Here Be Dragons - 1, Sharon Penman [e novels to read online txt] 📗

a lieIt seemed the ultimate irony to her that she should be given the responsibility of rearing Will's child, but it was both

gomery to the ground. He then pressed on into the de Braose lands, burning and pillaging on such a scale that the English bishops excoriated him as a"despoiler of churches."This was the third time that Llewelyn had been excommunicated for what he saw as political sins, and he would later joke about installing a turnstile for his private chapel. But Joanna had never seen any humor in it, and her relief was inexpressible when Llewelyn was restored to God's grace in December, after a botched campaign by Henry and de Burgh.The following year was one of uneasy truce along the Marches. Peter desRoches, Bishop of Winchester, was back from his Holy Land pilgrimage, and he was so successful in blaming Hubert de Burgh for the Welsh fiasco that in JulyHenry stripped de Burgh of his high office, demanded an accounting; byNovember, he was being held at the Tower. But 1232 was also the year in which death claimed the man who'd shown himself to be Llewelyn's most steadfast ally; in October, Ranulf, Earl of Chester, died at his manor of Wallingford in his sixtythird year.The precarious peace of 1232 did not long endure into 1233. As Nell andWilliam Marshal had been childless, the earldom of Pembroke passed toWilliam's brother Richard. But the relationship between Henry and RichardMarshal had gone sour from the start, fraught with suspicion and mutual mistrust. After months of misunderstanding and strife, Henry yielded to Peter des Roches's urgings, proclaimed Marshal a traitor, thus making of the man a reluctant rebel, a rallying point for dissent. A civil war erupted andLlewelyn was not long in entering the fray upon Richard Marshal's behalf, even though Marshal was a partisan of the disgraced Hubert de Burgh. Llewelyn's objective was always the same, to weaken the power of the English crown inWales, and he saw in Richard Marshal's rebellion an opportunity that would not come again.Once again the Marches took fire, and once again Joanna had to watch helplessly as her husband and son rode to war. But the outcome was not long in doubt. Henry was no general, and found himself facing two of the most experienced battle commanders in his realm. In November 1233, he fled in disarray as the royal encampment at Grosmont was overrun by Marshal's Welsh and English allies. In January 1234, Llewelyn and Richard Marshal ravagedShropshire to the very gates of Shrewsbury, and Henry found himself under increasing political pressure to come to terms. In March he agreed to a truce, and in April he capitulated to Marshal's demands, dismissed Peter des Roches and his other Poitevin advisers, and vowed to keep faith with the Runnymede charter.

But Richard Marshal never knew he'd won. He'd crossed over to Ireland to see to his estates there, and in early Api-ji he was wounded in a skirmish withHenry's supporters, taken prisoner, and treated so harshly that he died within days. It was left to Llewelyn to gain reparations for the followers of his fallen ally. On June 21 the Archbishop Of Canterbury met Llewelyn at theShropshire village of Middle, and peace returned to Henry's realm.The Pact of Middle was the crowning achievement of Llewelyn's reign, the culmination of a lifetime's struggle against the English Kings But on this, the eve of the festivities planned to honor her husband's triumph, Joanna was thinking not of Llewelyn's victory celebration but of their dead. So many deaths. William and Richard Marshal. Llewelyn's sons by marriage, Jack deBraose and William de Lacy. Chester. Maelgwn. Maelgwn's brother, Rhys Gryg, slain at the siege of Carmarthen Castle. Morgan, dead nigh on a twelvemonth now. Llewelyn rarely talked of him; he could not. She gazed down at the parchment. So many deaths. And each time she looked into Llewelyn's face, she could not but wonder how much time remained to them. How precious days and hours became with the realization of how few they were."You look so solemn, Joanna. What are you thinking of?""That Llewelyn and I have been wed twenty-eight years. That sounds so long, Nell, but in truth it passed in a blur of light, days into months into years...""Your mind takes the most morbid turns," Nell admonished. "Fretting about time's passing will not slow it down one whit. Let's talk instead of tomorrow's revelries. Have all the guests arrived? I hope none of the Marshals will be coming; I did tell you, did I not, how disagreeable they've been sinceWilliam's death, begrudging me my dower rights?""Repeatedly," Joanna said, and smiled to soften the sting, "i Q{1^ to findIsabella; I promised I'd help her decide what to wear tomorrow.""Come to my chamber first. I want to show you the gown I bought in London atWhitsuntide, a samite silk of willow green.""I'd love to see it," Joanna said, remembering in spite of herself the ceremony in which Nell placed a gold band upon her finger to symbol^ her marriage to Christ, adopted a nun's habit of homespun. She still wore the ring, but she'd long since put aside the homespun, resumed her rightful place at her brother's court.As if reading her thoughts, Nell said suddenly, "I know people were quick to judge me when I began wearing bright colors again. But I've not abjured my oath, and that should be what matters to the Almighty, should it not? It vexed me beyond bearing to think Of others gossiping behind my back, poking their noses into my life. And when Io n o if

690think how it must have been for you . . . How did you endure it, Joanna? Were you not enraged at their impudence, their effrontery?"As always, Joanna was amused by Nell's uncalculating candor. It was, Joanna thought wryly, not a trait she'd inherited from either of her parents. "Ithink I felt not so much resentful as uncomfortable. But you speak as if the disapproval was all in the