The Spymaster's Protection (16 page)

Gabrielle had known her for years, and she had always preferred
her company at court to Lady Agnes. They had been catching up on old and new
gossip on this journey, and while the unstable fate of the kingdom composed
some of their conversation, it did not dominate it. Like most of the nobility,
Maria was wildly curious about what was happening in Gabrielle's life.
Everyone, it seemed, knew of the attempt on her life, of her efforts to seek an
annulment from her widely disliked husband, and of her newly acquired
protector.

Gabrielle felt uncomfortable talking about all of it, most
especially, about her budding association with Lucien de Aubric. Much of her
life had been ugly, and she had tried to keep it as private as possible. It
shamed her to have people know what she had suffered at Reynald's hands.

And her relationship with the Templar was so new, she really
did not know how to explain it or define it. It was no secret she was under his
protection, but the nature of that protection was still evolving.

Her feelings for him were disconcerting. She could not help
the fact that she was deeply attracted to him, but she could help acting on
those feelings. She reminded herself daily that there could be no possible
relationship between them, except friendship. Nevertheless, whenever she looked
at him, she felt her pulse quicken. And despite her inexperience, she thought
he felt something, too.

As she laughed at something Maria said, she glanced over at
him and let her eyes travel over every inch of him. Like all of them, he was
dressed in the traditional native attire of the region; a long white tunic,
loose leggings underneath, a black sleeveless over-cloak, and a long black head
scarf that was held in place across the forehead by a piece of twisted red
cloth. With his dark coloring and beard, he looked very Arabic, fierce and
dangerous with his scimitar belted at his waist. Nothing of the Templar or the
Frank remained in him.

Gabrielle wondered if he ever felt torn between two worlds in
this land his mother's people must have come from at one time. Brother Giles
had told her that he had lived undercover among the Arabs, in Damascus, for
nearly two years while still a monk of the Order. She wondered how that
experience had affected him. What would it have been like to live so isolated
from the Templar monastic community? Few of their rules and none of their daily
routines could have been followed. Had he enjoyed the experience or hated it?
Gabrielle wanted to know all she could about this man who had suddenly taken center
place in her life.

When he caught her staring at him, he dipped his head and
smiled, sending her heart racing with that particular crooked, half-grin he
exhibited occasionally. Disconcerted with the tiny hint of intimacy in his
eyes, she bent and dipped the last gourd into the water hole. As she was doing
so, she felt something whiz over her veiled head. Beside her, Lady Maria
screamed.

Gabrielle dropped the gourd and began to rise when she was
suddenly caught around the waist and tackled to the ground. Pinned beneath him
on her back, she looked up into Lucien de Aubric’s alarmed face as he lay over
her.

"What happened?"

He brushed his hand over her cheek and swept it into her hair,
displacing the scarf that had covered it. His long fingers curved themselves to
her scalp, then probed for injury, she assumed.

"I am unhurt," she reassured him, then questioned
again. "What happened? Is Maria well?"

Lucien dropped his forehead to hers and released a deep sigh.
"She is fine. Did you not see the arrow that sailed over your head as you
bent to the water?" When he lifted his head, it was inches from hers and
his face was etched with unmistakable fear.

Gabrielle shook her head and, without thought, lifted her
fingers to stroke away his anxiety. "I felt nothing. Was it another
assassin?"

"We will find out." Rising lithely to his feet, he
held out a hand to assist her to hers. "Come. Stay behind me,
though."

Frightened finally, Gabrielle cast a quick look to Lady
Comnena, who was hiding behind a rock. Lucien's broad back prevented her from
seeing much else until Hazir's two nephews and Brother Giles came marching out
of some waist high bushes, dragging a man between them. He was small and very
dark-skinned, dressed in tight fitting black clothing, just like the man in the
street in Jerusalem the night of the king’s party. He was also quite dead. An
arrow protruded from his chest, and Gabrielle assumed one of the three men
before her had killed him. All carried crossbows in their hands and quivers of
iron-tipped bolts on their backs, as did the dead Arab.

