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

than in York. There the Jews had sought refuge in the castle keep, and when it appeared certain they'd be taken by the besieging mob, the men, women, and children trapped within, numbering in the hundreds, did kill themselves."Joanna, dutifully crossing herself, felt no real surprise; death seemed to follow her uncle Richard like a lover. The thought was not her own, of course, but had its seeds in a caustic comment once made by John, that Richard's lust was sated on the battlefield, not in the bedchamber.But in these weeks at Fontevrault, slowly another image of Richard was taking shape. Richard loomed large in his mother's memories. From Eleanor, Joanna learned that Richard, having to withdraw from the Holy Land, denied himself even a glimpse of Jerusalem from the heights of Nebi Samwil, saying, "Those not worthy to win the Holy City are not worthy to behold it." She learned of the celebrated exchange between Richard and Philip, the French King, overRichard's great fortress, Castie Gaillard, Philip boasting, "If its walls were made of solid iron, yet would I take them," and Richard's mocking rejoinder, "If its walls vvetf made of butter, yet would I hold them." Richard had indeed been2 great soldier, Joanna reluctantly acknowledged. But she did not under"stand why her grandmother should have preferred him above her othe'

249Idren, and wished she could summon up the nerve to ask Eleanor h she spoke so often of Richard and so rarely of John W She never did, though, sensing that such a question would not be to . anor's liking As bedazzled as Joanna was byEleanor, she was very ch in awe o^her, too, and uneasily aware of the fragile foothold she'd d m j^r grandmother's life There was indeed iridescent magic inFleanor's spell, but no security Eleanor could be amusing, indulgent, tterly captivating She was also impatient, unpredictable, easily bored On any given evening, Joanna might find herself welcomed into Eleanor's presence with genuine pleasure, Eleanor would share confidences both intimate and adult in nature, tutor Joanna in the intriguing cornplexities of politics and statecraft, and at such moments Joanna knew happiness in full and abiding measure But on the morrow she might find her grandmother preoccupied, pensive, with no interest whatsoever in a child's companionship Joanna did not resentEleanor's mercurial mood swings, her sense of self was too tenuous, too vulnerable, to allow for the indulgence of wounded pride She only tned all the harder to earn her grandmother's goodwill, and when she did not, she accepted the failing as her ownOn this particular night in late July, Eleanor was in markedly good spirits, relaxed and responsive to Joanna's eager queries about times long past and people long dead But as midnight approached, Joanna's energy began to ebb, she sought to stifle a yawn, was relieved when Eleanor said, "You'd best get to bed "Joanna rose obediently "May I go and light a candle first for the FrenchQueen, Madame7""If you wish " Joanna's impassioned partisanship for Philip's unfortunateQueen was a source of some amusement to Eleanor, but she was touched, too, suspecting that Joanna's pity for Ingeborg's plight could be traced to her own years of confinement, that it was the captive Eleanor whom Joanna was mourning as much as it was the hapless Ingeborg, whose luck had yet to change for the better Philip had held out against the Pope's Interdict for seven stubborn months, and then agreed to set aside his second wife, to recognize Ingeborg as his Queen But he d then confined her in Etampes Castle, and rumor had it she was not bemg treated kindlyJoanna's sympathies went out to the Danish Princess, Queen of ranee in name only, being made to suffer for no sin of her own, and ed been lighting nightly candles on Ingeborg's behalf Now she astened back from St Magdalene's chapel, stripped, and crawled into he Pallet made up for her at the foot of her grandmother's bedLights still burned, and the constant murmur of conversation Unded around her, Eleanor's ladies could not retire until she did But

350Joanna had learned to block out background noises, and she fell at orc into a fitful sleep. Her dreams were troubled, reflecting the tenor of ^ waking hours. Eleanor had recently had a letter from John, in whi^ he'd told her that he'd broken Philip's siege of Radepont, just ten miles southeast of Rouen. But that was the only good news the letter held Isabelle's father, Aymer, Count ofAngouleme, had died suddenly that past month, but John had not dared to risk her attendance at the funeralAngouleme bordered upon La Marche, and Hugh deLusignan stil] nursed a bitter grudge over Isabelle's loss.Tossing and turning on the pallet, Joanna attracted the attention of theAbbess Matilda. Matilda was intrigued by her friend's unexpected rapport withJoanna; she'd never before known Eleanor to show more than the most perfunctory interest in children. It was, she decided, probably because Joanna was such a serious child. The questions she asked were invariably sensible, of the sort Eleanor had always encouraged in her own daughters; she had nothing but scorn for the prevailing viewpoint that women should abjure interest in such masculine concerns as power, policy, and tactics.Matilda was surprised, too, that Eleanor should suddenly evince a hitherto unexpressed interest in looking back, in dwelling upon yesterday; at last she attributed this to the twin crosses of age and illness, for Eleanor was not well, had not been well for months. Her spirit sti blazed so brightly that those around her did not always notice how frail the shell enclosing that spirit had become. Matilda did. For all that Eleanor was fiercely private about her ailments, Matilda saw with sorrowing eyes how easily she tired in this summer of her eighth decade, how she'd begun to lean upon a companion's arm when walking, to place a hand over her breast as if willing away the heart palpitations she'd not acknowledge. And as