The Spymaster's Protection (8 page)

There were times when Gabrielle found the opulence of the royal
house romantically enchanting, and others when she found it an oppressive
over-indulgence. Today, she was ambivalent, for part of her was dreading the
evening and part of her was filled with unprecedented anticipation.

When she entered the great reception hall where the meal and
entertainment were to take place, her attention went straight to the large
assembly of white-robed warrior monks. Their current Grand Master, Gérard de
Ridefort, was a particular friend of King Guy. Along with her husband, he had
been primarily instrumental in putting the French nobleman on the throne. It
was even rumored that he had personally chosen the Frenchman for Sibylla and
arranged to have him brought over from his homeland.

Nearby, the contingent of Hospitaller monks, in their
distinctive black and white attire, was taking their seats at the tables set
aside for them. The tables for the two Orders took up one whole side of the
dining area, creating a sea of black and white and brown. But it was not their
habits which set them apart, Gabrielle knew. It was their politics, as well.
And yet one monk, the one she secretly searched for, seemed to walk easily
between the two.

Though she had yet to spot Lucien de Aubric, she knew he would
attend this affair. Or at least, she desperately hoped he would. And was that
not pathetic? Was she so desperate for kindness and consideration that she
would seek the attention of man vowed to a monastic way of life?

Reynald and her father had walked into the hall with her, but
were beginning to move away when an attendant came up to them and directed all
three to the long table in the front of the room that was reserved for the most
favored guests. To her relief, Reynald and Armand were seated to the left,
within two chairs of where King Guy would sit, while Gabrielle was seated to
the right, several down from where Queen Sibylla would sit.

The Templar Grand Master intercepted Reynald as soon as he
approached the royal table. Together they moved down the dais. Gabrielle almost
laughed aloud at their silent challenge to one another as to who was going to
take the seat at the right hand of the king. Her husband finally conceded it to
Master de Ridefort with a small nod of his graying head, but he looked none too
happy about it.

Poor Reynald, she thought as she watched him with silent
amusement. He so wanted to be a king or even a prince again. He had everything
else. More power was the only thing left to attain.

She reluctantly supposed he looked like a king, with his
leonine build and head of thick grey hair. He was two heads taller than her
father and a head taller than Master de Ridefort.

He was well-built in spite of his age, broad and heavily
muscled still,. His size had never boded well for Gabrielle. She shuddered,
remembering only too well how he loved

to intimidate her with it. Damn him, but he did not look close
to the three score years he was. He was as robust as ever, making her wonder,
as she often did, if evil men ever succumbed to ill health.

Disgusted with herself for even thinking about him, she moved
into her seat at the long table that overlooked the entire room. The contingent
of Templars began to take their seats, following their master’s example. As
they did so, Gabrielle finally spotted Lucien de Aubric.

Much to her surprise, he didn’t bother sitting with his
brethren, but walked across the room, straight toward her. After eyeing his
choice of seats, he chose one at a table that had been placed at a right angle
to the table of honor. It put him directly in front of her, only at a slightly
lower level. His friend, the knight she remembered as Brother Conrad, took a
seat next to him. The look on the German knight’s bearded face was one of grim
resignation.

Brother Lucien greeted her with a twinkle in his dark eyes and
a broad, slashing smile.

Gabrielle returned his greeting with a quieter, more reserved
smile, still a little overcome that he had abandoned his brethren to boldly sit
near her. If he was an ordinary knight, there would have been nothing wrong
with his choice of seat. But he was a monk, more specifically a Templar monk.
Everyone knew they were not allowed to talk to women socially. He should have
been sitting with the knot of Templars seated below their Grand Master. Surely,
his rogue behavior would be frowned upon. His companion certainly did not look
too pleased.

Further flaunting propriety, Lucien de Aubric complemented her
on her appearance. "It is good to see you again, Lady de Châtillon. You
look very nice."

