The Black Lyon (24 page)

The horses sensed the coming storm and became nervous and skittish, the boys calming and soothing them.

The garrison knights saw to firewood piles and the storage of food in the stone towers. Leather goods, fabrics, small animals were all taken inside the towers. The courtyards and walkways were thoroughly cleaned to prevent the rain from mixing with the filth, thus turning everything into an open sewer.

The first heavy drops of rain came in the late afternoon.

"Lady Lyonene, you must come. Lord Ranulf said you were not to be outside after the first sign of rain." Kate, who took her new responsibilities as Lyonene's maid very seriously, near pulled her mistress to the safety of the stone house.

Inside, it was dark. The windows were all completely shuttered.

"Hodder, please see that a fire is lit in the solar, and fetch towels and robes for Lord Ranulf and M aster Brent. They will be wet when they return. And see that Dawkin keeps food and wine hot."

"Yes, my lady."

Even as Lyonene mounted the stairs, the storm grew worse. The thunder cracked above their heads, the lightning felt rather than seen. She thought of Ranulf, Brent and the Black Guard outside and she shivered.

The solar was warm and dry, yet each fresh rage of the weather brought a new frown to her face. She could not look out, for the shutters were on the outside, protecting the precious glass windows.

"I cannot work on this!" she said, putting down her sewing. "Why do they not return? Go again and ask Hodder if there is word," she told Kate.

"M y lady, I have but returned. The island is large and they must see to many people. All the watch towers must be lit."

"What is this? Why must there be a light?"

"To warn any ships of the island. There are many shipwrecks at St. Agnes' Point."

"Shipwrecks?" she asked quietly and sat down again.

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"Aye. Then the men, Lord Ranulf's men, must go to the point and look for survivors."

"Why must he go? Are there not other men?"

"Oh yes, my lady," Kate answered. "But they are not as honest as Lord Ranulf." She saw Lyonene did not understand, so she began to explain. "It is the law that whoever finds a ship with no survivors may have the cargo of that ship. If even one person survives, then that person owns the cargo, not the finders."

"I do not yet see how this affects my husband."

"Too often the finders will kill the survivors rather than give up their booty. Lord Ranulf goes to see they are not killed."

"Oh." She leaned back and digested this information. "But is it not dangerous to go in a storm and search for these near-drowned people?"

"Oh, yes, it is most ..." Kate caught her words when she saw the wild look in her mistress's eye. "Lord Ranulf does but give orders," she lied. "It is not so dangerous for him. There are others, men who use a boat well who look for people."

Lyonene was relieved somewhat by the girl's words, but not enough to continue sewing. "You do not think there is a shipwreck now?"

"No, word would have been sent to us. The whole island knows when there is such an event, even in a storm."

The hours dragged and Lyonene walked again and again to the windows, forgetting each time they were covered. She heard noises and ran to the stairs to see only darkness below.

It was late when she heard unmistakable sounds of doors and people. She barely touched the stairs as she ran below. She flew to Ranulf, mindless of his wet clothes. He held her to him, aware of her pounding heart.

"Here, I am near drowned and you wet me more." He kissed her tear-covered eyelids. "Let me go by the fire, for the cold and wet has gone to my bones."

"Brent! Where is he?" she demanded.

"Corbet took him. Their women will care for him."

She could not help a pang of jealousy.

Ranulf saw it. "You have not enough with me? You let me stand here and turn to ice? M ayhaps I should have followed my page?"

She grinned at him and pulled him up the stairs, where she dismissed Kate. She hurriedly helped Ranulf peel off his sodden clothes and rubbed him briskly with the towels. Hodder brought a warm robe, fur-lined slippers, hot wine and a charger of soup and roasted chicken.

Once warm, Ranulf attacked the food and drink.

"This is one of the worst I have ever seen," he said through mouthfuls of food. "I saw the wind lift a dog and carry it a cloth-yard away. Brent was holding onto his saddle with both hands. Hugo pulled him to the front of him and led the pony. The rain slashed so hard we could hardly see. We shall spend months repairing roofs after this. You prepared the castle properly?"

