The Spymaster's Protection (36 page)

Gabrielle fingered it wondrously as Lucien held it out to it,
knowing it would cost a small fortune. With a sigh of regret, she pressed it
back into his hands so he could set it back on the table. Instead Lucien handed
it to the merchant and told him to wrap it.

There wasn’t even any haggling as he brought his coin purse
out of his robe.

Gabrielle laid a hand on his to stop him. “No, it is much too
costly. You mustn’t spend your money it. You have given me enough already.”

Lucien simply smiled at her and proceeded with the
transaction. Afterward, he guided her to a spot near a long alley that was
blessedly devoid of people.

“Put it on for me, please.”

His request was husky and insistent. Gabrielle removed the
headscarf she was wearing and replaced it with the beautiful violet one he had
bought her. She looked at his face as she draped it across hers. He was staring
at her so intently it fired her blood.

“Beyond words!” he whispered with a slow intake of breath.
“The color makes your eyes sparkle like the Mediterranean, just as I knew it
would.”

Those eyes widened in surprise. “You had this pre-arranged?
You picked out the silk before we came?”

He grinned guiltily. “I know that particular merchant. He is a
regular in my network. But we are friends, also. When I told him about you, he
showed me that material, and I knew instantly it would look incredible on you.”

“You have given me too many gifts.”

“Only three, and the dagger doesn’t count as a gift. It was a
necessity.” He smiled down at her beautiful veiled face. “As was the night
shift.”

“This was too costly.”

“My friend gave me a good deal on it. It was affordable.” When
he saw her begin to make another protest, he added, “Shall I take it back?”

With a horrified look, she shook her head. “No! But let me
pay
at for it.”

“It is a gift, my sweet love. Wear it today so that I may
enjoy seeing you in it, then put it away and keep it for our wedding.”

“Oh, Lucien, I want to kiss you right now.”

He caught both her hands in his and stared at her regretfully.
“No more than I,” he whispered, looking down on her longingly for a long while.
“Have I told you today how very much I love you?”

She shook her head, smiling ruefully. “Midnight is a damnably
long time away!”

Lucien laughed. “My sentiments exactly!” Behind her, someone
caught his attention. “Omar! Nephrim!” He greeted their two friends and
Gabrielle turned around to do the same.

“Ah, spending your money on our lovely friend, I see!” Nephrim
chuckled, admiring Gabrielle’s new veil.

“Money well spent,” Omar added.

“Absolutely,” Lucien concurred, stroking Gabrielle’s arm as he
released her hand.

Then he turned his attention to the elder of the two brothers.
“Your arrival is most timely. I have to talk to a man across the street for a
moment. It will not take long. Will you keep Gabrielle company until I return?”

Both men agreed readily and steered Gabrielle to a small
outdoor table at a nearby café.

While they waited, they ordered something to drink. Gabrielle
watched Lucien cross the busy avenue. She noticed an Arab dressed in a dark
blue robe following him as he entered the alley opposite them and turned into a
doorway on the side of a tobacco shop.

When the people in the street blocked her view of the man.
Gabrielle stood up to watch. She saw the blue-robed man come back out of the
alley and rush back up the street. His behavior alarmed Gabrielle.

She looked at Omar and Nephrim, but both brothers appeared at
ease, engaged in conversation about some woman they knew here in Damascus. She
thought about telling them what she had just seen, but finally decided she must
have been making more of it than it really was. Surely, if the two brothers
were watching Lucien’s back, they would know of anyone following him. But there
were so many people on the street, how could anyone know if they had a
follower? She had certainly not noticed anything earlier.

Sitting back down, she returned to her cool drink and tried to
still the lingering unease fluttering in her stomach. She fingered the
magnificent scarf Lucien had given her and wondered how soon they would be able
to marry. Maybe by the time they returned to Jerusalem, the patriarch would
have news of her annulment.

Visions of standing beside Lucien before a priest, exchanging
wedding vows with him suddenly gave way to a commotion across the street that
captured her attention. Omar and Nephrim also noticed and rose from their
seats, along with her.

