by S A Monk
"Raymond has just received a request from Sultan Saladin's son to cross our land with a small force of men," Eschiva murmured as she passed a platter of freshly cut fruit to her guest.
Gabrielle took a wide selection and listened while she ate, though she was constantly distracted by thoughts of Lucien in her bed last night. She had slept soundly, but it was because of his presence. Gabi. He had wanted to call her that. It had been his idea, and it did make her feel new and unsullied, like his kiss the previous night.
"Raymond, you cannot let al-Afdal's envoy cross your lands," Lucien argued. "It will appear as if you are conspiring with our enemy."
“I signed a treaty with his father, Lucien,” came the count’s response. “In return for his promise to not attack my lands in Tripoli and my wife’s lands, here, in Galilee, I agreed to let his troops pass across my lands safely, without hindrance or hostility.”
“Saladin is amassing troops on our borders. He is attacking Oultrejourdan. He has called a jihad.” Lucien restated the same things he had told Raymond since arriving. “Knowing his intentions, how can you aid him by allowing him access? Why do you think he wants an envoy to reach King Guy’s Royal Domain around Acre?” Lucien demanded, paraphrasing the language of the letter he had read.
Raymond threw his hands up in frustration. “I do not know, nor do I have any answers! But I signed a treaty with the sultan, and al-Afdal has promised that they will only be on my land one day and that they will cause no trouble.”
Lucien shook his head in unhappy resignation. “Well, what is done is done. But I am going to scout this envoy and see just how large it is.”
The count looked concerned. “You will not engage them or interfere.”
“I will not. Nor will I wear my habit.” Turning toward Gabrielle, he nodded and gave her a small smile. “I will return before compline.”
She rose from the table, picked up her skirts, and hurried after him, unconcerned about how it might look. “Brother de Aubric?” Some discretion had to be observed in front of others.
Lucien turned to her and gave her his full attention, lifting one dark eyebrow in gentle rebuke. “I will forgive you your slip of the tongue only because we are in the presence of others, but I may require a forfeit later, mi’lady.”
Gabrielle glanced over her shoulder, but no one seemed to be paying them any attention, which was good because his expression was full of intimate deviltry. “I am sorry,” she replied with a shy smile, wondering with no small amount of anticipation if his forfeit would be something she would enjoy. “I just wanted to tell you to be careful.”
Lucien felt another not so unfamiliar tug on his heart. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had concerned themselves about his welfare like this. He realized that this woman would worry all day about him. It was a realization he would hold close until he returned.
“I shall return by supper. Stay within the castle today. Do not go into town.” He wasn’t used to worrying about someone else, either, and he wondered suddenly if it was wise to leave her.
Astutely, she read the concern on his face. “Do not worry about me today. I will take no chances and remain with these walls. Just keep yourself safe.”
Giving in to the overwhelming urge to touch her, he reached out to stroke her cheek with the back of his knuckles, then surrendered to duty and left.
Gabrielle watched for him nearly all day. It was another warm and sunny spring day, and she spent most of it on the parapet at the top of Count Raymond’s watchtower. There were two guards on the battlements with her. They were different from the ones who had guarded her door last night, though as it turned out, she had hardly needed them with Lucien in her room.
Below her, she could see that the castle guards had been tripled. Armed sentries walked the lower wall battlements, and more yet either trained or repaired weapons in the inner bailey.
Trouble was brewing, more immediate trouble than Lucien had anticipated. It was on the faces of the men and in the eyes of the women. Saladin was building up his troops, and Count Raymond was in danger of being arrested for treason unless the king agreed to a peaceful resolution with him. Gabrielle didn’t have to be told what was happening. She had heard everyone talking about it.
Damn, Reynald for pricking the sultan’s paw with his audacious raids! Her husband was always looking for a fight. And he did not care who he hurt in the battle. Women, children, and the infirm all fell before his blade. He killed and robbed without conscience. Not in a thousand lifetimes could she atone for his brutality, murder, and mayhem.
