The Spymaster's Protection (15 page)

The Order had been accused and
condemned of arrogance, excessive pride, and reckless bravado by William, the
Archbishop of Tyre. Secretly, Lucien had been in full agreement, having been a
witness to all of that the day of the attack. The only good to come of it had
been the election of Arnold de Torroja as Grand Master upon Odo’s death.

But that battle and its aftermath had
planted the first seeds of doubt and uncertainty in Lucien’s mind. His valor in
the field never wavered, but a crack in his beliefs had been created. The
steady, more level-headed leadership of Master de Torroja eventually restored
some of Lucien’s convictions and commitments to his duty, but he never again
fought with such reckless disregard or naïve abandon. Each life he took and
each he saw lost carved new scars that didn’t heal. No longer did he want to
die for his faith. No longer did he want fame and glory.

As de Torroja’s protégé, he was given
his first intelligence mission. He was sent behind enemy lines, to live in
Damascus. It had been good to get away from the strict regulations of the Order
for a while. It gave him a new perspective and a new purpose.

And he had begun to see the Muslim
peoples of Outremer as more than non-believers and heathens. He made friends
among many of his intelligence contacts. He had come to know the Arab people as
good and bad, no different, other than their faith, than the Franks. He’d also
come to appreciate the other half of his heritage.

His mother had adopted Christianity upon marrying his father,
but she exposed her only child to the tenets and principles of her previous
religion. She also taught him her language. Christianity had been practiced in
his home, but Islam had been respected.

Before departing for the West on a
diplomatic and recruitment mission, Torroja made Lucien Chief of Intelligence
for the Order. King Baldwin had also made him so for all the Latin States. He
was firmly established in the position by the time Gérard de Ridefort became
Grand Master nearly three years ago when de Torroja had died overseas.

In his decade in Outremer, Lucien had
learned finally what his mother had always tried to teach him. He had learned
tolerance and humanity, compassion and integrity. They were more important than
glory, fame, and battle prowess. The depravity he saw too frequently from his
fellow Christians appalled him. The mindless, unnecessary killing of
non-militants disgusted him to the depths of his soul, as did the excessive
pursuit of greed, ambition, and hedonistic pleasure by those in positions of
leadership.

Reynald de Châtillon and Gérard de
Ridefort were prime examples of all he had come to hate.

His belief in the military might of
the God’s warriors had been irreversibly eroded by scenes of senseless
bloodletting and godless butchery. Killing in the name of God was certainly not
the domain of Christians alone. The Saracens could be every bit as blindly
zealous as their counterparts. Jihad was their term for holy war; crusade the
term for the Franks. No matter which side practiced it, it was an abomination.
Lucien had come to realize neither God nor Allah would ever command or condone
such actions.

The light of his faith had dimmed
considerably, though by some miracle, it had not been completely extinguished.
He smiled, thinking of Gabrielle de Châtillon. Her selfless courage had gone a
long way in restoring his faith in humanity and its creator these past weeks.
But his misgivings about what was being done in the Levant were slowly
overriding his desire to remain a Templar and a monk. And the lovely lady under
his protection was creating an even bigger reason to leave his semi-monastic
life.

But the kingdom was in crisis, and he
had a vital job to do still. This was not the right time to pursue his personal
desires. Nevertheless, this woman had become enormously important to him, and
he could not walk away from her. He often wondered lately, what it would be
like to live as a normal man, not a monk; to travel his own path, not one
dictated by the Order.

CHAPTER
8

The following day, Lord Balian Ibelin summoned Lucien to his
residence in Jerusalem. When he arrived at the spacious three-story, pink
plastered house that sat in a section of the city where the nobility of
Outremer maintained homes, he was ushered into a large airy room that Balian
used for private meetings and business.

The baron greeted Lucien with the comfortable familiarity that
bore the mark of several years of friendship. Both men were of similar age, and
privately, Lucien had always respected Balian Ibelin’s more sober, level-headed
political opinions. His family was one of long standing in Outremer, and it was
extensively spread out over the kingdom. If the Latin States were to survive,
it would be because of men like Balian Ibelin and his family; men who wanted to
live side-by-side with their Muslim neighbors in peace and respect.

