Falls the Shadow by Sharon Kay Penman Read Free Book Online

winced. His was no longer a young man’s body, and his muscles were cramping badly, inflamed by the abuses of the past three days. He slumped back in the chair, for the first time noticed his grandson. The boy said nothing, shyly held out a clay goblet. Llewelyn took it, drank without tasting.
    “Llelo, fetch me that casket on the window-seat.” Llelo was in motion before he’d stopped speaking, and a moment later was watching, amazed, as Llewelyn dumped the contents onto the foot of the bed: a gleaming treasure-trove of gold and silver, garnets, amethysts, pendants and pins. “I once gave Joanna an amber pater noster. Help me find it, lad.”
    Llelo had the sharper eye, soon spied the yellow-gold prayer beads. “Here, Grandpapa! Why do you want it?”
    “Men say that amber helps to ease fevers.” Llewelyn leaned over, fastened the rosary around Joanna’s wrist. Isabella had entered with a laver. Taking it from her, he sat on the bed, began to sponge cooling water onto Joanna’s face and throat. When her lashes fluttered, he said soothingly, “I seek to lower your fever, breila.” The words came readily, so often had he said them to her in the past twelve hours. But then the sponge slipped from his fingers, for her eyes had focused on him, no longer blind. “Joanna?”
    “You came back…” A joyful whisper, so faint that none but he heard. Only when he thrust the laver aside did the others realize she was lucid again.
    “Hold me,” she entreated, and he slid his arm around her shoulders, cradled her against his chest. “Llewelyn…I cannot remember. Was…was I shriven?”
    “Indeed, love. Davydd did assure me of it, said your confessor administered the Sacraments whilst you were still in your senses.” Brushing her hair back, he kissed her forehead, her eyelids, the corner of her mouth. “But it matters for naught now, breila, for you’re going to recover. You need only—”
    “My darling…my darling, not even you can…can deny death…” The corner of her mouth twitched, tried to smile. “Davydd?” she whispered, and Llewelyn nodded, unable to speak.
    “I’m here, Mama.” Davydd came forward, into her line of vision. “Right here.” He saw her lips move, knew what she asked, slowly shook his head. “No, Mama. But Elen is on her way, should be here soon.”
    Joanna closed her eyes; tears squeezed through her lashes. So much she wanted to say, but she had not the strength. “Beloved…promise me…”
    Llewelyn stiffened. She’d fought so hard to gain the crown for their son. Did she mean to bind him now with a deathbed vow? He waited, dreading what she would ask of him, to safeguard the succession for Davydd. Knowing there was but one certain way to do that—to cage Gruffydd again. And how could he do that to his son? How could he condemn him to a life shut away from the sun? But how could he deny Joanna? Could he let her go to her grave without that comfort?
    “Llewelyn…pray for me,” she gasped, and only then did he fully accept it, that she was indeed dying, was already lost to him, beyond earthly cares, worldly ambitions.
    “I will, Joanna.” He swallowed with difficulty, brought her hand up, pressing his lips against her palm. “You will have my every prayer.”
    “Bury me at…at Llanfaes…”
    His head jerked up. He had an island manor at Llanfaes; it was there that Joanna had been confined after he had discovered her infidelity. “Why, Joanna? Why Llanfaes?”
    Her mouth curved upward. “Because…I was so happy there. You came to me, forgave me…”
    “Oh, Christ, Joanna…” His voice broke; he pulled her into an anguished embrace, held her close.
    Llelo had been a petrified witness; at that, he began to sob. Isabella, too, was weeping. Davydd turned on his heel, bolted from the chamber. Ednyved took the boy by the arm. Gently but insistently, he ushered Llelo and Isabella into the antechamber. Then quietly he closed the door, left Llewelyn alone with his