Here Be Dragons - 1

valued even more for its rarity, and that awareness made Llewelyn's gallantry all the more endearing to Joanna. She touched her lips to the rim of her wine cup, then handed it to him. He smiled, put his mouth to the imprint of her kiss, and drank.Watching their byplay, Richard felt both amusement and awe. He'd not been sanguine about their chances for reconciliation; Llewelyn's bloody rending of the de Braose lands in 1231 had given incontrovertible evidence of the sort of wound that infidelity could inflict. But there was such intimacy in the look that now passed between them that he no longer doubted, and he could only marvel at what he could not understand.There'd been a lull in the dancing; John the Scot was calling for silence. As conversation hushed and heads turned, he strode up onto the dais. "I hope ourWelsh brethren will not take it amiss if I speak French; my father's Gaelic enabled me to understand your tongue, but I speak it too poorly for public utterance." Glancing toward Llewelyn, he said, "In the recent strife betwixtKing Henry and your Prince, I was sorely tried. I had to hold with my King, but I am bound to Lord Llewelyn, too, both by choice and wedlock. I can say, therefore, in all certitude that few welcomed the Treaty of Middle more wholeheartedly than I.He raised his wine cup high. "I drink to peace between our peoples . . . and to your Prince. Wales has had its share of strong-willed, able rulers, men like Hywel the Good and Owain the Great. It is my pleasure now to honor a man whose feats equal if not eclipse theirs. A man who is my ally, friend, father by marriage, a man whose memory will burn brightly for generations to come amongst the Welsh, a man who we deserves to be remembered by history asLlewelyn the Great."It was a memorable tribute, one that Llewelyn had not been exPel; ing."Llewelyn Fawr?" he echoed, then shook his head and grinned. do not know, John. Although I can say for certes that no one will eve call me Llewelyn theGood!"

693Midst the ensuing laughing, his eyes met Joanna's. She saw how deepty he'd been pleased, put her hand upon his arm, her happiness pilling over in full and intoxicating measure. But it was then that her gaze happened to fall upon her daughter. Elen was watching her father and husband, and there was on her face an expression of unutterable sadness, a look of yearning and of despair."LADY Joanna? I saw you leave the hall, feared something might be wrong.""Not at all, Isabella. I am but returning to my bedchamber to tighten a garter.""Shall I fetch your maid? Or mayhap I could help you myself?"At times Isabella's emotional dependence could be cloying, but Joanna's fondness for the girl was genuine, and she smiled, shook her head. "No, darling, there's no need; you go back to the hall," she said, and she would ever after thank God fasting for that casually made decision to go unaccompanied to her bedchamber.The night was warm, starlit, and scented with honeysuckle, Joanna's favorite fragrance, but she was too preoccupied to notice. Ere the evening was over, she'd have to find time alone with Elen. But would Elen confide in her?Entering the antechamber, she was reaching for the door latch when she heard it, a sound so unexpected, so chilling that her fingers froze on the ringthe sound of a man's laughter. She stared at the door, disbelieving, caught up in a surge of superstitious fear, for what man would dare intrude into Llewelyn's private chamber? There was but one answer to that question, an answer that raised gooseflesh on her arms, sweat on her forehead. No mortal man."Will?" she whispered as the laughter came again. All knew ghosts walked at night, evil spirits come to tempt the unwary, incubi to lay with women whilst they slept. But as she stood there, she suddenly remembered a night when she'd awakened Llewelyn with kisses, and he'd pretended to believe she was a succubus, intent upon stealing his seed. It was an incongruous, bawdy memory, but it stiffened her spine, gave her the courage to do what she knew Llewelyn would have done, confront the unknown. She groped for her crucifix, gripped the latch, and thrust the door open.They sprang apart, turned startled faces toward her, faces that mirr°red her own fear. Her daughter and Robert de Quincy. "Mama!" Elen's voice was uneven, breathless. "What are you doing here?"Joanna moved forward into the room. "I might well ask you the same question, Elen."

694Robert de Quincy stepped into the light cast by Joanna's lanternshe had not paid him much mind in the hall, had noted only that he had a ready laugh. She saw now a thatch of dark hair, high hollowed cheek bones, a full mouth, and intensely blue eyes, eyes full of anxiety. "rj0 not blame Elen, Madame. Ilured her here, told her""That's not so. This was my doing, Mama, not Rob's." Elen put her hand upon his arm. "Go back to the hall, Rob, ere you be missed. I'll talk to my mother.""You're sure?" he asked, and the intimacy of that brief exchange was enough to confirm Joanna's worst fears. She looked from her daughter to de Quincy, with a sinking certainty that they were lovers."Yes," Elen said, "I'm sure." But before he reached the door she cried, "Rob!"He stopped and she flung her arms around his neck, kissed him full on the mouth. And then she turned defiantly back to face her mother.The door closed; Joanna put her lantern down. "Well?" Elen said. "Go ahead, Mama. Say what you will. But ere you do, you might remember what Scriptures say about sins and casting the first stone.""What can I say?" Joanna sat down upon the bed. Never had a headache come upon her so suddenly; her temples were throbbing, her vision blurring. "You must love him. I cannot