But he was not simply a brigand. He was a man of cunning and influence. Men listened to him; men who had the power to affect hundreds of lives; men like the Templar Grand Master and the king. Reynald and Silvia hated Lord Raymond. They would press for his arrest, and Gabrielle hoped the king would not listen to such militant voices. She had grown even fonder of the count these past few days. He was a good man who felt betrayed by men like her treacherous, power-hungry husband, and it was no surprise that Lucien called him friend.
The thought of Lucien dying on a battlefield or struck by a lone arrow while on a reconnaissance mission had been haunting her all day. She had never worried about Reynald or her father returning from battle. Truth be told, she had actually hoped many a time they wouldn’t. It was her sin to atone for, she knew.
But now she had found a man who mattered a great deal to her. He was all she thought about any more. It was useless trying to deny her feelings for him. Right or wrong, they were strong and growing stronger each day. She hadn’t been able to suppress them. And she wanted him physically, too. Sexual relations had never been pleasant for her. In fact, they had been painful and degrading. Reynald hurt and took. But Gabrielle knew instinctually Lucien de Aubric would be gentle and giving. A man who looked at her and touched her as tenderly as he did would surely be a considerate lover, and, oh my God, what would that be like to experience?
+++
Gabrielle was on the rooftop again late that afternoon when an armed party of men was admitted through the gates of Raymond’s garrison. With her keen eyesight, she immediately recognized the Templar Grand Master, Gérard de Ridefort. Beside him, sat the Grand Master of the Hospitallers, Roger des Moulins. Slightly behind them, the new Archbishop of Tyre rode up wearily. To the rear of the three men, there were a dozen Templar and Hospitaller knights, Lucien’s friend from the Rhineland among them. A cloud of dust arose in the yard as the men dismounted.
Gabrielle hurried inside to see what was afoot. Lucien still had not returned, and now she was truly worried.
Count Raymond was just admitting the Grand Masters and the archbishop into his great hall when she reached the lower landing. Keeping to the shadows so as not to draw attention, she descended the stairs and went to sit next to Lady Eschiva at a chair near the hearth.
The countess welcomed her. “No sign of Brother de Aubric?” she asked in a near whisper.
“None yet. What is happening?”
“I do not know,” Eschiva answered. “Raymond has not talked to Master de Ridefort in months, since before the coup.”
Gabrielle noticed that Raymond’s three grown sons formed a protective half-circle around their father. All of the men were armed, and the meeting bristled with animosity, particularly between Count Raymond and the Master of the Templars.
Brother Giles de Chancery walked up to his Grand Master and greeted him with a strong show of congeniality, easing some of the tension. The archbishop looked to the lady of the house for a seat and a cup of something to wash down the dust of the road. Rising, Eschiva signaled him over, then sent two serving maids scurrying for extra jugs of wine.
“Bishop Josias,” she greeted warmly, kissing the ring he extended. “It is good to see you. I have sent for some wine to ease you. What brings you to our humble abode?”
The archbishop had replaced the scholarly and eloquent Bishop William of Tyre a year ago. He was middle-aged, portly, and obviously not
used to traveling much distance. “We have come from Jerusalem, at the request of King Guy, to bring Count Raymond terms.”
Gabrielle saw a moment of alarm cross Lady Eschiva’s lovely face. “How so, Bishop?”
The bishop waved a hand negligently. “It is of no consequence to you lovely ladies. The men will handle the matter.”
The countess leveled a look on the portentous little man that was meant to give him a silent warning not to disregard her feelings or her intellect again. “It is always of consequence to me when it involves my husband,” Eschiva declared imperiously. “There are armed men in my courtyard. Why so, bishop?”
She had his full attention after that subtle scolding. “Nothing to worry about, countess. We are only here to negotiate a truce between your husband and King Guy.”
“Then we shall all hear of it over a meal. Food will make everyone more amendable.”
