The Black Lyon (21 page)

Lyonene muttered something about pages having most delightful duties and turned away when Ranulf stared at her. She called out when she heard Berengaria's voice, and her friend entered.

"I have ever wanted to see this tent." She fingered the silk of the walls. "Lord Ranulf, I think you take the wrestling this day."

"Aye. I have had Edward make eight gold cups, each set with emeralds for the prizes."

Berengaria raised her eyebrows to Lyonene, who smiled in answer.

"M y lord, is it an honor for
two
ladies to be present?" Brent's voice was exasperated.

Berengaria laughed. "He is a de Lacy, ever impatient and rude. You have taken on a monster, Lyonene. Come and let us find a seat and watch your husband's triumph.

"You may sit with my wife in the section for M alvoisin. I do not think you will find it difficult to see from there."

The two women left the tent. "How do we women bear such arrogance?" They looked at each other and laughed.

Ranulf had been correct; green and black ropes sectioned off a good piece of the tiered benches. There was room for about a dozen people. Lyonene and Berengaria took their places on the front row. There would be a while before the wrestling began, so they purchased flawns, a kind of cheesecake, from a shouting merchant.

The trumpets sounded and split the air; the people hushed in anticipation. The men began to come from both ends of the lists, dressed only in small white loincloths. Lord Dacre with his five men caused no little commotion —his body a light gold color, his chest lightly covered in fair hair.

When Ranulf entered the field, followed by his seven dark men, Lyonene gripped Berengaria's arm.

Berengaria exclaimed, "I can see why you love the man—he is magnificent!"

Lyonene smiled proudly.

Favors from the women in the stands rained upon the field—flowers, ribbons, sleeves. Around her, Lyonene heard shouts of the names of the men of the Black Guard, especially those of Corbet and M aularde. Corbet acknowledged all shouts with thrown kisses and tossed all favors to a waiting servant. M aularde took only one ribbon tossed to him and smiled to someone behind Lyonene. She turned to see a young girl dimpling prettily at the guardsman's attentions.

Ranulf nodded to her, and she saw that her green ribbon was tied about his upper arm.

"Travers would never allow such men near me. It would not be easy to choose one of them."

"But my Ranulf is by far the best, do you not agree?"

"It is said that love is blind, but .it is not so in your case."

Dacre did not wrestle against Ranulf as the Black Lion had hoped, for he had wished to best his friend, but the two earls and their men challenged all comers. First the men of the guard fought the comers. If any bested the king's men, he went on to fight Ranulf or Lord Dacre.

The matches began with Ranulf and Dacre looking on as five groups of men circled one another. Their oiled bodies glistened in the early sun and the cheers of the

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many people urged them on. One of Dacre's men was thrown and held until a king's official declared him bested. Lyonene saw Ranulf punch his friend heartily.

The three men of the Black Guard easily won their matches, and Lyonene knew that the other men could not have been as trained in wrestling as her husband's men were.

The trumpets sounded again and eleven men entered to challenge the knights. Lord Dacre and Ranulf looked on again and saw the comer who had bested Dacre's man easily felled by Sainneville.

The second round was won also, and Lyonene could see the smugness on Ranulf and Dacre's faces, their mock yawns.

The trumpets sounded again and the field cleared, but there were no new comers. Ranulf and his friend stood straighter as the trumpets blared again and again. The gates at the far end slowly opened, and two covered litters were carried into the midst of the lists.

A hush fell on the crowd as every eye went to those litters, their contents secret. Two men ran from behind and bleyy more horns, and the serge of the litters fell back, the dark interiors revealing nothing. The men shouldering the carriages lowered them and two men stepped from them—enormous men, powerful men, their heads and bodies completely shaved and oiled to a slick sheen.

The litters were quickly taken away, and the two men stood with legs apart, hands on hips. "We are from Angilliam, the brothers Ross, and we challenge Lord Dacre and Lord Ranulf to a fight until one cries, 'Peace.'"

