by S A Monk
The encounter was brief, and after the two Templars departed, Gabrielle turned to Hazir to question him about Lucien de Aubric.
"Brother Lucien is an uncommon man," her elder friend elaborated. "Though he is a Templar, he has true concern for our people. Like you, he has made many friends among us, but he also has some very dangerous enemies. He is a warrior of much renown, and yet he walks easily between both worlds here in this divided land. I am proud to call him friend."
"He told me his mother was a Moor."
"Quite true. Though he was raised a Christian, he was taught something of his mother’s Islamic religion, as well. I think that makes it difficult for him at times."
"So he is a man of conscience and conviction?"
"He is that," the aging Arab replied without hesitation. "He would be a good man to turn to for help, if one needed it."
Gabrielle assumed the advice was meant for her. "He is a religious man, a monk," she reminded her friend. "Templars are supposed to have nothing to do with women. Did you not see how his fellow monk appeared to disapprove of our conversation?"
Hazir smiled at his friend. "Lucien de Aubric is his own man.”
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At the end of the week, Lucien decided to pay a visit to his Hospitaller friend, Giles de Chancery. Motivated by his promise to come by, he was looking forward to catching up with Brother Giles on what had transpired in Jerusalem during his absence. His friend was a reliable source of information. But in his heart, Lucien knew the real reason for his visit to the Hospitaller preceptory. He wanted to see Gabrielle de Châtillon again. He wasn’t a man who was dishonest with himself. Despite the dangerous nature of his interest in her, he had not been able to put her from his mind.
She was a beautiful woman, and he was still a man beneath his monk's robes. But he had admired beautiful women before, and though he had strayed from his vows a couple of times, he had tried hard, for the most part, to uphold them. Guy and Sibylla's court was full of lovely women. Many were completely unscrupulous, too promiscuous and hedonistic to refrain from tempting men of God. And he walked the corridors of the palace in Jerusalem too frequently to go unnoticed.
But his vows meant something to him, and he had eventually learned to be more determinedly disciplined. In his particular duties, though, he could not avoid temptation the way his more protected brothers could. As the Order’s spymaster, he moved among his secular brethren at will, both friend and foe, gathering information to help defend the kingdom.
The Order of the Temple operated on impunity, answerable only to the Pope himself, but in order to function effectively, it needed to know not only what the Saracens were up to, but also what all the political factions of Outremer were up to, as well.
After the conquest of Jerusalem in 1097, four Latin States had been carved out of the region, Jerusalem, being the most important, then Edessa, Antioch, and Tripoli. Now over eighty-five years later, the Christian Kingdom of God stretched from Antioch in the far north to Ascalon in the south. The coastal cities were in the hands of the Franks, but they had not been able to expand their kingdom into Damascus, Jazira, or Egypt. There was never enough fighting men, and always too much feuding between the nobility. The powerful barons of the all the kingdoms reluctantly served a central throne in Jerusalem, but they continually tried to wrest that power from the monarch.
When the kingdom was blessed with strong rulers, the barons were quiet. When they were cursed with weak ones, like now, they struggled mightily for superiority, each with their own selfish agenda. Then into the mix came the churchmen; the bishops, the archbishops, and the patriarch of Jerusalem, who was nearly as powerful as the Pope in Rome. Their interests were sometimes divinely motivated, sometimes worldly motivated. The current patriarch, Heraclius, was as temporal as they came. But, regardless of their motivation, they always wanted a role to play in all political and military decisions. And, as many a Grand Master of both military orders had eventually found out, there was hell to pay if they ignored their prelate brothers.
Established within a decade or so after the seizure of Jerusalem, the military orders considered themselves the only Latin standing army in Palestine. Rarely were they in agreement about anything, but when called to arms, they always fought, without fail, side-by-side.
For the past eighty-five years, waves of men from the West had traveled to Palestine to free it from the infidel. Only a handful of lesser nobility had stayed in the Levant after taking up the cross. They compromised a meager third of the population, compared to the indigenous Orientals, Muslims, Christians, and Jews.
The majority of Franks who landed on the shores of Outremer came and went, uncommitted enough to settle in Palestine. All they really promoted were the waves of Christian pilgrims that followed in their wake, thinking the Holy Land was now safe to visit.