With that Lady Eschiva rose, walked determinedly to her husband’s side, and began issuing directions to the men assembled around him. Rooms were assigned, cloaks were taken, and all were directed to assemble for dinner in one hour. Until then, they must accept her hospitality and adjourn to their quarters to rest and shake the dust of the road off.
The eldest of the countess’ daughters by marriage had entered the room and witnessed her mother by law’s imperial management of the situation. She sat on the arm of the chair next to Gabrielle and chuckled. “Eschiva is most formidable when she wants to be. I doubt anyone could order a roomful of obstinate men around better than she.”
Gabrielle was most impressed. She fervently hoped Lucien would be back by then. This would surely be significant for him.
+++
Supper began without him, however. From what Gabrielle overheard, Lord Balian was head of this delegation sent by the king to talk to Lord Raymond, but he had been delayed at Nablus on an important family matter. He’d come with the party from Jerusalem and had asked them to wait for him at the Templar fortress of Le Féve before going on to Tiberius. Unfortunately, as soon as Master de Ridefort had heard the rumor that Count Raymond was allowing Saracen soldiers to cross his land on their way to Acre, he’d set out immediately for Tiberius, dragging the rest of the party with him.
Just as the conversation at the dinner table was becoming heated yet again, Lucien walked into the room. Gabrielle immediately set down her eating knife and looked across the hall to him. Their eyes met for a long moment until each assured the other silently that they were well and whole. Gabrielle noted that he looked dusty and tired, and more than a little worried.
Rising from the table, the Grand Master greeted him, but the look on his grizzled face was far from welcoming. “Brother de Aubric! How interesting to find you here.” The elder Templar’s faded blue eyes swung briefly to Gabrielle, then back to his officer. “Count Raymond tells me that you have been checking out this envoy,” he spat sarcastically. “Rid yourself of that heathen garb you always seem to prefer and rejoin us in your proper habit. I await your report, brother.” The last word was caustically delivered as well, as if de Ridefort found it offensive.
Lucien gave a curt nod, then bounded up the stairway. Gabrielle noticed that the Templar Grand Master watched him all the way, noting the two flights of stairs he ascended. There was a scowl on his face as he sat back down, glanced once again at her, then attended to the remainder of his meal. He said nothing else while he ate, nor did those around him, although the count looked happy to refrain from having to converse with the man at his side.
When Lucien returned, clean of road dust and clothed immaculately in full Templar dress, Gabrielle felt a stab of pride and admiration for him. He was a striking man, no matter what he wore, but in his Templar garb, he was magnificent. His mantle was draped across his broad shoulders to perfection, and the brilliant red cross on his blindingly white surcoat only emphasized his impressive physical stature. He was clearly the most handsome man in the room.
As he approached the table, his dark eyes were focused on Count Raymond and his guests. Gabrielle could tell that he was scrutinizing each man, carefully assessing their moods and the situation. She had discovered that Lucien de Aubric was a very astute and observant man, and that he left very little to chance.
Gérard de Ridefort rose, the scowl still etched across his heavily bearded face. He half-turned to the man still sitting beside him. “Remove your women, Raymond. I have tolerated their presence long enough.”
The count thrust himself out of his chair with visible fury. “This holding belongs to my wife. Mayhap, she has tolerated your company long enough, de Ridefort!”
“You know Templars do not commingle with women,” the Grand Master rebutted, shooting a sharp look to Lucien, then to Gabrielle. “That you have housed one upstairs, next to de Châtillon’s wife is offense enough, but they shall not sit here, listening, while we discuss sensitive business of the kingdom.”
Count Raymond made no move to comply. Inspired by Lady Eschiva’s earlier daring, Gabrielle rose from her place at the end of the table and looked down the long board directly at the Grand Master. Her face was set in scorn, and her lips curved into a mocking smile as she met his disapproving stare with a scornful one of her own. How she would love to remind the hypocritical old bastard of all the times she had seen him at her husband’s lascivious gatherings, surrounded by women who had been there for only one purpose!
The countess eventually rose beside her and gave the Grand Master a contemptuous look before nodding to her daughters. “Shall we retire to my solar? I believe we will find it more agreeable there, ladies.”
