The Spymaster's Protection (9 page)

Gérard de Ridefort was not a career Templar like his mentor
and friend, Arnold de Torroja, had been. De Ridefort had come to the Levant in
the early seventies, and he had taken service as a knight in Count Raymond of
Tripoli's employ. When the count had failed to deliver a wealthy heiress to de
Ridefort as had been promised, Gérard had become a bitter enemy and opponent of
Count Raymond.

After serving as marshal of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, he had
joined the Order a mere five years before becoming its Grand Master. There had
been much dissension at his election, and Lucien had clearly voiced his
disapproval. But by the time the man had taken his post as supreme leader of
the Brotherhood, Lucien had firmly established himself as the highest ranking
intelligence officer within the monastic fraternity. His post gave him unusual
freedom. And because of the indispensability of his task and the reliability of
his information, he was seldom challenged or disciplined.

Lucien had a feeling that was going to change. The Grand
Master and Reynald Châtillon were of identical minds politically and
militarily. Both strongly favored unbridled aggression against the Muslims.
Both were fanatically zealous in their pursuit of it, and both had tremendous
influence with King Guy. They also both hated Count Raymond III of Tripoli and
his political faction, of which Lucien and the Hospitallers were adherents,
though Lucien tried to keep his political views out of his intelligence work.

Lucien and Reynald also had a long, unpleasant history. It
went back nearly a decade to the battle at Montisgard in 1178. Newly knighted
and fully invested as a Templar, Lucien had participated in the rout that sent
Saladin's army running back to Egypt. Reynald had commanded a division under
King Baldwin IV. Because of the king's youth, Reynald had outrageously usurped
the king's authority repeatedly during the campaign. The overwhelming victory
had enabled Baldwin to overlook his vassal's arrogant conduct, but Lucien had
been angered and shocked by the disrespect shown the sovereign.

Six months later, Lucien had again fought beside the
courageous young king. Baldwin had personally requested that Lucien, who had fought
heroically at Montisgard, serve as a member of his personal bodyguard. He’d
been beside the king during his campaign to oust Saladin's militant nephew from
the Valley of Banyas. Near the entrance to the valley, the Christian troops
were taken by surprise. The king had escaped to safety only because of Lucien's
bravery and protection.

Coveting action and glory, Reynald had urged Odo de Saint
Amand, Master Torroja’s predecessor, to attack a large Egyptian army division
that was led by Saladin's son. Vastly outnumbered, the Christians were swiftly
defeated. Baldwin, recovering from the near disaster of his recent offensive
nearby, had not been informed of the attack, as he should have been.
Consequently, he was unable to regroup quickly enough to intervene. Not only
were hundreds of Christian knights and monks killed and captured, but Baldwin
was placed in personal jeopardy and had to flee for his life across the Litani
River. Again, the young king had nearly lost his life except for the
intercession of his bodyguards.

Reynald's impetuous quest for battle and glory had cost many
lives that day and the capture of the Temple's Grand Master.

Lucien and Reynald had not crossed paths in a long while,
although de Châtillon's intelligence network among the Bedouins sometimes
dangerously interfered with Lucien's objectives. For the most part, though,
Reynald had been busy raiding and plundering the Arab lands that bordered his
fief of Oultrejourdan.

His calamitous naval expedition into the Red Sea three years
ago had shocked the Islamic world and audaciously challenged Saladin's
reputation as Protector of the Holy Places. Reynald's troops had come
disturbingly close to Mecca with the intent of stealing Allah's corpse in order
to bring it back to the Christians for desecration. Saladin's brother had held
them back, but the raid had made de Châtillon a marked man.

Then a month ago, de Châtillon had seized a large Muslim
caravan traveling from Egypt to Syria. All of the Egyptian guards had been
killed and the merchants and their families captured and sold into slavery. It
had been a violation of the truce Raymond of Tripoli had established with
Saladin after Baldwin's death. Saladin had demanded reparation for the raid,
and King Guy had ordered Reynald to make amends, but the barbarian had ignored
him. The sultan now considered de Châtillon his bitterest enemy. The price on
his head was huge.