Gabrielle shuddered, and Brother Lucien reached around to take
her hand, bringing her to his side. She turned her head into his shoulder,
unable to look upon the dead assassin.

"Bury him," Lucien commanded succinctly, then
steered Gabrielle toward her female companion and a flat-topped rock.

Maria Comnena reassured herself that all was well and that
Gabrielle was uninjured while Lucien went to recover the bolt that had sailed
over her head. When Gabrielle saw him walking back with it held in his hand,
she reached for it and passed the pad of her thumb over the sharp iron
arrowhead. It was broad enough and long enough to have deeply pierced her
skull.

"My God!" she whispered, curling her fingers around
the shaft. "This is what my husband and father meant for me. What did I
ever do to deserve such hatred?"

When she lifted her beautiful watery blue eyes to his, Lucien
saw the horror and the pain in them. Her unshed tears tore at his heart, and in
that moment, he silently swore to deliver a reckoning to her vile husband when
next they met. Needing to ease her anguish, he lifted her to her feet, curled
one arm around her neck, and pulled her against him as he took the arrow from
her trembling fingers.

"I will keep this and deliver it to Reynald personally
the next time I see him, and by God, I will not let him succeed in this,
Gabrielle," he swore, his cheek pressed to the top of her head.

+++

That night, the travelers stayed at Balian's stronghold in
Nablus. Maria’s daughter, Isabella, had come from Toron for a visit. There were
several members of Balian's extended family in residence, as well, and the
evening turned into a pleasant opportunity for Gabrielle and Lucien to catch up
with old acquaintances and friends. The gaiety at the evening meal did much to
dispel the fear and queasiness Gabrielle had been feeling since the attack.

Being chased down on a dark street in Jerusalem had been
frightening, but being shot at in full daylight seemed to bring the horror of
it more sharply into focus. And for over a fortnight, there had been no
attempts on her life. Maybe she had foolishly thought the assassination
attempts had ceased. With her petition for annulment, she had hoped Reynald
would withdraw his contract with the fida’i. Obviously, he had not. Why wait
months for an annulment when he could be rid of an unwanted wife now? The
bastard!

Early the next morning, Gabrielle, Brothers Giles and Lucien,
and Hazir's nephews set out for Tiberius. It was a windy late spring day and
previews of the summer heat were upon them. Gabrielle tucked her head veil
around her face, covering her mouth and nose from the dust and grit of the
road, just as the others did. On her coffee-colored Arabian gelding, she rode
behind Lucien's big black Arabian stallion, with Brother Giles coming up behind
her, and the nephews further back. Behind their tightly wrapped headgears, the
riders rode single file along the narrow rocky road to Tiberius, their eyes
constantly scanning the countryside.

Despite the pleasant company at Nablus, Gabrielle had not
slept well, and she kept nodding off in her saddle, only to be jarred awake by
the rocky terrain beneath her horse’s hooves. More than once, she gazed
longingly at Brother Lucien's back, wishing she could ride with him and lay her
head on his broad shoulder while she slept. Better yet, she thought
impulsively, she would rather be riding in front of him, sheltered in his arms.
She was quite certain that then she would feel secure enough to sleep
peacefully and deeply, without the graphic nightmares that had been plaguing
her since the attempts on her life.

+++

It was dusk by the time they reached Tiberius. Perched on a
hillside, the town sat above the Sea of Galilee, or Lake Tiberius, as some
called it. Through his marriage to Lady Eschiva, Count Raymond III of Tripoli
had acquired the prominent fiefdom, which included Tiberius as its capital
city.

The district of Galilee was bordered by Acre on the coast and
Mount Carmel to the west, the Jordan River to the east, and the Valley of
Jezreel to the south. Oultrejourdan and Kerak were farther south, below
Jerusalem. To the northeast, lay Syria and its capital, Damascus. In fact, the
eastern borders of Galilee and the eastern side of the lake remained firmly in
the hands of the Arabs, much to the Franks displeasure.

