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

that "the Welsh returned joyfully to their homes, but the French, driven out of all their holds, wandered hither and thither like birds in melancholy wise."RARELY had a winter been so mild. The sea was a placid blue, and the beach glistened like powdered crystal, more than justifying Tywyns namea shining seashore. Alison spun around in an exuberant circle/ arms and skirts flying."It feels verily like spring, Madame!"Joanna, too, was enjoying the warmth of the sun on her tac "Davydd? Would you like to help me build a sand castle? Davydd . what's wrong?"Davydd was cradling his arm at an awkward angle. "I fell/ ^T-j Joanna experienced a dizzying jolt of panic at first sight of the o soaking her son's tunic, but a hasty examination of his injury reass ^ her that although the cut was deep, it was not serious. Alison wa ready unfastening her veil, andJoanna's bodyguard was holding °

473daKKer- Slicing Davydd's sleeve, Joanna tied a makeshift bandage and then, seeing that Davydd was on the verge of tears, she said swiftly, "Do jou know why you bled when you cut yourself on that shell? There are conduits in your arm, called veins, which carry the blood from your liver."As she had hoped, that interested Davydd. "Where's my liver, Ma"ia?""I'm not truly sure; near your stomach, I think. I do know it is the source for love and carnal lust." She had an inspiration then, and jerked off her own veil. "Here," she said, and fashioned for her son a sling. "Now you look like a soldier coming home from the war. Do you think you can walk back to the monastery? If not, I can send Marc to fetch your pony.""I can walk, Mama." Davydd handed Alison his collection of shells, and they started across the sand. Joanna had laughed when Llewelyn once asked her ifDavydd was not too quiet for his age; with her, the boy was rarely still, was a veritable fount of questions and queries and curious non sequiturs. His injury had not bridled his tongue any, and he soon transformed their walk into an inquisition, wanting to know what caused high tide, why blood was red, why love sprang from the liver and not from the spleen, as laughter did."Show some mercy; one question at a time!" Davydd grinned. "All right. Are there elephants in England?" Joanna sighed; elephants were Davydd's newest passion, and he could happily discuss their odd ways for hours on end. "No, Ithink not. Elephants live only in faraway lands like Ethiopia and India." "Are there dragons in England, then?"So it was not elephants at all; it was England. "There have been reports ofEnglish dragons, but I've never met anyone who actually saw one, Davydd.""Uncle Rhys told me he heard of a place in England, called Stroke or Stripe, where men are born with tails. Is that true, Mama?"Joanna laughed. "You mean Strood, in Kent. That's but a folktale. trood is close by Rochester Castle, and I was often there with my fawer. But I saw nary a single tail!"Davydd looked disappointed. "Mayhap they hide their tails in their nics.' He stOppecj to pick up a shell. "Rochester Castle ... is that not "here the fighting was?"c J^nna nodded. "But the fighting is over now at Rochester." The ^ e had been surrendered to the King after a seven-week siege. 'The ^ has headed north, into Yorkshire. The rebels are allied with Alex-«nd *' *e Scots King/ anc* some °f tnem even d'd homage to him for "iNorthumbria. Alexander has been raiding over the border, andA

474my father wants to drive him back into Scotlandalso to punish the rebels."How much more should she tell him? She'd vowed that she'd not keep anything from her children again, but how much truth could a seven-year-old handle? DidDavydd need to know that John's army was wreaking bloody vengeance upon theNorth? Did he need to know that rebel manors were being torched, livestock slain, that terrified towns were offering John lavish sums to be spared the fate of Berwick upon Tweed, burned to the ground, its citizens slaughtered?"Is it a bad war, Mama?""To me, all wars are bad, Davydd, but that is a woman's view. In war, soldiers sometimes do great evil, and the innocent suffer. It need not always be that way, though. Your father controlled his men at Shrewsbury. But my father would notor could notcontrol his men at Berwick, and many people died.""Will the King win his war with the barons?""I'm not sure, Davydd. Your father says the odds are in his favor, since his army is made up of mercenaries, routiers. They're seasoned soldiers, you see, men who earn their living by their swords. Llewelyn thinks my father is likely to prevail, unless the French give substantial aid to the rebels. They have offered the crown to Louis, the French King's son, but Philip is loath to incur the Pope's wrath again. Whilst he did allow Louis to send seven thousandFrench troops to London, he is discouraging Louis from coming over himself, and that is what the rebels truly need, a Prince they can rally around."Davydd slanted her a sidelong glance. "Mama ... do you want the King to win?"It had not escaped Joanna that Davydd invariably referred to John as "theKing," never as "your father." She knew the little boy was confused by her relationship to John, but she did not want to lie to him, and she said slowly, "You know that John has committed grievous sins. But he is still my father, Davydd, and so I have to say yes, I do hope he will prevail over the rebels.""But. . . but what if he wins, and then he makes war on Papa?"He'd gone unerringly to the heart of Joanna's dilemma. But as she looked into his upturned face, she suddenly realized what he was really asking, realized how threatened he felt by her kinship to the Englist1 King. "I would hope it never comes