The Black Lyon

of sensuality, and she liked the feel of her long hair as it touched her bare arms and the back of her waist.
    “Yes, yes,” Maude trilled. “It has its effect on you. That silk is blessed with many nights of pleasure and it holds its memories.”
    In spite of herself, Lyonene could not erase the feeling of sensuality that the bare skin and silken costume gave her.
    Maude brought a strange stringed instrument from behind a tree, and Lyonene listened as she played a foreign tune for a moment. Then, humming, she rose to begin sensuous movements, moving her hips and stomach in a slowly rotating motion. She nodded for Lyonene to follow her actions and was surprised at the ease with which she made the intricate movements.
    “Good, yes, good,” Maude murmured as she returned to her instrument. Lyonene closed her eyes and moved with the music. She heard little commands from Maude, so put that they seemed to blend with the music: “Bend your knees more. Now, slowly, yes. Now, faster. I want to hear the bells.”
    Lyonene had been vaguely aware of the tinkling of little bells but now she realized that the sound came from her costume, that the bits of gold that covered the edges of the vest, belt and cuffs were hundreds of bells. The faster she moved, the more they gave out their sparkling little sound. It gave her a special delight to hear their sound, related as it was to her movements. The music became faster and the bells rang louder.
    She could almost imagine Ranulf’s eyes, dark and inscrutable, as they watched her. She felt a sense of defeat when the music stopped and Maude bade her remove the dancing costume.
    “You have done well. Tomorrow I will tell my lord of a new dancing girl, and he will be pleased. But now you need rest, for you will be tired on the morn.”
    Still carrying the strange feeling of deflation, Lyonene went back to the camp to sleep near Maude under the clear stars. She was exhausted and slept heavily.
    In the morning Lyonene’s muscles were sore and every movement astride the little donkey hurt. She was glad for the pain, because it kept her from thinking about what she was doing.
    Again they paused only a short time for dinner, and Lyonene was very aware of the other two women who constantly hovered about Ranulf. She could hear Corbet’s voice as he made caustic remarks about the women and the way they flaunted themselves.
    She still marveled at the demeanor of the Black Guard. She had never entered their Great Hall at Malvoisin, but at times she had seen women in the courtyard—quiet, welldressed women—and knew they lived with the Black Guard. She wondered at the discipline of such men, so unlike what she had known as a child.
    Nightfall brought more practice of the new dance learned from Maude. Lyonene liked the graceful movements and learned quickly. Later, she was tired and sank heavily into the straw mattress.
    A slight sound woke her and she looked toward Maude, sleeping soundly near her. On instinct, she looked toward the great black tent and saw Ranulf, standing outside, clad only in a white linen loincloth. She turned on her stomach and feigned sleep when he glanced toward the noise. Her chin propped on her hands, she watched as he sat on a rock not far from her. The moonlight glowed on his bronzed skin, and she saw his shoulders droop, not so much from tiredness but from … mayhaps sadness.
    She had a sudden urge to go to him, to clasp his head of tousled hair to her breast, to soothe him. He stood up, yawned and stretched, his back muscles standing out under the golden skin. She shivered slightly and pulled the rough blanket closer about her, for the idea of comforting him had fled from her and had been replaced by another, stronger emotion.
    They began the journey again before the sun rose, and Lyonene nodded sleepily as she rode the little donkey. At dinner the two women were even bolder in their pursuit of Ranulf. Angrily, Lyonene threw the iron cooking pot back into the wagon. Ranulf’s voice halted her. He was still beneath the tree, but she felt his gaze on her. Quickly, her face deeply shadowed by the hood, she turned toward him only for an instant. Maude leaned toward him, talking quietly as her lips near touched his ear. Ranulf made no effort to move away from her and directed his gaze toward Lyonene as she secured the cooking items to the side of the wagon. They were in truth talking of her!
    The meal finished, Lyonene tried, subtly, to get Maude to tell her