The Spymaster's Protection

by S A Monk

  Their skepticism was understood when the following morning the Muslims reappeared beyond the northern gates of Jerusalem.

  Saladin had a formidable army and still over a hundred siege engines. The sultan’s objective was clearly to breach the walls of Jerusalem, if not from the top, then from fires set inside the tunnels lined with timber. From his new siege position, he attacked relentlessly, finally finding a weakened part of wall near the Postern of Saint Mary Magdalene. Mangonels hurled boulders and naft, at the walls and gates day and night. The Greek fire missiles ignited blazes throughout the city, and people hurried frantically to extinguish them before they could spread.

  From his defensive position near one of the Christian army’s own siege engines, Lucien was amazed to see a new machine brought before the walls of Jerusalem. It was a powerful counterweight-throwing machine that they eventually learned was called a trebuchet. With the far-reaching contacts and superior battle strategies Saladin had at his command, it should not have surprised Lucien that the sultan had access to such a new weapon.

  While his machines battered the walls of the ancient city, the sultan’s miners continued, unabated, their underground work. Armored engineers surged forth beneath the protection of large shields and a flurry of arrows. Once a ditch was dug, they got beneath the wall or tower and began their destructive toil. Long held foundations began to weaken and crumble, bit by bit.

  Within a sennight, one tunnel, supported by wooden props, was set aflame. The wood burned like kindling and brought down a long section of the outer wall. The ensuing fire was so intense, it hindered all attempts by the Christians to take out the diggers and launch an effective counterassault on the siege machines raining down rocks upon their heads.

  In a desperate attempt, every mounted man in the city rode out through the Jehosaphat Gate to try to flank the Muslim forces. This time the sortie failed, beaten back by the sultan’s cavalry.

  The breach in the northeastern wall that the sappers and their fire had created became an enormous problem for the Christians, as well as for the Saracens. The former were hard-pressed to find enough men willing to guard the opening, but Saladin did not have an easy time seizing control of it, either. Twice he was driven back from breaking through to the city beyond.

  On the final day of September, Balian d’Ibelin and a small group of men, including Lucien de Aubric rode into Saladin’s camp under a white flag of truce. For two days, they were denied an audience with the sultan. Finally, on October 2, the great desert lord agreed to talk to them. Seated on cushions on the floor of the sultan’s war pavilion, Lucien and the ex-lord of Nablus accepted the libation offered them and carefully scrutinized their adversary’s mood.

  “I had hoped both of you would honor your word and not raise arms against me since I granted you your lives and your freedom at Hattin,” Saladin began, frowning with displeasure as he eyed the two men across from him. The rest of the Christian delegation had not been invited into the sultan’s spacious tent. “I received your missive, Lord Ibelin, telling me of your intent to defend Jerusalem, and I understand from General Gökböri, de Aubric, that you warned him you would defend your fellow Christians, but….”

  “But we could do nothing else,” Lord Ibelin dared to interrupt. “Honor and duty demanded we not turn our backs on our fellow citizens.”

  Lucien turned the conversation to the true intent of their negotiations. “I understand you and your emirs are debating what to do with the city now that you have breached our walls. It has come to my attention that some are in favor of storming Jerusalem and slaughtering all inside.”

  The sultan gave the ex-Templar a small smile of begrudging respect. “Your intelligence is as sound as ever, de Aubric. Would that you had aligned yourself with your mother’s people. I would have welcomed a man of your capabilities.” Saladin shrugged and waved away a persistent insect. “Nevertheless, I have promised to take Jerusalem by storm, and as surely you both know, I am a man of my word.”

  Seated nearly elbow to elbow beside Lucien, Balian d’Ibelin stiffened and glared at his adversary. “If that is truly your intent, the garrison inside Jerusalem is prepared to slaughter their own families, their animals, and the 5,000 Muslim prisoners that remain in our hands.”