The cry from the crowd was deafening, a roar that vibrated the benches. Berengaria laughed and clapped her hands, then looked toward Lyonene's pleased smile.

"You seem confident of the outcome of this match."

"Ranulf will win, but he will need to work hard to win. I am glad he does not receive his gold cups without effort."

"Oh, I trust he will make an effort to win from those men."

They watched as Ranulf circled the enormous man, and Lyonene was pleased to see that her husband equaled him in size. The first hold brought Ranulf to his back with a loud thud. She saw his muscles strain as he pushed the man from him, their legs locked together, Ranulfs darker skin prominent. They broke their holds and circled again, but this time Ranulf got in the first grip. Ranulfs arm encircled the man's neck and she saw Ranulf's back as the strong man freed himself.

Their muscles strained as they pushed, each taking a hold or using his massive strength to break the other's hold. They stood and locked arms, their legs pulling-pushing, expanding, as their bodies wrestled together. There were whole minutes when neither moved, and had it not been for the expanded cords in their necks, the knotted muscles in their backs, one would have thought they but rested.

"The man Ross is tiring," Berengaria said. "His legs begin to quiver, but your Ranulfs do not. He must be trained well for this match."

She merely smiled, for all her attention was on her husband and she could only guess at the pain he felt at this long, long match.

They broke the hold and the crowd cheered, for the bald man showed visible signs of weariness and Ranulf took advantage and attacked.

"Lord Dacre does well, also, though his brother Ross is smaller than the one who fights Lord Ranulf."

The two men continued to strain against one another until Ranulf brought the man down with an ankle locked about his opponent's calf. The man could not break the fierce hold. The cry of "Lion" filled the air when the man cried, "Peace." Ranulf stood and solemnly helped the bald man to stand beside him. He left the field and Ranulf stood in triumph. It was but a moment before Lord Dacre joined nun, and together they strutted around the field.

Ranulf paused before Lyonene, and she kissed a ribbon and threw it to him. He caught it in the air and kissed it as he looked at her, a look that made her blush. He looped it and stuffed it into the side of his loincloth, the ends hanging down his hip and thigh.

He gave her a onesided grin, almost a leer. She covered her face with her hands as the crowd, and the men and women around her, cheered his gesture. She did not look up again until he was gone from the lists.

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"You may show your face again, for he is gone and

the trumpets sound for dinner."

They joined the line that began to leave the tourney grounds.

"M y lady. M y Lady Lyonene." She turned to a breathless, starry-eyed Brent. "Is he not the strongest knight? Did you see him?"

"Aye, I did." She did not know her expression matched his.

"He bids you come to him, to his tent, for he dines there. He says he must not dress yet; there may be more men such as the brothers Ross to fight." His face fell. "I must dine with my father."

Berengaria laughed. "I fear our father is a poor substitute for the Black Lion. Come along, Brent, mayhaps you can make do with my poor Travers."

Lyonene hurried to Ranulf's tent. She did not see him at first, he lay so still on the cot.

"Lyonene?" he whispered.

She hurried to him. "Ranulf! You are hurt!"

"I am more than hurt, I am dying," came his muffled reply. "There is naught of me that does not pain me. Neither of the ax wounds in my arm and leg, nor both together, caused me so much pain."

She stroked his sweat-dampened hair, laughter in her voice. "But Brent has said you ready yourself to fight other men, men, of course, more fierce than the little one just finished." She laughed at his groan.

"You are cruel. What would the boy say of me 'twere he to see me like this?"

"At least you do not think I needs must be impressed." She tugged on the green ribbon that hung from his loincloth and his hand instantly covered hers, but not without his groaning in pain.

"That is mine; I won it and do not make me need to wrestle you to keep it."

"Hmph! You could not even whip me now."

His arm encircled her waist, and amid squeals of laughter, he pulled her down beside him on the cot. He threw one heavy leg across her thighs and an arm across her breasts, his face snuggled near her ear. "You delight in causing me pain. First I must strut before my page and then I must prove again: my strength to
say
wife. Lie still and do not plague me."

