The Spymaster's Protection (6 page)

Lucien was well aware that the Hospitallers had backed
Isabella's claim to the throne. Her father, King Amalric, had thrown aside his
first wife, Lady Agnes, of the powerful Courtenay family in the north and
married Maria Comnena of Byzantine. By her, he had a daughter, Isabella. Thus,
had all the political alliances been created.

Lucien never failed to be amazed by
the complexity and absurdity of royal politics. Though he found it so, he
understood the greed for power behind it. It fueled the need for what he did.
Unfortunately, it also disgusted him, lately more so than ever. It did not bode
well for his future with the Order that he had openly begun to question so many
of its dictates. His last public disagreement with Gerard de Ridefort had
resulted in his temporary banishment from Jerusalem. This Grand Master would
not countenance too many more of such disagreements.

CHAPTER
4

"Ah, Brother Lucien," Giles de Chancery beamed as he
saw his friend enter the room where he was putting to order some records.
"I wondered how long it would take you to pay me a visit. It is
me
you have come to visit, is it not?"

"Of course," Lucien replied smoothly as he removed
his mantle and folded it across a wooden backed chair. "Who else would I
come to see?"

Merriment danced in Brother Giles' blue eyes. "Oh,
possibly Lady de Châtillon? She is at the orphanage today."

"Then I may pay her a visit, too, before I leave."

Brother Giles laughed at his friend’s attempt at indifference.
"I daresay, you will not miss the opportunity!"

Lucien frowned slightly. "
I
daresay I should.
Visiting with her would not sit well with the Order."

The Hospitaller shrugged. "There is nothing sinful in
talking to a woman. Lady Gabrielle needs our assistance. She is a godly woman,
doing her best to amend what we damage."

"There are few enough like her in the nobility."

And that, thought Lucien, was one of the things that attracted
him to her. Her unique nobility; her inherent compassion, and gentle heart. In
this blood-stained land, one saw little enough of true compassion.
Sanctimonious morality worn on one's sleeve was more often the norm among those
who endeavored to do God's work.

"Are you staying in the city awhile?" his friend
asked as he pressed some papers into a large account book.

"It appears so. Apparently the Grand Master has decided
to put an end to my short-lived banishment. He has reassigned me back to the
city from patrol duty."

"He did not like what you had to say after the
coup."

"He did not appreciate my observations or my point of
view," Lucien confirmed. "He particularly disapproved of my
suggestion that he should not have had your Master restrained at the crowning
ceremony."

Prior to crowning Sibylla and Guy, the Hospitaller Grand
Master had refused to hand over the keys to the royal treasury, which held the
actual crowns that would be placed upon the royal heads. Master de Ridefort had
managed to get his hands on the crowns after using a despicable display of
Templar might, but there was still much tension between the two Orders.

Lucien knew his old friend would welcome him, though, for
Giles de Chancery knew Lucien held none of the overbearing arrogance or
animosity that his superior clung to. Both men understood and accepted each
other's duties and roles, and while their Orders often differed, they remained
friends, privately of the same political opinion.

"De Ridefort will embroil us all in renewed war with
Saladin before any of us are ready," Giles announced with disdain.
"He and Lord Châtillon constantly whisper in King Guy's ear about renewing
hostilities."

"Eventually, he will listen to them. He owes his fiefdom
in Acre, his marriage, and his crown to them.” Both men had planned Lusignan’s
future long before he had stepped onto Outremer’s soil. Lucien knew the history
and it infuriated him still. "Under de Ridefort the Order has become
arrogantly reckless and overly zealous. He does not temper his eagerness for
war with forethought. And de Châtillon only eggs him on. We are going to lose
valuable ground under his leadership. I am certain of it. I constantly hope
that my intelligence will force him to calmly consider all the issues and
consequences, but as of yet, it has failed to do so."

