When the door was closed, Lyonene sank to the stone windowseat. Lucy imagined that her own locks were still the soot-black of her youth. If black hair made us part of the Devil, there’d be a lot of us dreading the Day of Glory.” She sniffed and patted the little bit of gray hair that showed at her temple between the barbette, a piece of linen that totally concealed her neck and chin, and the cascading veil that extended to her shoulders. “Now be still and do not muss yourself.” She paused at the door, pointing a warning finger at Meg and Gressy.
I must go below to the Lady Melite.” She gave Lyonene’s hair a final combing and settled the transparent circle of silk in place with a thin gold fillet. “Cease your foolish prattle! You’ll scare the poor girl. I vow he gave me gooseflesh just to be near him.” Gressy gave her mistress an intense look. “You are sure it is the Black Lion and no other?” Her voice was quiet. But each story was misted with a sense of evil, that mayhaps his strength was ill-gotten. She had heard stories of the Black Lion since she was but a girl-stories of strength and courage.
“It is an earl come, and not just any of the king’s earls, but the great Black Lion himself.” What color are his eyes? His hair?”īoth women looked up to see Gressy and Meg entering the small chamber with armfuls of clean linen for the bed. Lyonene obeyed and then asked, “Tell me more of him. Now get your comb so I may remove some of the tangles from your hair.” “He is handsome? He is a handsome young earl, fair, and rides a white stallion?” Lyonene teased the old woman. “He is an earl, a man your father has not met, and he is a young man.” “Oh no, my lady.” Lucy fastened the thin leather belt about Lyonene’s slim waist. “Know you this guest? He is friend to my father?” Lucy helped her mistress into the thin linen shift and then the woolen tunic, the tightness of which emphasized her womanly body. The soft glow highlighted the full curves of her slim young body. The shutters were closed tightly against the cold winter, and the only light came from the small fireplace and the tallow candle on the tall iron stand by the bed. Lyonene threw back the bedclothes and put a small foot on the rush-covered oak floor. “There is a guest, an important guest, and you are to wear your finest clothes for the introductions.” Lyonene, who had turned toward the light only reluctantly, now looked with interest at Lucy.
“The lady your mother bids you dress in your gold tunic with the green surcoat and mantle.” She’d been with Lyonene since the girl’s birth and was much like a mother to her. She was an old woman now and far too fat. “Lady Lyonene.” Lucy pulled the bed-curtains back. The January winds whistled outside the old donjon, threads of cold air cutting under the wooden shutters, but her bed was warm and she planned to put off leaving it as long as possible. Lyonene could hear Lucy’s heavy step on the stone stairs and snuggled deeper beneath the thick coverlet.
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