“Ranulf!” Lyonene touched his arm. She looked ahead to several people seated on horseback, just leaving the castle walls. She spurred her horse forward, heedless of the guardsmen who immediately followed her. When she was close to the horses, she dismounted and began to run, her arms outstretched. Her mother met her, and their arms locked together and they cried in their gladness at seeing one another again.
“You are unharmed, my daughter?” Melite questioned. “They caused you no pain?”
“Nay, I am well and very happy to be home. Father is here also?”
Melite stepped back and Lyonene embraced her father, who hastily wiped away a tear.
“You look well, my daughter. You look as fit as the lioness I named you for.”
She beamed at both of them.
“And she has produced a lion cub for your grandchild, a green-eyed, black-haired, iron-lunged cub at that.” Ranulf threw one leg across Tighe’s back and slid to the ground, not even jolting the child he so proudly held.
Melite took the baby and touched the sleeping face. Together they walked through the east barbican and into the inner bailey, where the castle servants waited to see the babe. When at last they entered the Black Hall, it was Lyonene who first saw Brent. He sat alone on a cushioned window seat, unsure of himself and his place among the strangers. Ranulf and Lyonene had been away for over four months, and to a child of six years, they seemed like strangers to him.
Lyonene went to sit by him while the others took Montgomery and admired him. “Brent, it is good to see you again.”
“And you, my lady.” He twisted his tabard hem in his hands.
“Would you like for me to tell you how Lord Ranulf saved me? How he came through my window on a rope, how he chopped wood?”
Brent’s eyes lit. “The Black Lion chopped wood? I cannot believe you.”
As she told the story, she saw him relax. Gradually he lost his nervousness and began to feel he had a place. Ranulf came to them, carrying Montgomery.
“Would you like to see my son, Brent?”
“I … yes,” he said hesitantly.
Ranulf knelt to the boy, and while Brent studied the baby, Ranulf watched Brent. “Of course he is small and quite worthless.”
Lyonene raised her eyebrows at Ranulf’s statement.
“It will take some men such as you and I, and of course the Black Guard, to train him before he can become a knight. Do you think we could teach him?”
Brent’s blue eyes glowed. “Aye, I do, my lord.”
“And as my page, you will watch over him and protect him?”
“Aye, I will.”
“Good. Now I must see to my castle. Has all been well since I was gone?”
“Oh, yes, my lord. Walter has let me have my own tiercel. He says…” The boy stopped at the door and waited impatiently for his master.
Ranulf gave his son to Lyonene, and as she held him, her husband put one hand behind her head and pulled her face to his to kiss her softly and lingeringly. “I cannot believe the child is mine, for I vow it had been more than a year since I last touched you.” He kissed her again, a movement from the child keeping him from crushing her to him.
“Lyonene,” Melite called.
Ranulf stepped away from her. “What think you they would say if I threw you across my horse and carried you away?”
She leaned near him, one hand on his chest. “I am willing to test their words, whether they be anger or joy.”
Ranulf touched her hair, his thumb grazing her eyelash. “You are a wanton woman. Who would feed my son?”
“We could take him with us.”
“You are a devil to tempt me so. Have you no honor?”