  Lucien was prepared for Balian’s warning. The two men had discussed the need for it if Saladin threatened to destroy Jerusalem and all inside it. His face remained expressionless as his friend delivered his dangerous threat. In the back of his mind, Lucien doubted he could ever lift a hand to harm Gabrielle. Quite frankly, it was a threat neither he nor Balian would carry out, but the sultan had to believe that they would. General Gökböri had not joined Saladin for the negotiations. For that, Lucien was grateful. It would have been impossible to sit across from the man and pretend he intended to kill his daughter.

  As planned, Balian added the final threat. “Our brethren inside the city have also agreed to destroy the Al Aqsa Mosque where the Templars have established their headquarters should you decide to enter and kill every citizen within. Thus we shall die gloriously or surrender like gentlemen. The decision of which it shall be is yours, my lord.”

  Lucien thought that Balian’s threat demonstrated what surely must have been some of the fanaticism of the first Crusaders. Saladin could not afford to repeat the holocaust of 1099, nor could he afford the destruction of one of the holiest structures in all of Islam.

  Assessing the sincerity in Lord d’Ibelin’s fierce expression, Saladin sighed in resignation and finally set down the terms for the surrender of Jerusalem. The non-Latins could remain in the city, but the Franks had to leave. The sultan demanded that every man pay ten deniers, every woman five, and every child one as a ransom. Money was haggled over for another hour until at last it was also decided that a lump sum of 30,000 bezants was to be paid for all those inside who could not afford the ransom. It was estimated that there were over five thousand poor within the city. The Christians had forty days to raise the ransom money and deliver it.

  When Balian and Lucien returned to the city to report the terms of surrender, there was strong protest, especially from the few members remaining of the military orders. The Templars, in particular, were adamant about not spending their treasure on those too poor to pay the ransom. Many of the Christian churchmen were in strong disagreement over assisting the poor, also, as were the wealthier Christians within Jerusalem’s walls.

  In addition to their lives, the Franks had been allowed to take any property they could move with them when they left the city. Many began to flee within a day of the surrender. The exodus grew to a steady stream of people, animals, and wagons departing through the now open gates, flooding the roads leading away from the holy city. By the time the forty-day deadline expired, there were still 15,000 non-Latin people in Jerusalem; citizens unable to pay the ransom and exit through the Saracen guarded gates.

  Saladin and his emirs were so disgusted with the failure of the Christians to aid their brethren that the great Muslim lord, himself, paid the ransom of many of the poor. Though he had been urged by his commanders to confiscate the wealth flowing out of the city, Saladin refused to break his word. Every man, woman, and child who wanted to leave the city was allowed to, with their possessions and without harm. The reacquisition of Jerusalem spilled significantly less blood than its initial conquest.

  Once inside the Holy City, Saladin reclaimed the buildings and landmarks for Islam. Refitting structures for religious worship was a priority. As soon as Patriarch Heraclius left the city with a small caravan of gold and valuables, his palace was given to the Sufis, the Muslim mystics, as a convent. The Hospitaller complex became a religious college, and the Temple was completely cleansed of all evidence of its foreign inhabitation. Scrubbed clean with rose water from Damascus, the entire temple complex was reconsecrated as the Al Asqa Mosque.

  On the Muslim Sabbath, Friday, October 9, 1187 Saladin joined his officers to pray at the legendary site. A large Christian cross was hauled
down from the Temple and carried through the city upside down by the Muslim victors as a symbol of conquest.

  The remaining Templars departed the city that had been their headquarters since their inception, acting as escorts and guards for groups of refugees. Within a week they were happily welcomed into Tyre, while the displaced citizens they had escorted were refused entrance and made to set up camp in a tent city outside the walls of the port town.

  In Jerusalem, Queen Sibylla and a handful of noble men and women, who had remained behind despite the evacuation, stayed to bear witness to Saladin’s triumphant march into the city. Sibylla implored the sultan to let her go to her captive husband. Her request was swiftly granted, and she was escorted to Nablus to see the dethroned king. Several more noblewomen were treated similarly. Their requests for the release of their husbands and sons were granted.