She rubbed his calf muscles with the towel. "Aye, I am glad for the shutters. There is no sign of a ship?"

He paused an instant over a chicken leg and then continued. "Nay. The fires are lit on all the towers and I have sent more men to St. Agnes' Point. They are to ride at once to me to tell if a ship is sighted."

"You must go? You cannot send another to give your orders?"

He lifted one eyebrow. "Nay, no one else can . . . give orders."

Even as they spoke, Herne broke into the room. "There is a wreck and it looks to be a big one. The rest of the guard are dressing now."

Ranulf rose abruptly and strode into the bedchamber. Lyonene followed, watching silently as he pulled clothes from chests.

"You cannot leave this to your men?"

He turned a face to her as violent as the storm outside. "Nay, I cannot. Do not say so to me again." His voice was low and deadly. He pulled on thick woolen chausses, then the linen undershirt.

"Come here," he finally said. "Do not look so at me. I must go and I do not wish you to plague me."

She stood before him, silently.

"Where is my Lioness?" he demanded. "Fetch me my heavy woolen mantle. Are you not worth all the gold I spend on you or the food I feed you?"

Her head came up then. "M ayhaps the rain will mold you into a chivalrous knight."

When he was dressed, he clutched her to him, his

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strength near cracking her ribs. "If you wish to help, go to the chapel and give us your prayers. I do not wish to fight the sea unaided."

As he ran down the stairs, he bellowed back at her, "And see the water wiped from my floor. I will not have my house harmed for a hundred storms."

She heard voices and then the heavy front door slammed. She stood silently in the vast emptiness, the rain blasting the roof, the wind threatening even the heavy stones of the house, before his words came to her—" . . . to fight the sea . . ." He meant to join the men in the boats.

Her mind moved rapidly. Of course! How else could he know whether there were survivors? Unless he was there, the men in the boats could easily remove any traces of people found alive. No one would ever know.

She ran back to the bedchamber and tore through chests to find the wools she sought. In seconds she was dressed, near swaddled in the thick garments.

There was only one horse left in the stable in the inner bailey, an unruly black stallion that she would normally have been afraid to ride. She talked to the sleek animal as she saddled it and it rolled its eyes at her but did not nip at her or kick.

"You must run for me this night. We must forget our prejudices of one another, for Ranulf needs us. I must stop him from what be plans."

She led the big horse out of the stables and cast herself into the saddle. The horse made one small protest, but she jerked on the reins and he quieted.

"There is no time for play. We must go."

The stallion did run for her, and the rain and wind cut them, lacerating the rider and horse that had become as one, their purpose agreed upon.

There were many horses and men overlooking St. Agnes' Point. Lyonene knew if she were seen, one of the Black Guard would return her to the castle. She left the horse near some rocks, not tying it, knowing it was trained to stand.

No one noticed the dark form that followed the cliff wall down to the beach. When a streak of lightning showed her the boats, she saw she was too late. Three boats were already upon the turbulent water, Ranulf easily discerned in the farthest boat.

She knelt in a shadow of the cliff and began to pray with more fervor than she had ever thought possible. The storm continued, soaking her, lashing her, pulling and plucking at her clothes, but she did not notice. She only prayed, keeping her face turned toward the black sea.

It was hours later when she first saw the light specks of the returning boats. She ran to the shore, the salt water spraying her, heedless of the men who ran toward her. Someone's arm went about her shoulders, but she did not look, for her concern was only on the returning boats.

She saw instantly that he was not there.

She began to run into the sea, but something about her waist stopped her, held her.

The boats came near her and still she could not move.

"I am sorry, my lady," one of the men yelled over the fury of the storm. "He saw a head and fell over trying to save the bloke.

We searched for hours but could not find him."

Strong arms pulled her around, and her face was buried against a wet shoulder, hands stroking her back, comforting her.

