The Black Lyon

view, she and Ranulf exchanged looks and secret smiles, then spurred their horses ahead. They entered through the west barbican, as before, only this time Lyonene bent to touch the offered hands also.
    There was only one blot on their joyous homecoming: the sight of a knight who glared at them, half-concealed by the stable walls. She remembered having seen him once before on guard duty. He gave her a smirking look, and she turned away quickly.
    Ranulf swung Lyonene from her horse, his hands lingering on her tiny waist. He held her aloft a moment and they smiled into one another’s eyes.
    “My lady, you are returned! I near died of fright every moment you were away.” Lucy waddled toward her mistress.
    “Her fretting does not seem to have affected her appetite,” Ranulf whispered as they both saw that Lucy had added weight.
    “And this baggage! It seems she helped you in your wicked plot.” She tossed her head back to the maid, Kate, who smiled nervously. Lyonene knew that for all Lucy’s words, she would never be mean to Kate or anyone else. The old woman turned to Ranulf for the first time. “You seem to have come to your senses,” she sniffed, eyeing the ease between them, the touches.
    Ranulf did not smile but Lyonene could see the amusement in his eyes. “If you mean about this Lioness, I had no choice. She spent many hours working at ways to seduce me. A man can resist only so long.”
    “Ranulf!” Lyonene gave him a horrified look.
    Lucy looked from one to the other, serious. “I have told her to do so. A woman should not need to depend upon the infrequent thoughts of a man to get what she wants.”
    Lyonene could not speak, she was so embarrassed.
    Ranulf grinned then and took Lyonene’s hand and held it to his lips, his eyes never leaving Lucy’s. “She has gotten what she wants now. But it has not been easy for me—all day and all night.” He ignored Lyonene’s half-scream, holding her hand firmly to him.
    Lucy grinned. “It certainly looks as if her wants have agreed with you.”
    Lyonene gave a violent jerk to her hand and drew it from Ranulf’s. “I will not be discussed like a … tavern wench!” Her head held high, she marched to the front door of Black Hall. She had to use all her strength to keep from losing her slight composure when she heard Ranulf say something about, “…best tavern wench I’ve ever had…” and Lucy’s giggle of delight.
    Brent, his excitement at the unusual castle no longer contained, burst past her. She was happy to show the boy all the beauties of Malvoisin, and experienced anew the wonder of glass windows, tapestries and carpets.
    The day was spent in hearing reports of happenings in the near two months they had been away. William de Bec, the steward, reported problems at Lyonene’s dower castle, Gethen. It seemed a neighbor had decided to declare that a large portion of the estate belonged to him. Ranulf sent William and six garrison knights to report on the matter.
    The days lengthened and ran together in a blur of happiness for Lyonene. She and Bassett, the gardener, worked together to fill the Queen’s Garden with roses, lilies, marigolds, poppies, daffodils and many herbs. Espaliered cherry, apple and peach trees covered the walls. On the warm nights, she and Ranulf often sat together by the tiled fountain and talked or sang.
    Ranulf spent near two weeks tending to his other manors. When he returned, their reunion was joyous. They spent many hours together in the solar, drinking from one another’s cups, telling stories of their separate happenings.
    It was in late June as they sat in the solar, Brent drowsing on a sun-warmed carpet, wrapped around the puppy Ranulf had given him, that a servant announced a fire in the village. Ranulf went immediately, Brent not far behind.
    It was late when the Black Guard returned with their master, their bodies blackened by the smoke.
    “We could not save the houses, but the people are alive, although burned. Could you see to them?” he asked tiredly as the men wearily walked to the river to wash.
    Daylight saw a lord and his lady who had not slept at all through the night. The climbed the stairs to their room, arms locked, eyes barely open.
    “Here you go.” Lucy handed Lyonene a basket, which she took only because of a remembered response. “No one will let you sleep here. Soon the whole castle will awake, and then William will have a problem that desperately needs solving and then Bassett will