Joanna (RC 3) by Gellis Roberta

Author:Gellis, Roberta [Gellis, Roberta]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Romance, General, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9781419931703
Publisher: Ellora's Cave Publishing Inc
Published: 2011-03-17T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Geoffrey and Joanna were nearer dying in the moments after they escaped the fire that destroyed London in 1212 than when they had been trapped by the flames. Tangled in sodden garments, blinded and gagged by the cloth shielding their heads, they were very nearly drowned when Geoffrey’s destrier dragged them into the Thames. It was only the terror that kept Joanna’s hand clenched upon the horse’s rein that saved them. When they fell, she had indeed let go in the instinct of thrusting her hands out to protect herself from falling, but she was so close to Orage that, clutching anything in the cold shock of the river, her hand came upon the saddlebow and she held fast.

Because there is nothing worse than being blind in the face of the unknown, Joanna tore at what covered her head with her free hand. Because she was frightened, she cried out for Geoffrey with her first free breath. He heard, reached toward the sound, and caught the stallion’s neck strap. In a moment his head was free also. Borne up by the struggling horse, both coughed and gasped but neither was stunned any longer. They knew they were in the river, that somehow the horse had sensed water and run toward it.

Once the shock was over there was little more danger. Geoffrey freed the stallion’s head so that the animal was less encumbered and shifted his grip from neck strap to cheek strap so that he could direct the horse’s movement. Both he and Joanna were excellent swimmers, the inconvenience of their clothing compensated by the support they received from Orage. In addition, the tide was running strongly upriver and in only a few minutes they were past the burning area. Nonetheless, they did not leave the river, merely seeking a shallow place where they could rest and then continu—

ing until the close-packed houses of the merchants were behind them. In a quiet garden where only the gusts of smoke-laden wind told of the holocaust they had escaped, Geoffrey and Joanna finally clambered ashore.

There was another short period of tension when the caretaker of the house took exception to two bedraggled scarecrows invading his master’s sacred precincts. In the caution-engendered silence, Joanna’s sweet, cultured voice explained what had happened and reoriented the caretaker’s opinion. He hastened to offer what comforts were available in the empty house. There was little enoughgoose grease for the worst of their burns, backless stools to rest upon, coarse food and wine, rough garments. However, the caretaker’s son was dispatched with a message to Beorn and Edwina so that the deficiencies of their temporary haven would soon be amended.

Before nightfall, they were at home, abed, and so sound asleep that neither stirred at all when the thunder and lightning, which had increased throughout the afternoon, finally gave birth to rain. A violent downpour followed, which checked the fire. Even after the first fury of the storm abated, rain continued to fall, quenching the last of the embers.

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