The Spymaster's Protection (35 page)

After a week apart, Lucien took Gabrielle with him to the markets
of Damascus for the next few days.

One day, Nahla went with her. The two women browsed vendors in
the arms’ market, of all places, while Lucien wandered in and out of merchant
stalls and shops. There were very few females in this sector, but when Lucien
was finished, their Bedouin hostess took them to her husband’s smithy.

Over refreshments, Farouk handed Lucien a package, which he in
turn gave to Gabrielle. Flustered by the unexpected gift, she opened it and
lifted out a beautiful silver dagger, designed especially for a woman. Its
delicately carved handle was embedded with tiny seed pearls, tortoiseshell, and
bits of lapis lazuli stones. The blade and the inlaid handle were polished to a
beautiful shine, and the metal had the same look as one of Lucien’s swords.

Seeing her inspect it, he explained. “I had Farouk make it for
you for protection. It is crafted from the hand of a master in the finest
Damascene steel.”

Gabrielle was too moved to do more than look up in surprise.
No one, except her mother, had ever given her a gift. Certainly no one had ever
cared enough for her well being to give her something to protect herself with.

Reynald and her father probably would have feared for their
safety had she carried such a thing. And rightly so. Their sleep may not have
been so healthy.

How fitting that her second gift from Lucien would be a dagger
to protect herself with. Only he cared enough. The realization threatened to
bring a spill of tears to her eyes.

While she gathered her composure, he handed her a beribboned
sheath made of white damask silk. In the company of Nahla and Farouk, he did
not explain to her how she could tie the sheath to her thigh and wear the
dagger under her clothing. But Gabrielle could tell by the wicked sparkle that
flickered briefly in his that he would demonstrate exactly how to wear it later
that night after everyone had gone to their beds.

On their way back to the Mansur’s house an hour later, he fell
a few steps behind their friends to whisper a meeting time on the roof. Gabrielle
gladly accepted the date with him under the stars again, then took the
opportunity to gently chastise him for spending his meager funds on her.

“They are not that meager,” he assured her in a low voice. “I
have managed to put some coin away, despite the Order’s prohibitions against
it. And the dagger is not silver. It is steel, the finest quality steel. It
will serve you well over a lifetime, and no one should be without the
protection of a weapon in these times. I will teach you how to use it and when
to use it. If we should become separated….”

Gabrielle stopped and quickly placed three fingers over his
lips. “We will not be separated.”

+++

The following day, Lucien accompanied Gabrielle to the
orphanage near the Great Mosque before they went to the main bazaar. It was a
risky venture to go with her. While the headmaster and imam knew Gabrielle to
be a Christian, they were not too sure what he was. Lucien did not enlighten
them. He simply told them he was a friend trying to assist her to make arrangements
to transport the orphans from Jerusalem to their new homes in Damascus.

He agreed that traveling at this time was dangerous, but he
thought he might be able to quickly get fifty children across the desert to
Damascus. Their adoption was why he had arranged these contacts for her,
afterall.

Privately, he thought circumstances might permit him to
accomplish this for her before war erupted.

After an hour of optimistic planning, they left the orphanage
with tentative plans to move the children in three weeks time.

“Did the imam question you about your religion or purpose
here?” Gabrielle asked as they walked across town to the main market of
Damascus.

Lucien’s grin was full of reckless amusement. “He asked, but I
evaded. Then he put me to the test while you were visiting with the headmaster.
He asked me to join him in a bit of mid-morning prayer and scripture reading. I
guess I passed. He seemed at ease afterward.”

Gabrielle watched him and realized part of him liked what he
did. There was a thrill in practicing his deceptive skills. His work for the
Order and his king required him to live and move among his enemies with a skill
that demanded he perfect every disguise with a level of intelligence and
cleverness that must pass the closest inspection or risk exposure.

He enjoyed the challenge, but he also seemed more Arab than
Frank now. She could see that he was more comfortable in this culture than he
had been as a Templar in Jerusalem.

