The Spymaster's Protection (14 page)

She was relatively safe here. Her
friends took good care of her, but she couldn’t leave the compound, and he’d
heard that was proving frustrating to her for she could do little, except care
for her orphans. Reynald might be busy preparing to defend his fief, but
another assassin was still out there. And this garrison would not be fully
manned for too much longer. The brothers would soon be called to reinforce the
ranks in their other garrisons. The Sultan was stirring and that meant extra
caution at all their outposts.

“I understand the archbishop has been
by to see you.”

The roll of her eyes told him what he
had expected from the dithering patriarch. “He has been dragging his feet
because he is angry with Reynald for putting Lady Silvia in the house I just
vacated. He wants Reynald to end the relationship and send her back to Hebron
before he petitions the Pope for an annulment. That could take forever! Reynald
will not put Silvia aside, even for a little while. Apparently, he would rather
murder me than do without his mistress for any period of time.”

Lucien had expected as much and had
already talked to the patriarch. “I have persuaded Heraclius to petition the
Pope now, without waiting for Reynald to send Silvia away. He sent the letter
to his eminence two days ago. I watched him put it onboard a Venetian merchant
vessel in Acre.”

“How did you get him to act?”

“I threatened to tell a certain merchant
about the affair Heraclius is having with his wife.”

Gabrielle laughed at his wickedness.
“Brother Lucien, everyone knows of Heraclius’ affairs, though this last one has
been a bit more secretive, probably because the lady is still married.”

Lucien acknowledged the truth of her
comment with a crooked smile. “Heraclius apparently does not know everyone
knows, so my threat worked.”

“You are a devious man, frère.”

The creases on either side of his
mouth deepened with a smile as he watched her dimples appear in her amusement.
“It is what I do, mi’lady.”

“And I have heard from several
sources that you are a master of your craft
,”
she
revealed. “It is what gives you such freedom for a Templar, such autonomy, is
it not?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

Lucien was secretly pleased that she
had been interested in him enough to seek information about him. That he was
Chief of Intelligence for the Order was no secret. He was actually glad she
knew. He wanted her to know about him, just as he wanted to know as much as he could
about her.

“There have been no further attempts
on my life here,” she offered, hoping to relieve at least some of his concerns.

He was not going to tell her that was
untrue. Right after she had arrived, Brother Giles had intercepted another
assassin. Because of it, Lucien had contacted his informant at the Assassins’
enclave above Masyaf, in Syria, to arrange a negotiation with Rashid al-Din
Sinan, the Shi’ite imam and leader of the sect.

He wanted him to rescind Reynald’s
contract on Gabrielle. The imam had been a tough negotiator, though. At first,
he had wanted money, more money than Reynald had offered. Lucien did not have
that kind of money, nor could he have acquired it. Finally, Sinan had requested
the release of one of his sons from a Templar prison. Lucien had been unable to
arrange it so far. The Grand Master’s permission was needed, and he had made it
clear to Lucien that he was not going to give it. Of course, he had also taken
the opportunity to severely chastise Lucien for his interference in Lord de
Châtillon’s relationship with his wayward wife. The fact that Gabrielle was in
danger of being killed by de Châtillon seemed to make no difference to de
Ridefort. He cast it aside as being the plot of a jealous mistress, not a
murderous husband.

He had then tried to get Sinan’s son
released without de Ridefort’s permission or knowledge, but had not been
successful yet. For a man who was used to accomplishing just about anything, it
had been immensely frustrating. It was just a matter of time before another
fida’i made an attempt on Gabrielle’s life. She was correct. Once a contract
was made, it was fulfilled, no matter how long it took. Women were not usual
targets of the Isma’ili, but Sinan no doubt overlooked that fact to gain
something from the infamous Lord de Châtillon. For such a man to be indebted to
the imam would no doubt be useful tender in the future.

In the face of his defeat, Lucien had
devised another way to keep Gabrielle de Châtillon safe.