Giles understood his friend’s growing frustration. The coup
this past fall had nearly thrown the kingdom into civil war. Like Lucien, he
knew it still could. "You cannot give up, my friend. Your ability to walk
in both worlds is of great value to all of us, no matter what political side we
are on. No other could do what you do, and do it so well. Our king and queen
need accurate intelligence to make sound decisions. We cannot let men like
Reynald of Châtillon be the only voice they hear."

"It is getting harder to walk in both worlds." And
there were those who mistrusted him because he did; men like his Grand Master.

"It serves a higher purpose than fighting, Brother
Lucien. Any of us can fight."

Lucien wasn't convinced. "I don't know, Giles. I have
found myself questioning so much of late."

The Hospitaller smiled sympathetically. "Men of
conscience often do, brother."

"Much has been done in God's name since the first taking
of the Holy City. Most of it, I would daresay, has been done in the name of
greed and blind zealotry. And I am nearly certain that matters will only get
worse given the current turmoil and weak leadership. Saladin has bridged
ancient divisions and brought his countrymen together in ways that have never
before happened. He is growing stronger, and we are growing weaker. He just
might be the Muslims' greatest military leader in many a century."

"King Baldwin defeated him at Montisgard eight years
ago," Brother Giles reminded him.

"He is much stronger now. And we have fought many battles
and skirmishes with his troops since. We won only a few. We will win even fewer
with our barons so politically divided."

"It does not help that Count Raymond still holds out against
Guy and Sibylla."

"No, it does not, but I understand his fury over the
coup. It went against all he had promised Baldwin."

"Will you go to Tiberius and talk to him?"

"I will," Lucien confirmed. "I know not when,
though. We shall see what the Grand Master demands of me in the weeks to
come."

Brother Giles gave his friend an encouraging smile. "Do
not despair. God's will will be done."

Lucien gave a derisive snort. "I stopped believing that
God's will was being done in this land within a year of landing in Palestine,
my friend."

Brother Giles shook his head sadly. “I hate to agree with you,
but there are many times, I do.”

"Enlighten me," Lucien proceeded, changing the
topic. "Why does Lady de Châtillon travel the dangerous roads of Palestine
without escort? How, in God's name, has she managed to remain relatively
unharmed?"

"The latter I do not know, Lucien. But I can tell you
that neither Reynald de Châtillon, nor Lord Chaumont, her father, would waste
any manpower on guarding a wife and daughter that both may be relieved to see
permanently disappear. I understand Reynald tried to get the Church to annul
his marriage to her, but was denied, despite the fact that she has borne him no
heirs.

I have also heard that he could find no sympathy from
churchmen who have seen the disgraceful way he has treated her. She has been
sorely abused, and even Heraclius disapproves of Reynald’s open relationship
with Lady Silvia de Milly."

Hearing that Gabrielle had been sorely mistreated was no
surprise, but it stirred a cauldron of hot anger inside Lucien, nevertheless.
"Heraclius must indeed be shocked, considering his affairs and his past
relationship with Lady Agnes."

"The patriarch has always been discreet, whereas Reynald
is anything but. The queen has told him that he may not parade Silvia around
when Gabrielle is at court. She has been a bit of a defender for the lady.
Certainly, she could use one."

Lucien had been troubled from the onset about Gabrielle d
Châtillon's marriage. He had known Reynald for years. He had always despised
the man, but he had never given any thought to whom the swine might be married
to. Now that he had met Reynald's wife, he felt deeply sorry for her. She was
much too fine for a scoundrel like Reynald de Châtillon. He knew less of Armand
Chaumont, Reynald's seneschal and Gabrielle's father, but the man had to be as
much of a blackheart as his son-in-law to marry off his only child to such a
man.

Lucien rose from his chair and retrieved his mantle. "I
have yet another hour before I need to return to the preceptory," he
announced as Brother Giles rose also. "Will you help me find Lady de
Châtillon?"

The Hospitaller led Lucien down the corridor to the empty
meeting room, then out the door, to cross the courtyard to the orphanage.
"I should probably discourage your interest in her, brother," the
black robed monk concluded worriedly. "But I think Gabrielle could use
someone with your connections to help her place some of these children. You
could put word out to your Arab contacts. She is of a mind that these children
need to be raised by Muslim families, not by Christians."

