She did not look back at the smirking man. “Nay, I do not.” She spurred the stallion ahead.
Many serfs gathered around their mistress in the village, and she gave her attentions to new babies, flooded fields and the egg production of some famed hens. She looked up once to see Amicia in deep conversation with the garrison knight from the castle. They deserve one another! she thought.
It was well past dinnertime when the two women returned to the castle. Ranulf stood with the Black Guard in the courtyard and introduced the seven men to “Lady” Amicia. Lyonene noticed that Hugo and Maularde regarded her honeyed words with the same suspicion that she herself felt.
When Lyonene entered the hall, the first person she saw was Brent, absent from her for two long days. She had not realized how much she had missed the boy. “Brent!” She knelt, holding her arms out to the child, and he ran to her, giving her a rather fierce hug to show his growing love for her.
Remembering his manly status of page he released her as if disgusted by her embrace. He looked quickly to see if his Lord Ranulf had seen his lapse, but the Black Lion stared intently out a window.
Lyonene stood, not allowing herself to further caress the boy. “You have spent the days in the Great Hall of the Black Guard? You must tell me of it, for I have never entered it.”
“You have not?” Brent was astonished.
“Nay,” Ranulf answered. “Only men are allowed in my guard’s hall.”
“But there are women in…” He stopped at Ranulf’s broad wink. “Oh, aye. No lady-wives are allowed.”
Lyonene smiled innocently. “Then you must tell me
about the place. Is it dark and dirty and full of spiders?”
Brent walked proudly ahead of her and then tossed over his shoulder, “Only a few, but I did not notice them.”
Lyonene wanted to share her laughter with Ranulf, but saw he held the same expression as the boy. She rubbed her stomach and gave a silent prayer asking for deliverance from bringing a third such braggart into the world.
Brent stopped at the doorway of the solar, where Amicia already sat. “Who is she?” he whispered to Lyonene.
They both watched as Ranulf went forward to greet the woman. “Lord Ranulf saved her from the sea. Did not the men tell you?”
“Oh, yes, Martha said that Lord Ranulf saved her and you saved Lord Ranulf. Is that true? You are too small to save him. The Black Lion needs no one to save him.”
“I am afraid you are wrong. Brent,” Ranulf said to him. “Come and meet Lady Amicia and I will tell you how my tiny wife quelled over twenty men, and even made a storm abate to appease her wrath.”
Brent hardly noticed the pale woman to whom he was introduced, but waited intently for the promised story. Ranulf began, ignoring Lyonene’s whispered question of, “Who is Martha?” He was a good storyteller and created a colorful tale from what Lyonene considered rather ordinary happenings.
Brent watched her with awe. “Can you do it again? Can you make your voice so loud it will crack the stone walls?”
“Ranulf! The boy believes your lies.”
Both Brent and Ranulf were indignant. “A true knight does not lie,” they both exclaimed, echoing one another.
She could not help laughing; they were so much alike.
Amicia, ignored for so long, destroyed the gaiety. “I must not intrude on so happy a family scene. I am feeling a bit weak and must retire.”
“Pardon our rudeness, Lady Amicia,” Ranulf answered her. “Supper will be served in here and you must dine with us.”
“You do not set a table with your retainers?”
“Nay. They each have their own homes. I grew used to being a bachelor and still keep to my old ways.”
The woman’s light eyes were only on Ranulf’s dark, somber ones. “You have been married recently, my lord?”
“Aye, it is now…”
“Six months,” Lyonene supplied.
Ranulf turned and grinned at her, and she looked interestedly at the window.