Behind the Veil

by Linda Chaikin

  “You would know the nobles who own these houses better than I. Surely there is a vacant residence more isolated that the others. Find one.”

  Bardas sucked in his breath, astonished. “Seigneur, are you suggesting—?”

  Tancred’s smile was faint. “We must. If need be, bribe someone. You have the jewels with you?”

  “I have an emerald. The rest are sewn in the hems of my outer tunic.”

  “The emerald should suffice. Go, your mistress needs rest and care before we travel to the castle.”

  ***

  The private garden of a noble’s summer palace was walled and secluded. The birds chittered, and cool water splashed invitingly in the Greek fountain. Helena lay on cushions in a room where dappled sunlight fell across the floor. Awakening, her feverish mind groped for understanding. Where was she? She was too drowsy to concentrate on finding the answers, and her thirst was excessive. There was someone with her. Her blurred vision could not see his face, yet she sensed his presence, and it was protective and comforting. She could reach and touch him and when she did she thought it must be Philip, and now she had been put in the dungeon—then who was this silent stranger beside her, always there, yet so unreal? At night he stood at the window staring out, reminding her of a shadow. She would call out, “Philip?” and he would not answer, yet he always came.

  When morning light flooded the unfamiliar chamber, she closed her eyes and went back to sleep. The next time she awoke it was evening darkness. She had a faint memory of quiet voices, candles, and the nauseating smell of food; then she was alone again with the stranger. The candle went out, and the shadow took his place at the open window. The next time she awoke he was gone! Panic seized her. A vision of the dungeon tore at her mind. Rats! The guard coming toward her, and when she screamed he grew angry and grabbed her throat—

  Helena awoke with a start, hearing her own muffled cry for help, but faced not the dungeon’s dark walls—but the pale golden light of a new dawn.

  She lay still, trying to understand where she was. Already the birds were chattering, and fragrant air flooded the chamber through the open colonnade. Certainly she was not at home. Had Irene taken her away? And where was her mother!

  Her eyes now focused clearly, and though she remained weak, her mind was alert. This was no dungeon, but neither was it her chamber in the Sacred Palace. It was a lower chamber in a summer palace, but whose?

  Everything came rushing back—the ambush by Bishop Basel’s soldiers…the trip to the monastery dungeon…Irene’s bodyguard, Rufus, to whom she had called out for help, pleading for him to send a message of her plight to Tancred—

  Tancred!

  It was he who had kept vigil during her illness, not Philip! She sat up, the sudden movement brought dizziness.

  The chamber was empty, but outside in the warm garden she heard him moving about. How long had he been with her? Hours? Days? How had he managed to get her out of the dungeon? The last hour they had held each other, she had asked him if he would find her again. “My dearest Helena, I vow it. I do not know the day or hour, but I shall return for you.”

  That precious hour had come sooner than she had expected. But she would not face him yet. Her appearance must be dreadful.

  She tossed the cover aside and staggered to her feet. Weakness enveloped her and she swayed, catching herself on a table. There was a gilded mirror and she frowned. One glimpse of her reflection brought despair. Her ankle-length tunic was rumpled and in need of washing. She had grown thinner and paler. Her dark hair hung in tangles giving her a childlike appearance. The bruise marks were visible on her skin.

  At the moment it did not occur to her that she was blessed to be alive. She thought only of how dreadful she looked and that she did not want to face Tancred, ignoring the obvious—that he had already seen her in this condition.

  She glanced about hastily. There would be a bath somewhere in this great house, and perhaps a woman’s summer wardrobe in the main chamber.

  The marble steps took every ounce of strength she had; she rested several times before going on. Above, she came across a small room with rugs and a low table, and beyond, a round marble tub with a running fountain. There were sweet-smelling spices and oils, and she bathed, then washed her hair.

