The Black Lyon

first one of the women running her finger down Ranulf’s jaw and then Ranulf holding the woman’s hand for a brief moment, Lyonene was decided. She would not think of the consequences of this night; she only knew she wanted him to see her, to hold her hand and no one else’s.
    As Ranulf’s tent was erected, Lyonene saw Maude talking to him and knew he had agreed to the old woman’s suggestions. Her heart began to beat rapidly.
    She had no time to think as Maude pulled her into the seclusion of the trees. The beginnings of a protest were stifled as her clothes were removed. Soon the silken dancing costume encircled her. It was as if she were no longer Lyonene but someone else: a dark beauty, a Saracen who had been trained from childhood to tempt and entice men with her fluid body motions. She could hear the strange music in her head and her hips began to move slowly, a secret smile on her face.
    Maude took a silvered piece of glass, a mirror, from the wooden box and a jar of black powder. She applied the kohl to Lyonene’s eyelids, upper and lower, and darkened her eyebrows. There were transparent veils, soft, gentle colors, added to the costume, then one about her hair that hid the lower part of her face.
    It was a different woman who stared back at her from the little mirror, and the dark, sultry eyes promised things Lyonene knew too little of—promises of passion and satin skin. She walked with ease and confidence to the candlelit tent.
    Ranulf half-reclined on a low cot and did not see at first the dark girl who entered his tent, only hearing Maude’s music, joined by a flute and little vibrating instruments like drums. He was instantly surprised by the confidence exuded by the girl, her movements sure and seductive. He then forgot that he knew this to be a serf girl, for somehow she was transformed into such as he’d not seen since his years in the Holy Lands.
    Each slow undulation was a gesture of love, and he began to feel that this girl danced for him alone in a way no other woman ever had. Her hips moved toward him, her arms beckoning, her smoky eyes caressing him. Always the dances that Maude knew so well had excited him, but this girl was more, giving him a feeling of longing as well as lust. A veil fell at his feet, revealing one long slim leg hidden and yet revealed beneath the silk trousers. The music increased its speed and the girl turned her back to him, glimpses of her hair showing through a dark veil.
    Another scarf drifted through the heavy air and he saw a curved hip, the gold belt flashing in the reflected candlelight. Her hips moved faster, the tiny bells tinkling in rhythm to her movements. The exposed hip was golden, creamy, while the other teased his bewildered gaze as it moved from behind a folded veil and then disappeared.
    She turned to the side, the shape of her body showing through the silks. Her breasts rose again and again as her hips moved forward and back, and always her eyes entranced him, smiling, frowning, tempting, shunning, ever changing. Her fluid arms emphasized her liquid movements.
    Another veil fell and he saw more of her beautiful body. Her stomach undulated, showing the lovely secret of her navel. Ranulf was frozen where he lay, unable to break the paralyzing spell of desire and fascination she wove about him.
    The music’s speed increased and his breath deepened as yet another veil fell to the floor. Her breasts rounded above the silk, gleaming, moving, quivering as she danced and he heard her low, throaty, lusty laugh, growling, filling his own body with tremors of unfulfilled passion.
    He was afraid to move, afraid she was an apparition of pleasure that might disappear at his merest breath. She moved closer to him, slowly, tortuously, exquisitely, her skin giving off a delicate perfume. With fear but uncontrolled longings, he put out a hand to touch her. A brief whisper of creamed satin skin against his fingertips and she drew away, her head falling back as she near drove his senses mad with that laugh, so low, yet permeating him with its promise.
    Her arm grazed his face, close to his lips, exciting him further to depths of what seemed to be a new part of his being. Then, abruptly, she moved away from him, far away, to a darkened side of the tent; her dark eyes and golden body were radiant against the cream-colored silk walls. He could not bear the void she had left behind. The music was reaching a frenzied peak and her eyes challenged him now, her hands