To her horror, she saw Lucien being seized by a half dozen
Arabian soldiers as he exited the alley across from them.

The furtive little man in the dark blue robes stood off to one
side pointing a finger at Lucien. “That is the infidel dog who poses as one of
us!” he screamed in Arabic. “He is a god cursed Templar I tell you. I knew I
recognized the scum!”

Gabrielle understood every horrific accusation. She started to
push and shove her way through the throng of on-lookers who had gathered around
the ruckus. Panic threatened to overcome her. What could she do? She couldn’t
let them take Lucien!

Behind her, she was dimly aware of Omar and Nephrim scrambling
after her. Before her, Lucien turned suddenly and met her eyes. Fear glittered
in them. He shook his dark head, warning her away. His fear sharpened as she
continued to shove her way through the crowd. She was pushing frantically
against the impenetrable wall of people when Omar finally reached her. She
shook off his hand on her arm and spun away from him with a little cry.

Her behavior caught the attention of the captain of the guard.
The big Arab looked at Lucien, then pointed toward Gabrielle. “Who is this
woman? Another infidel spy?”

“No!” Lucien cried out loudly. “She is nothing to me. I do not
know her.”

The loud exchange turned all heads toward Gabrielle. She
stopped struggling and stared hopelessly into Lucien’s taut face. She could see
that he did not want her to involve herself. In fact, he was beginning to look
desperate. Tears filled her eyes. How could she let him be arrested? Surely,
she could do or say something!

Her hesitation gave Omar time to catch her again. This time,
he held on firmly. “She is my sister, sir. She is not very bright. The
excitement has disturbed her. She does not know this man.” Omar’s words spun
Gabrielle’s head to him. “Be still, lady. It will go worse for him if they
think you aid him.”

“But, I must help….”

“Not now!” Nephrim, who had come up to flank her hissed under
his breath. “Let me follow and see where they take him. He is very good. He may
talk them out of this accusation. And he has friends in the city that may vouch
for him.”

Gabrielle turned back to Lucien and shared one last desperate
look with him before he turned away from her.

“Do you know that woman, Templar dog!” the captain angrily
demanded again.

“I do not.”

Gabrielle slumped in Omar’s arms, devastated and terrified.

The informer murmured something in the captain’s ear and
looked at her. Behind her, Omar cursed and grabbed her arm. “We must leave.
Now!” he told her urgently. Without waiting for her consent, he dragged her
backwards through the crowd, then turned down the alley where she and Lucien had
stood.

Gabrielle looked back one last time as Lucien was drug roughly
away. The captain of the guard had apparently decided not to pursue her. They
were too busy securing their prisoner and shoving the crowd out of their
departing path. All around Lucien, people were calling out insults and shaking
their fists at him, yet he gave the guards no trouble as he disappeared from
her vision, his broad shoulders straight, his head turned resolutely forward.

CHAPTER
18

The news Nephrim brought later that evening was not good.
Lucien was being held in the great citadel within the city, the one they had
passed upon their arrival nearly a fortnight ago. Rumors circulated among those
witnesses to the arrest that the Arab captured was an infidel Templar spy.

Gabrielle found it ironic that one side considered the other
the infidel in this insane religious struggle.

Nephrim had followed the crowd and gotten as far as the
courtyard inside the garrison. He had watched Lucien being dragged, bound, into
one of the towers, then the garrison’s gate guards had rid the courtyard of the
curious onlookers who had managed to follow the prisoner inside the stronghold.

After lingering in the street outside the citadel for a while,
Nephrim had gone to a public house frequented by the garrison’s soldiers to
discover how much of the gossip in the streets was true. He’d learned that
Lucien was indeed suspected of being a Templar spy and that he was being held
and questioned as such.

Gabrielle suspected there were details that Nephrim was
sparing her. But she knew, through Reynald, that
questioning
in an Arab
prison went hand in hand with brutality. The images that flashed through her
mind were so terrible they threatened to crush her with grief and fear.

