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Page 217
not understand her, but her mother. . . . What a fool he had been. Perhaps he could find out from Kicva what was wrong.
"You bear good tidings?"
Llewelyn's voice snapped Simon back to the present, and he came forward quickly and bowed. "They are not ill, but whether good or not, I cannot say. I hope you will be better able to interpret them than I, my lord."
I hope so too," Llewelyn said dryly. "It is not every day that a starving army, thrown back with heavy losses from an assault and plainly unable to maintain the siege or win the keep by attack, suddenly walks into it without a blow struck."
Simon grinned. "Put like that, it does sound odd, but there was reason in it." He then explained fully the terms of the truce, ending, "Do you think the king will keep his word, my lord?"
For some time Llewelyn did not answer. His bright dark eyes stared at nothing. Then he sighed. "I know men, and in a long life I have learned to judge them well, but I cannot answer your question, Simon. No matter what his years, Henry is not a man; he is still a child. Children have bright dreams of what they will be. For most, these dreams are limited by what they are. A serf child does not dream of being a kingbut he can dream of being a man-at-arms or a freeholder of his land. A woman cannot dream of being a brave knight, but she can desire many children, or none, or to rule her husband by stealth or by beauty. But to a child-king's dreams, there are no limits."
"Do you mean that Henry has always desired to grind his barons into dust?"
"Not at all." Llewelyn looked sidelong at Simon and smiled a secret smile. "That is a baron's way of putting it," he said gently. "A king might call it being able to govern without being torn ten ways by different parties with different interests. However, if that were

 
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