She did as he bid and was content with his nearness.

* * *

Ranulf frowned at the boy. "I seem to be somewhat weary this morn. M ayhaps you would oblige me and rid me of this burden until we are at the lists." He unbuckled the long sword that hung in front of him.

Lyonene thought the boy's eyelids might turn inside out, so wide did he open them.

"Oh, my lord," he whispered. "This is the sword you used to kill the infidels in the Holy Lands?"

"Aye, it is."

"And what is its name?"

"Challouns. It is written here," he said, pointing, "on the blade. There is a splinter of the true cross in the glass ball on the hilt, and this emerald is said to come from King Arthur's crown."

Brent reverently held the sword before him, his head back and his arms lifted.

Lyonene and Ranulf followed, and she squeezed his arm. "You are most kind to the boy. I can see why he near worships you.

M y father has never spent so much time with his pages, or even his squires."

"I like children." He looked pointedly at her stomach. "M ayhaps you could give me a few."

"I shall fill every nook at M alvoisin with lion cubs."

He grinned mischievously. "If I but last through the nights required of me."

She tossed her hair and refused to answer him, which made him laugh and kiss her cheek.

At the lists, the benches were already full and several of the Black Guard occupied the section set aside for the Earl of M alvoisin; they rose until Lyonene was seated. She spoke to each of the four men and congratulated them on their win at wrestling the day before. Corbet and M aularde sat apart, each beside a pretty girl. To her surprise, Hugo Fitz Waren did also. She nudged Ranulf.

"Hugo is so solemn, I did not think him to be . . ."

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Ranulf's eyes sparkled. "None of my men find it difficult to have a woman. They are most honored to be of the Black Guard.

For all the bragging of the others, Hugo has many women who work to bind him to them."

She sat near Ranulf, their thighs and arms pressed close. "As I have bound you to me?"

He pushed a strand of hair from her eyes. "Aye, as you have done so to me."

The blaring of the trumpets turned their attention to the sand-covered field. The jumping events occupied the morn—jumping high hurdles and across long distances. Lord Dacre's men took one of these events.

The trumpets again sounded to announce that dinner was served. For this meal, Berengaria sat at Lyonene's left and Ranulf at her right. They were pleasantly entertained by three young girls who played and sang.

King Edward stood, and the room was silent. "I have an announcement . . . this day. We strove to conquer Llewellyn and did so, yet all ... know the story of his traitor brother, David. When David was . . . captured, his family was taken to Rhuddlan Castle.

There were two sons and s . . . seven daughters. The sons, twins of three years, have been g . . . given to my knights to raise. The . .

. daughters and wife all asked to go to nunneries. The . . . wife and four of the daughters I have allowed to do so. ... Now I have tried to wed the other three. One killed herself."

The crowd gasped at the horror of this mortal sin.

"The other daughter I married to Sir John of Bohum. Some of you may have . . . known him. The girl killed him on their..

.wedding night and then herself."

The hall was totally silent, each face a mask of horror.

"Now I try to ... keep the last daughter from a wasted life." He motioned to a man near the door, and everyone turned to watch.

Two enormous, mail-clad men came into the room with the sounds of a dragging chain behind them. The girl was almost too small to be seen at first. Her head was down, face hidden, but her black hair cascaded over her blue velvet surcoat.

"You may .. . wonder at my chaining so small a girl," Edward continued, "but she has killed one of my guards, and you can see the wounds born by these men."

Lyonene noticed the long furrows on the men's faces where she had raked them with her nails.

Berengaria nudged her friend. " 'Twere I in her place, I would act just so. I hear the Welsh do not think their David a traitor."

"Her . . . name is Angharad, and I now offer her in .. . marriage to any knight worthy of the woman's rank."

At this the girl lifted her face and the crowd exclaimed at her beauty. The black hair framed a pretty face with a small nose and full lips, but her eyes were what was startling, for they were a brilliant, vibrant blue. They burned now as if from a fever, and her look of defiance and contempt was easily read.