The Black Lyon

another man touching her brought a shudder of revulsion. Yet could she stay and become his mistress, see Amicia in his bed?
    Nay! she thought, she could not.
    Food was brought to her but she noticed neither it nor the hands that served it. She paced the floor, then stopped to stare through the glass of a window. The courtyard lay below and the retainers of the inner bailey walked about normally, as if this were not a day when Lyonene’s world had shattered.
    Ranulf seemed to come to her from every corner, his face, his voice, his words. She had no faith in him! The thought brought new hope to her breast. Perhaps Amicia did lie. The letters could have been forged, the ribbon stolen. She had not seen them together, had no proof of her own that Amicia’s child had been fathered by Ranulf. If the child were not his, then King Edward would not force Ranulf to dissolve his marriage.
    She must go to him, yes, she must see for herself if there were any truth to Amicia’s words. A glance at the window showed it to be late, too late to begin a journey.
    Her mind worked quickly and she planned her journey with care. Once before she had used a disguise and she would do so again, only this time she must travel as a man, a boy at least. Clothes, she thought. She would need clothes; not rich ones to encourage robbers, but those of an apprentice, perhaps, on an errand for his master. She would need an excuse to be traveling alone. Once the thought of danger crossed her mind, but she shook it away. Her future and that of her child were paramount.
    She rummaged through a chest of Ranulf’s and tried on some of his clothes, but they were hopelessly too large and the fabrics too rich for a poor boy.
    “Kate, come here,” she called. She knew the girl looked with suspicion at her mistress’s wild-eyed look. “Kate, you have helped me before and now I need your help again. I must go to my Lord Ranulf, but I must do so in secret. No one but the two of us must know.”
    “You cannot travel to his lordship without guards.”
    “Nay, I must. I have to learn something. If I am right, then I will show myself and there will be no need for secrecy, but if I be wrong… Nay, I do not wish to think on it. But I must have your help. I need a boy’s clothes to fit me, as might befit an apprentice to a guildman. Think you that you can get these? Oh, and make them clean. I do not wish for vermin to infest my skin.”
    “Aye, my lady. I can get them.”
    Lyonene waited nervously for Kate’s return. She took the offered garments. “You told no one?”
    Kate shook her head.
    “They look to be of a good size. What else do you hold?”
    “They are the boy’s clothes I shall wear.”
    “You? But why should you dress as a boy?”
    “When I travel with you.”
    Lyonene stopped her examination of the garments. “Nay, Kate, you do not go with me. I must go alone.”
    “I go with you or I will cry to the castle your intentions.”
    Lyonene’s eyes narrowed. “Do you threaten me?”
    “Aye, I do.”
    Lyonene couldn’t help her laugh. “Then I must retreat. We will leave early on the morrow. You are sure you wish to risk this?”
    “Do not force me to think of your folly,” the girl said as she helped Lyonene undress and get into bed.
    Lyonene’s last thought before sleep took her was that she was cursed with insolent maids. She sighed and gave a silent prayer of thanks for both Kate and Lucy.
    Early the next morn, as Kate and Lyonene packed their clothes, Hodder entered the room. The thin man had never really befriended his new mistress, and the two rarely spoke.
    “Yes, Hodder, what is it?”
    “I have arranged suitable horses for the three of us. They wait outside the castle walls.”
    Kate and Lyonene exchanged glances and then the countess turned back to her husband’s valet. “I do not know your meaning. I have asked for no horses.”
    “You could not expect to look as an apprentice astride an animal like Loriage. There is not a robber within England who would not attack for such a horse. Do not stand and stare at me, we must go.”
    “Hodder, how…”
    “Suffice to say that there is naught that goes on at Malvoisin that I do not know of. You belong to my master and he bid me care for you and I will do so. Now finish with your garments. I have spread the word that you go to the village and will not return until dark. That will give us time before a hue and cry is raised.”
    Too astonished to ask further questions, Lyonene