At one time, Sibylla, then a princess, had been ready to marry
Balian’s cousin, Baldwin. Unfortunately, the lady’s affections had not survived
Guy Lusignan’s charms. Her fidelity had lasted about as long, also,
particularly in the face of Guy’s sexual pursuit. By the time Baldwin had been
released from an Arab prison, Sibylla had become betrothed to Lusignan. Lucien
wasn’t the only one who believed the kingdom would have been much better off
had Sibylla been a more steadfast woman.

The fate of the land was too often tied to the fickle hearts
and wandering eyes of its women. Though they were often political pawns in the
marriage market, they could ruthlessly shape and affect events through their
conduct. Lucien did not think Gabrielle de Châtillon would have conducted
herself in the loose, sometimes heartless manner that many of the women of the
ruling houses had. She seemed to have more integrity than that, a trait he
himself placed high value on.

“You look as if you are wool-gathering, Brother de Aubric,”
Lord Balian commented as stared at his friend across a table cluttered with
missives and parchment. “There are several things I could guess might be
occupying your thoughts, from the dire state of our kingdom’s affairs to the
lovely wife of Lord de Châtillon.” With his fingers steepled under his chiseled
chin, the baron eyed Lucien with amused speculation. “It is all over the court
that you have arranged sanctuary for her at the Hospital, to protect her from
an assassin Reynald and Silvia have hired to be rid of her.”

“You have it right,” Lucien confirmed with a half cocked grin.
“It would be a refreshing change of character if our king would finally hold
his kingmaker accountable for his misdeeds.”

“Amen to that,” Balian concurred. “Raymond rues the day
Reynald was ransomed from Aleppo with Lord Joscelin. We all would have been
better served if he had rotted there, particularly Lady de Châtillon.”

Lucien picked up the goblet of wine Balian handed him, and
took a long swallow. “I have decided to take her with me to visit Count Raymond
in Tiberius. With the Hospitallers getting ready to mobilize, it is the only
way I know of keeping her safe.”

“Your path has grown intertwined with hers, Lucien. Taking her
to Tiberius with you is a bold move. De Ridefort will strongly disapprove. He
may even censor you.”

Lucien nodded, acknowledging the truth of the warning. “He
may, when this crisis has passed. For now, he cannot afford to. The information
I provide him and the king is too vital.

He cannot replace me quickly enough to keep the networks
functioning effectively.” He took another swallow, then looked over the rim of
his silver goblet to his host. “I am seriously considering leaving the Order.”
He saw Balian’s alarm, and set his mind at ease. “I will not abandon my duties
in the midst of our crisis.”

“Is this change of heart a result of Reynald’s lovely wife?”

Lucien shrugged. “It has been on my mind for some time.” After
setting his goblet on the table, Lucien rose and walked to the window to look
out onto the street. “But tell me, Balian, will Count Raymond be willing to
mend his breach with the king for the sake of the kingdom?”

The baron rose and walked to the window where his friend
stood. “Raymond felt deeply betrayed after the coup, especially by Joscelin and
Humphrey of Toron. Both of them promised him one thing and delivered another.
Then the barons that were initially allied with him reversed their support and
accepted Guy. He is the only one beside Prince Bohemond of Antioch who still
refuses to recognize Guy’s authority as King of Jerusalem.”

“The separate truces they have established with Saladin are
dangerous to the kingdom,” Lucien said as he turned from the window to the man
beside him.

“Your Grand Master believes Raymond has asked the Sultan for
help in overthrowing King Guy. He is advising Guy to send a military force to
Tiberius to arrest Raymond for treason. If he convinces Guy of this, we could
have a civil war on our hands. Raymond still has enough support for that,
especially if Bohemond comes to his aid. We cannot afford to be divided like
this with Saladin calling for jihad.”

