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

years older than she."John." Isabelle had followed him. Stopping a few feet away, she pleaded, "John, please, we have to talk. You have to tell me if you truly meant what

you said, if you truly doubt that this babe be yours."John had picked up a handful of pebbles. Now he let them drop, one by one, watched the pond's peaceful surface fragment, rippling outward in ever-widening circles. "No," he said at last, "I did not mean it. I know the babe is mine."Isabelle had not realized she'd been holding her breath. "Thank God," she sighed, utterly without irony. Her fear had been too great to allow her now the indulgence of resentment or outraged innocence, not when she thought ofEleanor's sixteen bitter years as Henry's prisoner, of Ingeborg's twelve wretched years in Etampes Castle, of the sinister silence that seemed to fall whenever mention was made of Maude de waose and her disappearance into aWindsor dungeon."If the babe is a girl," John said, after some moments of strained silence, "we'll name her Isabelle."Isabelle smiled wanly. "I should like that." Her fingers encircled her J^nst, lingered over the darkening bruises, and then she moved toward hlm, into his arms."Promise me, John, that you'll never again doubt my love for you.""I want to believe you," he confessed. She seemed about to speak;91 K"er hps parted, he brought his mouth down on hers. "If I thought y°u d ever taken another man to your bed, Isabelle ..."

430"I love you, only you." Her voice was husky, beguilingly soft. But her lashes had swept downward, veiling her eyes, her thoughts, and John felt a throb of fear. How would he ever know if she was lying or not? How could he ever be sure?THE dawn sky on Wednesday, July 2, was a sun-glazed, boundless blue in which a solitary eagle soared high above John's siege encampment at Roche-au-Moine. As men rolled, yawning, from their blankets, they gazed upward, took the eagle's flight as a good omen, for all knew that the eagle was king amongst birds, that old King Henry of blessed memory had ofttimes spoken of his sons as his eaglets. The sudden appearance of a golden eagle over the King's camp could only mean that he would prevail against the French King's son, that the day's victory would be theirs.For a fortnight now, John had been besieging the castle of Rocheau-Moine, just a few miles to the north of Angers. Barricaded within its keep was William desRoches, Philip's Seneschal for Anjou, the same William des Roches who'd turned against John after Mirebeau. John's campaign had met with unqualified success to date; he'd won over the de Lusignans, captured castles and the strategic city of Angers, and his army had been swelled by the ranks of the Poitevin barons. When word came that Philip's son Louis was hastening north to desRoches's rescue, he chose not to lift the siege, chose instead to meet theFrench forces on the field of battle.His scouts had reported that the French were approaching from the southeast, and the men now staring up at the circling eagle knew that battle was likely to be joined under that cloudless summer sky, that some among them would never see another dawning day. They were much heartened, therefore, when the eagle swooped lower, hovered for a moment above the tent of the English King.Within, John was trapped in a dream of familiar horror, in which the very real fears of day merged with the secret terrors of the night, and he found himself naked and defenseless before his enemies, abandoned even by God."My liege?"His eyes flew open; he looked up into the frightened face of a young squire.The boy backed away from the bed. "Forgive me, my liege/ tm you cried out...", "No matter, Simon, no matter." As John started to sit up, he fou he was entangled in the bedcovers. He signaled for wine, wiped sweat from his face with the corner of the sheet. He wondered «

431servants gossiped among themselves, swapped stories of the King's troubled dreams, knew they did Rumor was a servant's coinage, lav-ishly spentHe could hear voices beyond the inner partition, the excited, uneasy laughter of men girding themselves for battle He shared their unease, but not their excitement, for he had no love of war, no lust for battle glory He had never been able to comprehend what perverse pleasure his brother Richard found on the battlefield, and when he fought, it was only because he could get what he wanted no other wayThe squire was back, offering bread sopped in wine "An eagle alighted upon your tent this morn, lord, in sight of all1""Did it indeed7" John grinned, and the lingering darkness of his dream fled before the sunlight flooding his tent "When Louis sent me his challenge, Simon, I replied that the sooner he came to Roche-auMome, the sooner he'd regret it Today I shall make good my promise " And while there was a touch of bravado in that, it was also the pragmatic assessment of a battle commander who had picked the site, made the enemy come to him, and knew that numerical supenonty was hisThe Earl of Chester was waiting for John, shared his breakfast as John was being armed"I understand couriers arrived with letters last night Did Your Grace hear from Flanders, from your brother Salisbury and Dammartin7"John shook his head "I regret not, can only assume that they are still waiting for Otto and the Rhmeland Princes to join forces with them I did hear from England, though ""From Pembroke7"The Earl of Pembroke had remained behind in England, he and Peter des Roches, Bishop of Winchester, now John's Justiciar, had been entrusted with the government Now John shook his head again "No, 'he last letter I had fromPembroke spoke of his suspicions that Fitz Walter and de Vesci were stirring up trouble with the malcontent barons °f the North No surprise, that, when they refused to take part