“Lady de Châtillon, I have been
attempting to get the assassin contract on you removed, but have been unable to
do so, so far. I do not think you have seen the last of their attempts on your
life. The king is ready to call a general muster. The monks of Saint John will
soon be dispersed to castles and fortresses elsewhere. You will not be as well
protected here. And I must go to Tiberius to try to try to talk Count Raymond
into ending his split with King Guy before it erupts into a civil war. I have
put it off as long as I dare. With the kingdom so close to war, it is
imperative that we present a united front.”

Gabrielle understood he had done as
much for her as he could. In fact, he had done more than she had ever expected
or hoped for. “You must go where you are needed, frère, and give me no further
thought. I will be fine here, behind these walls.”

Lucien rose and came to stand beside
her, a troubled look on his face. “You will not be fine behind these walls,” he
argued with a touch of impatience in his voice that he swiftly stifled. “And I
cannot, nor will not, give you
no further thought
.” With that bold
statement, he went down just as boldly on one knee next to her and took her
hand in both of his. “Right or wrong, you have come to mean a great deal to me
these past weeks, Gabrielle de Châtillon. I have committed myself to your
safety, and I will not abandon you to your husband’s merciless fate.” Seeing
her astonished, speechless expression, Lucien smiled ruefully. “You do not need
to say anything to all this. I understand I am being over-bold, but….”
Surprising her yet again, he lifted her hand to his chest. “I want you to come
to Tiberius with me. You must come,” he insisted when he saw doubt creep into
her wide blue eyes. “It is the only way I can ensure your protection.”

“But, frère….” Gabrielle was stunned
by his proposal.

Lucien raised one of his hands to
halt any potential protest. “I have asked Lord Ibelin and his wife Maria
Comnena to accompany us. I need him to help me make Raymond see reason, and I
felt it would look more appropriate if you traveled with another woman. I have
also asked Brother Giles and two of Hazir’s nephews to accompany us. Brother
Giles may be able to help talk Count Raymond out of his mad alliance with the
Sultan, and the brothers are for added protection. The countryside is no longer
safe. Saladin’s troops are massing, and there are many mercenaries on the
roads. For that reason, it would also be wise for you to dress as a Muslim. I
will be doing so, and we may encounter less trouble traveling in disguise.”

“It sounds as if things have gotten much worse than I had
imagined.”

Gabrielle was once again astounded by
him. His hand, wrapped around hers, was large and warm and wonderful. The
anxiety on his handsome face was also wonderful, for it was all for her.
Looking at him in that moment, she realized that she was very much in danger, God
help her, of falling in love with him.

“I will go to Tiberius with you,” she
responded, unable to hide her happiness as she cast a glance from his face to
their joined hands. “I have not visited Count Raymond’s wife, Countess Eschiva,
in a long time. And I enjoy Lady Maria’s company. It will be pleasant to get
away from Jerusalem and all this trouble for awhile. When do you plan to
depart, Brother Lucien?”

“I would like to leave the day after
tomorrow. Will that give you enough time to prepare?”

“Most certainly. May we go by horse?
I have not ridden my mare in a long time. She has doubtlessly forgotten me.”

“Whatever is your pleasure, lady.”
Lucien wished he could grant her every wish when she smiled at him as she did
now. The two tiny dimples in her cheeks made her look so enchanting, he wanted
to make her smile at him over and over. This path he was taking with her was
getting more and more dangerous, but never had
he
desired to go down a path more.

+++

All the next day, Lucien thought
about his decision to keep Gabrielle de Châtillon by his side. It might not be
the wisest decision he ever made, but it was indisputably the best way to keep
her safe from her husband’s assassins, and from her husband himself. Reynald
was in danger of losing everything if Saladin was as determined as Lucien had
heard. If he did lose Oultrejourdan, Hebron would at least give Reynald a new
start.

Within a few months, Gabrielle could
be free of her marriage. Lucien was fairly certain Heraclius’ petition for an
annulment would be approved. But he would still be a monk and a Templar, though
he had actually been thinking about leaving the Order. It was not the first
time, but since meeting Gabrielle, the possibility had been whispering at the
back of his mind again.

