"But Henry is my brother. Of course I want him to win."

"What is troubling you, then? Is it that you think Llewelyn may not be willing to make peace with Henry?"

"No, it's not that. Llewelyn will eventually come to terms with the English .

. . once they make it worth his while."

Isabelle had rarely heard Joanna sound so cynical, but she was amused nonetheless. "Your husband can charm, but he can also calculate finely enough to split hairs. In that, he's always reminded me of John," she said, and laughed. But Joanna did not. "Joanna . . . what is it? Is it Llewelyn?"

Joanna hesitated. "Yes." Rising, she moved restlessly to the window. "It began this summer, when Reginald de Braose submitted to Henry. To the Welsh, that was a betrayal. Llewelyn was furious, made up his mind to teach Reginald a sharp lesson. But I... I could not see it in the same light. I could think only of Gwladystorn between husband and father. We quarreled, and he departed with angry words between us. As it turned out, he brought Reginald to heel in short order. He swept into Brecknock, and as soon as he crossed the border into Cower, Reginald hastened to meet him at Llangiwg, humbled his pride a yielded up the castle of Swansea to Llewelyn. It was a quick and bio less triumph for the Prince. But an utter failure for the father."

"Was Gwladys very distraught?" .,g "No," Joanna said reluctantly, and then managed a rueful s "In truth, she was not. Llewelyn can do no wrong in her eyes, an hinks he was perfectly justified. To Gwladys, there is but one side to any quarrelthe Welsh."

"I see. Well, then, do you not think you may have . . . overreacted somewhat?"

"You need not be so tactful. Say what you mean, that I was really eacting to past pain of my own. Of course I was. But that does not hange the fact that Llewelyn put political aims above his daughter's welfare-"

"Darling, men do that all the time. At least, ambitious men do ... and is there any other kind?" Isabelle rose, too, followed Joanna to the window. "I arn sorry, though, Joanna. I've known a few women who were well and truly in love. But you were the only one in love with her Ovvn husband! I admit I never thought it would last, yet I hoped for your sake that it might."

Joanna had been listening in surprise. "I once told Llewelyn that I did not always like him, and this summer was for certes one of those times. But I still do love him, Isabelle . . . and fear for him. Over the past eleven years, I've learned to live with his wars, with the knowledge that a well-aimed spear or arrow could make me a widow at any moment. But now . . .

now he is under sentence of excommunication, and that pushes my fear beyond endurance. I'll not deny I find it hard, knowing he is always going to put Gwynedd first. But he found it hard, too, being wed to John's daughter. And nomatter how angry he makes me, I could not envision my life without him . . .

even now, when our marriage is admittedly at low tide!"

"I am glad, Joanna," Isabelle said, and meant it, although she remained convinced that a love so intense was no gift of God. "Now tell me," she said, because she knew it would please Joanna, "about Elen and your Davydd. From your letters, I suspect that he is your favorite, no?"

"No!" Joanna protested swiftly, if not altogether convincingly. "I 've Elen dearly. But ... I just cannot understand her as I would like.

matter how I try, there remains a barrier between us, one I've not ^n able to breach. With Davydd it's different, mayhap because I see so Ucn of myself in him. I know what he is thinking and feeling and reaming; even without words, I know."

''And what of the snake in your Eden? What of Gruffydd?" abl a's reaction was a revealing one. Her mouth tightened notice- ") an" her eyes darkened; at that moment she looked very like John. has i W'^ ke nme m November. Gruffydd is one and twenty . . . and . re following amongst Llewelyn's people."

ot surprising. He's a handsome youth, and there's somethingSOS utterly compelling about his sort of recklessness. It's rather lik ing an avalanche; you do not want to get caught up in it, but fo atout Will was right; he is a weak man. But he's a decent man, too, and e deserves some peace of mind."

She reached up, kissed him softly on the mouth. "Thank you for jPeaking up for me, beloved. Now I want to light a candle for my father. yu do not mind, I'd rather do it alone."

Llewelyn watched as she turned away. If you can forgive Will,518 breila, why can you not forgive yourself? But the question was a silent one.

They could not talk about John; that was a terrain too fraught with pitfalls and remembered pain. It troubled him, though, that Joanna seemed unable to talk about her father with anyone at all, even Catrin or Richard. At first he'd thought she only needed time to be able to come to terms with John's death. But he was beginning to realize that her grieving was interwoven with guiltguilt she would not even acknowledgethat the normal healing process was ineffectual. Her grief was still raw, and he did not know how to help her.