The Spymaster's Protection

The Spymaster’s Protection

A Templar Tale

by

s.a.monk

Copyright 2012 by s.a.monk

Cover art by Gordon Napier

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are a
product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events, and locales are entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any
form, except in brief review, without permission of the author.

This book is dedicated to my husband Michael, who insisted I write my
first book and has supported me every book thereafter, and to God, through whom
all gifts and blessings flow.

Preface

From 1095 to 1291, there were nine Crusades to the Holy Land,
which was known then by a number of names, the most heavily used being: the
Levant, Outremer, and the Kingdom of Jerusalem. It is and was essentially—
Palestine; a part of the world still in conflict centuries later.

Perhaps no battle was greater in significance during the
Crusades than the Battle of Hattin on July 4, 1187. Nearly three months later,
the Christian Crusaders lost the city of Jerusalem to Saladin. The city had
been under Christian control for over 80 years. Never again would it be held
that long by Western medieval occupation. It’s loss triggered the Third
Crusade, but that is another tale.

In 1187, the Kingdom of Jerusalem was divided into several
Crusader states, principalities, counties, and lordships, based upon the feudal
system used in the West. It was in the grip of political turmoil and inner
strife that bordered on civil war. During this time of dangerous instability,
the Arab people produced a powerful leader, the most determined and shrewd
leader they had seen since the arrival of the Christian invaders.

The bloody and tragic Battle of Hattin was the culmination of
the Kingdom’s political chaos, and the divided Christian forces were headed
toward disaster and catastrophe.
The Spymaster’s Protection
begins and ends in the months before and directly after this battle, which
culminated in Saladin’s successful siege of Jerusalem in 1187. It is a love story,
but it is also an intimate examination of a crucial timeframe in the history of
the Crusades.

There were many reasons for the Crusades— religious fervor,
the opportunity for adventure and travel, and the greedy dreams of riches and
personal gain. Maybe the most difficult thing to understand in our modern times
is that many of those who went to fight there truly believed that in doing so,
they would receive absolution for all their sins, past, present, and future,
thus gaining for themselves a guaranteed place in paradise. In that, were they
any different than their adversaries?

Among the thousands who died in the Holy Land, none fought
with more fervor than the Poor Knights of Christ and the Temple of Solomon.
Zeal, valor and rigid discipline made the Templar military forces the most
feared and respected in the world by 1187. Some were certainly fanatics, but
many were good men of committed purpose.

Founded in 1119, officially endorsed in 1129, the Templar
Order grew from a handful of men to thousands of members by their fall in 1307.
Many continue to believe that they were one of the most elite military forces
ever raised, and yet... they were still just men.

Their history fascinates many of us. It has certainly captured
my imagination for ten years, and I hope that this story and the several yet to
come will reflect the research that I have done and continue to do.

CHAPTER 1

The Kingdom of
Jerusalem 1187

Terrified and stunned, Gabrielle de Châtillon soon realized
that they had overturned in their driver’s desperate attempt to escape the
desert raiders who were attacking. The four wooden wheels on their little wagon
spun wildly overhead. Beneath it, she and her charges came slowly to their
senses, dazed from the spill, breathing in the dust that swirled around them.
In the distance, they heard the screams of their fellow travelers.

Fighting a wave of panic, Gabrielle found a splintered piece
of wood and used it to prop up one corner of the cart so that air and light
could enter their dark little box. Several of the children with her scooted to
her side, whimpering and crying softly. She hugged as many as she could get her
arm around and reached out to pat the heads of others, carefully surveying each
one, checking for injuries. She did not want to encourage them to speak, so she
asked no questions. Thankfully, no one looked badly hurt. She tucked the
youngest of the six close to her breast and soothed her, praying that the
toddler would not begin to cry.

Dear God, they could not be found!

Assured that all had survived serious injury, she crawled
toward the opening she had made to see what was happening outside. Instantly,
she located their driver, dead on the ground, undoubtedly thrown from the wagon
as he had attempted his harrowing high-speed turn.