"Nay!" The word bubbled inside her, boiling, festering. She pushed hard against the man who held her, and when she turned to the boatman again, the man took one step backward. The woman had gone mad! Her face was distorted with rage.

The sweet-voiced Lyonene was no longer present. The voice that bellowed across the wind and rain was not even that of a woman.

"You will know hell on earth do you not find him and return him to me—alive! There are no tortures even in Castile that will equal what I will do to you." She stepped forward and the men around her retreated. She was possessed by something they did not wish to fight.

"Are my words heard? Do not return without him."

No man protested as they returned to their boats and vigorously began to row themselves out into the death-giving sea.

There were no protecting hands now as Lyonene sank to her knees, but all hands were clasped together as they followed suit of their mistress and began to pray.

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There were watchers from the hill above, and the sight of the tiny girl kneeling in the sand and surf, surrounded by seven dark knights, also on their knees, made them forget the wet, the cold, and they joined in the prayers for the return of their beloved master. No one of them moved or lost fervor even when a faint light began to show and the storm lessened in its fury. There was not a man in the returning boats who did not cross himself and offer a silent prayer at the sight that greeted them.

A hand on her shoulder made Lyonene look up to see the boats. Other hands helped her stand. She did not see him at first, his head bent low. When she was sure he was there, she collapsed, her face buried in her hands, the release making her shoulders droop, her body weak.

Someone knelt beside her and put an arm about her shoulders. When she meant to rise again, she was supported.

She walked to the side of the boat and saw Ranulf, intent upon a long, wet bundle across his lap. When he saw her, he was startled and then angry. He looked up at the man next to her.

"She should not have been allowed here."

"She has saved your ungrateful life, so do not speak of her so!"

Ranulf was even more startled at the tone of his man, for none had ever dared speak to him in such a manner. "We will speak of this later. Take this." He handed the bundle to Sainneville. "It is a girl, so treat it with care."

The rain had dwindled to a drizzle, and the sun made a valiant effort to show itself. Ranulf stepped from the boat his clothes soggy and cold. He looked in puzzlement at the rather skittish behavior of one of the boatmen towards his wife. The man acted almost as if he were afraid of Ranulf's little wife.

"What have you done in these few hours that has caused my man to rebuke me and these others to fear you?" he asked, frowning.

"Ranulf ..." Her lip trembled and then she was in his arms, her sobs racking her body with their violence. He held her to him, frightened himself at the fierceness of her emotion. He pulled the hood away and stroked her wet hair, soothing her.

"Come, my sweet. I am well. I am returned. Do not cry so. Please, you must cease; I can bear it no longer!"

She sniffed and tried to calm herself. "When they returned without you, I could not bear it, I could not think ... Oh, Ranulf, they would have left you."

He looked around at the men near him. "What is this? They would have left me to drown?"

"Aye," Corbet laughed. "We thought you done for, but your lady had other plans for you than a watery grave. She is tame now, but there has never been a storm to equal her. I vow she made my blood freeze with fear."

Ranulf frowned, for he knew Corbet jested, but there was a ring of truth in his words. Then he grinned, flashing straight white teeth. "She is a Lioness," he said proudly as he swept her into his arms and carried her to the top of the hill.

He set her down and left her for a moment to see to Tighe, who had stood faithfully by throughout the storm. Lyonene walked a few feet away to retrieve the waiting stallion from the rocks.

"M y lady!" She looked in astonishment as M aularde made a leap for her. She jumped back and avoided the powerful body that flew towards her and landed heavily at her feet.

"Lyonene, be very still."

She looked in puzzlement at Ranulf and the men staring at her, Ranulf advancing slowly, stealthily. She sensed some danger, mayhaps a wild animal near and so did not move. She was stunned when Ranulf made one quick leap and did but grab the reins of the black horse from her hands.

The horse threw his head back and neighed, his front feet prancing.

"What is this you do?" she demanded. "You frighten the poor animal." She took the reins and stroked the horse's nose to calm it, and the animal lowered its head to nuzzle her shoulder.