Very nice?
Lucien thought. She was easily the most
stunning woman in the room! Her garments shimmered around her, giving her a
glow in the candlelight that was breathtaking. And in spite of the sad fact
that all of her glorious hair was completely hidden, her elaborately twisted
turban framed her exquisite face to perfection. The moment he had seen her walk
in with her aging husband, he had been struck by an intense wave of resentment.
What a crime it was that she belonged to a reprobate like Reynald de Châtillon!

It had been a relief to at least see her seated so far away
from him. He looked that way and saw that her husband was looking toward
another woman who had just entered the hall. Lady de Milly. A pale shadow
compared to the beauty sitting at the table above him.

Lucien caught the eye of Gérard de Ridefort. One bushy grey
eyebrow lifted in censorious inquiry. Lucien scoffed silently. The old bastard
had little room to censor him or anyone else.
He
was a pale moral shadow
compared to his predecessor, Master Torroja.

Before he returned his attention to Gabrielle de Châtillon, he
glanced at his companion. From the stiff set of his facial features, he could
tell the young German knight considered Lucien's choice of seat foolhardy.

Lucien took pity on his friend. He didn't want him to suffer
any reprisals for being with him. "Go sit with our brothers," he
suggested. "I will be fine here for a short while."

Brother Conrad shot Gabrielle a quick look and warned in a low
tone. "You tread dangerously, my friend. Be careful."

"Always." Lucien grinned recklessly. "But I
believe I will be safe enough with the queen's lovely ladies."

Conrad was a tall man with moderately long reddish blond hair
and a matching beard.

Lucien had known him since the German had come to Outremer
four years ago. He and Conrad found many things in common, but blind devotion
to the Order and its Rule was not one of them. Lucien knew Conrad worried that
his irreverence and independence would one day jeopardize his status in the
Brotherhood. No doubt his fears held more than a little merit.

The German responded to his remark about the queen’s lovely
ladies with a roll of his eyes, then rose from the bench and walked across the
room to join the large group of Templar knights and sergeants who had been
invited to celebrate King Guy's birthday.

Lucien meanwhile was determined to enjoy Lady de Châtillon's
company. He returned his attention to her and saw her studying him. She looked
perplexed by his presence.

God's bones! She made his pulse quicken! He was indeed on
dangerous ground around her.

Gabrielle met his dark eyes and wondered if he was sitting
close because of her, or if he was here to indulge in a little flirtation with
the queen's ladies. She had heard his response to his friend. Was Lucien de
Aubric one of those Templars who held to his vows of chastity only if it was
convenient? Over the years, Gabrielle had seen more than a few Templars enjoy
her husband's licentious entertainments at Kerak. Sadly, there was no shortage
of priests and prelates who broke their vows to satisfy their baser appetites.
Many men who took the cross in the West came to Palestine and indulged
liberally in all the exotic temptations the East had to offer.

Gabrielle wasn't sure how people behaved in the West since she
had never lived there or even traveled there, but it often seemed as if the
Holy Land was far from holy for many of the Franks. Or it could be, she thought
ruefully, that she had lived too long with men who failed to live by any code
of honor; men like her husband and father. Their corrupt code was despicably
simple. Whatever they wanted, they took.

Thoughts of her husband sent Gabrielle's gaze across the room
to him. Lady Silvia had finally found him and was standing beside him, talking
to him. Every once in the while the woman's eyes would shift to her. Gabrielle
was not bothered by her speculative looks or her interest in Reynald. The
widowed Silvia of Milly had freed her from seven years of hell. The heiress
shared Reynald's greed and decadence, and had kept him away from Gabrielle
since their liaison had begun. But his attention had begun to stray back to her
of late, and that worried her.

Reynald was not interested in resuming a marital relationship
with her. Of that, Gabrielle was certain. He had grown tired of her long before
they had parted ways. Not for the first time, Gabrielle wondered if Reynald had
some sinister reason for wanting her under his eye again.

She shuddered unconsciously and turned away from her troubled
study of her husband.

"Are you well, Lady de Châtillon?" Brother Lucien
inquired with a perceptive look.

She smiled for him. "I am fine, thank you, Brother de
Aubric."