More than a dozen mounted Saracen bandits were charging
through the caravan. Many of the men in the convoy had already fallen, sprawled
on the ground with arrows protruding grotesquely from their bodies. Two male
pilgrims were fighting off a mounted raider, hopelessly brandishing their stout
wooden walking sticks against the lethal sharpness of the Saracen’s blade.

Toward the front of the caravan, a merchant was defending
himself and his young son with a sword. Near a cluster of boulders, two
turbaned riders were running down a woman with a child in her arms. Another
woman was being thrown over the back of a horse. Gabrielle recognized the lead
merchant's daughter. Her bright yellow hair flew free over the animal's dappled
rump. The screams of both women joined that of another being raped nearby.

Their terror became Gabrielle's.

None of the infidel raiders had bothered riding back to the
overturned wagon at the far end of the caravan. They had obviously deemed it of
little value. Raiders usually watched a caravan before attacking it, and though
this one was small, its camels and forward wagons were loaded with imports from
Venice. The dusty rear had been left to the Christian pilgrims journeying to
Jerusalem. And to Gabrielle and her orphans.

With no funds of her own for an armed escort, she had again
chosen the protection of a caravan. Up until now, she had never had to fear for
her life. She had never been attacked on her rescue missions. God had been with
her in this, at least.

She had taken it as a sign from Him that he approved of what
she had been trying to do for the past five years.
What you do for one of
these, my children, you do for me.
The biblical quote from the New
Testament reminded her yet again to be courageous and have faith.

Fighting the fear that threatened to paralyze her, she
resolutely shut out the screams and shouts erupting beyond her. From the look
of things, it would not be long before the raiders turned their attention to
her overturned wagon. She had to act.

Still, she prayed for divine intervention. What she and the
children needed was a guardian angel, the sooner the better.

Two boys, three girls, and a toddler huddled around her under
the wagon. Their big dark eyes were full of fear, and it tore at her heart that
they should be made to suffer yet another raid that left them so terribly
vulnerable. The older children might be spared death and sold into slavery, but
the toddler would be put to the sword. None of those men would show any mercy
for a crying helpless infant. Nor would they demonstrate any toward her. Her
gender alone would insure her the same fate as the other women in the caravan.
And if they discovered who she was, she would suffer a worse fate than rape.

Gabriele had blessedly escaped being a victim of her husband's
notoriety for twelve long years, but she knew what would happen if Reynald's
legions of enemies ever decided to use her in their fight against him.

Death alone did not frighten her. There had been many times,
she had even prayed for it, but the peace that death promised no longer called
to her the way it used to. She had a purpose to her life now. These children
and others like them needed her intervention and protection. Left orphaned and
homeless in villages razed by men like her husband, they were not even
after-thoughts in this war-torn land.

Her courage was fortified by the reminder of her purpose.
After assessing their grim situation, she prayed one final time for
intercession, then rose to her knees beneath the wagon bed and pushed upwards
with all her might. Two of the older children hurried to help her.

They had passed a dying orchard of olive trees before they had
ventured into this boulder-strewn valley. Maybe she and the children could flee
there and hide while their attackers were busy at the forefront of the caravan.

Urging each child out from their dusty hiding place, she
clutched the hand of the infant and joined them finally at the rear of the
wagon. She looked toward the abandoned orchard, then peeked around the corner
of the cart. The Arab raiders were still focused on subduing the travelers who
continued to fight. It was a furlong or more to the olive grove, but between
the wagon and the trees, there were outcroppings of boulders large enough to
hide behind. She and the children had only a slim chance of making a run for it
without being noticed, but they had no chance at all if they stayed.

Gabrielle took one last look at the raiding party, then
gathered the toddler into her arms and beckoned the other children to run with
her.

+++

Lucien de Aubric crested the rise of a rocky hill on his big
black Arabian charger and scanned the scene in the valley below him. The curse
that he ground out was none too reverent. They had received no intelligence of
possible raiders in the area. This was a routine patrol. He should have been
told if there was trouble along this stretch of the road that traveled inland
from the coast. Though it was not the main highway to Jerusalem, it was used
frequently enough, and to his knowledge, not normally plagued by bandits. He
would have brought more men with him today had he expected trouble. Their Order
had an excellent network of spies and informers throughout Palestine. He should
know. He had established most of them and now managed and directed them.