The Black Lyon

obeyed him.
    They did not change into their disguise until they were at the ferry that took them from the Isle of Malvoisin to the coast of England. Hodder kept his identity and said he took the two freemen to Lord Ranulf. Kate and Lyonene carefully hid their faces and passed, unrecognized by the ferryman.
    They rode hard for all the day and most of the night. When they stopped, Lyonene wearily fell onto the blanket Hodder spread for her. The ground was warm but hard, and when she awoke, her body ached in several places.
    It was near sunset when they reached Gethen Castle, but Lyonene, spurred by a nervous energy, was unaware of the long, exhausting journey she had just completed. As the pennants of the Black Lion came into view, she slowed her horse and every nerve in her body screamed for her to return to Malvoisin; she did not want to know if Amicia’s words were the truth.
    Hodder sensed her fears. “We can return, my lady,” he said quietly.
    “Nay. I must know.”
    The camp was not heavily guarded. The knight who did see the three riders saw there was no threat and so did not challenge them. The Black Lion was famous throughout England, and many people came to stare at his camp, hoping for a glimpse of the earl or his Black Guard. Consequently, Hodder was able to lead the two women to a slight ridge very near the enormous black tent Lyonene knew so well.
    Although the knight on watch thought little of the three strangers, there was another man who was most interested. He circled the camp and saw with satisfaction that the horses were indeed from Malvoisin. He studied the backs of the three people and grinned broadly when he saw a tawny strand of hair fall from under the too-large cap and then a small hand push it back in place. He fair ran back to his own tent, which he shared with many other of the garrison knights.
    Lyonene was the first to see her. Amicia walked confidently to Ranulf’s tent, and Lyonene knew her heart must have stopped along with her breath. So the woman did not lie; she did indeed go to the camp.
    “My lady, you must make yourself known. You cannot let that woman go to your husband’s tent.” Kate was indignant.
    “Nay, I cannot present myself, for…” She stopped as she saw Ranulf come out of the tent. Her heart lurched at the sight of him, so tall, his dark hair even darker in the fading sunlight, every part of him reminding her of their moments together—such brief moments, she thought now.
    Amicia came from behind Ranulf and took his arm, then turned to look up at him, one hand on his chest, caressing it.
    The three people could no longer see Ranulf’s face as he turned toward the thin woman. Amicia was talking to him and he was listening earnestly. Her arms slid around his neck and she stood on her toes to press her lips to his.
    Lyonene rose and turned back to the horses. “I have seen more than I cared to. We ride for home.”
    The return ride to Malvoisin was lost in Lyonene’s memory. The vision of Amicia in Ranulf’s arms was all she saw. So it was true! All that Amicia had said was true. She thought her love for Ranulf was strong enough to bear his children from other women, if need be, but she could not stand by and see him marry another—or find herself married to another man.
    She allowed Kate to care for her, blindly doing as she was told. She was not even aware when they arrived at Malvoisin, or when Kate undressed her and put her to bed. She slept fitfully, feeling worse when she awoke.
    For two days she was aware of nothing, only sitting in the solar and idly staring or making half-hearted attempts to sew. She felt no anger—no emotion of any kind—when Amicia stormed into the solar one morn.
    “So, you know.”
    “Aye, I know.”
    Amicia grinned slyly. “And what say you now to your fine hopes for the child you carry? Mayhaps Lord Ranulf will allow him to stay and serve my child.”
    Lyonene only watched, dully.
    “I did not think you so selfish as this,” Amicia continued. “You seem to give little thought to your child, but brood continually on your own broken heart. Many women have found their husbands to stray, but they at least sought to protect their children.”
    “I know of no way to protect my son. How can I work against the evil you plot? I am an apprentice to your mastery of devilwork.”
    Amicia sat next to Lyonene and took her cold hand. Lyonene frowned at the woman, whose face had changed to show great concern. “My Lady Lyonene,