Lucien lifted an eyebrow. "And what say you, Brother
Giles? Do you not want to convert these children?"

"Nay, I do not. They deserve to have replaced at least
part of what has been taken from them, as Lady de Châtillon often reminds us.”

Lucien found one more reason to admire Gabrielle de Châtillon.
Her broad-minded way of thinking was highly unusual. She wasn't out to perform
charitable acts for the sake of advancing her spiritual coin, but for the sake
of truly helping these children who had lost all family. While many women of
the realm involved themselves in charitable work, most did it to advance their
reputations. Certainly, he had never met one who put her life at risk for it.

"I still do not see how Lady de Châtillon has escaped
harm on her journeys," Lucien repeated, shaking his head.

Brother Giles steered him to a rear door at the back of the
orphanage. Walking down the center of the children's residential hall, Lucien was
amazed at how many children were living at the orphanage. There were dozens of
them, ranging in age from infancy to adolescence. Half a dozen nuns and an
equal number of Saracen women attended the children, but there was, as yet, no
sign of the woman Lucien had been anticipating seeing today.

"We try to watch out for her, even if we are not
providing escort. I always forewarn our road patrols if she will be traveling
in their vicinities, but having your patrols alerted would also be extremely
helpful. Still, the woman has extraordinarily good fortune in avoiding trouble.
The incident you rescued her from was only the second time in five years that
she has been accosted."

"That is truly remarkable!" Lucien swore. "She
must indeed have a heavenly guardian traveling at her side."

"She surely has earned one," Brother Giles added.
"Life with Reynald alone has been perilous enough." The monk stepped
through an open doorway and pointed toward the woman in the center of the
private courtyard, playing stickball with a dozen children.

Lucien followed his direction and saw Gabrielle de Châtillon,
dressed in loose pants and tunic. Her long dark hair was woven into a single
braid as thick as his forearm. It hung down her back, to her waist, and a
multitude of loose tendrils had worked themselves free, curling about her face
like a nimbus.

Her flawless golden skin was moist with perspiration in the
midday heat, giving her an ethereal glow that took his breath away.

As he watched her move nimbly, batting the ball with her thick
stick, he realized that she was barefoot. She didn’t seem to be bothered in the
least by the dirt that swirled around her as the children played delightedly.

Lucien could not recall ever having been more enchanted by a
woman. He did not want to disturb her, only stand and watch her. But his spell
was soon broken when Brother Giles called out to her.

She halted immediately and turned to wave. Her face broke into
a smile as she greeted the Hospitaller beside him. Then her eyes slid to him.
To his surprise, her smile remained. After encouraging the children to continue
playing, she walked over to the two men, grabbing her headscarf along the way.

As he watched her lift it over her hair and swing the long
ends over her shoulder, Lucien found himself suffering a sharp stab of
disappointment. Even in a braid, her gold-shot hair was glorious under the
sunlight. He remembered how it had swirled around her when he'd first come
across her in the desert and wished she did not feel compelled to cover it.

Greetings were exchanged, then Brother Giles left to fetch
water from the well for them.

Lucien steered Gabrielle toward a bench under a shade tree.
She sat down, while he remained standing. "Brother Giles tells me you need
help finding homes for these children," he began.

"And he tells me you have very wide-reaching contacts,
frère," she said hopefully. "I want to place as many of these
children as possible in Muslim homes. Brother Giles and I wondered if you could
help me do that."

Lucien gave her a crooked half smile. "Templars do not
minister to the sick and poor the way the Hospitallers do, Lady de Châtillon.
We defend the roads and the settlements. We are simply fighting men."

Gabrielle met his barely concealed amusement with a frown. Her
eyes narrowed as she stared up at him. "You are a monastic order, are you
not? And is it not the duty of all monastic orders to render aid to the poor
and needy?"

Lucien was enjoying her indignation entirely too much. He
could see she didn't like it, but the spark of temper in her exceptional blue
eyes was too fascinating to quell.