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

give me the time I need to replenish my coffers, to checkmate Arthur, and to deal with trouble from a source I had not expectedyou have heard? Despite years of rivalry and bad blood, the Count of Angouleme means to wed his daughter to that whoreson de Lusignan. It is a marriage guaranteed to give me naught but grief."Eleanor's mouth twisted; in their dislike of Hugh de Lusignan, she and John were in rare and full accord. That past January, as Eleanor was setting out for Castile, she'd been intercepted by Hugh de Lusignan, compelled to accept the hospitality of his stronghold at Lusignan Castle. Just as de Lusignan's invitation could fairly be termed an abduction, the favor he sought fromEleanor was more in the nature of extortion than appeal: that she yield to him the county of La Marche. Eleanor was proud, but hers was a pride tempered by pragmatism; making a grimly realistic assessment of her predicament, she acted to cut her losses, gave de Lusignan what he demanded, and, within hours, was free to resume her journey westward. John, on the verge of making peace withPhilip, could do little but acquiesce in the fait accompli, accept deLusignan's homage as the new Count of La Marche. But he knew that de Lusignan would never have dared to commit such an audacity while Richard lived, and that was a raw, ulcerous sore, a grievance beyond forgiving."Yes," Eleanor said flatly, "I heard. That is why I summoned you toFontevrault. We know what Hugh de Lusignan is; the man has the scruples of a snake. But the Count of Angouleme is another malcontent who serves only his own interests, and both of them are hand-in-glove with Philip. Should they put an end to their feuding, ally their Houses in this marriage, that would one day give Hugh both Angouleme and La Marche. We cannot allow the marriage to take place . . . although I confess I'm at a loss as to how to prevent it. You dare not forbid it outright; as jealous as my barons be of their rights, every lord in Aquitaine would rally to their support.""If I forbid it, yes." John leaned back in his chair. "Yesterday I summoned the Count of Angouleme to do homage to me on July fifth ... at LusignanCastle.""You what?" Eleanor's eyes widened. "The three of you under one roof? That is a volatile mix if ever I heard one! What mean you to do, John?""I mean to stop the marriage.""But how? I do not see . . .""I'd rather not say just yet. I will tell you this much, that if I succeed, Aymer of Angouleme and Hugh de Lusignan will be blood en-

117mjes till the day of mortal reckoning and beyond, and I'll have made ofAvrner a steadfast allywhich is more, Madame, than Richard could ver do. And if it also happens that Hugh de Lusignan should find him-elf a laughingstock, the butt of every jest from Poitiers to Pariswell, that's not like to break my heart. Nor yours, either, I'd wager."Eleanor did not respond as he had expected. After some moments of silence, she said thoughtfully, "If you are asking whether I'd like to see Hugh de Lusignan humiliated, of course I would. If you are asking whether I think it would be wise, I'd have to say no. With all the enemies you have, John, vengeance is an indulgence you can ill afford right now."John was irked, disappointed, too. "Life at Fontevrault is making you very pious, Mother. Next you'll be quoting Scriptures.""I'm talking of foresight, not of forgiveness," Eleanor snapped, but John was already on his feet. She tensed, but did not protest. With Richard, she could have insisted that he stay, hear her out. She had no such leverage with John, and well she knew it."I do not know what sort of devious scheme you have in mind. I can only tell you this: Whilst stupidity may indeed be a sin, it is also possible to be too clever. I sometimes fear, John, that you are too clever by half."John shrugged. "At least," he said, "you might wish me luck."WILL Longsword was seated at a table in his brother's chamber, laboring over a letter to his girl-wife. He wielded the pen awkwardly, for his was a hand more accustomed to grasping a sword hilt, and he swore under his breath as he searched for words to put to parchment.Done this sixth day of July in the Year of Our Lord 1200, at the castle ofHugh de Lusignan, Count of La Marche and Lord of Lusignan and Couhe.To the Lady Ela, Countess of Salisbury, my dear wife, greetings.And that was as far as he'd gotten. Will had no idea why they were atLusignan. Neither, he suspected, did Hugh de Lusignan. It was well known thatJohn never forgave a wrong or forgot a grudge, and Hugh had made ready for his lord's goodwill visit with skeptical wariness, much like a man who'd just been assured that the wolf wandering midst s flocks was in fact a domesticated dog.But whatever John's ultimate 'Mentions, he was presently on his best behavior.Even his enemies never denied he had a certain scapegrace charm when he cared to exert

118himself, and he'd been drawing upon that charm so lavishly that Hug^ had begun to relax somewhat, to let down his guard. The workings Of Hugh's brain were too broadly meshed for subtlety. He knew Richard would not have rested until his head rotted on a pike over his own gatehouse, until his castles were reduced to rubble and his lands to charred embers, his womenfolk despoiled and his brother hanged. But John drank with him, diced with him, swapped bawdy jokes, and hinted at royal favors to come. Such a man was not to be feared.Once Hugh reached that fateful conclusion, he was hard put to hide his disdain; there was a bluff heartiness in his manner that was a shade too familiar, a