Here Be Dragons - 1 by Sharon Kay Penman Read Free Book Online Page B

the bared skin of his forearm.
1 his is too important for mere words," he explained composedly, watching the flow of his own blood with indifferent eyes. "For this, we must swear in blood."
was a gesture as irresistible as it was melodramatic, at least to ew yn.
Ednyved looked rather less enthusiastic, and when Rhys
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passed him the bloodied dagger, he took it with such reluctance that Llewelyn burst out laughing.
"Since you share the same blood as Rhys, mayhap you could swear, too, in his,"
he gibed, and Ednyved grimaced, drew a few drops of blood.
"Here, my lord princeling," he grunted. "Your turn."
Llewelyn made a far more modest cut than Rhys had, saying, "If I'm to spill my blood, I'd as soon spill it in Gwynedd." Rising, he searched the clearing until he'd gathered a handful of rock moss. This he brought back to Rhys, and leaning over, he applied it to the other boy's arm.
"Hold this upon the cut till the bleeding ceases, or you might well end up as the first casualty of my war," he said, and laughed again, realizing that he was as happy at this moment as he'd ever been in his life.
HUGH Corbet was surprised to find the great hall all but deserted; as in
England, the hall was the heart of Welsh home life. But then he heard the voices, angry, accusing, and he understood. At the far end of the hall his wife and her elder brother Gruffydd were standing, and even Hugh, who knew no
Welsh other than a few endearments Marared had taught him in bed, could tell at once that they were quarreling, quarreling bitterly. Gruffydd's retainers and servants had wisely fled the battlefield; only Llewelyn, Adda, and Morgan ap Bleddyn, his wife's chaplain, were still in the hall.
As Hugh moved up the center aisle, Gruffydd turned on his heel and stalked out the door behind the dais, slamming it resoundingly behind him. Hugh was secretly amused that his wife should be giving her brother such grief. He had discovered early in his marriage that Welshwomen were more outspoken and less submissive than their Norman sisters, and while he'd learned to accept Marared on her own terms, it pleased him to see Gruffydd reaping what he had sown. For certes, a society in which women were not taught their proper place was bound to lack harmony, a natural sense of order.
But he was taken aback by what happened next. Marared swung around on her eldest son, put a question to him, and when he shook his head, she slapped him across the face. Hugh was astonished, for he'd never seen her raise her hand to Llewelyn before, not even on occasions when the boy richly deserved it. He hastened toward them, wondering what sins would loom so large in her eyes.
Could Llewelyn have set his heart upon trading his gelding for an untamed stallion? No, Margaret was a doting mother, not a foolish one;
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she'd never sought to wrap the boy in soft wool. What, then? Had he gotten some village lass with child? That was likely enough. He was an attractive lad, and having discovered where his sword was meant to be sheathed, he seemed set upon getting as much practice as possible. But no, why should Margaret fret over a peasant wench ploughed and cropt? She was too sensible for that, would not blame Llewelyn for so small a sin.
Marared had turned away abruptly, sitting down suddenly on the steps of the dais. Llewelyn followed at once, hovering uncertainly at her side, his face troubled. But when he patted her shoulder awkwardly, she pushed his hand away.
Hugh quickened his step, no longer amused.
"Margaret? What is wrong?"
"Ask Llewelyn," she said tautly, and then, "He says he's not going back to
England with us. He wants to stay in Wales, to try to overthrow his uncles in
Gwynedd."
Her answer was so anticlimactic that Hugh felt laughter well up within him, dangerously close to the surface. He gave an abrupt, unconvincing cough, knowing she'd never forgive him if he laughed. But how like a woman, to let herself get so distraught over a boy's caprice, a whim of the moment that bore