Here Be Dragons - 1

by Sharon Kay Penman

  252 avvay, seemed in itself an eternity Time enough for Papa to s° j^g mind Or for the Welsh Prince to reconsider He might even Ckanfll betrothals did not end in the marriage bed She must hold on to d'6 tuought, must not despair not yet Much could happen in a vear 15 CHESTER, ENGLAND May 1206 "W V VHI V YHICH brooch shall you wear, my lady7" Blanche was holding out an open casket, and Joanna turned, took it upon her lap Her choice was limited, she had only a few pieces of jewelry of any real value "The crescent brooch, I think " As she spoke, Joanna could not keep from fingering the other contents of the casket, the letters from the Welsh Prince she would wed on the morrow Four in eighteen months, polished and polite and utterly unrevealing If she were alone, she might have taken them out again, reread them for clues, so desperately did she need to know what manner of man he was But she was surrounded by inquisitive eyes Blanche, Isobel of Pembroke, her Aunt Ela, Maude de Braose, the Countess of Chester, and the Lady Lucy, Prioress °f St Mary's, the Benedictine nunnery where Joanna had been awaiting the arnval of her betrothed Blanche was positioning the brooch "There, my lady You do look nght elegant How proud your lord father would be, how sad that he must miss the pleasure of seeing you wed " "It could not be helped, Blanche In less than a month's time, my atner will lead an army into Normandy He must, ot course, remain in e South, to make sure that the fleet will be ready to sail as scheduled " j°anna had told herself this so often that the words came quite naturally her tongue, sounded perfectly plausible even to her ears But the hurt Rained She'd been counting so on her father's presence In fact, her

  182 disappointment was such that she had put aside her pride and begged John to reconsider. Could not the wedding be held, instead, in vltl Chester? She would, she pleaded, write herself to Prince Llewelyn, er. treat him to agree for her sake. Remembering that now, Joanna's face shadowed, for she had received a truly chilling reply. John had beer, both sympathetic and regretful. "Even if you somehow did get him to consent, and I think that unlikely, Joanna, it is too late. The safe-conduct I gave him is for Chester; there'd not be time to issue a new one f0t Winchester." It had never occurred to Joanna that Llewelyn would need a safe-conduct to enter into England. That brought home to her, as nothing else could have done, that she was marrying a man her father could not trust, that she would be living out the rest of her life in a country hostile to England. Blanche fastened Joanna's wimple under her chin, reached for a rose-colored veil. "As soon as I do attach this, my lady, you shall be ready to meet the Prince." "Have you not another veil? With such sallow skin, rose is a color she should ever avoid if possible." Joanna jerked her head around in surprise. There was more than feline spite in that remark, there was venom. She had not realized that Maude de Braose bore her such a grudge. She flushed in spite of herself, had to fight the urge to ask Blanche for another veil. "Rose suits me well, Madame," she said, as steadily as she could, and came to her feet. How unfair life was. Was it not enough that she must wed a stranger, a Welshman? But no, their first meeting must take place before an avid audience, for all the world, she thought bitterly, like the crowds who'd throng to a bearbaiting, hoping for blood. ST Mary's had been founded by the present Earl's grandfather; the Prioress Lucy was reputed, in fact, to be his natural daughter. The convent was situated just to the northwest of the castle, and all too soon for Joanna, she found herself passing into the inner bailey, mounting the stairs up into the great hall. So great was her tension that she had begun to suffer a slight queasiness, and she felt a surge of gratitude at sight of her brother, waiting at the door to escort her into the hall. "I'm late, am I not?" "You are worth waiting for," Richard said loyally. "But no matter. The Earl and Isabelle have given him a right proper welcome, Isabelle ill particular. Indeed, to see them together, you'd swear they'd been friends all their lives long." There was a faint edge to Richard's voice; Joanna was becoming aware that he no longer looked upon their step" mother as he once had, with uncritical, adoring eyes. But she felt only3

