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

his arm.The rain had ended before dawn, and sunlight was pouring in from every window.He moved from one to the other, pausing to drink from the flagon as he jerked the shutters into place, as the room darkened.The floor was littered with debris, with books and documents and broken clay fragments. He stumbled over a brass candelabra, sank to his knees midst the wreckage of his morning's work. The flagon was half empty by now; his head was spinning."Why, Will?" he whispered. "Name of God, why?"Johnny.He froze, the flagon halfway to his mouth.Thank God you've come, Johnny. Thank God.He could not see into the shadows. "Papa?" he said softly. "Papa?"Stay with me, Johnny. The pain is always worse at night. Stay with me.He grabbed for the flagon, drank deeply, spilling as much as he swallowed. "Idid not understand, Papa." His voice echoed strangely in his own ears, sounded muffled, indistinct. "I was but one and twenty. At that age, we think we'll live forever ..." He set the flagon down, waited. But no one answered him. His voices were silent, his ghosts in retreat.He was never to know how long he knelt there on the floor of his bedchamber, alone in the dark. When at last he lurched to his feet, he moved unsteadily toward the windows, fumbled with the shutters until the room was once more awash in sunlight.A book lay open, almost at his feet. He reached down, picked it up He took an uncommon enjoyment in reading, always carried books w« him, even on campaigns.This was one of his favorites, a French trans a tion of the Welsh legend ofKing Arthur; but several pages were tornthe cover smeared with ink. He blotted the ink as best he could with sleeve, replaced the book upon the table."Damn you, Will! I trusted you. More fool I, but I trulv trusted y°u'

483You think I'm beaten. You think Louis has won. Well, not yet. As Christ is my witness, not yet."41CIRENCESTER, ENGLANDSeptember 1216"IL UNDERSTAND you will not be staying with us after all, Madame?"Isabelle did not enjoy the company of clerics. Too often she found them dour and disapproving, for if women were all daughters of Eve, born to lead men astray, a woman as worldly as Isabelle must be the very incarnation ofJezebel. But Alexander Neckam was no unlettered village priest. He was Abbot of the prosperous Augustinian abbey of St Mary, a man erudite and cultured, a man entitled to royal courtesy, and she found a smile for him."No, I regret not. My lord husband the King has decided it is too dangerous for me to accompany him any farther, and my son and I will be returning toCorfe whilst he goes to raise the siege of Windsor Castle.""We heard the King spent part "of the summer along the Marches. Was he able to win over the Welsh?""He did hire some Welsh men-at-arms, but he had no luck with the "elshPrinces, with Llewelyn or Maelgwn. Nor with Reginald de Braose."Neckam seemed to sense her preoccupation, for he made no at*jmpt to prolong their conversation, but murmured, instead, of duties sewhere. She was not long alone, however; Richard was coming upPathway. Falling into step beside her, he followed her into the abbey gardens..aome yards to their right, John was walking with his son. When ar"started toward them, Isabelle laid a restraining hand on his arm.

"No," she said. "Give them time to say their farewells. And wh'l still alone, tell me the truth. Can John win?" ' st We're"Had you asked me that in June, I'd have said no. Now not so sure. There are straws in the wind, a growing discontent °^'m French. Some of the rebel barons are belatedly beginning to r '^e realitythat should Louis prevail, they'll have a French King a p^nKe court. Already they're seeing what that would mean;each tim f^ has taken a castle, he's given it to one of his French followers Li*"5 know no man more dangerous to underestimate than my father "Isabelle nodded. "When I'm with John, I cannot but believe th will prevail against his enemies, that all will be well for us. But wh * we're apart, I...I lose faith. I think of what could happen to us sho IH evil befall John, andI become so frightened, Richard, so""Mama!" Henry was running toward them. "Papa says he's eom to give me one of his falcons! Papa, you'll not forget?"John, following at a more sedate pace, smiled and shook his head "I'll give the order tonight, Henry. Richard . . . I've decided I do not want you to come with me. I'd rather you escort Isabelle and Henry back to Corfe, then return to Wallingford Castle, hold it for me till further notice.""If that is truly your wish, Papa."Turning, then, toward the child, John smiled again at his son "Henry, stay here and talk to your brother. I want a few words alone with your lady mother ere you depart."Taking Isabelle aside, John led her toward a trellised arbor As soon as they were within, Isabelle moved into his arms. The air was sunwarmed, fragrant with honeysuckle; she could almost convince herself that summer was not dying."I'm so glad I had these ten days with you But. . . but when will we see each other again?""I do not know," John admitted. "Louis has been besieging Dover Castle for some six weeks now, but to no avail. Windsor, Lincoln, and Barnard castles are also under siege. If they can hold out for meIsabelle shivered. "You must promise me, promise you'll take care John, I...I'd be lost without you!"Her fear was more than disheartening, it was contagious. Jo " tightened his arms around her, kissed her on the mouth, the throa . ^ clung to him, but without passion, and when he kissed her againtasted her tears. j |S."Papa!" The voice was Henry's, high-pitched, excited. John an ^ abelle moved apart, moved back into the sun. Henry was sp ^ toward