The Spymaster's Protection (17 page)

Later that night Gabrielle heard Lucien enter his room and
move around as he prepared for bed. She was snuggled beneath her covers, his
presence next door giving her great comfort. The evening had been pleasantly
spent with the count and his wife, Eschiva, and their three sons, two of whom
were married and living at the castle with their wives and children.

The close-knit family had made Gabrielle wistful, and the
presence, for a little while, of the count’s four young grandchildren had
resurrected painful memories and demolished dreams. After their evening meal,
Raymond, Brother Giles, and Lucien had adjourned to another room to talk. Lady
Eschiva, her two daughters-in-law, and the children, ranging in age from two to
eight, had kept Gabrielle entertained, but she wondered how Lucien’s meeting
had gone.

It had been obvious he and the count were longtime friends.
They spoke to one another with a familiarity born of many years. The few things
Gabrielle had overheard said between them demonstrated to her that they shared
very similar political opinions. Brother Giles was also of a like mind, though
he was less out-spoken than his friends. Tiberius was just across the lake from
the Syrian border, and Count Raymond was dangerously involved with Saladin on
some level. Gabrielle was only partially aware of the problem. But she could
see that Brother Lucien was worried about him and for him. The purpose of these
talks was to alter Count Raymond’s current position, and she could tell there
was a great deal at stake.

Lucien had outlined many of the issues he had come to talk to
Lord Raymond about on their way here. Gabrielle was unused to such frankness
from a man. Most men considered women of no consequence when it came to
political or military discussions. Churchmen and laymen, alike, constantly
decried that women were of inferior intellect.

Reynald hadn’t even treated her with that much respect. He had
often called her an idiot, in private, as well as in front of others. Funny,
how she had never heard him speak of Lady Silvia in such terms.

For a long time, Gabrielle had thought maybe Reynald was right
about her. She had been an impressionable fourteen, afterall, when she had been
married off to him. But her mother had taught her to read and write, without
her father’s knowledge, of course. Eventually, as she’d gotten older and wiser,
she’d learned to deflect the verbal denunciations Reynald had rained on her. In
a secret compartment in her room, she’d kept the manuscripts and books she
managed to covertly extract from some of the goods Reynald had stolen from the
caravans he had raided. Many of them had been in Arabic, so she’d found an
educated Egyptian slave at Kerak who taught her to read Arabic.

In her attempt to escape Reynald and her father, she had
discovered every nook and cubbyhole at Kerak. Those hiding places became her
sanctuaries. In each of them, she’d hoarded food and books, spending hours
reading by whatever light she could manage to drag into them. Eventually, her
long disappearances led her husband and her father to believe she was more than
a touch mad. And Gabrielle had let them think that. She had even pretended it
sometimes. It was an easy pretense. Life with both men had nearly sent her over
the edge of sanity.

And now, thank the Lord, she lived in the light. A wonderful
man had come into her life who treated her as if she was an equal; a man who,
if nothing else, was a friend, a protector, a guardian angel. If anyone could
keep her safe and give her a tomorrow, it was Lucien de Aubric.

CHAPTER
9

The day after their arrival, Lady Eschiva and her two
daughters by law invited Gabrielle to accompany them into Tiberius to visit
their favorite silk merchant. He had just gotten some bolts in from a trader
who had recently returned from a trip to the Far East. The silk merchant had
invited the ladies of the castle to inspect his new merchandise. He was
claiming the silk was the finest he had ever seen. The countess, in particular,
was quite excited about viewing the fabric.

They traveled the short distance into town under a heavy
guard. It was a brilliant late April day. The sky was such a deep blue, it
almost hurt the eyes to gaze upon it. On the lake, which they caught glimpses
of coming down the hill from the castle, fishing boats plied the azure blue
waters, their full white sails catching the spring breezes as they drifted across
the surface.

It was a truly perfect day, and Gabrielle was thoroughly
enjoying herself. For weeks now, she had been busy working at the hospital and
in the orphanage, unable to go into the city proper because of the restrictions
of her sanctuary and the danger of another assassination attempt.