  183 , of envy, at that moment would have bartered her soul for IsaII 's bright, breezy chatter, her insouciant ease of manner. "Dearest, at last!" Isabelle was, as ever, encircled by laughing men. held out her hand to Joanna, turning toward the man standing at left. Joanna had a fleeting impression of a sun-browned face, alert , jj eyes, as she sank down in a hasty curtsy. He raised her up at once; ue was thankful when he released her hands as soon as she was on her feet, made no attempt to touch her. "Is she not sweet? I told Your Grace you were a fortunate man, did I not?" Isabelle smiled fondly at Joanna, who wanted to go right through the floor. Nor was her embarrassment lessened any when Llewelyn murmured a conventional gallantry in reply. Jesii, what else could the man say? She gave Isabelle a reproachful look, but worse was to come. They would, of course, wish to be alone, Isabelle said gaily, and made a great show of shepherding them into the comparative privacy of the nearest window seat, withdrawing so ostentatiously that she virtually guaranteed they'd be the center of all eyes. Joanna had been relying upon Isabelle to ease the awkwardness of this first encounter, and now she was utterly at a loss, could not think of a single conversational gambit. All she could do was to blurt out her greatest fear. "My lord . . . there is a favor I would ask of you, if I may. I do have a pet dog. I am very fond of her, and it would grieve me greatly to have to part with her. May I take her with me into Wales? I have a travel basket for her, and she'd be no trouble, in truth she" "Of course you may take your dog. Or whatever else you do desire." "Thank you, my lord!" Joanna's relief was such that she dared look him fully in the face for the first time. What she saw took her breath. His eyes were very dark, a midnight brown, were measuring her in troubled appraisal. In that instant before their eyes met and his face changed, she read quite clearly his dismay. Until now, she'd never given a thought to his expectations, had never thought of him at all, except as a shadowy figure outlined against an alien landscape foreboding and bleak, a stranger mysterious and somewhat sinister. But this man was no phantom threat; he was all too real, and all too disappointed. Color rose in Joanna's face; she quickly looked away, stared down at her clasped hands, at her betrothal ring, ahe need not offer apology to him for what she was ... or was not. She Was the King of England's daughter, and he had wanted this marriage, nad been no less eager than her father to make the match. And yet . . . and yet why should she feel such surprise? She had a inirror, had she ot- Did she truly need to be told once again that beauty was to be

  184 found in skin lily-white, in hair like flax, in eyes like Isabella's? N[ot slanting cat eyes, ink-black hair, and the dusky skin of a Saracen sallow skin. "My lord? You asked me . . . what?" "If you have always lived with your father the King." "Since I was five," Joanna said swiftly, grateful that he seemed will ing to do what she could not, to exercise some control over the conversation. "And your lady mother?" Normally, Joanna was very reluctant to discuss her mother; those memories were like imperfectly healed wounds, painful if probed too deeply. But now she was quite willing to talk of Clemence, so great was her dread of silence, and she answered readily. He continued to feed her questions, about her childhood, her father, and slowly she began to relax somewhat, to follow his lead. "... and then these enormous dogs did rush in, barking fit to wake the dead. I was so fearful, but my father picked me up, all dirty and ragged as I was, held me out of harm's way. I did not yet know, of course, who he was, but" Joanna stopped suddenly, in some confusion. What had ever possessed her to tell this man something so very personal? Isabelle was right; he was, indeed, a good listener, too good. "I did not mean to talk so much of myself," she said, suddenly selfconscious again. "Will you not tell me about yourself, my lord?" "What would you most like to know?" Joanna considered. She knew next to nothing about him, but there was one question in particular she yearned to ask. "I would like to know about your children, my lord. Would you tell me of them?" "With pleasure. I have six, two boys and four girls ... by two mothers," Llewelyn added, with a faint smile, and Joanna blushed, taken aback that he should have read her
thoughts so easily. Her father's seven children had all been born to different women. "Do they all live at your court?" "The four eldest do. Gruffydd, my firstborn, is ten. Gwladys is eight, Marared six, and Gwenllian nigh on five." Llewelyn paused, and then again answered an unspoken question. "Their mother is dead." "And the other two?" He smiled. "Tegwared and Anghared, the twins. They lack but a fortnight of their first birthday." Joanna raised startled eyes to his face. It was a rather common belie' that for a woman to give birth to twins, she must have lain with tw° men. Yet Llewelyn seemed neither embarrassed nor defensive. Was i/ she wondered, that he had such faith in the woman? Or in himself? "I was most fortunate in that my lord father married a woman vw