Gabrielle, Omar, and the Mansurs were on the roof patio when
Nephrim arrived to report what had happened to Lucien. The Arab couple knew the
nephews and their uncle, Hazir. Behind the veil that covered half of her face,
Nahla was visibly upset by Nephrim’s account. When he finished, she looked to
her husband and voiced a question that did not surprise Gabrielle.

“Lucien is not a Templar, Farouk, is he? And surely not a
spy?”

Her husband, who had come from his forge immediately upon
hearing the news hours ago, looked to his wife gravely. “He is both, Nahla.”

She gasped with shock. “You’ve known this all these years?”

“I have," he answered quietly, surprising both Gabrielle
and his wife. "He is a good man and a blood relation. He has never asked
me for information, only friendship and occasional lodging. His goal has always
been to use what he learns to save lives and avert warfare, not incite it. We
must remember that he is also one of us. He honors his mother’s people as best
he can, under the circumstances. It has made his life hard at times, but he
brings our interests and point of view to those he serves. That benefits us
more than having a man in his shoes who is blind to all but his hatred of us.”

“A man like my husband?” Gabrielle ventured. “You must know
who I truly am then, if you know that Lucien is a Templar.”

“I do,” Farouk confirmed. “I also know my cousin has walked
away from his former life because of his love for you.”

Tears brimmed in Gabrielle’s eyes, and her throat constricted
with anguish.

“Lucien has many friends here,” the Arab sword master
reassured her compassionately. “We will try to get him released.”

“If they believe him to be a Templar still, they will not
release him. Templars are rarely even taken alive in battle, and when they are,
they are never ransomed.”

“I will do what I can here, but you must go back to Jerusalem
with Nephrim and Omar, lady. It is too dangerous for you to stay here now. If
word of your true identity gets out, you will be arrested and used to capture
your husband. Our great sultan despises Lord de Châtillon above all others for
the atrocities he has committed against our people. The price on his head is
enormous. You are at great risk here without Lucien.”

“I am not safe anywhere without Lucien. My husband has hired
an assassin to rid himself of me.”

“There have been no attacks upon you since arriving in
Damascus,” Omar pointed out.

“I have noticed that,” Gabrielle concurred. “And wondered
why.”

“It is most unexplainable,” Nephrim agreed. “Lucien wondered
if someone had persuaded the leader of the Assassin sect to abandon the
contract on your life. Lucien tried to accomplish it, but he could not meet the
Old Man’s demands or best the price paid for you death.”

Lucien’s diligent protection of her made Gabrielle determined
to do something to help him. A spark of an idea began formulating in her mind,
but she dared not mention it to anyone in this room, for they would never allow
her to proceed.

“We should leave for Jerusalem tomorrow, lady,” Nephrim said.

“Please let me stay one more day.” She needed at least that
long to think her plan through and set it in motion. “Lucien might be able to
convince them he is not a Templar spy. If he has not returned by tomorrow
evening, we will leave the next morning.” It was a lie, of course. She could
never simply abandon Lucien to suffer in an Arab prison.

Omar and Nephrim looked ready to disagree, but finally
relented when Farouk promised to keep her safe in his house.

+++

Sitting back against the damp stone wall of his dungeon cell,
Lucien raised one knee and groaned. Since his arrest two days ago, he’d been
interrogated half a dozen times, and each question had been punctuated by a
fist to his gut, a kick to his ribs when he’d gone down, or a blow to his head
and back by a metal rod. All except his hose and undertunic had been taken from
him, and those were ripped from the beatings he had suffered. They’d even taken
his boots. But they’d discovered nothing that gave them any indication he was a
Templar or a ferenghi.

He could tell they were unsure now. The man who had informed
on him was no one Lucien had ever had dealings with, so he had no idea how the
odious little man had come to accuse him of being an infidel spy. The only
thing that made sense was that the man had overseen or overheard something.

He had told his interrogators nothing, and they had no other
information to support the informant’s claim. Still, the captain of the guard
was unwilling to release him just yet.

Lucien thought he enjoyed this interrogation business way too
much.