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

tiresome length about a subject that interested him not at all, and he said quickly, "But I know naught of castles, Stephen. Nor do I much like living in one. We do not have them in my land, you see."Stephen looked incredulous. "None at all?""Just those that were built by the Normans. Our people live in houses of timber, but they're scattered throughout the mountains, not all clustered together like your English villages."It was obviously a novel thought to Stephen, that not all cultures and societies were modeled after his own. They were both sitting on the bank by the stream and he rolled over in the grass, propped his chin in his hands, and said, "Tell me more about the Welsh."Llewelyn no longer had any reservations about boasting of his bloodlines.Stephen was so woefully ignorant that it was truly a charitable act to enlighten him, he decided, and proceeded to acquaint Stephen with some of the more legendary exploits of his celebrated grandfather, giving his imagination free rein."And so," he concluded, having at last run out of inspiration, "when my grandfather died, his sons fought to see who would succeed him. My father was deprived of his rightful inheritance, and Gwynedd is now ruled by my uncles, Rhodri and Davydd."Welsh names were falling fast and freeto Stephen's unfamiliar ears, much like the musical murmurings of Yokethul Brook. But one fact he'd grasped quite clearly. A prince was a prince, be he Welsh or Norman, and he looked atLlewelyn with greatly increased respect. "Wait," he begged. "Let me be sure Ido follow you. Your grandfather was a Prince of ... Gwynedd, and your lady mother is the daughter of a Prince of . . . ?""Powys. Marared, daughter of Prince Madog ap Meredydd. My fa* ther was killed when I was a babe, and ere my mother wed Hugh Corbet, we lived with her kin inPowys ..."Llewelyn had not begun talking until he was nearly two, and since then, his mother often teased, he seemed bound and determined to

UP f°r a" ^at ^ost ^me- Now, with so satisfactory an audience as ma hen and a subject that was so close to his heart, he outdid himself, JI Stephen learned that among the Welsh there was no greater sin^to deny hospitality to a traveler, that Welshmen scorned the chain-.j arrn0r of the English knight, that Llewelyn's closest friends were s named Rhys and Ednyved, and the ancient Welsh name forShrewsbury was Pengwern.The sun had taken on the dull, red-gold haze of coming dusk as Llewelyn obligingly gave Stephen a lesson in the basics of Welsh pronunciation. "SayRhys like this: Rees. And Ed-nev-ed. Now try Gruffvdd; it sounds like yourGriffith. In Welsh, the double 'd' is pronounced as 'th.' So my little brother's name is spelled A-d-d-a, but we say it as Atha, Welsh for Adam." He paused, his head cocked. "Do you hear that? Someone is calling your name."Stephen scrambled to his feet so fast he all but tumbled down the brook embankment. "My brother! Jesii, but he'll flay me alive!" "Why?""I coaxed him into taking me with him to Shrewsbury this morn. We agreed to meet at St George's bridge and I... I just forgot!" "Well, cannot you say you're sorry and ..." Stephen shook his head, staring at the boys now mounting the crest of the hill. "No, not with Walter. He ... he's not much for forgiveness ..."The approaching boys looked to be about fourteen. The youngster in the lead had Stephen's butter-yellow hair. He strode up to Stephen and, without a word, struck the younger boy across the face, with enough force to send Stephen sprawling."We've been looking for you for nigh on two hours! I've a mind to leave you here, and damned well should!"As Walter reached down and jerked Stephen to his feet, Llewelyn came forward.He'd taken an instant dislike to Walter de Hodnet, but for Stephen's sake, he sought to sound conciliatory as he said, "It was my fault, too. We were talking and ..."Walter's eyes flicked to his face, eyes of bright blue, iced with sudden suspicion. "What sort of lowborn riffraff have you taken up with now, Stephen?"Llewelyn flushed. "I am Llewelyn ab lorwerth," he said after a long pause;instinct was now alerting him to trouble. At the same time Stephen burst into nervous speech."He is a Welsh Prince, Walter, and ... and he's been telling me all aboutWales ..."''Oh, he has?" Walter said softly, and Stephen, who knew his rother well enough to be forewarned, tried to shrink back. But Walter

still had a grip on his tunic. With his other hand he grasped a fistful ofStephen's hair and yanked, until Stephen's head was drawn back so fa that he seemed to be staring skyward, and was whimpering with pajn"That's just what I could expect from you. No more common sense than the stupidest serf, not since the day you were born. So he's been telling you about Wales? Did he tell you, too, about the crops burned in the fields, the villages plundered, the women carried off?" Releasing Stephen, he swung around suddenly on Llewelyn."Suppose you tell him about it now. Tell my lack-wit brother about the border raids, tell him how brave your murdering countrymen are against defenseless peasants and how they run like rabbits when ve send men-at-arms against them!"Sul was grazing some yards away, and for several moments Llewelyn had been measuring the distance, wanting nothing so much as to be up on the gelding's back and off at a breakneck run. But with Walter's taunt, he froze where he was, pride temporarily prevailing over fear. He'd never run like a rabbit, never. But there was a betraying huskiness in his voice as he said, "I have nothing to say to you."Walter was flanked by his two companions; they'd moved closer to Llewelyn, too close, and he took a backward step. But he dared retreat no farther, for the brook embankment was at his back and he did