"How are your charges since last I saw you?" he
checked, scooting closer.

"They are still talking about being rescued by the
soldiers in white. I think they found the whole affair rather exciting. One of
the older boys even wants to become a Templar when he grows up. They would like
you to come back to play stick ball with us."

Lucien’s beard sometimes hid his smile, but Gabrielle could
see it in his expressive eyes.

"I think I could arrange a game of stickball. You made it
look great fun." He laughed. "I can't remember the last time I played
a game or did anything simply for fun."

As the seats beside her began to fill with women, Gabriella
was acutely aware of all the female heads that turned Brother Lucien’s way. The
sparkle of amusement in his dark, glittering eyes had them all mesmerized,
including her.

His handsomely chiseled face was singularly attractive, even
when it was set in his usual intense, slightly menacing expression. But when he
smiled or laughed, his dark good looks were transformed into breathtaking male
beauty.

Lashes that were too long and thick for a man lifted to unveil
eyes that could steal a woman's soul. There wasn't a woman at this end of the
table, young or old, that wasn't staring openly at him now.

Aware of the attention they were drawing, Gabrielle was
growing increasingly uneasy. Feeling her face heat with much more than
self-consciousness, she was relieved to find respite in the entrance of the
royal couple.

Everyone rose as King Guy and Queen Sibylla strode up to their
places of honor. Both were regally dressed in sumptuous silk brocades that
reflected Byzantine designs.

Before the royal couple sat down, the Queen, who was a
fetching woman of an age with Gabrielle, greeted those near her, including
Gabrielle, then turned her attention to Lucien de Aubric, who stood taller than
the men and women around him. "I understand from the tongue waggers that
we have you to thank for the valiant rescue of our dear friend, Lady de
Châtillon," Sibylla said, smiling at Lucien. "As always Brother de
Aubric, we commend your valor."

Guy Lusignan echoed his wife's gratitude and praise.
"Your chivalry is indeed commendable, frère. My wife would be deeply upset
if she lost her most esteemed friend. What she has done for the orphans of the
kingdom has even caught the attention of Sultan Saladin." The King, a
handsome man not much older than his wife, looked at Gabrielle and smiled.
"Ah, I see that you did not know, Lady Gabrielle, of the sultan's
favorable notice." Then King Guy slid his gaze to the Templar still
standing before him. "What think you, Lucien de Aubric? Will Saladin
soften toward us because of this lady's brave acts of charity?"

"I would hope so, your highness."

"What? Have you heard nothing of this?" the King
laughed. "You are the realm's greatest spy. Your intelligence is
indispensable to us. Come you, frère! We could not function without it. Surely,
you are more privy to Saladin's words and actions than anyone in this
room."

"How I wish that was so!" Lucien laughed. "I
cannot lay claim to having heard about Saladin's knowledge of Madame de
Châtillon's virtuous endeavors, but I have no doubt they would soften even his
heart, for the lady deserves much merit for her courage and steadfastness with
these foundling children." Lucien looked to the lady in question and saw
how embarrassed she was by all the lavish attention. Attempting to turn the
royal couple away from them both, he congratulated the king on his thirtieth
birthday, tactfully omitting how old his sovereign was.

The rest of the room took up the congratulations and the royal
couple took their seats, relieving Gabrielle and Lucien of their attention.

As soon as the servers arrived at the table with the food,
Lucien took his leave with a chivalrous bow to the king and queen. Then he gave
Gabrielle a brief bow before departing. As he walked away to rejoin his
brethren at their table below the Grand Master, Lucien saw the deep scowl on
his superior's ruddy face. It was matched by an equal one on Reynald de
Châtillon's. Gabrielle's father looked as angry as his companions.

Lucien didn't have to guess why they appeared furious. There
was nothing in any of the king's or queen's comments that would have pleased
them. And because the king had greeted Lucien before the Grand Master, de
Ridefort was likely seething. Well, Lucien thought, it wouldn't be the first
time he had garnered the Master's fury, nor would it be the last. Lucien had
known for a long time that the two of them were on a collision course.