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

Llewelyn said, "What would you or Rhys..."He regretted the impulse in mid-sentence, let the words trail off into oblivion. Ednyved stopped, gave him a pensive, searching look. "I've thought on that," he conceded. "I daresay there's not a man at your court who has not.I suspect Rhys would have slain them both, Catrin and her lover. I'd have hanged the man, divorced Gwenllian." He paused. "But then Rhys loved Catrin too much, and I love Gwenllian too little."Llewelyn said nothing. Ednyved reached for the door latch, glanced back over his shoulder. "I'd not presume to advise you, Llewelyn. But whatever you decide, my friend, do it soon. One way or another, lay your ghosts to rest."Llewelyn stood motionless in the center of the room, staring at the bed, the bed in which Joanna had lain with Will de Braose. Or had she? He swore under his breath. The silence was illusory; so, too, was ^s solitude. He swore again. "Lay my ghosts to rest. Christ, if only I could ..."

i6LLANFAES, NORTH WALESJanuary 1251I OANNA drew the shutter back, gazed up at a sky opaque and dark. Clouds had begun to drift over the island shortly after dusk.It was unseasonably mild for late January, and the air was damp and drizzly.She caught muffled echoes of thunder, a sound as ominous as it was uncommon;winter thunderstorms were ill-starred occurrences, often portents of coming grief, untimely death. Joanna crossed herself, pulled the shutters into place, closing out the sounds of night and sea, but not those forebodings born of superstition . . . and solitudeLoneliness was an unrelenting foe, one that Joanna had come to know well in the past nine months and thirteen days. It could never be conclusively defeated; at best, she could hope for a stalemate, but in the last week it had gained hard-fought ground, for Glynis had departed for a fortnight's visit with her family.If loneliness was the enemy, time was its ally. Never had the hours in a day seemed so interminable to Joanna. For more than twenty years, hers had been a life of constant activity and unremitting responsibilitiesIn learning Welsh, she'd taken up the obligations of a woman of rank, and from dawn till dusk she'd been occupied in the management of her husband's vast household, acting as consort, wife, mother. Hers vver supervisory skills; she was not expected to turn her own hand to d°m tic chores. But it was for her to see that those chores were perform > that soap was made and candles were dipped and bread baked, tna was hauled in from Cheshire brine springs and Spanish cottons fro great fairs at Winchester and Smithfield, that meat was salted for wm and linen woven from flax, that no man was turned away hungry Llewelyn's hearth, be he highborn lord or lowborn beggar- A^y ^ time was given over to the universal female pastime, sewing/

672queens were exempt from the demands of needlework6There was an embroidery frame in one corner of the bedchamber, it collected only cobwebs, Joanna had no one to sew for Now she . j her days with vain regrets, played listless games of chess, merels, , tables with Glynis, read and reread her meagre library, and yearned her freedom For Richard had been right, jeweled fetters were no less erous for being gilded, and she was no longer indifferent as to what .future might hold But she had decided not to accept her brother's ffer did not want to dwell at Chilham Castle upon his charity Llewelyn could banish her from Wales, but not from the Marches She had a Shropshire manor at Condover and a hunting lodge near Ellesmere, and srie meant to put down roots in the shadow of her husband's realm, as close as she could get to her sonThere was a Welsh proverb by which Joanna put great store these days For every wound, the ointment of time She fervently hoped it would prove true forDavydd, that eventually the breach between them could be mended But until she was free, she could do nothing to effect a reconciliation, and it was this aspect of her confinement she found most crippling How much longer didLlewelyn mean to hold her here7 Why had he not divorced her ere now7 She was baffled by his failure to act, for by nghts he ought to have repudiated her months ago He had ever been a man to cut his losses, to jettison useless cargo, and for a Prince, what greater encumbrance could there be than an unfaithful wife7There was an hourglass on the table, but the sands seemed to have frozen No matter how often Joanna glanced at it, she could detect not the faintest trickle of time After unbraiding and brushing out her hair, she wandered aimlessly about the chamber, at last settling down with her harp The one benefit she'd gained from these months of enforced leisure was that her harp playing had improved dramatically since her first halting efforts underLlewelyn's tutelage Striking a chord, she began to sing softly"In orchard where the leaves of hawthorn hide, the lady holds a lover to her side Until the watcher in the dawning cried, 'Ah, God, ah, °Q, the dawn1 It comes how soon '" The song had five additional ver-s, but she did not continue, the melody was too plaintive, the lyrics to° easy to identify withNext to the hourglass was her most cherished possession, a small ry casket of letters, her only link with the world beyond Llanfaes ng the casket lid, she took inventory of these much-handled keep-0 es four letters from Elen, two from Richard, one from Nell, and del 7~ rtkreakmgly bnef and stiltedfrom Davydd Sliding the can-a '°ward her, she picked a letter at random, one of Elen's, began

672"1ante-to read aloud passages long since memorized.Her head jerked up at the sound of Bran's footsteps in the chamber; she knew he would not come to her at such an