“Amicia, I have taken enough. What my husband does is not my affair, but I will not sit in my own house with your stories of your … of your actions. If you do not cease, I shall have you removed to the garrison hall.”
Amicia’s eyes narrowed. “Nay, my lady, I do not think you should do that. Nay, I would not.”
“Do not threaten me. I have the power of the castle in my husband’s absence and no one could say me nay ’twere I even to order your hanging.”
“Your threats do not frighten me. You would not hazard Ranulf’s wrath, and although I have had no occasion to see such anger, I can imagine it is no pleasure. I would suggest you must bear my presence with as much fortitude as you may summon. Ranulf will make his own decisions as to my placement in this household.”
The two women stared at one another, neither relinquishing her hold until Hodder came to remove the soiled dishes.
Exhausted, Lyonene fell into a heavy sleep that night.
The morn brought a messenger with a letter from Ranulf.
It is late now and I cannot sleep. My page would not think me a man ’twere he to know I pine for a bit of a girl. I sense you are troubled. Would that I were with you now.
Can you not write to me else but of William de Bec? Send me one of your damned roses you think so much of.
There is not a moment I do not think of you.
Ranulf
She held the letter close to her. How could he write such letters to her and then send for Amicia to stay with him?
Could Lucy be right, that a man could truly love one woman yet bed many others?
She forgot Amicia for a few moments and ran to write a return letter. She told of her loneliness, of her journey to their glade, but she made no mention of the hurt she felt that he could turn to Amicia. Had he but hinted that he wanted his wife to come to him, Lyonene felt she would run to him, in her bare feet if need be, but he made no mention of such a possibility and she was careful not to tell him of her feelings. She sent a separate letter to Brent, telling of horses and hawks.
When the letters were prepared, she had Dawkin fill a box with honeyed fruit and a crock of his special, hot pickles. She then went to the garden and fair stripped it of flowers. The messenger boy began a protest, but Lyonene silenced him with one look. The stems were wrapped in damp canvas, then packed in moss and put again into several layers of wet canvas. William de Bec solemnly supplied a hard, molded-leather bag that would protect the huge bouquet on the back of the horse.
She attached one tiny rosebud with wax to the bottom of her letter to Ranulf and then sealed it. For Brent she sent a new leather belt, stamped with the Malvoisin lion, a tiny emerald in its brass buckle.
As the boy rode away, she felt happier than she had in weeks. She did not see the angry face of Amicia as the woman watched from the solar window. “You have had all in your life and now it is time you share some of it. I shall have the rich husband and the love of the servants.”
Lyonene was smiling when she started up the stairs, thinking of Ranulf’s reaction when he received the flowers.
“You seem well pleased this day. I am happy you are not ill as you have been of late.”
“Yes, thank you. I am quite well.”
The little object made only a slight sound as it fell from its hiding place under Amicia’s skirt. Lyonene bent to retrieve it. To say her happiness left her would be too mild, for she held the ribbon, the copy of the lion belt, that she had sent to Gethen Castle with Ranulf.
“How came you by this?” she managed to choke out from her dry throat.
Amicia tried to take the ribbon, but only shrugged when Lyonene held it fast. “It was given me when I requested it. It is pretty, do you not think?”
Lyonene walked ahead to her room, the ribbon clutched firmly in her hand. Once in the room, she threw the ribbon to the farthest corner with all her might. “I send you flowers and you present my gifts to another. Tell me, do you plan to be so generous with our child?”
She did not cry, but went to the solar and resumed her embroidery. She would not think on the fact that the garment she sewed was for a husband who sent her false words of sweetness and in truth was a treacherous man. When Amicia entered the room, Lyonene smiled sweetly at the woman and Ranulf was not mentioned between them.
Chapter Thirteen
It was three days later when Ranulf’s next, longest letter arrived.
The flowers arrived perfectly. I parted with seven of them to my men, for they seem as weary as I. My head is sore this morn, for I spent yester eve with a barrel of wine and Maularde. I did not know the man had so many words. He loves the girl he met at Edward’s tourney and wishes to marry her. I will have them live at Malvoisin, for I cannot relinquish my men.
Even Brent grows tired of this ugly battle. He was most affected by your mention of the hawks. He never is without the belt you sent. He will not bathe and another week and I shall refuse him my tent.
Someone has stolen the ribbon you so prettily gave me. I have torn the camp apart but it is not to be found. Forgive my carelessness.