  There was a sun garden past the alcove, and she went there to rest on the marble bench among the herbs and flowers. After weeks—or had it been months?—in the dungeon, the cleansing experience brought forth sighs of thankfulness to the Lord God above. She drank in the quiet beauty and the feel of warmth upon her skin. Soon she thought of nothing more but the peace of the moment and remained there until her hair was dry, giving thanks to God for sparing both her and Tancred, and interceding for the safety of her mother, Adrianna, and the child she expected. The child was due to be born soon—what evil thing did Irene have in mind? Philip would know. She must talk to him to find out! He must do something to safeguard the baby, as well as her mother.

  With her hair dried and in desperate need of brushing, she went off to find a clean garment. The women’s chamber was not difficult to find. Carpets decorated the floor, rich Byzantine wall hangings depicted hunting scenes of embroidered animals, and there was a large bed with brocade coverings.

  Helena found the wardrobe and donned a robe of dark blue silk and ivory. It was too large and she tied the waist with a gold-braided sash. May the owner of this garment not despise me for using it, she thought. A pearl-handled brush was on the table, and she hurriedly began brushing and then braiding her hair.

  As she worked she thought of Tancred. Had Rufus managed to get a message to him? Somehow the idea that it had been Philip was no longer feasible.

  Opening the chamber door, she stepped into the passage and beyond the stairs. Bardas was setting a low table with fresh fruits, bread, and cheese. The sight of her faithful bodyguard brought joy to her heart.

  “Bardas,” she cried, “Oh, I did not know you were here! You are safe! Thanks be to God! I thought—thought you had been killed in Kalid’s ambush at the peasant’s olive grove.”

  “Ah, Mistress, I was brought back from the olive tower with Master Philip. Rufus arranged for my escape.”

  Helena did not inquire as to why Philip had not arranged for his escape…and her own as well. She was aware of his emotional collapse after what occurred at the ambush. Before sending Helena to the dungeon, Irene had boasted of having her son Philip spied upon and of arranging to have Prince Kalid arrive to thwart their attempt to run away and be married against Irene’s plans.

  “Mistress, you are looking well again. This is a festive day!”

  “”Yes, and you must tell me everything that happened. Where is Tancred?”

  “He is with his two Norman cousins. They are looking for Master Nicholas. He hasn’t returned yet from a meeting he sought with Lady Irene concerning you and your mother.”

  Her joy at seeing Bardas evaporated as he explained how her uncle had come to seek their whereabouts from Irene. What if Irene had arrested Nicholas!

  “Do not worry, Mistress. We both know Nicholas to be a man who can outwit your aunt, or Bishop Basel if it comes to it. And he has only been gone three days.”

  “Three days?” Was that all? It seemed she had been struggling in and out of her fever for weeks, but Bardas told her they had arrived at the residence just a few days ago.

  He explained all that had happened while she ate, and Helena was surprised at her appetite. Her burdens became lighter again, and the smiling face of Bardas convinced her that the future would brighten now that Tancred was with her.

  “Have you the jewels I entrusted to you? Did you sew them into the garment?”

  “The garment is safe, but I did use an emerald to bribe the guard of the family that owns this house. It was Count Redwan’s idea,” he said, a hint of complement in his voice.

  Helena smiled. “The perfect place to rest and prepare for the journey to the Castle of Hohms.”

  Bardas brought his
tunic to her. “Everything remains sewn inside as you requested.”

  Helena was pleased that her idea had worked. “Did you say Tancred has gone into Constantinople?”

  “He ventured there, yes. Hoping to learn news of Master Nicholas.”

  “And our horses, and Apollo?” she asked of the prized horse she had given to Tancred when his own Alzira had been stolen by his cousin, Mosul.

  Safe, and waiting for your recovery. Count Redwan will be greatly pleased when he returns to see you up and well.”

  “Good.” She hesitated, thinking of her mother and Bishop Basel’s obsession with her. However, she could feel some peace in knowing that Basel, unlike Irene, would not harm her mother.

  “There is something you must do, Bardas. I must get a message to Philip to learn whether Irene is aware of the hide-away where Bishop Basel was likely to bring my mother until the birth of the baby. No one else must know, however. Disguise yourself in the monk’s robe and go to Philip.”

