The Black Lyon

A jeweled vest came next, delicate, tiny, transparent. Then there were many veils, soft and alluring; Lyonene had never seen such silk. She knelt, tentatively touching the finery.
    “It was my mother’s and then mine. Now I have grown too fat to wear it.”
    “What is it and how could anyone wear such a garment? It would reveal more than it covered.”
    Maude’s laughter escaped. “You are right—that is the purpose of a dancing costume.” She watched Lyonene’s puzzled eyes. “My mother was a Saracen, brought from the Holy Lands by my father. He fell in love one night while she danced in … in a place there. He was a good man and cared naught that my mother had often … danced.” Her voice was strained.
    “He brought her back with him from the Crusade and he was good to her. I was not very old when he died, and overnight my mother turned into an old woman. Although she often danced for my father, after his death she never danced again. But she taught me the dance and gave me the silken clothes.” She grinned at Lyonene. “I have not been so faithful as my mother to any of my husbands.”
    She stood up and bade Lyonene follow her example. A startled gasp escaped from Lyonene’s lips as Maude roughly ran her hands over the younger woman’s body.
    “You will do,” Maude stated. “Now remove those garments.”
    “I will not! I cannot imagine your reasons, but I will not remove my clothing.”
    Unperturbed, Maude continued. “How else do you expect to wear the clothes if you do not remove your others? It will not fit over them.”
    “I have no intention of wearing your dancing thing. The silk is nice but I do not intend to put it on.”
    Maude’s voice sneered. “Do you think you are the only young girl brought on this trip to Wales? Have you not seen the other two who cast hungry eyes on Ranulf? They paid much to go on this journey and they did not pay with gold. So, you take my meaning? They know that Lord Ranulf sometimes chooses a young girl to pass the night in his tent on these journeys and they are willing to sell anything to get that privilege, for he is a gentle lover and pleases the women and afterward is very generous with his gold.”
    She watched as Lyonene looked anxiously in the direction of Ranulf’s tent.
    “There is no woman there tonight, but tell me of your feelings when one night you hear a woman’s low laughter coming from that tent and then her cries of pleasure? Would you then be glad you shunned my mother’s dancing silks? Could you be content to sit and listen to Ranulf’s sighs as he…”
    “Cease!”
    Maude smiled. “I thought as much. I will teach you the dance. It takes years to become expert, but these English soldiers are not taught to appreciate such a dance. My Lord Ranulf will see you only in the dim candlelight.”
    Lyonene blanched. To wear that thing, and before a man! It was not thinkable.
    Maude read her thoughts. “If you do not go to him, then you will need to listen to the other women’s cries. Shall I describe what the last woman on the last journey told me of Lord Ranulf’s bed?” She laughed as Lyonene covered her ears. “Then come with me and we will see how well you learn the dance.”
    With shaking fingers Lyonene began to remove her coarse woolen clothes as she stood before Maude, hidden among the trees. When she stood completely nude, Maude turned her again and again to inspect her, while Lyonene clenched her teeth, resolving with each second to remove herself from the old woman’s penetrating gaze.
    “Good. Very good. It is hard to believe that once I had a body such as yours. Now we will dress you.”
    About her hips and between her legs went a jeweled belt, barely covering her. The transparent garment went over her legs, the gold bands tight around her slim ankles. She saw then why the waist was so wide, for it did not reach her waist at all but rested on the belt above her hips, far below her navel. The slim gathered strip of silk went about her breasts, tied behind her back. Lyonene’s breath escaped her when Maude tied the fabric very tight, and she gasped when she saw that as a result of the taut fabric, her breasts strained and pushed and curved well above the silk, little of them concealed. The tiny vest only emphasized the curves of her breasts and the deep indentation of her waist, the hips that swelled above the sparkling belt.
    Lyonene’s embarrassment was brief, for the beautiful clothes gave her a strange feeling