The Spymaster's Protection (48 page)

Gökböri nodded to the executioner, who untied Lucien’s hands,
looking none too happy to be deprived of his next victim. Quickly, his beady
eyes fell on Conrad.

“General, Lord Saladin,” Lucien called out. “I ask for the
life of my comrade.” He turned briefly to Conrad as he rubbed circulation back
into his wrists. “If the Grand Master will not beg for even one life, I will.”

Gökböri stared at him in veiled amusement, while Saladin
stopped and turned back to gaze at him in silent contemplation. “Will you trade
your life for his?”

“If I have to.”

The sultan strode back to his general’s side, his shrewdly
intelligent black eyes narrowed on Lucien’s. Briefly, he glanced back at the Templar
Grand Master. When his gaze returned to Lucien, his lips were curled into a
partial grin, but he said nothing.

“This necklace belongs to Madam de Châtillon,” Gökböri stated,
touching it again briefly. “I sensed a strong bond between you and my… the
lady. Do you not want to return to her?”

“I want nothing more.”

Finally the sultan spoke. “And yet you would trade your life
for this Templar beside you?”

“I would rather we both lived, but I have seen too many
friends die in the conflict between our people. I do not think I can watch
another do so.” Lucien looked over at Conrad, knowing that he comprehended
nothing of what they were talking about since he neither spoke nor understood
Arabic. “I would like to see all of these brothers live.”

“That is not possible. I intend to purify my land of these
monks of war, and reward every soldier who captures or kills one. I will not
stay their execution,” Saladin retorted firmly. “But I will give you the life
of the man beside you, Lucien de Aubric.”

Lucien bowed his head in gratitude, though he had hoped for
more. “Thank you, Lord Saladin.”

“And I will not take yours in exchange,” he added to Lucien’s
vast relief. “I will hand you both over to General Gökböri for the time being.
He may release you or not, as is his will. He will see that no harm comes to
either of you while you are in his custody.” Turning back to the Grand Masters,
he loudly announced, “The Great Prophet would grace any man who is not above
begging for the life of his brethren. I do believe your own prophet, Jesus,
believed the same.” His dark gaze shifted to the Hospitaller Grand Master.
“Choose two to live, sirrah.” Then he turned back to the kneeling captives,
their executioner, and his general. “We are done here for now. Take the rest
away and prepare them for transport to Damascus.”

CHAPTER
24

Gabrielle received word of the battle at the Horns of Hattin
three days later. It came with the arrival of Lord Ibelin and some of the other
survivors. The baron was quickly ushered into the great hall at the palace in
Jerusalem. The queen, seated in the center of the room with many other
noblewomen, immediately sent for Gabrielle, as well as the patriarch.

Exhausted and distraught, the baron had ridden straight from
Hattin, with only a quick stop at his home in Nablus. He was the first to make
it back to the city to tell the queen of the outcome of the Christian army’s
battle against Saladin and his forces.

“Your highness, I fear the news is not good,” he began, his
dark eyes sweeping the clergy and the women in the room, most of whom had
husbands and sons riding at the king’s side. “I escaped Hattin, along with Lord
Raymond, who was cut off from returning after he broke a hole in the enemy forces.
He has gone on to Tyre, but I hurried here….”

“Balian, what news of my husband and the others?” Sibylla
pressed him, looking every bit as anxious as Gabrielle and the others in the
room.

“When I was cut off from him, he and most of the barons with
him were still alive, fighting. Since then, I have received word of Saladin’s
victory.”

The queen slumped in her chair. “Oh my God!”

“I have also heard a few rumors of many being captured. If the
king was among them, as I am sure he must have been, the sultan will ransom
him. I don’t believe Saladin would slay the king.”

Tears sprang to Sibylla’s eyes. “But you do not know if he
even survived the battle.”

Lord Balian shook his head in regret. “I do not. Like Raymond,
I was separated from the main fighting force. Saladin’s troops divided and
separated us like flocks of sheep. With their far greater numbers, they
prevented us from rejoining the main fray, and my squadron, along with
Raymond’s had no choice but to eventually turn towards home. As others return,
we will surely hear more in the coming days.”

