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

younger the mother, the greater the risk."John caught his breath and then swore. "Will, I'm warning you for the last time! You've pushed to the very limits of my patience. I'm heartily sick of this, will hear no more on it."But as he swung about, Will followed him onto the path, hastening to keep pace. "What of your own daughter, what of Joanna? Can you tell me you'd want to see her as a man's bedmate at twelve, a mother at thirteen? John, I know what I'm saying! My Ela could not have""Pox take your Ela, and you, too! I see nothing noble in your forbearance;I've met Ela, remember? I do not wonder that you're in no hurry to claim her maidenhead. But I doubt you'd be so saintly if it were Isabelle naked and eager in your bed!"Will recoiled violently, backed away. John did not wait for a response, stalked up the path. He did not look back, but Will watched, unmoving, until he was out of sight.As deeply offended as Will was, even greater was his sense of hurt. Never before had he felt the full lash of John's Angevin temper. His was

327. uejy privileged position; he alone dared speak his mind utterly3 A freely to his brother, with no fear of incurring the King's disfavor.* ... was honest enough to admit to himself that he relished the many gible benefits he derived from John's kingship, but even more did he rsh his special status as the King's brother and confidant. He prided h'mself on his candor, told himself that even if John did not always heed h's advice, at least John was always willing to hear him out, liked to think he alone knew how to appeal to John's better instincts, and in consequence, he'd been slow to feel the ground shifting under his feet.He stood there alone for a time in the darkness, half expecting John to return, seeking to make amends. But John did not come back, andWill was left with the envenomed echoes of that last lethal exchange, with the unhappy understanding that his influence over John was more illusory than not, that he must take John on his own terms ... or not at all.PICKING up a brush, Joanna parted her hair and then began to plait it into two thick braids. Impatience made her clumsy, and the strands kept slipping through her fingers. But she persevered; she was nine now, too old for wild, unkempt hair, especially on the day of her father's return from Normandy.Never before had he been gone so long, five lonely months. Always before, he had taken her with him; in the past four years Joanna had learned to look upon a Channel crossing as nonchalantly as a Londoner viewed an outing across theThames into Southwark. But when John had sailed for Normandy that past April, he'd left Joanna at Conisbrough, the Yorkshire castle of his uncle Hamelin deWarenne, Earl of Surrey, home, too, to Hamelin's grandson, her half-brotherRichard.Now it was October and Joanna was back at Westminster Palace, awaiting John's arrival. All around her, women were sleeping; she shared a chamber with the ladies-in-waiting to the noblewomen of John's court. Snapping her fingers to attract Avisa, she unlatched the door, moved into the stairwell, the spaniel at her heels.Emerging out into the sunlight of the New Palace yard, she was just in time to collide with a man coming around the corner of the old hall. He stumbled, caught her as she reeled backward."I'm sorry, my lord.""No matter, Joanna. If I cannot sustain a bruising from a little lass like you, I'd best retire to my hearth and give my lands over to my sons," he said and smiled at her. William de Braose, Lord of Brecknock, was an attractive man, fit and sun-browned, blond hair and beard only 'ightly touched by grey although she knew he was well into his fifties.

128He was one of her father's closest friends, and was unfailingly pleasant to her. There was no reason why she should be so ill at ease with him, and yet she was. It was with relief now that she saw de Braose was not alone, was accompanied by her father's half-brother Will, Earl Of Salisbury.Will was family; with him, she need not stand on formality. "Papa's come?"Will nodded. "We rode in from Freemantle late last night, so I expect he's still abed.""I'd wager the surety of my soul on that!" de Braose said and laughed.Will frowned and Joanna edged closer. "Uncle Will. . . Papa's new wife, is she comely?""Very comely, Joanna." Will looked intently into her face, and then put his arm around her shoulders, drew her aside. "Does it bother you, lass, that John has wed again?"Joanna shook her head swiftly. "No, but. . . but I did not think he would wed again so soon." She fidgeted and then blurted out, "Unde Will, I heard some men talking last month after we had word of Papa's marriage. They . . . they said Papa's new wife was plight-trothed to another lord, that Papa stole her away from this lord. That is not true, is it?"Will did not answer at once. Joanna was, he knew, normally well insulated from rumors and gossip; no rational man would dare criticize the King in the hearing of his daughter. But this marriage had been virtually guaranteed to stir up controversy. It was said that Hugh de Lusignan had gone berserk with rage, raving and ranting and swearing to avenge himself upon John, even if it took a lifetime. And Hugh found some sympathizers among the Poitevin nobility, men who disapproved of the clandestine, underhanded nature of the marriage, others who'd willingly seize upon any pretext for rebellion. The result was that a marriage which should have solidified John's hold upon Poitou was in itself proving to be a source of dissension, while John had alienated the more pious of his subjects by his lustful infatuation with a