It had been too long since she had enjoyed a completely idle
day, doing nothing more than sharing the company of pleasant female companions,
browsing through shops and outdoor stalls at a souk. While she had brought some
coin, she was frugal with it, purchasing only a tiny bottle of her favorite
perfume and a bar of scented soap. If she was going to succeed in freeing
herself completely from her husband, she needed to conserve her funds for she
would never again depend on Reynald or her father for a thing.

The countess was old enough to be Gabrielle’s mother, but she
was still a very good looking woman. The Christian community was not very
large, and like Maria Comnena, Lady Eschiva had been a friendly acquaintance for
a number of years. Gabrielle had always liked her. She was lively, intelligent,
and kind. If she had ever felt sorry for Gabrielle’s disturbing circumstances,
she had never alluded to it. Though she and her husband had never liked
Reynald, they both had always treated her warmly.

The countesses’ daughters-in-law were of an age with
Gabrielle, and were both very pleasant companions. All in all, it was the kind
of day Gabrielle had needed, and though she did not purchase any of the
gorgeous, very expensive silk, she helped the three ladies make selections that
were indeed some of the finest she had seen.

By early afternoon, they were back at the castle for a midday
rest before the evening meal. On her way inside, Gabrielle just happened to
look up to see Lucien atop the battlements on one of the towers that overlooked
the eastern side of the lake. She imagined from where he stood he could see for
leagues. Count Raymond stood next to him, his long dark red robes blowing
around him in the breeze.

The countess looked to where her guest’s attention had
shifted. “He’s a handsome devil, is he not?” she inquired with a husky laugh.

Ahead of them, the other two ladies were entering the keep.
Gabrielle cast a quick glance at Lady Eschiva. “Aye, your husband is a very
good looking man still, mi’lady.” She had already seen that the woman still
admired and loved her husband very much. Gabrielle wondered what that kind of
marital happiness would be like.

“Well, yes, he is,” the countess responded with laugh. “But he
is not the one I was speaking of. I was admiring that monk up there with him,
Brother Lucien. He turns the ladies’ heads wherever he goes. He barely manages
to visit the court in Jerusalem without being set upon. It is such a shame that
he is a monk, is it not?”

Gabrielle stared at the countess and wondered if she really
wanted an answer.

“Well, what think you, my dear?”

Apparently an answer was going to be required. Gabrielle
blushed, and wished she had not. “I … I suppose I must agree, Eschiva,” she
finally stammered awkwardly. “He is a most attractive man.”

“Indeed. And maybe it might be interesting to see just how
deep his commitment to the Order is. Raymond thinks our good brother’s resolve
has been solely tested by Master de Ridefort’s rise to leadership. Lucien de
Aubric could serve the kingdom much better as a secular knight, Raymond
believes.”

“That is interesting.”

It was all Gabrielle could find to say. There was still much
she didn’t know about Brother Lucien, and it was too dangerous to invite any
speculation about a more personal or intimate relationship with him. That
didn’t stop her from secretly imagining what it might be like, though.

+++

Lucien saw Gabrielle pass below in the courtyard, into the
keep. He was relieved that the women had returned. He had been worried about
them the entire time they’d been gone, despite the heavy guard they had been
given by the count.

Bracing his hands on the merlons to either side of him, Lucien
looked out over the crenellated wall atop the watchtower where he and Raymond
had gone to talk. It was the highest point in the castle. From here, one could
get a commanding view of the countryside on such a clear day as this one. He
had wanted to get away from everyone to have this conversation with his friend,
but he had also been anxious to see if he could spot the enemy from here.
Across the Sea of Galilee, to the east, the ground rose in a long bluff.
Lucien’s eyesight was not so keen that he could see any sign of an enemy
encampment in the daylight.

He’d come up here last night before going to bed to see if he
could spot the glow of campfires, and had seen flickers of light that could
have been signs of a camp. He had an uncanny feeling Saladin had troops across
the lake, though obviously they were remaining fairly well hidden. He was going
to have to do some reconnaissance. Tomorrow he’d send Omar and Nephrim out to
scout around. It was one of the reasons he’d brought them along, but he still
intended to do some looking around himself.

