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

or, with intimates, "Papa." Was it an unconscious, anguished attempt to distance herself from John? Or a desperate denial of a blood bond she knew he found abhorrent? He put his hands on her shoulders, said quietly, "Joanna, you do not understand how much I'd be asking of you. Do you truly think you could disavow a lifetime of love? That you could remember the frightened five-year-old who was taken to John at Rouen and then harden your heart against him?""Yes," Joanna whispered, and he tilted her face up, kissed her on the forehead."Beloved, I think not. I'm not even sure I'd have the right to expect that of you.""I give you the right. You are my life, you and our children. Why W'H you not believe me?"Ah, Joanna ... I want to believe you. But I know what we'd be facing. I know what our future would be likely to hold. You do not think hat John has abandoned his plans to claim Gwynedd for the crown?ere will never be peace between us, breila, not until one of us is dead.or now, John fears to cross into Wales, but he's dispatched the English et to blockade our coastal waters, and he's seeking to overthrow me1 n the aid of the sons of my uncles, Davydd and Rhodri. They've been eihng in English exile, and he hopes to make puppet Princes out of

408them, promising them most of Gwynedd if they lead a rebellion against me.""He offered them most of Gwynedd?" Joanna echoed, sounding so shocked that he felt the need to reassure her."You need not fear. There is a world of difference between being invested with possession in London and then taking possession in Gwynedd. John's grant is more symbolic than substantial, but it does show how utterly intent he is upon vengeance, upon seeing my head impaled on London's new bridge"Llewelyn broke off, for Joanna was no longer listening. She was staring past him with glazed amber eyes, and when he touched her shoulder, he found that her body had gone rigid with rage."Liar!" she spat. "That double-dealing liar! He promised me, he swore on his oath of honor that he'd safeguard Davydd's inheritance, that I need never fear for Davydd's future. And fool that I was, I believed him!""Does it truly surprise you so, Joanna? Davydd is my son." "He is my son, too. . . and John's grandson." To Joanna, it was the final betrayal. She turned away, moved to the window. Several of the nuns had gathered at a discreet distance. They were casting uneasy yet curious glances toward the Welshmen who were now loitering near the guest house, keeping an anxious vigil forLlewelyn. So turbulent had this past hour been that she'd all but forgotten the danger Llewelyn could be in, the risk he'd taken in coming into England.But the sight of his waiting men brought her fear back in a rush."Llewelyn, you must go!""I know." But he made no move to depart. Instead he stepped toward her, pulled her away from the window. "I do not mind you bedazzling my men, but I'd hate for you to disconcert those poor nuns!"It was not the realization that she was clad only in her chemise that brought the blood up into Joanna's cheeks, it was the unexpected amusement inLlewelyn's voice. She started to ask him how he could be joking now, of all times, when she saw what he had in his hand, her discarded gown."You'd best make haste to dress, breila. We've a long ride ahead 01us."She raised her eyes to his face, and then closed the space remaining between them. He drew her into his arms, for a brief moment held n close."My love, you will not be sorry. You will not ever be sorry.' ..Llewelyn could not share her certainty. "We'll try, Joanna," he softly. "At least we'll try."

HDOVER CASTLE, ENGLANDMay 1213UObSOMEWHERE a dog was howling, a forlorn, haunting plaint that echoed eerily upon the sea-misted air, rending the fabric of Gruffydd's troubled dreams and jarring him into abrupt, uneasy wakefulness. He dreaded nights like this, dreaded the solitude and the silence, the hours alone with his ghosts.He could think of few sounds as mournful as a dog's howling ... or as disquieting. All knew it to be an ill omen, a harbinger of coming woe, and he instinctively fumbled for his talisman, the agate stone that gave the wearer strength, valor, the fortitude to prevail against his enemies. His guards had long since stolen his rings; he'd managed, though, to conceal the agate in his clothing, and in the months since Nottingham, it had been a secret source of comfort, a tangible link with Gwynedd. But his fingers plucked in vain at the torn wool tunic, the begrimed shirt. Fully awake now, he remembered. The agate was gone, lost on the road to Dover.It was of no matter, he told himself resolutely. Dogs barked and men died, but the one happening need not presage the other. He lay back upon the pallet, began to whisper rapidly, "Sweet Lord Jesus derend me, grant me remission of all my sins and keep me from all peril. Lord, save me waking, save me sleeping, that I may sleep in peace and awake in Thee in the glory ofParadise." He felt better at that; soon after, he slept.When he awakened again, sun was seeking entry through the arw loops high above his head, and two men were standing over his Nlet with drawn swords.nsvver to John's urgent summons to arms, the men of England began gather in early May at Barham Downs in Kent. The response was

410heartening; the impending French invasion had vitalized public opinion inJohn's favor, and those unmoved by patriotism were motivated by the knowledge that to refuse to bear arms was to risk "perpetual servitude."For the past week John had been staying with the Knights Templar in Ewell, and it was to Ewell that Richard was returning on this Tuesday morning in mid-May.Chilham