“He is moving on Kerak.”

“Good, it will keep him busy for awhile and give us time to
convince Raymond to come back into the fold.”

“The Sultan has already called his allies to arms. There is
evidence of troop buildup in and around Damascus, Cairo, and possibly as far
north as Ras al’Ayn, above Ba’albak.”

Lord Ibelin did not mask his concern. “Have you told this to
King Guy and de Ridefort?”

“Of course. De Ridefort is a fool to try to divide us further
with talk of arresting Count Raymond. We cannot afford this distraction right
now.”

Balian nodded and watched as Lucien paced back and forth. “I will
take my wife to our stronghold in Nablus, then I think we should both go to
Tiberius to try to talk Raymond into negotiating a truce with the king.”

Lucien stopped pacing and shook his head fleetingly. “I will
take your wife to Nablus, then go onto to Tiberius to talk to the count. You
stay and convince the king to offer Raymond terms. When he has agreed, join me
in Tiberius.”

“Will it be safe for the women to travel?”

“I am taking Brother Giles and a small guard. Have your wife
dress in native attire. It will be safer that way. I will return at an hour
past Prime tomorrow. Tell her we will journey by horse alone and ride light for
speed.”

+++

Nablus was a day's ride from Jerusalem. The party of six
stopped midday at the base of a sandstone cliff where a small dam had been
crudely built to catch the rainwater that drained off the fractured rocks above
it. Near the watering hole, there were several date palms that provided a
pleasant shade, plus a few flat-topped rocks to sit upon underneath it.

After watering the horses, Lucien stayed nearby to watch the
two women fill their flasks and gourds with water. Nearby, Brother Giles and
their two other companions stood guard and took turns relieving themselves in
the bushes behind him.

Lucien had enlisted Hazir's nephews to journey with them. He
had worked with the young men before. In fact, Hazir had several relatives that
often provided him valuable assistance and information. Indebted to Lucien for
his help with his wayward grandson two years ago, the old man had done many
favors for him, the least of which lately involved the protection of Lady de
Châtillon. Though Gabrielle wasn't aware of it, Hazir had most of the male
members of his family on the lookout for any sign of assassins within the city
limits. And outside it, Hazir had contacts in the Muslim world that were
invaluable to Lucien.

Hazir was a good man, and Lucien had been friends with him
long before he had met Gabrielle. Lucien had finally learned that the lady owed
much of her freedom from harm on her journeys near and wide to Hazir's
connections, though Lucien doubted she was aware of it.

On this journey, he hoped to use Hazir's nephews not only for
protection, but also for a little reconnaissance. Lucien had several purposes
for this trip, not the least of which was trying to determine how large and how
close Saladin's troop build-up was in the region between Galilee and Damascus.

Assuring himself that everyone was where they should be,
Lucien sat down on a nearby rock to rest and simply take pleasure in watching
the beautiful woman with Balian's wife at the watering hole. She had enjoyed
the journey from the start, and at the moment, her laughter reached across the
short distance to him, filling him with pleasure. Gabrielle de Châtillon needed
more laughter in her life.

+++

Maria Comnena was still a beautiful woman in her mid-thirties.
She had a long intriguing history in the Levant. A great-niece to the Byzantine
emperor, Manuel, she had married King Amalric, Sibylla and Baldwin's father,
soon after his ascension to the throne of Jerusalem. By him, she had one
daughter, the princess Isabella, who had recently married young Humphrey of
Toron. After Amalric's death, Maria had married Balian of Ibelin.

Her life at court during her marriage to Amalric had been full
of treacherous intrigue because it had polarized the political parties; those
in favor of Amalric's first wife, the devious Lady Agnes, mother to the future
King Baldwin IV, and those in favor of his well-connected Greek wife, Maria Comnena.
While the Lady Agnes was still happily involved in all her plots,
manipulations, and sexual dalliances, Lady Maria had found peace and
contentment among the prominent, close-knit Ibelin clan.