My most moving romantic scene

There are some books which leave an impression.  Some beloved favourites which are comforts to be read over and over again.  I posted a while back about my favourite sex scene and I thought I’d share today one of the most memorable and moving and romantic scenes I’ve read in romance fiction. For me, it is the ultimate in grand gestures.  It’s from a historical book – I don’t know the correct term for it but it’s the novel equivalent of a docu-drama.  Based on fact, using real people, but where the historical record is blank or obscure, fiction (via the author) steps in to complete the story.  I borrowed the book from the library many years ago.  I’ve only read it once and yet, it left a huge impression on me and, there is one scene in particular which, when I read it, caused me, literally, to catch my breath.

The book is Here Be Dragons by Sharon Kay Penman.

The title actually comes from old maps where what was unknown was rendered “here be dragons” and reflects that some of the story is made up.  I haven’t done any research to try and sort out what was real and what was not.  I assume that any of the significant dates and battles and births, deaths and marriages (as well as one unfortunate instance late in the book where the main character, Joanna, disappointed me greatly) are true.  But as to what is made up, well, I’m not sure I really want to know.  The scene I adore, the scene which makes the book (in a book which was full of wonderful prose and rich history) may not have actually occurred.  It’s the sort of thing which might have been recorded if it happened, but it is so romantic that perhaps it didn’t.  Perhaps it is too fairytale.  And if it’s not real, I don’t want to know – because I think, even though the scene is sad overall, it is perfect.

I don’t have the book (something I have remedied today via The Book Depository because it is one I feel I have to have in print) so I can’t give you the exact quote.  But I have a clear memory of the scene and its effect upon me.

Joanna is an illegitimate daughter of King John (brother of Richard the Lionheart).  She was married off very young to Llewellyn, who would become the first man to unite Wales; if you like, the very first Prince of Wales (although, IIRC, he never had that formal title), in an act of political expedience.  Notwithstanding that they were married, Joanna and Llewellyn didn’t have a relationship for the first years because she was little more than a child, but after some time had passed, Joanna came to Llewellyn’s attention and they eventually fell in love and had a very passionate, long and (mostly) happy relationship.  Llewellyn was often in conflict with the King and was defeated more than once (if memory serves) in battle.  In one particular scene, Llewellyn has been abjectly defeated.  He is to present himself to King John in surrender on the field of battle where his humiliation will be complete.

I pictured a vast field, empty but surrounded on all sides by a huge crowd of soliders and onlookers, the King waiting to accept Llewellyn’s surrender and delight in making this man kneel and beg for his life.  King John wants to rub Llewellyn’s nose in the dirt.  He wants him to be so cowed he will never again rebel.

Joanna is the King’s daughter.  She loves him but is not blind to his flaws. For much of the book she is torn between loyalty to her father and sovereign, and to her husband, whom she also loves.  In this moment, on that field, Joanna does something. Something I think is brave and terribly romantic and that meant something immeasurable to Llewellyn.  Her strong, proud husband is abject. He has lost everything.  She runs onto the field and curtsies in deep abeisance.  Before Llewellyn.  Not before her father, the King.  Before her husband.  She publicly chooses Llewellyn over her father and nails her colours for all time to the mast by so doing.  Even in defeat, she chooses him.  She kneels before him not because she is subjugated to him (although of course back then life was different for women) but because that is the greatest honour she can think to bestow upon him. The greatest gift she can give him in that time when he is so utterly ruined.  Her faith.  Her support.  Her choice. (Also a big “fuck you” to the king which didn’t hurt either, at least from Llewellyn’s perspective).  In this one thing, he had won.  In this, Llewellyn was the victor and he was able to salvage some pride after all. It was an act of strength and courage on Joanna’s part.  It had meaning and substance and I loved the subversion of it. Because this thing she did, gave Llewellyn the courage to raise himself from the ashes of defeat, to continue and perservere.  In that act, in an important way, she rescued him.

I don’t know if it’s true, but I so wish it to be.

Even just thinking about it now, many years after I first read it, it still makes me catch my breath.