They were not quite fifty leagues from Damascus, and the
region on the other side of the lake was an ideal place for the sultan to amass
troops for an attack on this region. Though Saladin hated Reynald de Châtillon,
Lucien was not convinced that he intended to begin his assault upon the kingdom
from there. If
he
was planning the assault, he would begin it from right
here in Tiberius, for it was far more strategic than Oultrejordain, and I was
nearly a straight shot to Acre and the coast.

There was abundant water in the region, and enough crops being
grown to support a large army for months. In addition, control of a major port
like Acre would enable the sultan to bring supplies up from Egypt for his
troops. And if he controlled the road to Damascus, he would have full access to
a major trade and transport road. It would also split the Christian states in
half.

Raymond’s recent treaty with Saladin could do the same thing.
It was extremely dangerous, as was the man himself, at the moment. His
bitterness over the coup of Sibylla and Guy was eroding his good judgment, and
Lucien knew he must turn his friend away from his current alliance with Saladin
before it caused great harm to the kingdom and to himself. For Raymond of
Tripoli was riding the edge of treason.

Certainly, the smartest of the Latin leaders, he had tried
over the thirty years of his lordship to achieve peaceful co-existence with his
Muslim neighbors. He had always been an extraordinary tactician. After his
father had been killed by an Isma’ili assassin, Raymond had become the Count of
Tripoli at the age of twelve. His knowledge and skill had made him a leader
among the barons of Outremer, and eventually it had made him regent, first to
King Baldwin the IV, then to the seven-year-old Baldwin the V.

For all the years of both kings’ tenure, he had served as a
loyal and steadfast advisor. He was prudent and shrewd in his dealings with the
Muslim rulers, as well as the often arbitrary barons. And he was flexible,
which was a rare quality among the
ferenghi
, as the Arabs called the
Franks.

Unlike Reynald de Châtillon, Count Raymond had emerged from a
period of imprisonment in Aleppo with a greater understanding and knowledge of
his captors. Rather than make him bitter, as it had many of those in similar
circumstances, it had made him more able to deal with his rivals.

He was fluent in Arabic, and he studied the Islamic texts. The
Muslims themselves respected Raymond and often had very cordial relations with
him. That respect was one he shared with Lord Ibelin. Both men took an avid
interest in the harvests, the rainfall, and the trade of the region. They were
admirable fief holders, and did well by the people living on their lands,
regardless of race and religion.

With the coup last fall, Raymond had retreated here to his
wife’s holding of Tiberius. Baldwin IV had entrusted his last will and
testament to his advisor and friend. In it he had stipulated that upon his
death, Raymond would again serve as regent to his young nephew, Sibylla’s son.
No one had expected seven year old Baldwin V to live to adulthood because of
his frailty and chronic poor health. It had been Baldwin IV’s desire that upon
the death of his nephew, the pope and the kings of the West appoint the next
King of Jerusalem. Under no circumstances did Baldwin IV want his sister’s
husband, Guy of Lusignan, to become the next monarch.

As a result of the treacherous betrayal of some of the
kingdoms’ leading barons, Reynald de Châtillon and Joscelin de Courtenay among
them, Guy had been put on the throne as young Baldwin V was being buried.
Raymond had been furious, and now it was being said that he had made a secret
pact with Saladin to overthrow King Guy. Lucien had his doubts about the truth
of the charge, and the count had denied it to him just a short while ago.

According to his long-time friend, the arrangement Saladin had
made with him was one of simple protection. The sultan would lend him men to
defend his fief against attack from Arab or Christian, and Raymond would allow
him unfettered access to the roads that led to the coast. The way Raymond had
explained it to Lucien, it was more of a personal truce; and agreement by both
parties to not engage in hostilities within the region. And Raymond was
correct. As Lord of Tripoli and Tiberius, he had the legal right to establish
such treaties with the sultan regarding his own holdings.