To Lucien and many others, Reynald de Châtillon was a brigand;
a rogue of the most dangerous kind. Gérard de Ridefort was definitely his
co-conspirator. Both men were egotistical, foolhardy, and fanatical. Their
ruthless manipulations had culminated in the coup in November, and all their
despicable acts had propelled the kingdom significantly closer to war. Based on
the intelligence Lucien had gathered, a full war with Saladin was inevitable.
It was no longer a question of
if
it would happen, but
when
.

The Order might not see the handwriting on the wall, but
Lucien did. The Kingdom of God was deeply divided, and its destruction had never
looked more imminent. Jerusalem could not hope to stand against the united
force the infidel had become under the sultan.

Lucien himself felt as if he was at a crossroads in his life.
He had lived with the Order for fifteen years and been in Outremer for nearly a
decade. Since arriving in the East, he had seen too much bloodshed, avarice,
and treachery. Men like Odo de Saint Amand, Gérard de Ridefort, and Reynald de
Châtillon were completely self-serving. They cared for nothing but their own
vainglorious ends. His years in the Levant had destroyed his youthful idealism,
though he continued to do his duty and do it well.

And into the turbulence had come the compelling Lady de
Châtillon.

Good Lord, he wondered yet again, what was he doing inviting
these interactions with her? He was a monk, and she was a married woman. There
could be nothing between them. To desire her company so intensely was pure
folly! But he sensed in her a loneliness that rivaled his own, and her
vulnerability touched something deep inside of him that made him want to stand
at her side and defend her. He felt an affinity with her that was inexplicable.

He was sure no one had ever truly cared for her the way she
should have been cared for. It was obvious neither her father nor her husband cared
enough for her welfare to provide her with any protection. That she had not
been assaulted or murdered on the roads and streets of Outremer was truly a
miracle.

But underneath her vulnerability and fragile hold on life,
Lucien saw a woman of great courage and inner fortitude. She had a tender
spirit and a noble heart. She cared deeply about what she was doing at the
orphanage and clearly meant to continue her endeavors, no matter the risk to
herself.

Despite his vows, Lucien knew he was strongly attracted to
her. He had not been able to ignore her tonight. She had drawn him like a bee
to a succulent bloom. She was a remarkable beauty and a remarkable woman. He
could only imagine what her life with a corrupt scoundrel like Reynald had been
like. God, to have been bartered to him at fourteen!

The wretchedness of her young life must have caused her great
pain and despair, and yet somehow she had escaped Reynald and valiantly taken
up a cause that had obviously put joy and hope back into her life. How could
such courage and conviction not move him?

While he ate, he saw her watching him now and then. She was an
observer, like himself.

Beneath the sooty sweep of her dark eyelashes, there was
little she seemed to miss. Lucien wished he could rejoin her, but he dare not
throw convention in the face of his superior anymore than he had already.

When the long meal was over, the tables were cleared of the
trenchers. Pitchers of wine and ale replaced the food, and no one loved to
drink more than a Templar. Soon their area of the hall became quite boisterous.
Lucien longed to get up and find a way back to Gabrielle de Châtillon, but like
everyone else, he sat through the entertainments.

It was well past compline when the jugglers, dancers, and
musicians dispersed to the far corners of the great hall for more informal
performances. Most of the rank and file Templars and Hospitallers left the
celebration for their commanderies. The officers remained, as did Lucien,
unable to bring himself to leave before visiting with Reynald's enchanting wife
one final time.

He was headed her way when he was intercepted the lovely young
widow of a nobleman from the north. It was not the first time the tenacious
Lady Elizabeth of Athlith had tried to corner his attention. The woman spent a great
deal of time at court, and was most persistent whenever she discovered his
attendance.

Lucien had become very adept at avoiding her, but tonight she
had him truly snared.

“Lucien de Aubric, how naughty of you not to come bid me a
good evening,” the blonde cooed, blocking his path. “I saw you holding court at
Sibylla’s table, and you did not even acknowledge me.”

Lucien inwardly cringed at her embellished pout. “How
thoughtless of me. I do apologize.”

“Then you must do so by sharing a walk with me through the
gardens. They are lovely in the moonlight.”