Gabrielle could not wait for permission to speak. “Lord
Ibelin, have you word of Lucien de Aubric? Where did he fight? With Lord
Raymond? With the king?”

“He was with the king’s division, in the heart of the battle,
the last I saw of him, lady… as was your husband and father,” the baron added.

“And those are the men who stood to the end? Who may have been
captured?” some other lady asked.

“Or killed!’ another cried out.

Gabrielle nearly collapsed as she stood beside the queen.
“Mi’lord, what of the Templars?” There was the possibility that Lucien could
have fought beside old friends, and if he had, their fate would have been his.
The sultan would not have left many in the military orders alive.

“Most were with my rearguard, but they all moved up to fight
with the king and were heavily attacked. I have heard some may have been
captured, also.”

“The Grand Masters?” the patriarch inquired. “And the Holy
Relic, the True Cross?”

Balian of Ibelin looked truly pained with all the news, most
especially with what he next imparted. “The Holy Relic was taken by Saladin’s
troops. I do not know the fate of the Grand Masters, Your Grace.”

“Dear God!”

The news was so dour, Gabrielle quickly fled to her room. She
had continued to stay at the palace to support the queen, who had been as
distressed and anxious as Gabrielle had been. Until she received word of
Lucien, Gabrielle had not even gone to go to the orphanage. Her days had all
been filled with waiting and fervent prayer. But the waiting was not over, for
Lord Balian had really not brought much news, only more anxiety.

+++

Within the week, additional news reached the palace. Lord
Balian’s rumors were confirmed. The king and some of the leading barons,
including Lord de Châtillon, had been captured by Saladin. Men who had survived
the final battle and escaped returned to report that the Grand Masters had also
been taken prisoner.

Rumors abounded, but the queen refused to entertain any of
them for they were never grounded in eyewitness testimony. Then, at last, one
of the barons who had been at Hattin and been captured by Saladin, was released
with a message for the queen, and subsequently the other families of the
missing nobility. He presented a list of all who were being held for ransom in
Damascus, the king included. The grisly report he also delivered of the
beheadings of many of the Templars and Hospitallers right after the battle
circulated through the palace halls in horrifying detail. Before it reached
Gabrielle, who had not been present in the great hall upon his arrival, the
queen again summoned her. Gabrielle joined her immediately in a private sitting
room. To her surprise, the baron messenger was seated with Sibylla.

He proceeded to gently inform her of her husband’s death,
gruesome details omitted. He said nothing of her father, or Lucien. Gabrielle
was not satisfied with what she immediately suspected was an edited report.

“Tell me how Reynald died, Lord Thierry,” she insisted.

“He died at Saladin’s hand.”

He clearly did not want to elaborate, but Gabrielle was having
none of it, for she suspected Reynald must have died brutally at Lord Saladin’s
hands. How could he not after all the atrocities he had committed against
Saladin’s family and friends? “How exactly did he die, my lord?”

Lord Thierry clearly did not want to elaborate, but he finally
relented at a nod from the queen. “The sultan struck his head from his body and
mounted it on a pike.”

Gabrielle did not even gasp. She felt the blood drain from her
face, but she could not muster an ounce of sympathy for her husband. Nor was
she elated. “And my father, Lord Chaumont?”

“He died on the field of battle, mi’lady. I saw the Blue Wolf
himself strike down Lord Chaumont.”

“Do you know anything of King Guy’s intelligence office,
Lucien de Aubric?” the queen asked, sensing how badly Gabrielle wanted to ask.

“I’m afraid I know nothing, your highness.”

Gabrielle felt strangely numb for the remainder of the day.
Reynald’s death was both a blessing and a curse. She was finally free of him,
and strangely enough, she grieved to see how distraught Lady Silvia became
after hearing the news. But there was still no word of Lucien. There was no
relief she could feel at her husband’s just retribution if she was to suffer Lucien’s
loss as well. While she would finally be free to lead her life as she chose
without fear of Reynald and her father, she would live the remainder of it in
grief and loneness if Lucien had died.

In the next few weeks, word came of Saladin’s conquest of the
coastal port of Acre. The Royal City’s capture was a huge blow to the kingdom
and the queen.

