've asked her to stand as godmother, and as godfathers, Adda and Richard. Does that please you?""Very much." Joanna cradled the baby, touched a finger to his cap of dark, feathery hair. "But ere he can be christened, we must pick a name for him.Have you one in mind?""If you like, we could call him Sion."Joanna drew a sharp breath. "Ah, love, you'd truly do that for me? Le* me name him after my father?" She reached for his hand, saw the scratches she'd inflicted, sought feverishly to think, to give him a gift of equal generosity.What name would be most likely to please him? It was ot a common custom amongst the Welsh to name a son after the father, 'owerth? Morgan?And then she knew, and she smiled at him, said softly, "I do thank p . '"eloved. But there can be but one name for our son, for a WelshCe- We must name him after the most cherished of your saints, we ' Ust name him Davydd."

296BEYOND the castle, the world was utter blackness, the sky a vast, starles void. Gruffydd was blinded by the night, kept stumbling, and his fac and the palms of his hands were soon scratched from sprawling fau into the tangled underbrush. But he did not slow, did not halt his head long flight into the dark.He ran until his body could absorb no more abuse, and he stag gered, fell to his knees, struggling to fill his lungs with the ice-edged November air. Asharp, pulsing pain was pressing against his ribs, and he dropped down upon the ground, lay panting, his face pressed into the earth. The ground was damp, cold, scattered with dead and decaying leaves. He could feel sweat trickling down his neck, and then tears seeping through his lashes and searing his skin.He beat his fist against the hard, unyielding earth until his knuckles were raw and bleeding, until he wept.^5WOODSTOCK, ENGLANDOctober i2og a«TTJLJ.ARRI, throw the ball to me. Brysivxh, Harri!"Joanna, listening to her children play with Isabelle's two sons, found herself smiling, amused both by her small daughter's queenly commands and by the way she switched back and forth from French to Welsh. Henry was, at two, the oldest of the quartet, but he did Elen s bidding no less promptly than her brother. Davydd was normally Elen s favorite playmate, but he showed no resentment at being supplanted by Henry, played with his own ball untilRichard crawled over, made a" awkward grab for it.Isabelle sighed, bracing herself for the inevitable squabble, to followed by tantrums and tears, but Joanna knew better; she felt surprise when Davydd good-naturedly rolled the ball toward the yo

297boy. "He has ever been like that," she said proudly, "ever been 'lling to share. Unlike Elen, whose first word was 'mine'!" "She is rather an imp, is she not? Not like you at her age, I'll wager!"Joanna laughed ruefully, gave her dark-haired little daughter a look f bemused affection. "Lord, no. She must take after her father, for she urely does not take after me. You'd not believe the trouble she gets nto and still a fortnight from her second birthday. But she is clever, Isabelle, so clever; do you know she talks to me in French and Llewelyn in Welsh?"The children's wet nurses had now entered Isabelle's chamber, and the game was forgotten; all four were still suckling, and would be until oast their second birthdays. Joanna watched as they were ushered toward the far end of the chamber, said, "This has been such a good year, the best I can remember:Llewelyn agreeing to pass Easter with papa at Northampton; getting to see you and Papa again just six months later; above all, Papa forgiving Llewelyn for going into Powys as he did. As much as I dread to see Llewelyn ride off to war, I was almost pleased when Papa wanted him to join the campaign against the Scots. I felt that might well mend the rift between them. And it did, showed Papa that Llewelyn does mean to hold to his oath of allegiance.""That was a marvelous war, was it not? The best kind, brief and bloodless and oh, so profitable! John was right pleased, says those who call the Scots King'William the Lion' ought better to call him 'the Lamb'!""What shall be done with William's daughters, Isabelle? The ones he was forced to yield up to Papa as hostages?""They shall be well treated, kept at court. John never maltreats women; look how he provides for his niece, Eleanor of Brittany, sees that she has whatever she wants.""All save freedom," Joanna said sadly. "She was about seven years older than I, which would now make her twenty-five or so. By that age, most women have husbands, children . . ." She did not go on. She did not blame her father, understood he had no choice. But it hurt, nonethe-ess/ to think of her cousin's gilded confinement at Bristol Castle, and s * sought hastily for another topic of conversation. She'd been some-at taken aback by the luxury of Isabelle's chamber. She and John*ere not at Woodstock all that frequently, yet the walls had been inscoted with fir shipped from Norway, painted a brilliant green and' ar>d the windows were glazed, set with costly white glass panes."f chamber is a marvel, Isabelle. Papa does right by you,