The Black Lyon

mine!”
    Lyonene did not see Ranulf move, but Giles flew through the air to land with a heavy thud several feet away. He made no more sounds. The look on her husband’s face was terrifying, and she could not move.
    “They are here.” A woman’s voice spoke near them. “They could not keep from one another. We have come in time,” she said, laughing.
    Soon the cold courtyard was filled with laughing women, who surrounded Lyonene.
    “She will be yours soon enough, Lord Ranulf.”
    Only Melite noticed her son-in-law’s face. She placed a hand on his arm, but he did not seem to notice, so she followed her daughter.
    Lyonene stood as stiffly as a doll while Lucy and her mother removed her wedding garments. Silently she stepped into the six-foot-square bed. Still she did not speak as they pulled the fine linen sheets just across her breasts and placed several feather pillows behind her head. Carefully they arranged her great masses of tawny locks about her head and shoulders.
    “She’s lovely, my little girl.” The tears flowed down Lucy’s plump cheeks. “Oh, my lady, I hate to leave her like a lamb to be slaughtered.”
    “Hush, Lucy!” Melite commanded. “She is frightened enough as it is. Do not encourage her.”
    “And well she should be, too, for they say he’s a spawn of the Devil’s.”
    Melite drew herself up, her eyes stormy, and pointed her finger toward the door. Sobbing, Lucy left.
    “Lyonene! I have told you what happens between a man and a woman. It is an act of love, and there is no need to fear it so.”
    Lyonene lifted her eyes to her mother’s. “I believe he hates me.”
    “What has happened? What have you done?”
    “I do not know; only that he is more than angry. Giles told him some lies and he hates me for them.”
    “Giles! I thought he might cause problems so I asked Sir John to come without his son. I did not even see him.” She looked toward the door. “They come now. Be kind to him and patient; do not let your temper say things. I must go. You are a woman now and must solve your own life.” She kissed her daughter’s cheek and left.
    Melite flattened herself against the stone stairwell as the Black Guard carried their lord up the stairs, his feet higher than his head.
    “Now we learn what man we serve! If there is not a babe nine months hence, we go to serve Robert de Vere, who has six sons.”
    “A lion for his shield and a lioness for his bed. Could a man ask for more?”
    As the men entered the room, they quieted, for the sight of Lady Lyonene sitting in the bed, the soft globes of her breasts barely hidden by the sheets, her hair a thick halo about her, made each of them wonder at all the women he had ever seen, for none came near to rivaling Lyonene. Ranulf wondered at their silence, but then he, too, drew in his breath sharply at the sight of her.
    When he wore not a stitch, they lifted him and hastily tucked him into bed beside his wife. Corbet doused the candles until there remained only one at the foot of the bed. Sainneville, also of the Black Guard, stopped his fellow knight as he made to extinguish the last candle. He rolled his eyes toward the couple in the great bed. “Were you he, would you wish for a dark room when you rolled back that thin sheet?”
    There was silence as each man considered this. They left the room, laughing.
    “Ranulf,” she began when they were alone. He jumped from the hand she placed on his bare arm.
    “Do you reconcile yourself to a rich husband? Do you plan to bear my caress while you hunger for another? Or mayhaps you have known his well over the years.”
    “Giles is naught to me! Nor has he ever been.”
    “The boy did not seem to agree with your words. He could not have created his thoughts from air!”
    “But he has. We played together as children and often talked of when we’d marry, but I always spoke of a man unknown. It does not seem to have been so with him.”
    “I understand more fully. The boy loved you, but you denied his love, for you were after richer game. You have had good hunting and have brought to table the Earl of Malvoisin. Shall I tell you of my estates, my knights, the number of gold plates I own?”
    “Cease! I am innocent! He is but a boy filled with dreams and has meant naught to me. It is you, I…”
    “Love?” he sneered. “You can say you love me? Come, let us hear the soft words. Mayhaps they will appease the Lion’s wrath and make him sweet and malleable in your little hands