If not for his Christian heritage, she wondered if he would
rather stay here, on this side of the Syrian border.

Most Franks longed to return to their homeland. For Lucien and
probably for her, this was their homeland. Gabrielle had never known a
different land. She could only imagine what the land of her parents must be
like.

She was lost in those thoughts as they finally arrived at the
edges of the covered market. It was the largest souk in the city. At noon, the
narrow streets were already jammed with buyers and sellers. Lucien and
Gabrielle had to elbow their way through the throngs of people. After several
attempts to keep her close without touching her, he finally grasped her hand.

“This is more crowded than Jerusalem’s markets,” Gabrielle
said to him as they sought to find a less busy section of the street.

Even after living in Jerusalem, the sights and sounds and
smells of the Arabian market were mind-numbingly fascinating. Soldiers and
peasants, rich and poor, nobles and commoners alike mingled elbow to elbow.
Squawking vendors called out to those walking past. Dirty faced children
scampered in and out of the crowd, no doubt looking to pick the pockets of
many.

The colorful displays, the diversity of people, and the wealth
of languages and cultures were a visual marvel that overloaded the senses.
Gabrielle was glad Lucien was by her side, for she would have become hopelessly
lost in all the buzz of activity and confusion, the maze of twists and turns.

They passed every imaginable type of good, though most were at
least grouped together for some kind of order. They stopped at a date dealer
and bought a small bag of candied dates to share as they walked. At the fresh
fruit vendor, they bought two succulent peaches and laughed as they tried to
control the juice from dribbling down their chin.

They passed by the carpet traders and admired the beautifully
woven rugs hanging along the walls or draped over tables. Gold and silver and
precious stones glinted in the jewelers’ shop windows. The rich smell of
leather permeated the street for a ways. Then came the wonderful aromatic blends
of the coffee vendors’ stalls. Gabrielle stopped to sniff a couple of the
burlap bags, and Lucien bought them each a small sample of her favorite.

Then came the spicers’ rows. The delicious scent of cinnamon,
clove and nutmeg wafted on the occasional breeze. Gabrielle bought a cinnamon
stick and shared it with Lucien, breaking it in half and, to his surprise,
sticking it in his hot coffee.

He wriggled his nose at the combination, but sampled a taste
and seemed to like the variation. His reaction made her laugh, and she realized
that she hadn’t laughed this much in a long time. Their turn through the market
so far had been a special time together, and Lucien had not once moved away
from her to talk to anyone, like he had at the arms market. All of his attention
had been focused on her, just like it was when they made love. It was a heady
feeling to be treated to such singular attention.

Next, they came upon the incense dealers. The fragrances of
frankincense and myrrh replaced that of spices. People paid dearly for the
incense that mostly came from faraway Africa from the sticky saps of plants and
tree bark. The wealthy used it to make their homes smell sweet, while others
used it for religious customs and ceremonies. Business was thriving today for
the incense dealers.

Down farther on the street, Gabrielle’s attention was snared
by the perfumers’ sector of the market. She guided Lucien toward a small shop
that had a display of colored bottles in its glass window. He watched her walk
up to the sales person and ask about a particular scent. Being that he had no
experience in the area, he listened to her exact request in fascination.

A short Arab who introduced himself as the proprietor came out
of the backroom, followed by his employee. He carried four small bottles of
scent and set them gently on the counter. Gabrielle took the stoppers off of
each one in turn and sniffed. Afterward, she discarded two and dabbed a tiny
amount on her wrist of the other two, one on each arm.

She turned to Lucien and held up one wrist at a time, asking
his opinion. He laughed, unable to decide and knowing nothing of their
contents, other than that they smelled heavenly on her.

She gave him a chastising smile, but seemed to know her mind
on the matter, so he left her to decide. When she turned back to the
proprietor, she lifted the bottle she was interested in, then set it aside to
look at a selection of bathing soaps. She sniffed several and finally settled
on one that she pointed out to the little Arab merchant.