Growing desperate with no firm word of her husband’s fate
after paying an Arab emissary the required ransom, Sibylla was preparing to
send an envoy to the sultan in Acre when several minor barons came to the
palace after being ransomed and released.

This time, they brought news from Damascus, where they had
been held in the garrison, along with most of the other captives. There, they
had witnessed the gruesome fate of the remaining warrior monks. Of the
approximately 240 taken captive, 230 had been slaughtered, some at Hattin, most
in the Damascus citadel. All had had their heads brutally severed from their
bodies in a bloody spectacle that had gone on repeatedly in front of the other
captives, first at the Horns encampment, then at the citadel. One of the young
nobles received by the queen had recognized the Templar intelligence officers,
Conrad de Morgarten and Lucien de Aubric, among the captured monks. He had seen
both men in the execution line in Saladin’s camp at Hattin, but had not seen
them at Damascus.

The young noble’s graphic description of the demise of the
warrior monks shocked the queen and her small retinue. Standing beside her
sovereign, Gabrielle collapsed in a faint at the horrific news.

Queen Sibylla sent her envoy to Damascus rather than Acre.

+++

In the weeks following the Christian defeat at Hattin, Lucien
found himself traveling with Muzaffar al Din Gökböri, not as a guest but not
exactly as a captive, either. He was something in between. He eventually
realized that Gökböri kept him at his side in order to learn more about him.
His freedoms were severely limited, but he was treated well and his battle
wounds were attended to, though they had never been life threatening.

He was given new clothing, and his hair and beard were
trimmed, the latter being shaved close to his jaw after his attendants
despaired of its battle filth. He was fed well, and his dehydration was
treated, but he was required to remain with the Blue Wolf, under his close
observation.

He was not asked to renounce his faith or his allegiance. Nor
was he asked to fight when the great general went into battle. But whether by
happenstance or intent, he became a witness to the methodical conquest of the
kingdom, from Hattin to what he knew would eventually be Jerusalem.

The Hospitaller Grand Master had died soon after Hattin of his
battle injuries, and the Templar Grand Master became a personal prisoner of
Saladin, and thus a witness to the collapse of the Latin strongholds, as well.
His circumstances were not as tolerable as Lucien’s. Though Lucien did not
often see him, when he did, de Ridefort was in chains. Their encounters with
one another were never pleasant. The ex-Templar was sure that the sultan had
something particular in mind for the Grand Master, else he would have been in
the Damascus citadel with the other barons and the king.

Lucien was not sure why General Gökböri had taken such a
personal interest in him. He had sent Conrad back to Damascus with the promise
that he would be released. Before they had separated, Lucien had asked his
friend to go to Jerusalem and tell Gabrielle what had happened to him. He had
no idea when Conrad would be set free or reach Jerusalem. The battle at Hattin
was now barely a fortnight old. But there would surely be news reaching the
queen in Jerusalem. It sorely grieved him to know that Gabrielle would not know
whether he was dead or alive.

Countess Eschiva had surrendered Tiberius the day after the
Christian defeat at the Horns. From there, Saladin’s great Saracen army had
marched to Acre. It had taken three days for the strategic coastal port to
surrender Then it had been an upward sweep north to Tyre.

The sultan had split his forces, confident of little
resistance now that he had nothing to fear from the Christian field army. The
crusader castles at Toron, Nablus, Jaffa, and Sidon were taken. Saladin’s
tempestuous and ambitious young nephew, Taqi al Din, took nearly all of them,
one after the other.

Lucien was glad that Gökböri had been relegated to a defensive
role in Saladin’s army. He had no desire to see his fellow Christians being
attacked and killed in their strongholds and cities. To his vast relief, the
Blue Wolf was the man the sultan sent in after victory to organize the peaceful
control of the citadels’ defenses once they were seized. When order was
re-established, Gökböri and his unit moved on to the next conquered stronghold.

And as the Turk did this over and over, Lucien saw that the
man was an extraordinarily capable administrator. His thoroughness on the
battlefield was matched by his meticulous oversight of the transfer of power in
each captured city and citadel, with particular concern for the human issues
involved.