Before Gabrielle turned to leave, Lucien caught her attention with a look of open admiration, one corner of his mouth curled up in a slight half smile. Gabrielle returned it with a barely perceptible nod before she crossed the room to the stairwell. From the corner of her eye, she saw de Ridefort’s scowl deepen, though she staunchly refused to let his manner intimidate her as she departed.
After the women left, the table was cleared and the servants refilled the large ewers of wine, then left the room. Lucien had pulled a chair over from the hearth and sat across from the count. As he lifted his goblet of wine to his lips, he scanned the men arrayed on either side of the count. Brother Giles sat next to Master des Moulins, while the archbishop Josias sat next to de Ridefort, who was leaning back in his high-backed chair as if he was lord of the manor, looking completely satisfied that his demands had been met.
The count still looked prepared to throw the man from his hall. “Treating my wife and the ladies that way was uncalled for Gérard.”
The Templar Grand Master waved his hand as if it mattered not.
“It was boorish,” the archbishop agreed.
“We are not here to entertain the women,” he growled impatiently. “And you are lucky I am not here to arrest you, Raymond, for your treasonous behavior!’
“By God, man! You go too far, inferring I am a traitor!”
“Gentlemen….” Bishop Josias interceded.
“Gérard,” the Hospitaller Grand Master echoed in an attempt to calm the situation. “We have a directive from the king. He wishes a peaceful resolution with Lord Raymond.”
“If I had had my way, we would have marched in here with a whole echelon to arrest you, Raymond.”
“Well, you have not had your way!” Roger des Moulins roared. “Now, let’s be at the business at hand and leave old resentments buried.”
Lucien knew the Hospitaller Grand Master was referring to Gérard’s grudge against the Raymond when he had been denied the reward of a wealthy heiress and her land for service tendered to the count. It had always soured their relationship. Plus, they had never seen eye-to-eye on the kingdom’s relationship with the Saracens.
De Ridefort actually growled an inaudible rebuttal to des Moulins’ comment, then turned his simmering anger on Lucien. “Tell us what you have discovered about this so-called envoy encamped on the edges of the the count’s land, de Aubric,” the Templar
leader demanded.
Lucien knew he had to temper his information against his superior’s hot-tempered, ready-to-act mood. He and Hazir’s nephews had roamed the countryside today. What the three of them had found was seriously alarming. Lucien had expected to find a small saqa, or advance reconnaissance party. Instead he and his two scouts had seen three tulb encampments, each with a full muster of two hundred men. They were all located on the fringes of Raymond’s land, to the north and east of the lake. The envoy they wished to send onto his land might be a small unit from one of them, but what had been implied in the request from al-Afdal, had not been what Lucien, Omar, and Nephrim had seen today.
“I saw enough men to question whether it should be called an envoy,” he said evasively, hoping the Grand Master would not question him further.
“It doesn’t matter the size of the party,” Raymond argued. “Al-Afdal assured me they would be peaceable and cause no harm.”
“That is ridiculous, Raymond!” de Ridefort thundered. “We are at war with the sultan. If you are as loyal as you claim to the king, you will let no armed Saracen onto your land.”
For once, Lucien agreed with his superior, though he did not voice his agreement. Count Raymond was foolish to have made the truce, let alone allow the enemy onto his land.
For two days, Lucien had been trying to warn his friend that his actions were dangerously close to treason. The problem was, he did not trust his Grand Master to be calm headed enough to do anything rational in reaction to this very volatile situation. His blind zealotry and belief that the military orders were invincible and superior to the Muslim forces would send him charging across Galilee right now with whatever troops he could muster to engage the Saracen troops.
What was needed was a a more sensible plan to meet Saladin and his greater numbers at a time and place when the Christian army had at least a possibility of prevailing. Squandering men now would do nothing, absolutely nothing but diminish valuable resources. Of course, de Ridefort was probably headed in that direction, despite what Lucien revealed or didn’t reveal.