He had joined the Order more out of
necessity than vocation. After his parents had been killed, his home had been
recaptured by his mother’s brother. He’d had no place to go, no other family.
The Templars and Brother Torroja, in particular, became his family.

When the king had knighted him at
eighteen, and his brothers had accepted him into their hallowed ranks, he had
been full of fervor, enthusiasm, and youthful fire. It had mattered little that
he was forsaking all earthly desires and pleasures. A lifetime of unquestioning
service and unfailing loyalty seemed a small price to pay for the certain glory
to come; for belonging to such an elite brotherhood of renowned warriors.

Kneeling before the tribunal at his
investiture, he had eagerly envisioned all the great battles he would fight,
all the infidels he would
slay
in God’s Holy War. He
would become one of the Order’s greatest warriors, commanding respect with his
unrivalled prowess and skill. He would become a legend.

His fervor had been motivated not so
much by love of God, but by a need to belong to something important. His
foolish youthful pride and desire for fame and glory had been blind to the
reality of what he eventually discovered in the Holy Land. Young and eager and
idealistic, he had been proud beyond all reason of his immaculate white Templar
regalia.

After his adoption by the Temple,
Catholicism had been dogmatically taught and practiced. Tolerance for other
faiths was non-existent among his teachers, but Lucien did not completely
forgot what his mother had taught him.

Vigorous and relentless Christian
indoctrination was part of every novice Templar’s preparation. Daily prayer,
scripture readings, and monastic disciplines shared as much significance as
physical training. The Order wanted its recruits fervently dedicated to
defending the faith with a strength of arms that would not waver in the face of
a heathen sword. To die on the field of battle by the sword of an infidel was
to die a martyr, with an immediate reward of heaven and eternal glory. Such was
the fate all Templars should be glad to accept. It had been so uncomplicated
then.

Then he’d arrived in Palestine with
Arnold de Torroja and a shipload of other newly installed knights of the cross.

In the beginning, Lucien had been as
ready to die for his faith as any other young recruit.

Soon after he had arrived, the
kingdom had been threatened by the new leader of the Saracens. Salãh-ad-Din
Yũsuf, ruler of Egypt and soon of Syria, led a force across the Sinai Desert
toward the Templar fortress at Gaza, where Lucien had been stationed. It was
there that the warrior monks had concentrated their counter-force in
anticipation of attack. When Saladin had moved on to Ascalon, Lucien and his
fellow Templars left Gaza to join their young king, Baldwin IV, as he attacked
the sultan and his Egyptian army at Montisgard. Catching the enemy by surprise,
they had routed the army and prevented Saladin from his ultimate goal of taking
Jerusalem.

It had been a glorious victory, and
Lucien had fought with all the valor and prowess he had dreamed of, so much so
that he had come to the notice of the young leper king. Dozens of Saracens had
fallen under his blade that day, and he had earned himself an enviable place in
Baldwin’s elite bodyguard. His youthful dreams had come to fruition that day.
Filled with reckless bravery, he had gone on to fight other battles with the
infidel, each time coming away with more acclaim.

Then in the summer of 1179, when
Saladin had laid siege to the newly erected Templar fortress near Jacob’s Ford,
on the River Jordan and the vital Arabian road to Damascus, Lucien had tasted
his first major defeat. The impetuous, vainglorious Master Odo de Saint-Amand
had rashly attacked a large contingent of Saladin’s army before the young king
was ready to regroup and reinforce the Templar troops. Brutally beaten back,
some were able to retreat across the Litani River and take refuge in the great
stronghold of Beaufort, Lucien and the king among those who had escaped. But many
of Lucien’s brethren had been slain, while many Frank knights and the Grand
Master himself were taken captive. Costly ransoms were paid for the Franks, but
the Templars were never ransomed, as dictated by their Rule. The Grand Master
would have been the exception, but his pride prevented him from accepting
Saladin’s offer of trade, and as a result Odo de Saint Amand had died in a
Saracen prison.