The Black Lyon

storms and I think this may be one of the worst. My men and I must prepare the villagers. See you that inside the walls all is secure; I do not wish loose boards flying about the stables or the mews. Assign a boy to each horse to stay the night and calm him. Find William and give him my orders.”
    “I am here, Lord Ranulf, and I have begun preparations.” The steward’s voice showed that he needed no one to give him orders. “The shutters are being nailed over the windows.”
    Ranulf merely nodded and was gone.
    The atmosphere inside the castle changed from its usual noisiness to an eerie quiet. The people seemed to walk on their toes, their voices whispers. The master carpenter and his apprentice carried the tool box about and put extra nails in worn partitions. The horses sensed the coming storm and became nervous and skittish, the boys calming and soothing them.
    The garrison knights saw to firewood piles and the storage of food in the stone towers. Leather goods, fabrics, small animals were all taken inside the towers. The courtyards and walkways were thoroughly cleaned to prevent the rain from mixing with the filth, thus turning everything into an open sewer.
    The first heavy drops of rain came in the late afternoon.
    “Lady Lyonene, you must come. Lord Ranulf said you were not to be outside after the first sign of rain.” Kate, who took her new responsibilities as Lyonene’s maid very seriously, near pulled her mistress to the safety of the stone house.
    Inside, it was dark. The windows were all completely shuttered.
    “Hodder, please see that a fire is lit in the solar, and fetch towels and robes for Lord Ranulf and Master Brent. They will be wet when they return. And see that Dawkin keeps food and wine hot.”
    “Yes, my lady.”
    Even as Lyonene mounted the stairs, the storm grew worse. The thunder cracked above their heads, the lightning felt rather than seen. She thought of Ranulf, Brent and the Black Guard outside and she shivered.
    The solar was warm and dry, yet each fresh rage of the weather brought a new frown to her face. She could not look out, for the shutters were on the outside, protecting the precious glass windows.
    “I cannot work on this!” she said, putting down her sewing. “Why do they not return? Go again and ask Hodder if there is word,” she told Kate.
    “My lady, I have but returned. The island is large and they must see to many people. All the watch towers must be lit.”
    “What is this? Why must there be a light?”
    “To warn any ships of the island. There are many shipwrecks at St. Agnes’ Point.”
    “Shipwrecks?” she asked quietly and sat down again.
    “Aye. Then the men, Lord Ranulf’s men, must go to the point and look for survivors.”
    “Why must he go? Are there not other men?”
    “Oh yes, my lady,” Kate answered. “But they are not as honest as Lord Ranulf.” She saw Lyonene did not understand, so she began to explain. “It is the law that whoever finds a ship with no survivors may have the cargo of that ship. If even one person survives, then that person owns the cargo, not the finders.”
    “I do not yet see how this affects my husband.”
    “Too often the finders will kill the survivors rather than give up their booty. Lord Ranulf goes to see they are not killed.”
    “Oh.” She leaned back and digested this information. “But is it not dangerous to go in a storm and search for these neardrowned people?”
    “Oh, yes, it is most…” Kate caught her words when she saw the wild look in her mistress’s eye. “Lord Ranulf does but give orders,” she lied. “It is not so dangerous for him. There are others, men who use a boat well who look for people.”
    Lyonene was relieved somewhat by the girl’s words, but not enough to continue sewing. “You do not think there is a shipwreck now?”
    “No, word would have been sent to us. The whole island knows when there is such an event, even in a storm.”
    The hours dragged and Lyonene walked again and again to the windows, forgetting each time they were covered. She heard noises and ran to the stairs to see only darkness below.
    It was late when she heard unmistakable sounds of doors and people. She barely touched the stairs as she ran below. She flew to Ranulf, mindless of his wet clothes. He held her to him, aware of her pounding heart.
    “Here, I am near drowned and you wet me more.” He kissed her tear-covered eyelids. “Let me go by the fire, for the cold and wet has gone to my