The high bluffs of the Golan plateau rose on the eastern side
of the lake. Fed by the Jordan River, the Sea of Galilee was a massive sprawl
of deep blue beneath the ceiling of twilight. Fishermen and their boats plied
the vast depths during the day for their abundant catches, but the predominate
pursuit was agriculture. Galilee was the rainiest, most fertile region of
Palestine, and Count Raymond and his wife were not the only Crusader families
who drew wealth from the region.

Gabrielle had always loved Galilee, especially the region
around the lake. It was a land of rolling, grassy green hills, with a multitude
of wildflowers woven in among the farmed fields and groves of fruit trees. With
the lake as its sparkling center jewel, it was particularly breathtaking in the
spring.

And it was nearly as scared to Christians as Jerusalem. Christ
grew up in nearby Nazareth, and began his early teaching along the shores of
the Sea of Galilee. Pilgrims wandered the countryside searching out all the
sacred places from the Bible. On their way into the city of Tiberius, their
small party had passed many of them.

Walled, Tiberius sat on the western side of the lake and had a
commanding view of it and the surrounding countryside. Once the travelers were
admitted through the gates of the city, they ascended to the flat-topped hill
on which the garrison castle of Tiberius sat. It too was surrounded by high
battlements and several watch towers. Even a thousand years later, remnants of
King Herod Antipas’ great northern palace could still be seen here and there.
The current castle had even been built upon the underpinnings of Herod’s old
garrison. Like the region, the city and the walled fortress rested on the
foundations of ancient history.

Since Lucien had sent a message ahead to Raymond by carrier
pigeon, he and his party of five were let in through the raised portcullis
without further question once they identified themselves. In the courtyard in
front of the large square keep, stable boys came to help with their horses.
Within a few moments the big double oak doors to the keep opened and Count
Raymond came down the steps to greet his visitors.

He went to Lucien first and took his arm, from elbow to wrist,
in a grip of greeting. “Brother de Aubric, ‘tis good to see you again! And
Brother de Chancery, you as well.” After gripping the Hospitaller’s forearm in
a similar fashion, Count Raymond turned to Gabrielle. “Lady de Châtillon, you are
most welcome here.”

Gabrielle held the reins to her horse with one gloved hand,
but removed her glove on the other and extended it to the count, who bent to
place a kiss on it. She had not been sure what to expect from him. He and her
husband were bitter enemies, and Reynald would never have been welcomed him
here; admitted maybe, but not welcomed.

Lucien introduced Hazir’s two nephews, then waited while the
count gave Colin, the squire who had come with him, directions concerning the
party’s animals and baggage. Before the young man could carry out his duties,
Lucien directed him to wait a moment.

“Lord Raymond,” the Templar began. “We have had another
encounter with an assassin along the way. I fear you should know this before
admitting us into your home. There may be more attacks. I would not want to
place your family in jeopardy.”

Gabrielle echoed Lucien’s sentiments, in complete accord with
his intentions. “We can stay at an inn in the city.”

The count waved away their concerns. “Lady de Châtillon, Lucien
has told me of your dilemma. You are welcome to our safe haven, such as it is,
and be assured I will notify my guards and post extra watch.”

“Thank you, mi’lord,” she acknowledged with a nod, deeply
moved and vastly relieved. Staying at an inn in town would have been dangerous
and not nearly as appropriate.

Lucien had also warned her that he had asked the count for
adjoining rooms. Though he had not wanted to frighten her further, he had
admitted to her that there probably would be more attempts on her life.
Gabrielle knew the fida’i would not stop. It would be foolish to believe
otherwise. Dear God, she was frightened! Even in this hilltop fortress, with a
garrison of armed men on alert, she still might not be safe.

That night, though, she slept better than she had expected to,
knowing Lucien was in the next room, separated from her only by a closed door.
The count and countess had given the entire party rooms on the third floor of
the keep, two floors above the great hall and one floor down from the family
residential rooms. Gabrielle’s room was sandwiched between Brother Giles’ and
Brother Lucien’s, while Hazir’s nephews were given sleeping accommodations down
the hallway. She was surrounded by protection. Nevertheless, Lucien had made
sure the shutters on the lone window in her room were secured and locked, and
that the outer door was barred, as well. The only unlocked door was the one
that separated her bedroom from his.