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

1192WLV YILL was frowning as he followed a servant up the stairwell to his brother's chamber, dreading the scene that was sure to follow. He was almost tempted to stand aside, to let John rush headlong to his own destruction. Almost.His mouth softened somewhat at sight of the man and boy together on the settle. John was surprisingly good with children, could not be faulted when it came to the care of his own, and whenever Will found himself despairing of his brother's flexible measurements of morality, he took comfort in remembering how conscientious John was in acknowledging and providing for the children born of his bedsport. That was no small virtue to Will, himself born ofHenry's passing lust for a greeneyed milkmaid with well-turned ankles.He was as yet unnoticed. John was holding out his hands, fists clenched. "Now tell me, Richard. Which hand holds the fig?" The little boy pointed. "Sorry!This hand, then? No, wrong again. Where did it go? Ah, there it is ..."Reaching out, he seemed to find the fig behind the child's ear, to Will's amusement and Richard's utter delight."One more time, Papa!" he pleaded, as John turned at sound of Will's chuckle.For an unguarded moment, his face showed sudden unease, and then he smiled, beckoned Will into the room."'One more time,'" he mimicked. '"One more time.' Mayhap we ought to call you that rather than Richard!" He then plucked the fig from Richard's sleeve, while Will watched and wondered, not for the first time, what perverse impulse had prompted John to name his son after Ae brother he so hated. As with much of what John did, the answer eluded him. Will had long ago recognized that his imagination was rooted in barren soil; no matter how he strained, it brought forth only a

48meagre crop, never the sort of creative conjecture he'd have needed to track the twisting byways of his brother's brain.Richard was munching on the elusive fig; now he offered the un. eaten half first to John and then to Will, with a gravely deliberate courtesy that was both unexpected and poignant in one so very young. He was, Will knew, just shy of his third birthday, a date well etched in Will's memory because of the scandal attached to that birth. For Richard's mother was quite unlike John's other bedmates, was no impoverished knight's daughter, no Saxon maidservant.Alina was the daughter of Hamelin de Warenne, Earl of Surrey, half-brother toKing Henry, albeit baseborn.That was the first and only time Will could remember Henry showing concern for one of his sons' sexual escapades. He had even taken it upon himself to rebukeJohn for seducing a first cousin, a girl of high birth. Unfortunately, his own moral armor was particularly vulnerable to that very charge, and he succeeded only in arousing in John an indignation that was, Will conceded, not altogether unjustified. John's involvement with Alina was of minor moment, after all, when compared to Henry's seduction of the Princess Alais.Will did not like to think of Alais; he was by nature protective of women, and he could not deny that Alais had been ill used, first by his father and now byRichard. Sister to Philip, the French King, she had been betrothed to Richard in childhood and, at age seven, was sent to England to be reared at Henry's court in accordance with custom. It was hardly customary, though, Will thought grimly, for a man to bed his son's betrothed, and yet his father had done just that, had taken Alais to his bed when she was sixteen. It was scarcely surprising, Will acknowledged, that upon Henry's death Richard refused to honor the plight troth, telling Philip bluntly that he'd not wed his father's whore. Will saw no justification, however, for keeping Alais in close confinement, and yet for almost three years now, Richard had held Alais prisoner in Rouen.But Will had troubles enough of his own without taking on those of a captiveFrench Princess, and he shifted impatiently in his seat, waiting for John to send Richard off to bed so they could talk."You did that trick with the fig very adroitly. Where did you learn it?""From a juggler at the French court. He told me that I have a rare gift for sleight of hand!"John looked at him, eyes alight with laughter, and Will felt a dull ache, a wrenching realization that he was too late, years too late. Yet he had to try, and as soon as Richard's nurse came to collect the boy, he said very quietly, "John ... do not do this."

49"Do what, Will?""I know why you are here in Southampton. You mean to sail for F ance, to meet in Paris with the French King.""Is that why you came racing from London? Poor Will. . . you did bruise your bones for naught, in truth." John's smile was wry, faintly reproachful. "I am about to sail as soon as the weather does clear, but for Normandy, notFrance."He was more than plausible, he was thoroughly convincing, and he was lying.Will leaned over, grasped his wrist. "John, do not play me for a fool. You owe me better than that. If I cared enough to make an eighty-mile ride in weather as foul as this, then you can damned well hear me out!""All right, Will," John said slowly, taken aback by this uncharacteristic outburst. "What makes you think I mean to ally myself withPhilip?""Because Philip and Richard buried what was left of their friendship in theHoly Land. Because Richard is still in Acre and Philip is now back in Paris, nursing a mortal grudge. Because you'd barter your very soul for a chance to do Richard ill. Because Philip has of a sudden invited you to Paris. Need I go on?""If disliking Richard be grounds for accusing a man of conspiracy, I daresay you could implicate half of Christendom in this so-called plot," John scoffed."Richard endears himself easiest to those who've yet to meet him." Rising, he moved to