  185 ed me naught but kindness. I shall not do less for your children, Shy k>rd," she said earnestly. She'd sought to please him, was bewildered to see that she had not. looked suddenly somber, pensive. For the first time, a prolonged Jence fell between them. "Tell me, have you begun to learn Welsh, as I suggested in my last letter?" Joanna tensed again. "No, my lord," she admitted reluctantly, watching him anxiously for signs of anger. "Well, there will be time enough." Indeed, she thought bleakly. A lifetime. "Joanna." It was the first time he'd called her by name. "Now that I've satisfied your curiosity, I would have you do the same for me. I should like to see the color of your hair. Will it distress you if I remove your veil and wimple?" Caught completely off balance, she could only shake her head mutely. She willed herself to sit very still, not to flinch as he leaned over, unpinned her veil. His fingers were quite sure, barely touching her cheek. Joanna continued to stare down into her lap. After a time, she felt his hand under her chin, gently forcing her face up to his. As their eyes met, he smiled. "You do look very Welsh." "Do I?" she whispered. He was much more sympathetic than she'd expected him to be. He'd been kind to seek to put her at ease, and he was being kinder now in trying to mask his obvious disappointment. But she could think only that in less than twenty-four hours he would have the right to strip away her clothing as he had just stripped away her veil, to bare her body as he'd bared her hair. "My lord . . . would you think me unforgivably rude if I did ask your leave to withdraw? I ... I have so much still to do ere the wedding ..." "I understand, Joanna," he said slowly. He rose as she did, brought her hand up to his mouth. "Until the morrow." EDNYVED ap Cynwrig made his way across the great hall, to where Llewelyn stood by the window seat. "What, has the bride fled so soon, and ere l could get more than a glimpse of her? Well? Is she fat, thin, plain, y- From the look on your face, I'd waeer that she was not much to y°ur liking." f (n" you'd lose." Llewelyn was frowning after Joanna's retreating is! I'H ^as tne makin8s °fa beauty. But Jesii, how very young she a_not expected that, in truth." ° tnirty-three, fourteen is bound to seem close to the cradle."

  186 Ednyved gave Llewelyn a shrewdly appraising look, said, no longer fw pant, "Many girls are wed at fourteen, Llewelyn, are ripe for the mar riage bed even at that age." "Not this one. She's a child, Ednyved, a child being forced into a marriage she greatly fears." Llewelyn glanced down, saw that Joanna had, in her haste, forgotten her veil and wimple. He picked up the veil fingered the fragile silk weave. "Poor little lass, trying so hard to do what her elders expect of her . . ." JOANNA'S bridal clothes were the loveliest she'd ever had. Everything was new, even the garters for her stockings. Her chemise was of soft white linen, the gown of finest Florentine silk, as was the embroidered bliaut. Joanna knew they were becoming. Isabelle had insisted upon choosing the colors herself, and Isabelle had an unerring eye, selecting a deep emerald for the gown, a much paler shade of green for the tightly laced bliaut, delicately threaded through with gold. Since Joanna would wear her hair loose and flowing down her back, to proclaim she came to her marriage bed a virgin, there was no wimple, but merely a thin, circular veil, as light as air, to be held in place by a gold circlet. Joanna smoothed the skirt of her gown, remembering another outfit of green and gold, laid out at the foot of John's bed that first morning she'd awakened in Rouen. She stood for a moment, staring into the mirror Blanche was holding up for her inspection, and then turned toward Isabelle and Ela. "I am ready." Custom decreed that a bride's father or guardian be the one to lead her mount to the church. Since both John and Joanna's Uncle Will were in Winchester, the Earl of Chester had offered to act in John's stead, and it was he who lifted Joanna up into the saddle. The mare, a glossy/ small-boned chestnut, was Llewelyn's bride-gift to Joanna. She'd never had a horse of her own before, and such a gift would normally have transported her into a state of high excitement. Now, however, she felt nothing. The prancing mare, the crowds lining Bridge Street, the sunlight so bright upon the banners above her head, all lacked reality for her. There was a strange, dreamlike quality to the day, as if she were watching from afar as a girl very like her rode to her wedding with a Welsh Prince. The precincts of the abbey of St Werburgh were already filled to overflowing with the people of Chester, eager for the spectacle of a roya' wedding. Llewelyn was awaiting Joanna by the south door of t°e church, for it was there that their wedding vows would be exchange* weddings were traditionally performed out in the open before as many witnesses as possible. He came forward to meet her, smiling. Time too"

  187 brup* lurch forward, and with bewildering suddenness she found an if standing before Geoffrey de Muschamp, Bishop of Chester, holding hands with a stranger Alm°st before she knew it, Llewelyn was pledging her his troth drew a deep breath, said in a clear, carrying voice, "I, Joanna, do , mee, Llewelyn, m holy Church, as my wedded husband, forsaking II others, in sickness and health, m riches and poverty, m well and in Oe till death us do part, and thereto I plight thee my troth " The Bishop having blessed the ring, Llewelyn took Joanna's left hand, slipped the ring in turn upon each of her fingers, saying, "In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost " Sliding it then upon her third finger, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze "With this ring, I thee wed " The crowd was cheering, surged forward as Llewelyn and Joanna dipped into the alms dish, scattered coins in their midst Joanna was then embraced in turn by Isabelle, Ela, and the Countess of Chester But it was Llewelyn now, not Chester, who led her into the church, for with her marriage she had passed from her father's control to that of her husband As little as she remembered of the wedding ceremony, Joanna remembered even less of the Mass of Tnmty that followed It was cool and dark within, pleasantly scented with incense At one point she heard the Bishop intone, "Let this woman be amiable as Rachel, wise as Rebecca, faithful as Sarah," and she realized, with bemusement, that he was speaking of her She was shamefully ignorant of the Scriptures, could not for the life of her remember what Rachel, Rebecca, and Sarah had done She could think only of RuthRuth, who'd gone forth into an alien land, who'd said, "Whither thou goest, I will go, thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God " Llewelyn was approaching the altar now, to receive from the Bishop the kiss of peace And then he was back at her side, lifting her veil She raised her face obediently for him to transmit the kiss to her, felt his lips upon hers, a light, warm touch, almost impersonal CHESTER had always suffered a reputation as one of the most violence- Prone cities of the realm, Cheshiremen were notorious for their thin swns, their ready swords The Welsh were no less renowned for the °uchiness of their tempers, for the ease with which they took affront It as a volatile mixture, and Llewelyn and the Earl of Chester had done nat they could to minimize the dangers It was for this reason that Cension Day had been chosen for the wedding, men who'd care little °ut breaking the King's Peace might think twice before breaking

