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

found out from someone else . .. That thought was frightening enough to give her courage, and she said abruptly, "Llewelyn, we must talk.""It will have to wait till night, breila. I've lost too many hours of daylight as it is."Joanna did not argue; a delay not of her own making was a reprieve she could accept in good conscience. "Tonight, then," she agreed. "You still have not told me how long you'll be at Dolwyddelan.""That will depend upon John," he said, and opened the door just as Ednyved came through the porch entranceway."Llewelyn, an Englishman has ridden in with a flag of truce and a right strange story. He says he has a message of urgency for you, that it comes fromJohn." "A royal courier?""No, that is what be so strange about it. He is not a courier at all, is a blacksmith from Shrewsbury. He claims he met John's courier in a Shrewsbury alehouse, that the man paid him to deliver John's message. Moreover, he insists upon telling his tale to you and only you. Do you want me to send him away?""No. Either he is telling the truth or he is willing to risk his life for a preposterous lie. Whichever it is, I want to know."Ednyved nodded. "I rather thought you would. He is waiting below."The man looked to be Llewelyn's age, in his late thirties, with the callused hands and heavily muscled forearms that were the inevitable badges of his trade. What was most distinctive about him was his extreme nervousness. He knelt, and when Llewelyn gestured for him to rise, he shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, darting sidelong glances from under lashes matted with dust and sweat, and then blurted out, thank you for seeing me, my lord. Men call meRalph the Smith, for a smithy in Shrewsbury, not far from the church of StAlkmund.'The information appeared gratuitous, but was not; Llewelyn un^ stood that the man was seeking to establish his credibility, showingI381he was, as a man of property, one deserving of belief. "I understand you have a message for me?""My lord, I must ask you to bear with me, let me tell it my way. I fear you'll not believe me unless I explain how I happened to come by what I know. This past Saturday I'd stopped in a riverside tavern for a few tankards of ale.There was a stranger there . . . half drunk, a talker. He said he was KingJohn's courier, and indeed he was wearing the King's livery. He was telling anyone who'd listen that the King had entrusted him with a message for you, a message he was loath to deliver. He was offering two pence to the man who'd take it for him, half now, half afterward. That was a day's wages, and I was not the only one who took an interest. But . . . but when he told us what the message was . " He paused, for the first time looked Llewelyn full in the face."It was not just the money, my lord. Not after I heard the message. You see, my first wife . . . she was of your blood. I am telling you this because . . .

because I want you to understand. It seemed to me that you had a right to know. I kept thinking of my own boy ..." His eyes were small and close-set, all but obscured by thick, shaggy brows, eyes brimming over with so much pity that Llewelyn's breath stopped."For Christ's sake, man, what do you have to tell me? Just say it!""Your son, my lordhe's dead. AH the hostages are dead. King John hanged them last Tuesday at Nottingham Castle."For a merciful moment, the words had no meaning for Llewelyn. But then his numbed brain absorbed the full impact of what he'd just been told. Gruffydd was dead. They were all dead. He'd given them up to John, and John had murdered them.He turned away, without purpose or direction, stumbled against the table. The trestle boards tilted, spilled over onto the floor. He stared down at the wreckage, at the shattered flagon, and then picked up one of the broken clay shards. It was sharp-edged, sticky with wine, beyond mending. He tightened his fingers around it, squeezing until Joanna's hand closed over his own."My love, you'll cut yourself," she pleaded, and he opened his fist, 'et the shard drop back into the floor rushes."He died because of me. They all did.""No, Llewelyn, that's not so!"'Gruffydd was sixteen," he said, as if she'd not spoken at all.orne of them were even younger. Twelve, thirteen. I thought . . .ought their youth would protect them, that John would be less likelyMaltreat youngsters" His voice thickened, broke. He pulled away r°m l°anna, walked rapidly from the chamber.''T 1Llewelyn, wait!" But when Joanna would have followed after him, nyved stepped in front of her, blocking her way.

382T383"Let him go, Joanna. You are the last one who can help him now.""I'm his wife!""You are also John's daughter."Joanna took a step backward, stared at him. "I see. So you believe it, too.Well, it is not true, Ednyved. It is not true!"Ednyved said nothing, but she saw his disbelief, and her eyes narrowed. "There is no evidence to support this man's story, none whatsoever. Have you not learned by now not to accept alehouse babble as gospel? You need only think upon the wild rumors that have been circulating all summer long. First we heard that the royal treasury at Gloucester had been plundered. But that turned out to be false, did it not? And then we got word that my father'sQueen had been abducted and raped, their baby son killed. But that was not true, either. It was no more than vicious gossip, tales spread by men with nothing better to do than give grief to the unwary." She drew a bracing breath, said, "And this ugly accusation is no different, Ednyved. This is no