  Lucien and Gabrielle also remained within the city, in quiet seclusion at her old residence, which had been vacated by Lady Silvia. Within a week of Saladin’s arrival, they were summoned back to the royal palace for an audience with Muzaffar al Din Gökböri.

  Dressed in her finest Muslim attire, Gabrielle was so nervous, she was amazed her legs carried her through the gates of the vacated palace and across the tiled courtyard to the general’s private quarters. If not for the firm, steady forearm Lucien offered her, she was certain she would have collapsed in a heap at the emir’s doorstep. Though she had met the Blue Wolf before, she was now meeting him with the knowledge that he was her father. She wondered if she would please him, and if he would accept her fully as his daughter. Certainly the man she had known as her father for over a score of years had not. Though her mother’s love had sustained her for the first years of her life, she had always longed for a loving, caring father. She probably did not need one now that she had the wonderful man beside her, but nevertheless, the expectancy of finally meeting her true father seemed like the fulfillment of a long-buried dream.

  “Gabrielle, it will be all right,” Lucien tried to reassure her as they were greeted and directed by a servant to wait in a luxuriously redecorated chamber.

  Open doorways and windows let in fragrant autumn breezes that ruffled the sheer silk panels of gossamer cloth hanging, draped, from the ceiling. From the moment they had stepped through the iron-banded gates of the palace, Gabrielle had noticed that everything had been scrubbed clean of any remaining hint of the Christian occupation. She had lived here for weeks, and yet she barely recognized the place. The redecoration was not unpleasant, simply sad. The Christians’ eighty-year plus presence in Jerusalem was being obliterated as if it had never existed.

  Lucien had told Gabrielle that the general wanted them to travel to Irbil with him to visit, possibly to live. She had mixed feelings about his offer. She knew Lucien could not remain in Palestine without being in jeopardy from Gerald de Ridefort. And like her, he had nowhere to go in the West any longer. They had to go somewhere that they could be together safely, free to marry and, God willing, raise a family. But what would it be like to live among the Saracens; to truly become part of their culture? While they would not be forced to give up their religion and beliefs, they would probably live as exiles, leaving behind friends and familiar customs. But was that not how Gabrielle had lived the past five years of her life anyway; among Arab friends and co-workers? Would it truly be so different? And all that really mattered was that she would be with Lucien.

  And she did truly want to get to know this man who had fathered her. She hoped he would tell her of his feelings for her mother. Of course, being an Arab and a Muslim, he must have other wives and children. How would they feel about his half-Arab, Christian daughter? It was all so frightening, and yet so exciting!

  Seated next to Lucien on a plush silk divan, Gabrielle clutched his hand so tightly, he chuckled and reached out to stroke the back of her fingers with his own. “Be at ease, my heart,” he whispered encouragingly to her. “He truly is a remarkable man.”

  She turned to him and searched his calm handsome features. “You came to admire and like him in the time you were with him, did you not?”

  “I did. You will be glad of this, trust me.” The smile of encouragement and conviction he gave her settled her nerves as nothing else could have. Oh, to be blessed with such a man after all her years of hardship! She had much to thank the Lord for, not the least of which was his safe emergence from the perilous battles of the past three months.

  Just as that thought made her smile, the appearance of the Blue Wolf chased it away. From the moment he entered the room, his deep blue eyes never wavered from her own. Gabrielle returned his stare without blinking, but her nervousness would not let her offer him a smile.

  He was dressed casually in loose linen trousers and dark brown tunic. His long, long hair was braided again, this time in a single thick weave down his back. With his obsidian black locks pulled austerely back from his sharply chiseled features, his face looked harsh and forbidding.

  Gabrielle’s palm grew sweaty, and it slipped a notch in Lucien’s strong capable hand. He slid an arm around her waist and tucked her close to his side, then he briefly bowed his head in greeting.

  “Muzaffar.”

  “De Aubric,” the Blue Wolf returned, sparing a quick nod for his future son-in-law.

  Gabrielle was surprised by Lucien’s use of the general’s first name, thinking he and her father must have become rather close during the months they had spent together.

