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plumage, as when you did defy Maude de Braose on our wedding day ... or when you burned my bed.""You'll never let me forget that, will you?" Joanna laughed. "But I need never explain why I do love you. How could I not, after hearing you say that? You are a man of many parts, in truth, Llewelyn, my lovePrince, warlord . . . and poet.""That is merely to be Welsh, breila." But she was not deceived by the playfulness of his reply, knew how deeply she'd pleased him, for she'd learned by now how highly eloquence was valued in his world. He'd begun to caress her again, and she wrapped her arms around him, soon forgot all else but the here and now, the feel of his hands upon her body and his mouth upon hers.The sensual spell was a powerful one; only belatedly did they become aware of the noise in the antechamber, of the pounding on the door. Llewelyn jerked upright, swore. But then he pulled the sheet up over Joanna, said curtly, "Enter."Joanna's reflexes were slower; she reoriented herself with greater-ffficulty, lay back against the pillow as Ednyved, Morgan, and Gwyn bEdnywain hastened into the chamber.They wasted no time with apologies for the intrusion, knowing one were needed."Llewelyn, a messenger has just ridden in from the Bishop of St Asaph. TheBishop would have you know that on Passion Sunday a proclamation is to be read in churches throughout England and Wales, laying both realms under Interdict until John agrees to yield to the Pope."The news was not unexpected. Llewelyn felt no surprise, only rage. He cared little whether John or the Pope prevailed in their war of wills; their quarrel was nothing to him. But the pain of his people was, and he was deeply resentful that the Welsh must suffer with the English, that the papal punishment should fall equally upon both lands."Damn them both to Hell," he said, with bitter blasphemy. "Why should theWelsh have to suffer because a Norman King and a Roman Pope disagree over anEnglish diocese?"Morgan felt compelled at that to say, "His Holiness had no choice but to do what he did." But his heart was not in his defense, not when he thought of how long the churches might stand silent and dark, or of how long the devout might

be denied the Sacraments."Philip held out for seven months. But John . . . John could hold out for years," Ednyved said grimly. "It's nothing to him whether he can attend Mass or not. He's not like to care even if the bodies of the dead are stacked up like kindling in the churchyards. Not when he's found a way to turn theInterdict to his profit. Bishop Reiner says he has ordered the confiscation of all church property in retaliation, is using the Interdict as a license to loot!""Llewelyn ..." The sound of his wife's voice startled Llewelyn; he had, for the moment, forgotten she was there. Turning toward her, he saw that she'd paled noticeably, and the hand she put upon his arm was cold as ice."Llewelyn, you keep saying gwaharriad. That means 'Interdict,' does it not?"And when he nodded, she drew a sudden sharp breath. "Oh, no!""Joanna? Surely you knew it was likely to come to this ..." But she was not listening. "Morgan, Morgan, I know an Interdict "leans there can be no Masses said, no burials in consecrated ground, n° confessions. But what of christenings, Morgan? May a newborn child still be christened?""Yes, my lady, you may rest easy on that. Holy Church would not dam:an an innocent soul if it could be saved.' "Thank God!"

270"Joanna . . ." Llewelyn was staring at her. He started to speak, stopped, and glanced back toward the men. "We'll discuss this on the morrow," he said, but they were already retreating.As the door closed, Llewelyn tilted Joanna's chin up, looked intently into her face. "Joanna, are you with child?""I think so," she whispered. "My flux did not come this month. But it is too early to know for certes, and I did not want to tell you till I could be sure..." She averted her eyes at that, lest he guess the truth, that she'd been hoping she was wrong, that she was not pregnant. She wanted his children, wanted to give him a son. But not so soon. Elen was not yet five months old, and her memories had not had time to fade. Whenever she found herself remembering the pain-filled day of Elen's birth, she remembered, too, her fear. But she was ashamed that she could take so little pleasure in this pregnancy, and she forced a smile. "If I am right, I may well give you a son ere the year be out. Would that not please you, Llewelyn?""Yes, of course." He took her in his arms, rested his hand against her belly, so deceptively taut and flat, caressed the slender body that seemed such a fragile receptacle for a new life, repeated, "Indeed, Joanna, I am well pleased." But as she raised her eyes to his, she saw in them no pleasure, saw only the reflection of her own anxiety.VHEREFORD, ENGLANDApril 120SV VILLIAM de Braose was surprised and disconcerted to find himself hesitating before John's solar door. He'd spent a lifetime facing down lesser men, men who lacked his cold-blooded cou age, his utter indifference to the rules of fair play, his intoxication wi high-stakes gambles. Never before had he shrunk from confrontatio But never before had he so much to lose.A moment passed, and then another. De Braose stared at the oa

271, or And then he reached for the latch, shoved inward, and strode into the chamber, his the assured, loose-limbered gait of a man equally at home m the saddle or on shipboard, a man with nothing to fear But he broke stride abruptly at sight of the others the Earls of Salisbury and Pembroke, theBishop of Winchester, a shadowy fourth figure beyond

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