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

to want Gruffydd dead," he said impatiently."Good reason.""But she does not want him to die, Papa. I know, for she asked me to protect him if I could."John turned to stare at his son; his surprise was genuine. "You truly think she'd want me to spare him?""Yes, Papa, she would.""I cannot for the life of me understand why! I do owe Joanna a debt, but ..."He fell silent, began to reread his daughter's letter. He was rememberingLlewelyn's surrender at Aberconwy, envisioning himself in Llewelyn's place, delivered into Llewelyn's hands by his own barons. It was a thought to make him flinch. Richard's words came back to him now: "To have leverage like that over an enemy . . .""Has Maelgwn's son been hanged yet?" he asked unexpectedly, and Richard gave a baffled nod. "I think so, Papa. Why?""I was just wondering how the other Welsh Princes would react, if 'heir sons were hanged and Llewelyn's alone was spared. I'd like to see him try to explain that to Maelgwn, in truth I would!" John said and 'aughed grimly."Very well, Richard. Mayhap you're right, mayhap 'here's more to be gained by keeping the whelp alive. Tell the hangman tlus one fish is off the hook. For now."LOOD of Christ!" Richard stood motionless in the doorway, shocked at oW ofGruffydd. The boy's face was covered with welts and bruises;

376one eye was swollen shut; dried blood had encrusted a gash across hi forehead, matted his hair. He shrank back as the door opened, strue gled to sit upright.Richard had once come across a snared wildcat, crouched to earth spitting fear and defiance as the huntsman moved in for the kill. He savy that same terrified rage now on Gruffydd's face, knew it would be a memory to trouble his sleep in nights to come. He had ever prided himself upon his analytical turn of mind. But however neglected his imagination was in consequence, he did not need to be told what the past three hours must have been like forGruffydd, listening as his comrades were dragged to their deaths, expecting at any moment his own summons to the gallows, and he said furiously, "Who told you whoresons to maltreat him like this? And why is he gagged?""We had to, lord. It was the only way to shut him up. He got right abusive. As for his hurts "the man pointed to his own blackened eye "in truth, he gave as good as he got.""Hand me a flask," Richard demanded, and he knelt by Gruffydd, removed the rag they'd stuffed into his mouth. "Here," he said, "drink."Gruffydd did, swallowing in gulps as if he could never get enough. At last he took one final mouthful, raised up and spat it into Richard's face.Richard recoiled, and then raised his arm, slowly and deliberately wiped his face on his sleeve. "I came to tell you," he said, "that you will not be hanged."Gruffydd did not react like one reprieved. His lips were drawn back from his teeth, and his unswollen eye blazed with such feverish hatred that Richard realized further conversation would be pointless. There was nothing he could say that Gruffydd would believe, and he sighed, reached for his dagger.Gruffydd gasped, tried to squirm out of range. Richard had no liking forGruffydd, but at that moment he found himself pitying Llewelyn's son as he'd never pitied anyone before. "I'll not hurt you, Gruffydd. I mean only to cut your bonds."Leaning over, he slashed at the ropes binding the boy's wrists, and then hastily backed away. "I'll see that you're given balm for your bruises . . .and some wine."Gruffydd made no response, and Richard beckoned to the guards, moved to the door. "I do not expect you to believe me," he said slowly' "but you'll not be harmed." Knowing that he lied, that Gruffydd had already suffered harm beyond healing.Gruffydd did not move, did not reply, and Richard lingered a n'O ment longer, then closed the door quietly behind him. At that, Grufty

377--rambled (0 his feet, grabbed for the tableboards, and tried to barricadeSfre door. But it was a futile effort and he knew it. He slumped down on he bed, massaged the rope burns on his wrists, and listened for returnjpg footsteps.It was a long time before he let himself believe that Richard had not re(j that they would not be coming back for him. It was even longer before he could nerve himself to stand up, to walk to the window.Below him the bailey was drenched in hot summer sun. A breeze had sprung up from the east, and the bodies swinging from the gallows were swaying gently back and forth. Gruffydd stood motionless, stared down at the slowly twisting bodies until the gallows blurred in a haze of hot tears.JOHN moved over to a table, selected a morsel of meat, and tossed it to one of the castle dogs. He and his son were alone in the hall; he had not even allowed the servants in to clean up, and the tables still gave cluttered testimony to their interrupted meal. He threw the dog another tidbit, said, "You might as well be the first to know. I'm calling off the Welsh campaign... at least for now. I cannot risk going into Wales until I'm sure I'd not be betrayed.""I think that's most wise, Papa." Ah, Joanna, you truly did it, lass. You won a war. But not a victory the Welsh will ever want to celebrate. Richard glanced over his shoulder, toward the bailey. Jesu, no.A glimmer of silver caught Richard's eye. Bending down, he scooped up a handful of pennies, for a moment studied them in puzzlement. And then he understood. This was the money John had ordered given to Joanna's messenger.He fingered the coins and then let them drop, one by one, back into the floor rushes."Since you mean to delay the Welsh invasion, you will not have any need of me for a while, then?""Mayhap not. Why?""Conisbrough Castle is