  “Mistress! Alas! Do you think it wise? Suppose the enemy is watching him, expecting you to send a message to Philip?”

  “Philip has proven his abiding friendship with me. You saw how he was willing to fight for me when Kalid arrived.”

  Bardas scowled. “He did not fight, Mistress, he—”

  “Enough, Bardas. I’ll not be content until I have learned all that is known about Bishop Basel’s plans and my mother. Is Philip strong enough to meet me at the Golden Horn?”

  “Yes, he is not bodily ill—but is this wise, Mistress? Count Redwan will heartily disapprove, and if I should do this thing he will accuse me of breaking my allegiance to him as my new seigneur!”

  She caught a breath of surprise. “You have sworn allegiance to Tancred rather than Philip?”

  “I have,” he said gravely. “I now know the Norman is a knight of honor, and that he is in truth a titled count from the Norman kingdom of Sicily. He has the courage of a tiger!”

  She laughed in spite of herself, pleased.

  “The Norman will not be pleased if you send me to Philip,” he stated again.

  “No, he will not,” she confessed. “But, he trusts me now about Philip. Tancred knows I do not love Philip, and he knows how I must learn where Bishop Basel has taken Adrianna!”

  Bardas, grieved and scowling, grumbled like a displeased dog but bowed stiffly and left the room for the garden…

  Behind the Veil / The Royal Pavilions book3 / Linda Chaikin

  Chapter4

  Betrayal

  Bardas, dressed as a monk, left the house by the back garden and stopped when he reached the gate. Here, he waited, pacing among the trees and flowering bushes. Where was the Norman knight? An hour passed before the sound of footsteps approached. He concealed himself until recognizing Tancred with a monk’s mantle thrown over his shoulders to cover his weapons. Bardas paused inside the gate until Tancred’s arrival.

  “Seigneur Redwan! I have been waiting for you! My mistress intends to sail to St. Symeon as soon as her mother is brought here by Master Nicholas. She sends me to make arrangements. In loyalty to you, I could not depart without telling you.”

  Tancred strode up and clasped his broad shoulder. “You did wisely, Friend. So then, your mistress is awake.”

  “She is awake and speedily recovering. She waits now for you near the fountain.”

  Tancred was pleased but uneasy. Already she was taking command.

  “Nicholas has not returned from the Sacred Palace, and until he does, there is no hope of discovering Lady Adrianna’s whereabouts. As for making arrangements on the wharf, I have already considered buying passage. But the arrangements cannot be made until the hour of our secret departure. We cannot fully trust those on the wharf with our plans. Spies are everywhere; so are men willing to betray for treasure.”

  “Aye, just so. And so I told her, but…there is something more she wishes of me,” and here Bardas paused and glanced over his shoulder toward the house. “She sent me also to get a message to Philip. She wishes to speak with him here.”

  Philip again! Tancred restrained his frustration. “One word to Philip and Irene will be on our trail. Even now, I’m not certain Philip’s doesn’t know where we are staying. There was a man trailing me from the city. I lost him, but there may be others.”

  “So I thought, and so—”

  Tancred, always alert, was hearing stealthy footsteps approaching from the direction he had just come. Bardas, too, tensed and stepped aside into the trees, hand on his sword-hilt.

  A guard stepped forward with caution. “Redwan?” he called in a low voice. “I come in peace. I bring news. It is urgent!”

  Tancred, cautious, gestured Bardas to remain concealed. Bardas withdrew, sword in readiness.

  “Speak!” Tancred said quietly.

  “I am the guard that Bardas paid to let you and Lady Lysander stay here.”

  “Come forward then, show yourself,” Tancred ordered.

  The man did so, his face tense, his eyes blinking.

  The nervous guard kept glancing back over his shoulder toward the wooded road.

  “What news do you bring?”

  “Your Norman cousin sends word to be on guard. He has noticed a slave prowling. He worries he may have come upon your concealed horses. He trailed after him, but he disappeared through the garden gate near the trees.”

  Tancred studied him for a moment. Was he lying? Was this a well-laid trap?