Her hands were already straying inside his long white mantle
to places they should not roam. Lucien could only imagine the assault she would
launch once they were in the darkened courtyard.

To his immense relief, assistance came in the form of the very
woman he wouldn’t mind walking through the gardens with.

Gabrielle de Châtillon approached on the arm of Brother Giles.
The look she bestowed on Lucien over Lady Elizabeth’s blonde head was one of
wicked amusement.

Brother Giles was more direct. “Lady Elizabeth, have I caught
you accosting a fellow brother of the cloth?” His laughter captured the widow’s
startled attention. Immediately, her hands flew out from under Lucien’s mantle.

Lucien sighed with relief and took a step back from the
blonde.

Gabrielle raised one eyebrow in silent inquiry, then offered a
suggestion that she knew would send the pretty widow running. “Brother Giles
and I are wandering the room looking for donations of money or volunteer hours
for the orphanage. Would you like to donate either, Lady Elizabeth? The Queen
has already made a generous contribution. I could certainly use a few hours of
your time each week at the hospital or the orphanage. There are so many to care
for.”

The voluptuous widow quickly demurred and scurried away.

Gabrielle watched her departure with a genuinely amused laugh.
“Oh dear. I guess not.”

"That was very wicked of you, lady," Brother Giles
commented with a chuckle. “You know Lady Elizabeth has no taste for charity
work, particularly with the infirmed and our native population."

"I knew that, but how else were we to rescue poor Brother
Lucien from the questionable attention of the lady. She did look ready to drag
him off into a corner, and I have noticed he does seem to attract these
colorful court butterflies like bees to honey."

“I am wounded that you think I do it apurpose, mi’lady,”
Lucien retorted, offended.

“Aw, the price of beauty and gallantry,” Gabrielle teased him.

“Beauty?” Brother Giles sputtered with a hearty laugh. “Surely
your eyes deceive you, mi’lady.”

Gabrielle simply smiled at Lucien. “I think not, Brother
Giles.” Seeing the Templar’s reddened complexion, she granted him mercy. “But I
am engaging in a little retribution here. You see, Brother Lucien has a wicked
penchant for teasing.”

“Really?” The Hospitaller looked from one to the other and
shook his head in disbelief. “I do believe you are describing someone else,
Lady Gabrielle. My friend’s intimidating black scowls are more familiar.”

Lucien finally reentered the conversation. “Brother, I think
you need to thank the queen for her generous patronage tonight. I do believe
she is looking your way.”

"Then I must not keep her waiting," Brother Giles
replied, looking toward the dais where Sibylla was standing. “Lady, I will see
you on the morrow.” Dipping his head, he left his two friends to each other’s
company.

“I am sorry for teasing you, frère, but Lady Elizabeth did
look quite busy with her hands, and you do seem to attract a fair amount of
feminine attention for being a monk.”

“Sadly, the habit simply presents a greater temptation to some
women.” Lucien regretted the comment the moment he made it, for the woman
before him dropped her head and reddened. He was at a loss as to how to correct
his words, though, without making them worse, so he said what he had been
thinking earlier. “If it were not sure to draw censure, I would ask you to walk
with me in the gardens. There is no butterfly here lovelier than you, Lady
Gabrielle. You outshine them all.”

His compliment left Gabrielle breathless and speechless. No
man had ever told she looked lovely. Reynald had always found something
derogatory to say about her appearance.

Thinking of her husband drew her eyes to him. He was across
the room, in a darkened corner, engaging in an intimate conversation with Lady
Silvia. He had paid Gabrielle no attention since arriving, which was fine with
her, but when she looked toward him, he looked back. The malevolence in his
grey eyes was more acute than usual, and it unnerved her acutely. She had been
separated from him for so long, she had almost forgotten how much fear he could
instill in her.

Brother Lucien followed her gaze. “Does it bother you to see
him with Lady Silvia?”

Gabrielle turned back to the Templar and felt her fear
dissipate. “Not at all.
He
bothers me. I have not seen him in a long
while, until he and my father came to town for this party. He has my house in
an uproar. And I despise all that he reminds me of.”