Free The Black Lyon by Jude Deveraux Page A

before she slept. There were things she began to remember that had not bothered her when they were together. She thought often of his earldom, of the court of King Edward, where Ranulf would be a frequent visitor. She began to question his reasons for marrying her, and as the day approached she found herself jumping at every little noise and crying often. Gressy’s added stories of the horrors of the Black Lion did not help her growing anxiety.
    Geoffrey grimaced. If his besotted brother asked once more if Lady Lyonene were not beautiful, he would use his estoc and calmly slip the blade between the man’s ribs. They had ridden hard to reach London in one night, and Geoffrey looked forward to a soft bed, with maybe a barmaid to keep him warm.
    Ranulf did not like London with its open sewer trenches along the streets and all the scavenging pigs that roamed about eating the slops. The streets were narrow, and no air reached the riders between the three-and four-story buildings. The inn where they had spent the night was only fairly clean.
    He rode along the street of the goldsmiths until he found the sign he wanted. Only three of the Black Guard had accompanied him, the other four tending to Geoffrey, who refused to leave his bed and his plump barmaid so early in the morning.
    Alone, Ranulf entered the cramped little shop. A small, dark man came forward.
    “I would purchase a gift, a bride gift, and I would have your finest work.”
    “All my work is my finest. What is your desire?”
    Both men stared at one another, both unsmiling but understanding the other.
    “I would have a belt, a very special belt. It is to be of your purest gold and your finest wire. There are to be lions—a lion and his lioness, and there are to be scenes in the manner of lions hunting together, at the kill…” Ranulf stopped, feeling embarrassment before this solemn little man.
    “I understand. Now what of colors?”
    “The male lion is to be enameled in the blackest of black and in the gold eye is to be a black pearl. The lioness…” Ranulf closed his eyes for a second in delicious memory. “The lioness is to be the true tawny gold of a lioness, and the eye is to be set with an emerald.” Ranulf paused, remembering Lyonene’s emerald eyes. “It is to be links, each link containing a scene, and no longer than my finger to the first joint, no wider than my thumb. Can you do such delicate work?”
    “If I am paid enough gold, I can do anything.”
    Ranulf stiffened. “There will be gold aplenty.”
    “What size is the lady? How many links?”
    Ranulf was puzzled. He held up his hands, forming a circle. “I can span her waist with my hands.”
    The jeweler made some mental notes. “Ten and five lengths. Now the clasp. Of what is it to be made?”
    Ranulf considered for a moment. “A black pearl and an emerald.” They talked for a few moments of price and set a date to have the completed piece. He returned to the inn satisfied. Geoffrey had spent the day in a more leisurely fashion and was now ready to leave. The two brothers prepared to leave. Geoffrey parted from his brother to return to his duties as squire to Sir Tompkin.
    It took two long, grueling days to reach Malvoisin, and Ranulf again marveled at the even, gray stone walls as they towered before him. He and his men made their way through the west barbican into the outer bailey amid cheers and hallos from the many castlefolk. They dismounted as they entered the maze wall that protected the private inner bailey. His steward, chief falconer, master cook and head stableman lived with their families in the apartments in the quiet inner bailey.
    The Black Guard went to their own abode while Ranulf made his way to Black Hall.
    For the entire time he was at Malvoisin it rained, and although he judged many cases in the hundred court, too often the people could not venture out in the deep mud.
    The rain kept him inside the stone walls of Black Hall. A few times he had joined his men,