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

when neither offered expressions of sympathy or commiseration."I must have been gone several hours. Has there been any further word from our scouts?""Nothing. More and more, it looks as if John means to delay the invasion, Llewelyn."Ednyved was holding out a large goblet. Llewelyn caught the strong odor of fermented honey, and shook his head. "No mead. Not yet." After some moments of silence, he said, "On the morrow I must begin telling the parents of the hostages that their sons are dead. It would mean much to me, Ednyved, if you were with me."Ednyved drew a sudden, sharp breath. "Ah, Llewelyn . . ." He coughed unconvincingly, and then said brusquely, "You do not have to do that. I'll take care of it for you."Their eyes met, held. Llewelyn slowly shook his head. "No, Ednyved, I do have to do that," he said, and the other man nodded."I've sent for Rhys and Catrin." He hesitated. "Did Joanna find you?""Yes," Llewelyn said, "she did." He sank down in the closest chair* began to fondle Math's thick sable fur. The dog had been swimmingin the river, and his legs were caked with dried mud, his tail matted wi' burrs. Llewelyn found himself remembering how Gruffydd wou groom the alaunt by the hour, wielding his brush until Math's coa shone like ebony. "Morgan . . . fetch my daughters."

3S5"Would you rather I told them, Llewelyn?""No. This, too, I have to do." Llewelyn glanced up at the priest. "It vvas in this same chamber that I had to tell Gruffydd his mother was dead. He was just five."Morgan's throat constricted. "I know there are times, lad, when God's ways must seem""No, not God, Morgan . . . John." No more than that, but on his lips a commonChristian name became an unspeakable obscenity, became a vow of vengeance rooted not in reason, but in blood.As Morgan opened the door, they heard footsteps on the outer stairs. Llewelyn stiffened at the sound. It was a shock to realize that the person he most loved was suddenly the person he least wanted to see.But it was not his wife who entered; it was his fourteen-year-old daughter.Gwladys was panting so, she could hardly speak. She stumbled into the chamber, clutched at a chair for support."Papa . . . there's an Englishman in the great hall. I overheard him saying .. . saying that. . . Papa, it's not true? Gruffydd, he's not dead?" Her eyes searched Llewelyn's face. "No . . . no, Papa, no!"Llewelyn reached her as she began to scream, caught her to him and held her as she wept. But he had no comfort for her, no more than on the morrow, when he would have to face the parents of the other murdered boys."MADAME, thank God Almighty! I've been so uneasy. Where were you?""Where?" Joanna gestured vaguely. "I think . .. down there. By the river.""Madame . . . are you all right?"Joanna nodded, not convincing Branwen in the least. Her shyness notwithstanding, Branwen could be very stubborn. "Are you sure, Madame? In truth, you look ill." But Joanna seemed not to hear. She was turning away asCatherine and Rhys rode through the gateway into the bailey.Catherine did not wait for her husband's assistance. Sliding from the saddle, she ran toward Joanna, disregarded protocol, and embraced her as a sister."Joanna, what can I say?" Catherine's fair skin was splotched, the lue eyes reddened and puffy. "I still cannot believe it. Where is Llewelyn?<<Joanna was reluctant to admit she did not know, and she was gratewhen Branwen said, "He is in his chamber, Lady Catrin." °y now Rhys had reached them.Tragedy had not made him any the

386less taciturn; he greeted Joanna with his usual economy, moved toward the stairs. Catherine started to follow and then stopped, looked back over her shoulder."Joanna, are you not coming?" And when Joanna shook her head she hastily retraced her steps. "Dearest, I do not understand. If ever Llewelyn needed you, it is now.""He ... he does not want me there, Catherine."The other woman stared at her. "Joanna, what are you saying?""He believes it, Catherine, truly believes my father hanged Gruffydd and the other hostages. I could not bear to see him hurting so, and I tried to tell him, to make him see it was not true. But then he told me ... he told me, Catherine, that my father starved Maude de Braose to death."She saw first horror on Catherine's face, and then pity, and she said tautly, "You need not look at me like that, Catherine. It is not true.""Joanna . . . Joanna, I know naught of politics. If you say it is not true, Iwant to believe you. But would Llewelyn lie?"Joanna shook her head wearily. "He is not lying, Catherine. He believes it to be true. I know it is not, but I cannot convince him of that." Tears were spilling down her face. She made no attempt to wipe them away.JOANNA awoke with a gasp, did not at once remember where she was. She sat up, feeling queasy and disoriented. Beside her, Davydd and Elen slept soundly; in the other bed, Catherine lay between Joanna's stepdaughters, Marared andGwenllian. Joanna rose quietly from the bed, stood looking down at Catherine.Catherine's coming had been a godsend; she'd been remarkably successful in consoling Gruffydd's sisters. Joanna had ached for the bewildered children, but she knew she'd been of little help to them. In the past twelve hours her sense of reality had become hopelessly distorted; she felt as if her emotions were somehow sealed off, under glass and beyond reach.She did not remember the dream that had so frightened her, was thankful she did not. Moving to the table, she poured herself some wine, noting with odd detachment that her hands were shaking. She wore several rings; without stopping to think what she did, she slipp6" one from her finger, laid it upon the table. It was topaz and silver, a long-ago gift