Lucien stood several steps behind her as she haggled over the
price of the two items.

The perfume was costly, despite its small size. Lucien
wondered if she even had brought that much coin with her. When she shook her
head negatively at the merchant’s final price and started to turn toward the
door, Lucien reached into the pocket of his over-robe for his coin purse.

Gabrielle stopped him with a hand on his forearm and a
resolute shake of her veiled head. They were at the exit when the merchant
relented and called her back. Before she turned, she smiled at Lucien. “I will
pay for this,” she whispered.

Her price had been met and the proprietor carefully wrapped
both items in a sheath of vellum. Then he tied each with a piece of twine.
Gabrielle thanked him with a smile and left the shop clutching both purchases.

“You are a shrewd haggler,” Lucien applauded her outside on
the street. “Remind me never to negotiate with you, lady.”

Gabrielle handed him the little square package. “This is for
you.” She untied the twine and opened the wrapping just enough so he could
smell her gift.

The scent of the soap was different from any he had used. It
had a heady spicy fragrance that titillated the senses and lingered in the air.

“It’s a blend of exotic Oriental spices that I thought would
smell irresistible on you. Complex, like you are Lucien de Aubric,” she told
him as her feelings for him danced in her deep blue eyes.

He took one more whiff, then re-wrapped the bar of soap. “You
should not have spent your money on me, but I think you, Gabi.” He name was
said in a low husky tone; intimately spoken despite the crowd that swelled all
around them.

Before he could put it into the pocket of his robe, she took
it back from him. “Let me carry it for you until we get back to the Mansurs.
You must only smell that good for me. I do not every woman on this street
staring after you.”

Lucien threw back his head and laughed, then looked down at
her. “Let me smell the perfume you decided on. I want to see if it is the one I
might have chosen.”

She unwrapped her vial of scent, pulled out the stopper, and
let him sniff. “It is blended from the oil of jasmine flowers, with a touch of
rose and a hint of clove.”

Lucien dipped his head close to hers. “I look forward to
smelling it on you tonight, my love. Be wearing that and nothing else when you
join me on the rooftop at midnight.”

“We have aroused no suspicions, have we, Lucien?”

“None that I have discerned.”

Gabrielle furtively caught his hand in the folds of his robes
“While I have enjoyed today immensely, I find myself impatient for midnight.”

“No more impatient that I, sweet Gabi.”

She looked up into his clear dark eyes and saw herself
reflected in them. “Will it always be like this between us?”

He cursed the veil and the customs that would not let him lift
it to kiss her. “I believe it will be, my lady.”

“How wondrous!” she exclaimed with a final squeeze of his
large, battle scarred hand.

When she went to disentangle her fingers from his, he refused
to release her. Keeping their bodies close to hide any public display of their
affection, they headed down the street.

“A very large caravan from the Persian Gulf has just arrived
in the city. They were carrying goods from as far away as China and every place
in between. The silk buyers are ecstatic. I have seen some of their
extraordinary goods and I’d like you to see them.”

Gabrielle laughed. What woman would not want to look upon
newly arrived silk from the Orient? At Tiberius, it had been very difficult to
refrain from purchasing any of the fabulous fabric Lady Eschiva and her
daughters-by-law had. As they neared the silk vendors, it appeared every woman
in the city was already assembled before the stalls and shops. Groups of them,
veiled in all shades of color, thronged around the tables, lifting and
touching, haggling over the price of the costly fabric with the silk merchants.

Lucien cut a path for them through the crowd until Gabrielle
found herself standing in front of a table with the sheerest, finest silk she
had ever seen. With a nod to the vendor, Lucien was handed a length of material
that took her breath away. The exquisite fabric was a deep rich purple silk
that had been vibrantly hand-painted with royal blue birds-of-paradise. The
flowers were meticulously embroidered around the edges with shiny gold thread.
It was the perfect length for a head scarf, long enough to drape over her
shoulders and half of her face, sheer enough to see through.