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

hanged.54PORCHESTER, ENGLANDJanuary 1214As-ZTxs she rode through the Land Gate into the outer bailey of PorchesterCastle, Eleanor heard the murmurs of the watching soldiers, heard herself identified as "the Breton wench," as 'the King's captive niece." None accorded her the titles that were hers by right, Duchess of Brittany and Countess ofRichmond, the titles that had passed to her on the death of her brotherArthur.Upon her entrance into the keep, she was greeted warmly by her uncle's wife, and although she sensed that Isabelle's affection was a counterfeit coin, no more than good manners, she was grateful, nonetheless, for such a welcome.John saw to it that she had soft linen sheets, 8°wns of velvet and silk, dinner tables laden with fine wines, richlyPiced venison, and fresh fish, but she was starved for friendship, for love.Following Isabelle up the stairwell into the solar, she knelt submis-, ¥ before John, steeled herself for his kiss. August would mark the elfth year of her comfortable confinement at Bristol Castle, and in all

420T421that time not once had John ever raised his voice to her. He did not have to;he could chill Eleanor to the depths of her being with his smile. She sometimes wondered if he knew how much she feared him, but she found it impossible to read those enigmatic hazel eyes.She recognized most of the men attending her uncle: her baseborn cousinsRichard and Oliver Fitz Roy, the Earl of Pembroke, the swarthy Earl ofChester, who had for a brief time been her stepfather, for the old King Henry had compelled her mother to wed Chester after her father's tournament death.But they had never lived as man and wife, and Eleanor had no childhood memories of Chester, knew he was indifferent to her fate. She had no champions at her uncle's court, had none anywhere. Her brother and mother were dead, her friends silenced. She had a younger half-sister, Alice, child of her mother's third marriage to a Poitevin nobleman, but Alice had wed a cousin of theFrench King, and they now ruled Brittany at Philip's pleasure, had a vested interest in Eleanor's continuing captivity. There was no one to speak for her, and well she knew it."I've heard men call you 'the pearl of Brittany/ and now I know why."The speaker was unknown to Eleanor, a dark, raffish-looking man with bold, appraising eyes that tracked the curves of her body with obvious intent.Eleanor felt her face grow hot; she was as flustered as a shy seventeen-year-old, for time had frozen for her on an August afternoon atMirebeau, and at an age when other women had long since been wedded and bedded, she still knew no more of men and the world than would a young novice nun.The man seemed amused by her embarrassment. Before she could pull back, he caught her hand and brought it to his mouth. "Since your uncle the King swearsI'm not to be trusted with any woman who has not taken holy vows, I doubt that he'll introduce us. So I'd best do it myself. I am Reginald de Dammartin, Count of Boulogne. Welcome, my lady, to Porchester.""And now that you've met her, you may bid her farewell," Jorm said dryly, thus sparing Eleanor the need to reply. Rising, he linked his arm in Eleanor's, led her toward the window seat. "Come, Nell, sit here beside me so we may talk."The familiar family name stung. So, too, did his protectiveness. He never teased her, never turned upon her the sarcasm, the mordant blac humor that she'd so often seen him turn upon others. And Eleano found his kindness harder to bear than cruelty."Have you heard that I sail next week for La Rochelle?"Eleanor nodded. "Your daughter Joanna writes to me from tun rime. She to'd me tnat you mean to regain Normandy and Poitou from the FrenchKing.""You've heard from Joanna? Is she well?"Eleanor was surprised by the urgency of the query, but again she nodded."Quite well, and thankful for the truce that exists between her husband andYour Grace."John's mouth thinned, for the truce with the Welsh Princes had not been of his choosing, had been brought about at the insistence of Stephen Langton, Archbishop of Canterbury. But he'd had just one terse letter from Joanna in the past twelvemonth, and he interrogated Eleanor now at some length, seeking reassurance that his daughter was truly well, that her prolonged silence was indicative only of Llewelyn's rancor.Eleanor caught the undertones of unease, but she did not comprehend the cause.She wondered why he had sent for her. She wondered, too, if she would ever find the courage to confront him about her brother's death, to demand that he tell her how Arthur had died.Satisfied at last that she had no more to tell him about Joanna, John said, "My brother Will has already sailed for Flanders, where he'll be joined byDammartin and my sister's son Otto, the Holy Roman Emperor. For my part, I

shall land at La Rochelle. Once I've secured Poitou and Anjou, we'll be able to move against Philip on two fronts." "God grant you victory, Uncle." Why was he telling her this? Reginald de Dammartin sauntered over, held out a dripping wine cup to John. "When you begin husband-hunting for her, John, remember thatI put in my bid first.""I would, Reg," John said and grinned. "But I think your wife might take it amiss."Eleanor was dumbfounded. "Husband-hunting?" she echoed. "Uncle, what does he mean?"John did not reply at once, studying her over the rim of his cup. She sharedArthur's coloring, he thought, but little else. Arthur had been too brittle to bend, but Nell was malleable clay; rebellion was not in her. Well, you can hardly expect to rule Brittany without a husband to give y°u support and guidance, can you?" PIanor seemed dazed; she could only stare at him in disbelief.ouyou mean to recognize my claim to the Breton throne?" No ner were the words out of her mouth than the full implications