Falls the Shadow Read Online Free PDF Page A

among the Welsh who thought he’d been wronged. Llelo would have gone to him, had he not noticed Owain hovering at his father’s elbow. Instead, Llelo found himself gravitating toward the dais, where his grandfather was, as always, the center of attention.
    “Say that again, John,” Llewelyn instructed, “but more slowly.”
    His son-in-law smiled, obligingly repeated, “Nu biseche ich thee.”
    Although Llewelyn spoke Welsh and Norman-French and Latin, he had never learned English. “And that means?”
    “Now beseech I thee,” John the Scot translated, adding, accurately if immodestly, “I have always had a gift for languages. In addition to my native French, I speak my father’s Gaelic, Latin, a smattering of your Welsh, and I’ve picked up some English. It does come in handy at times; English is still the tongue of the peasants, the villeins on my Cheshire manors. Shall I lesson you in English, my lord Llewelyn? What would you fancy learning?”
    “Mayhap some blood-chilling English oaths?” Llewelyn suggested, and the men laughed. So did Llelo, until he saw that Owain had joined them. He flushed, edged away from his grandfather, from his brother’s suspicious stare.
    Pausing only to retrieve his mantle, he slipped through a side door, out into the bailey. There he tilted his head back, dazzled by so many stars. His grandfather had once offered to teach him how to find his way by making use of the stars, but had never found the time. Llelo fumbled at his belt, drew forth his grandfather’s gift. The handle was ivory; the slender blade caught glints of moonlight. He’d had an eating knife, of course, but this knife was longer, sharper; with a little imagination, he could pretend it was a real dagger. Ahead lay the stables, where his true New Year’s gift awaited him, for his grandfather’s favorite alaunt bitch had whelped, and tonight he’d promised Llelo the pick of the litter, as soon as they were weaned.
    The stables were dark, quiet. Mulling over names for his new pet, Llelo did not at once realize he wasn’t alone. He was almost upon them before he saw the man and woman standing together in the shadows of an empty box stall. Instinctively, he drew back, would have retreated. But they’d whirled, moved apart.
    “Llelo?” Although the voice was low, breathless, he still recognized it as Elen’s.
    “Yes,” he said, and she came toward him. The man followed her into the moonlight. He, too, was known to Llelo, and it took him but a moment to recollect the name: Robert de Quincy, a cousin of Elen’s husband.
    “I vow, Llelo, but you’d put a ferret to shame, padding about on silent cat-feet! You’re like to scare the wits out of me, God’s truth,” Elen said and laughed. Her laughter sounded strange to Llelo, high-pitched and uneven.
    “I am sorry,” he said, and she reached out, ruffled his hair.
    “No matter. But I was talking with Sir Robert on a private matter, so I’d be beholden to you, love, if you’d not mention that you saw us out here together.” She gave him a crooked smile. “It will be our secret, Llelo…agreed?”
    He nodded, hesitated, and then turned, began to retrace his steps toward the great hall. They watched him go, not daring to speak until they were sure he was safely out of earshot. Then Robert said softly, “Can he be trusted?”
    She bit her lip. “Yes. But Jesú, how I hated to do that to him!”
    He forced a smile. “You need not fret, sweetheart. What youngling does not like to be entrusted with a secret?”
    Elen still frowned. “Mayhap,” she whispered. “Mayhap…”
    Llelo had lost all interest in viewing the puppies. He did not know why he felt so uneasy, knew only that he did. He’d been proud to share his father’s secret. But he sensed that Elen’s secret was different. He loved his aunt Elen, worried that she was somehow in peril, worried, too, that he might inadvertently give her secret away. He’d never been good at keeping secrets