  188 ^ 189 God's Peace, as well. For the same reason, the wedding feast was serv immediately upon their return from the church, in hopes that men wi wined and dined would be lulled into goodwill, be less likely to yieu age-old antagonisms. Joanna had never before eaten from the dais, except on that Ion ago day in Rouen, sitting on John's lap. Now she sat between Llewelyl and the Earl of Chester, did her best to feign interest in the food bein offered her, venison and roast partridge, fresh herring, each course
crowned with an elaborate sugared subtlety. She was grateful that th conversational demands being made upon her were minimal. Llewelyn was being monopolized by Isabelle, seated at his left, and Chester a dour, taciturn man, already balding although only in his thirties, was not much given to small talk. Joanna knew he'd only recently been restored to her father's favor; John had suspected him of conspiring with the Welsh Prince, Gwenwynwyn of Powys. If it was true, he could not be deriving much pleasure from playing host to Llewelyn, Gwenwynwyn's chief rival. But mayhap it was not true; Papa's suspicions were not always grounded in fact. Pray God his campaign would go well Joanna laid down a tart, untasted. How would she even know? Whilst he was fighting a war in Normandy, she would be deep in Wales, utterh isolated from those she most loved. Across the great hall, voices rose suddenly. Joanna saw both Llewelyn and Chester stiffen. Sharing a trencher and wine cup with Llewelyn, she was not long in becoming aware that her husband was not drinking Joanna was puzzled; such abstinence was highly unusual at a wedding feast, where male guests seemed to feel a social obligation to drink themselves into oblivion. Her unease grew as she realized that Chester, too, was cold sober. The voices were growing louder. A bench was tipped over; a woman screamed. Joanna gasped as a man pushed away from the table, fumbled for the hilt of his sword. Llewelyn was already on his feet, shouting in Welsh. The man turned, reluctantly let his sword slide back down its scabbard. By then, Llewelyn had reached them, with Chester right on his heels. A brief angry exchange followed, with Llewelyn tongue-lashing the Welshman and Chester berating the Norman. The offenders lapsed into a sullen silence, but tension gripped the hall spread by murmurs of discontent, voiced in two tongues. Joanna bit her lip, watched as Llewelyn took Chester aside, spoke in an urgent undertone. Chester nodded, stepped back, and sent a servant hastening from the hall. Joanna gave Llewelyn a questioning look as he resumed his sea but he said only, "I thought it time for a diversion." Joanna was not long in finding out what he had in mind. Ser $ were entering the hall, carrying several huge baked pies. As all V3 tched, they cut carefully into the crusts, freeing more than a dozen IV 11 birds. The birds soared upward, circling and swooping over the *bles as tf*e men anc* women below laughed and cheered, eagerly 13 airing the finale, the release of three sleek sparrow hawks. What re- 2 Ited was utter chaos, with dogs barking in berserk frenzy, and men iaIT1bering Up on benches to better view the kills, laying tipsy wagers pon the outcome, animosities forgotten in the excitement of the hunt. "That was indeed clever, my lord," Joanna said approvingly, and Dewelyn laughed. "It was my man's fault. There is a hamlet across the Dee called Hanbridge, but it's been taken so often by the Welsh that we call it Treboeth, 'the burned town.' It is one thing to do so amongst ourselves, quite another to do so midst a hall full of Normans ... as Rosser should have known." "I see." Joanna watched as a feather wafted slowly downward, came to rest in a tureen of sorrel soup. If the Welsh had such a hatred for Normans, how would they ever accept her as Llewelyn's wife? ONCE the trestle tables were cleared away, there was dancing, but after there'd been two spills, caused by overexuberant dancers whose coordination