The Black Lyon

early morning half-light. Lyonene thought again of what she was doing, wondering at Ranulf’s reaction when she revealed herself to him. He had said he did not want to see her again and she dared much in this masquerade. She grimaced at her lack of clothing other than the rough serf’s wool. But try as she might, she could find no way to conceal a thick bundle of fur-lined garments in the wagons, for they were checked constantly by several men and the discovery of such a bundle would expose her and ruin her plan.
    “You, girl!”
    Lyonene looked to see a woman calling her. She ducked her head and fought the quick anger that threatened a rebellion at this coarse woman’s commands.
    “Do not stand there all day! Come and help me with these barrels!”
    Lyonene followed the woman into the inner bailey, her heart pounding, for before her stood the entire Black Guard mounted on their great steeds, and in their midst stood the riderless Frisian. Lyonene looked quickly at the beautiful black horse, the mane full and lush, the thick tail falling all the way to the ground, and the lovely hair that flowed from knee to hoof now moving gently as he lifted one great hoof in impatience to be gone. He was a fitting horse for such a master as the Black Lion.
    Lyonene held the little wooden barrels, one under each arm, and began to follow the woman to the outer bailey, when she paused abruptly. Lyonene followed her eyes. Ranulf walked to his horse, and she felt a surge of pride as all eyes in the courtyard flew to him and his men straightened in their saddles, obviously proud of their master.
    He swung one great leg across the Frisian’s broad back and paused as he stared at one of the windows in the second floor of the Black Hall. Lyonene gasped as she realized it was the window to her little bedchamber.
    “May the tortures of hell descend upon that woman!” the woman beside Lyonene hissed between her teeth.
    Lyonene looked at her for the first time. She was older, near as old as her mother, but the bones in her face showed that once she had been handsome. In fact, even now her eyes riveted Lyonene’s, for they were very unusual—narrow, slanted, almond-shaped and exceptionally beautiful. She narrowed them now as she stared ahead to the object of Ranulf’s gaze, and Lyonene was astonished at the malevolence they contained.
    “It is said that she does not care for my Ranulf.”
    A flash of anger tore its way through Lyonene and she controlled it only with great effort. “What mean you by your Ranulf, does he not have a wife?”
    “Aye, he has a wife.” Her voice was a sneer and she turned to look with interest at Lyonene, but the younger woman looked away. She looked back at Ranulf, and Lyonene clenched her fists as the woman’s strange eyes melted into an adoring gaze. “He has a wife, but one who does not care for him as he deserves.” She gave a low, throaty laugh. “She is a fool to forsake my Lord Ranulf’s lovemaking for that of another.”
    “What know you of my Lord Ranulf’s lovemaking?” Lyonene could not keep the anger from her voice nor help the slight emphasis she placed on the word “my.”
    The woman lazily looked at her, and Lyonene met her smirking eyes with a smoldering gaze that she did not try to conceal.
    “Ah,” she drawled. “So my Ranulf has found one to replace me. I have not heard of you; he hides you well. But then as his mistress you must know of his particular skills, and you have me to thank.”
    Lyonene frowned and was about to ask her meaning when they both became aware of the movement of the horses. She turned startled eyes up to see Ranulf towering above her as he sat atop the Frisian, but Ranulf’s eyes were not for her but for the woman standing next to her. Lyonene covered her face with the shadow of the hood before he saw her.
    “Maude, it is good to see you this lovely morn. I am glad that you travel with us again.”
    “Only with you, my lord. I travel only with you, and should there be anything you need I will gladly … provide it.”
    Lyonene stole a glance at Ranulf, and her teeth clenched tighter at the soft, adoring expression he wore as he gazed down at this brazen old woman. He did not care that everyone in the courtyard heard their words and knew well their meaning. She looked away before he should turn and see her, as if he would ever notice her while this fat, slant-eyed woman so obviously offered herself to him.
    “Ah, Maude, I miss you much since you