A few men and some of the frontier families, like Raymond III of Tripoli, the Ibelins of Nablus, the Montferrats of Sidon, and the Courtneys of Galilee believed that their relationships with the Muslims did not always have to be rooted in conflict and warfare. Like them, Lucien believed they could work a little harder toward peaceful coexistence. This worldly kingdom of Christ did not have to flow red with the blood of martyrs, though there were men on both sides who believed nothing else was possible.
As a whole, the Knights of the Temple of Jerusalem were such men; fanatical supporters of military control of the Holy Land. Many of its leaders believed the bloodier the conflict, the better. Lucien did not always hold the same view, but as their chief intelligence officer, he was required to spy on Christian and Muslim alike. He no longer worked undercover, behind enemy lines, as he had done in the beginning when Master Torroja had assigned him the task, but he traveled far and wide, managing and controlling the Order’s vast network of spies.
He operated informants everywhere; at the court in Jerusalem, in the homes of the nobility, the towns and villages, the ports, and the various fortresses and houses of the military orders. His network stretched into Saladin's camps and strongholds. Information was gathered from all over the realm. He even had a contact at Rashid al Din Sinan’s headquarters in the north. Not even the fanatical sect of Syrian Assassins or Hashshashin could hide from his web of eyes and ears.
Sabotage was not the job Lucien had come to the Holy Land to perform, but he excelled at it. He could easily pass for a Saracen when dressed as one. He was nearly as dark as the native peoples with his black hair, dark brown eyes, and dark golden skin. He spoke the languages of the region fluently, and he was familiar with most of their customs and habits. He knew the Koran as well as the Bible. He never traveled with a companion, the way all of his brothers did. He did not tonsure his hair, nor grow his beard overly long because he still traveled into enemy territory occasionally.
His life was a solitary one, and it had suited him well enough for the most part, though he often felt torn between his dual heritages.
He had learned to respect his enemy. He called many Muslims friends, and he understood and even sympathized with their hatred of the occupation of their land. He was idealistic enough to wish for a better relationship between the two races, but practical enough to know it probably would not occur on this earth. They were too divided, despite men like Saladin, who was more enlightened and merciful than his predecessors.
How could peace ever have a chance with men in command like the current Grand Master of the Temple and Gabrielle's ambitiously greedy husband, Reynald de Châtillon? And last year, they had lost the leadership of a man Lucien had deeply respected, Baldwin IV. Despite his debilitating disease, Baldwin had been a worthy King of Jerusalem. Even Saladin had respected him. When not bed-ridden by his leprosy, he had led his countrymen with honor and intelligence.
Unfortunately, the current king did not walk well in his brother-in-law’s shoes. Crowned by his wife, Queen Sibylla, sister of Baldwin IV, this past October after a bloodless coup, Guy of Lusignan was respected by few men in the kingdom, most especially Lucie
n's friend Count Raymond of Tripoli.
Before Baldwin IV had died, he had made Raymond regent of his underage nephew Baldwin V, Sibylla's sickly son. Awaiting word from Rome on who would be the next King of Jerusalem, Raymond had tried to fulfill Baldwin IV's wishes that Guy of Lusignan, Sibylla's second husband, not be put on the throne. Then young Baldwin V had died this past August.
Raymond had sent the little king's body to be buried in Jerusalem, while he stayed in Tiberius, the seat of his wife’s southern fief. With the underhanded support of Gérard de Ridefort and Reynald de Châtillon, Acre and Beirut were seized in Sibylla's name, while she and her knights met in Jerusalem. The Templar Grand Master and the Lord of Oultrejourdan, Reynald de Châtillon, had watched supportively while the Patriarch of Jerusalem, Heraclius, had crowned Sibylla in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. She, in turn, had then placed the crown of the kingdom on her husband’s head.
Her half-sister, Isabella, had been outwitted in her plot for the throne, though at fourteen, her enthusiasm had been manufactured by a second group within the kingdom that sought power. Nevertheless, that faction's power evaporated when Isabella's comely youthful bridegroom made a secret alliance with Guy and Sibylla in Jerusalem. Humphrey of Toron's defection ended the rebellion and cemented the success of the coup.
Now, three months later, most of the opposing parties had made their peace with the new rulers, although Raymond was still seething in Tiberius, refusing to accept the powerful Court Party's triumph. It was rumored that he was considering establishing a separate truce with Saladin. And, while that was his right as Lord of Tiberius and Tripoli, it would be dangerous.
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 frie
nd."
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.