  Tancred glanced toward Bardas who slipped beside him and whispered, “This is the same one I paid the emerald to for his silence.”

  “But greed only grows. We must be cautious.” He turned to the house guard. “My cousin’s name, what is it?”

  “Leif Redwan,” he said without hesitation.

  Both of his cousins had been on watch during the night, Leif near the garden gate; Norris, farther away toward the road near the monastery. Bardas had been guarding the entrance nearest Helena’s chamber. The news of a slave slipping about was not good. Had the monk who aided them been forced to talk?

  Tancred could not depart yet! Nicholas was to arrive tonight, before they could buy passage and sail for St. Symeon.

  “Where is Leif now?”

  “Out searching,” he said nervously, “Making certain there are no more. I fear a slave was sent to ready the abode for Senator Lucian. Lucian may return unexpectedly. You must go—” the house guard hesitated, then turned toward the road. “Someone is coming.”

  Tancred held his blade, alert. Bardas did the same. The house guard slipped through the trees and was gone.

  Norris Redwan entered the gate and said quickly to Tancred, “Rufus waits for you. His son is injured. Bring your medical satchel and come.”

  “Rufus? What happened?”

  “His son who worked in the royal Library escaped, Rufus with him, and two soldiers. The woman Irene is searching for them. The soldiers say Joseph is injured badly.”

  “Rufus has long planned for this moment,” Bardas said. “Shall I get your satchel, Seigneur?”

  “Yes, be swift, Bardas.”

  “Where are they?” Tancred asked of Norris.

  “At the slave quarters, about five minutes from here among the trees.”

  Bardas came running up and Tancred took his medical satchel and followed after Norris. “Guard your mistress,” he told Bardas. “Remember that slave that Leif spotted spying about.”

  “A slave, spying?” Norris inquired. “I saw Leif twenty minutes ago and he said nothing of this.”

  Tancred stopped, and briefly told Norris what the house guard had communicated.

  Norris scowled, and Tancred grew uneasy. “If he had told me of someone other than Rufus and his son, I’d have cause to wonder.”

  Norris kept scowling and they walked on. Their boots crunched over the gravel walkway.

  “The sooner Nicholas arrives and we leave this place the better,” Tancred said quietly. The sun was breaking through the morning haze.

  A pri
vate mercenary soldier was waiting some hundred feet from the slave quarters. Seeing them, he walked forward.

  “Do you know him?” Norris inquired.

  “I have seen him with Rufus at the armory.”

  Tancred was concerned about whether his medical supplies were adequate. “How badly is he wounded?”

  “The messenger did not say.”

  “Did you actually see Rufus?” Tancred asked bluntly.

  “No, I”— Norris sucked in an incriminating breath. “Fool that I am!”

  Tancred glanced about the trees. He tossed his satchel to the bushes and unleashed his sword.

  Norris, looking confused, nevertheless followed suit. “What is it?” he breathed between his teeth, glancing about.

  Like a wolf smelling a trap, Tancred scanned the chinar trees. The soldier walking toward them hesitated, as though he noticed their suspicion.

  Tancred touched his cousin’s arm. “A trap. Quick! Away! Toward those trees—”

  Their action forced the hand of soldiers in hiding, who emerged from the trees on both sides of the path. Philip the Noble angrily pushed his way past his men. “Do not let them get away!”

  The soldiers rushed the two Normans. At once Tancred and Norris were fighting for their lives, dealing blow after blow to hold off the advancing soldiers in service to Philip. It was madness; they could not hope to survive. The fighting raged for a timeless period when suddenly Bardas rushed up with sword drawn and entered the onslaught. The sound of heavy blows of steel upon steel captured the morning. With Bardas beside Tancred and Norris on his left they fought for a clearing in which to escape back to the house. Soldiers lay gravely wounded, strewn across the path, but Philip stalked at a safe distance. His voice rang above the ringing steel and grunts of men: “Pursue them! After them! Do not let them escape!”

  One bold young Byzantine lunged with gritted teeth at Tancred who struck past his sword and smashed the side of his head.