  “Daughter.” The softly spoken word carried inflections of relief and joy and welcome. “Have you no words for me?” Taking her hand, the general pulled her slowly to her feet.

  Letting go of her fears, Gabrielle gave a little cry and stepped into the heavily muscled arms that opened for her, unstoppable tears flowing silently down her cheeks.

  “I assume that your betrothed has told you of our relationship,” the Blue Wolf murmured against her veil. “Long have I waited for this day. Long have I desired it.” He set her back a small space from him and stared at her once again. “You have your mother’s beauty….” He paused and smiled broadly. “And my eyes.”

  “Tell me about the two of you,” Gabrielle implored softly, yet boldly.

  To her surprise, the great desert lion threw his head back and laughed. “Ah, daughter of mine, you have a brave and fearless spirit!”

  “Maybe not so fearless,” she corrected him with a small smile.

  “She is courageous and persevering,” Lucien insisted, having risen beside her. “As well as beautiful.”

  Muzaffar al Din Gökböri eyed the ex-Templar thoughtfully, then looked toward Gabrielle. “You have chosen well, daughter. I have come to know this man in the past weeks, as was my purpose in keeping him by my side as long as I did. For the worry that caused you, I apologize. But I wanted to make sure that you did not spend the rest of your life suffering as you have had to thus far. Had I known of your existence earlier, I would never have let Armand raise you or barter you to that dog Châtillon.”

  “How did you learn I was your daughter?”

  The general gestured for them to resume their seats, then he, too, took a seat, one directly across from them.

  “We have much to learn from one another, and we will do so if you decide to come to Irbil with me. But I will tell you now that I learned of you several years ago, from a mutual friend, Hazir Yazid.” The general smiled at the widening of his daughter’s eyes. “He was a friend of your mother’s, also. He knew of her suffering, and she had confided your true parentage to him. When he heard of her death, he bravely told me her story when next we met.

  “By then, you had been married to Châtillon several years. To my great frustration, there was little I could do to intervene. My Lord Saladin wanted your husband’s head even then, but circumstances continually interfered. As it was, the best, and sadly the least, I could do was attempt to ensure your safety once you were able to leave him. However, my influence with the desert bandit tribes did not reach into the high moun
tain fortress of the Assassins. This disavowed monk kept you safe from harm from them until I learned of your husband’s contract with Rashid al Din Sinan. At that point, Lord Saladin intervened with the Assassin leader for me.”

  “I have much to be grateful to you for, father.” The word suddenly felt so very right to Gabrielle. “Not the least of which is Lucien’s deliverance from death at Hattin.”

  “Lord Saladin was merciful, but this knight’s bravery and honor won him his life.”

  Gabrielle smiled as she reached for Lucien’s hand. “God has blessed me well, with this man.”

  The Blue Wolf nodded his agreement. “I approve and bless your union, as well,” he told them. “Will you come to my home with me to marry? I will not ask you to relinquish your beliefs or your loyalties. And you may stay permanently or leave as you wish, when you wish.”

  Gabrielle and Lucien had talked about this the past week, and both had decided it would be a good thing to travel to Irbil with her father. No priest would marry them in Jerusalem, maybe not even in Palestine. And it would only be a matter of time before Gerard de Ridefort came after Lucien. It was also highly unlikely that Count Raymond could ensure their safety within his fiefdom, especially now that Saladin had seized most of it.

  The kingdom of Jerusalem was being pressed to the sea, narrowed to a thin strip of territory along the coast of Palestine. There was talk among many of the ruling families of leaving for Cyprus. Depending on what happened in the battle for Tyre, there could be little if any of the kingdom left by the time the Western kings could muster another crusade to reconquer the Holy Land. Because of their defeat, King Guy and Queen Sibylla would probably not be able to stay in power.

  Neither Gabrielle nor Lucien had ever known much of a life anywhere else. There was nothing for them in the Western countries, across the ocean. And because a monk took vows for life, Gabrielle wondered if any Latin country or priest would acknowledge their union, let alone allow it.