by S A Monk
There were times when Gabrielle found the opulence of the royal house romantically enchanting, and others when she found it an oppressive over-indulgence. Today, she was ambivalent, for part of her was dreading the evening and part of her was filled with unprecedented anticipation.
When she entered the great reception hall where the meal and entertainment were to take place, her attention went straight to the large assembly of white-robed warrior monks. Their current Grand Master, Gérard de Ridefort, was a particular friend of King Guy. Along with her husband, he had been primarily instrumental in putting the French nobleman on the throne. It was even rumored that he had personally chosen the Frenchman for Sibylla and arranged to have him brought over from his homeland.
Nearby, the contingent of Hospitaller monks, in their distinctive black and white attire, was taking their seats at the tables set aside for them. The tables for the two Orders took up one whole side of the dining area, creating a sea of black and white and brown. But it was not their habits which set them apart, Gabrielle knew. It was their politics, as well. And yet one monk, the one she secretly searched for, seemed to walk easily between the two.
Though she had yet to spot Lucien de Aubric, she knew he would attend this affair. Or at least, she desperately hoped he would. And was that not pathetic? Was she so desperate for kindness and consideration that she would seek the attention of man vowed to a monastic way of life?
Reynald and her father had walked into the hall with her, but were beginning to move away when an attendant came up to them and directed all three to the long table in the front of the room that was reserved for the most favored guests. To her relief, Reynald and Armand were seated to the left, within two chairs of where King Guy would sit, while Gabrielle was seated to the right, several down from where Queen Sibylla would sit.
The Templar Grand Master intercepted Reynald as soon as he approached the royal table. Together they moved down the dais. Gabrielle almost laughed aloud at their silent challenge to one another as to who was going to take the seat at the right hand of the king. Her husband finally conceded it to Master de Ridefort with a small nod of his graying head, but he looked none too happy about it.
Poor Reynald, she thought as she watched him with silent amusement. He so wanted to be a king or even a prince again. He had everything else. More power was the only thing left to attain.
She reluctantly supposed he looked like a king, with his leonine build and head of thick grey hair. He was two heads taller than her father and a head taller than Master de Ridefort.
He was well-built in spite of his age, broad and heavily muscled still,. His size had never boded well for Gabrielle. She shuddered, remembering only too well how he loved
to intimidate her with it. Damn him, but he did not look close to the three score years he was. He was as robust as ever, making her wonder, as she often did, if evil men ever succumbed to ill health.
Disgusted with herself for even thinking about him, she moved into her seat at the long table that overlooked the entire room. The contingent of Templars began to take their seats, following their master’s example. As they did so, Gabrielle finally spotted Lucien de Aubric.
Much to her surprise, he didn’t bother sitting with his brethren, but walked across the room, straight toward her. After eyeing his choice of seats, he chose one at a table that had been placed at a right angle to the table of honor. It put him directly in front of her, only at a slightly lower level. His friend, the knight she remembered as Brother Conrad, took a seat next to him. The look on the German knight’s bearded face was one of grim resignation.
Brother Lucien greeted her with a twinkle in his dark eyes and a broad, slashing smile.
Gabrielle returned his greeting with a quieter, more reserved smile, still a little overcome that he had abandoned his brethren to boldly sit near her. If he was an ordinary knight, there would have been nothing wrong with his choice of seat. But he was a monk, more specifically a Templar monk. Everyone knew they were not allowed to talk to women socially. He should have been sitting with the knot of Templars seated below their Grand Master. Surely, his rogue behavior would be frowned upon. His companion certainly did not look too pleased.
Further flaunting propriety, Lucien de Aubric complemented her on her appearance. "It is good to see you again, Lady de Châtillon. You look very nice."
Very nice? Lucien thought. She was easily the most stunning woman in the room! Her garments shimmered around her, giving her a glow in the candlelight that was breathtaking. And in spite of the sad fact that all of her glorious hair was completely hidden, her elaborately twisted turban framed her exquisite face to perfection. The moment he had seen her walk in with her aging husband, he had been struck by an intense wave of resentment. What a crime it was that she belonged to a reprobate like Reynald de Châtillon!
It had been a relief to at least see her seated so far away from him. He looked that way and saw that her husband was looking toward another woman who had just entered the hall. Lady de Milly. A pale shadow compared to the beauty sitting at the table above him.
Lucien caught the eye of Gérard de Ridefort. One bushy grey eyebrow lifted in censorious inquiry. Lucien scoffed silently. The old bastard had little room to censor him or anyone else. He was a pale moral shadow compared to his predecessor, Master Torroja.
Before he returned his attention to Gabrielle de Châtillon, he glanced at his companion. From the stiff set of his facial features, he could tell the young German knight considered Lucien's choice of seat foolhardy.
Lucien took pity on his friend. He didn't want him to suffer any reprisals for being with him. "Go sit with our brothers," he suggested. "I will be fine here for a short while."
Brother Conrad shot Gabrielle a quick look and warned in a low tone. "You tread dangerously, my friend. Be careful."
"Always." Lucien grinned recklessly. "But I believe I will be safe enough with the queen's lovely ladies."
Conrad was a tall man with moderately long reddish blond hair and a matching beard.
Lucien had known him since the German had come to Outremer four years ago. He and Conrad found many things in common, but blind devotion to the Order and its Rule was not one of them. Lucien knew Conrad worried that his irreverence and independence would one day jeopardize his status in the Brotherhood. No doubt his fears held more than a little merit.
The German responded to his remark about the queen’s lovely ladies with a roll of his eyes, then rose from the bench and walked across the room to join the large group of Templar knights and sergeants who had been invited to celebrate King Guy's birthday.
Lucien meanwhile was determined to enjoy Lady de Châtillon's company. He returned his attention to her and saw her studying him. She looked perplexed by his presence.
God's bones! She made his pulse quicken! He was indeed on dangerous ground around her.
Gabrielle met his dark eyes and wondered if he was sitting close because of her, or if he was here to indulge in a little flirtation with the queen's ladies. She had heard his response to his friend. Was Lucien de Aubric one of those Templars who held to his vows of chastity only if it was convenient? Over the years, Gabrielle had seen more than a few Templars enjoy her husband's licentious entertainments at Kerak. Sadly, there was no shortage of priests and prelates who broke their vows to satisfy their baser appetites. Many men who took the cross in the West came to Palestine and indulged liberally in all the exotic temptations the East had to offer.
Gabrielle wasn't sure how people behaved in the West since she had never lived there or even traveled there, but it often seemed as if the Holy Land was far from holy for many of the Franks. Or it could be, she thought ruefully, that she had lived too long with men who failed to live by any code of honor; men like her husband and father. Their corrupt code was despicably simple. Whatever they wanted, they took.
Thoughts of her husband sent Gabrielle's gaze across the room to him. Lady Silvia had finally found him and was standing besid
e him, talking to him. Every once in the while the woman's eyes would shift to her. Gabrielle was not bothered by her speculative looks or her interest in Reynald. The widowed Silvia of Milly had freed her from seven years of hell. The heiress shared Reynald's greed and decadence, and had kept him away from Gabrielle since their liaison had begun. But his attention had begun to stray back to her of late, and that worried her.
Reynald was not interested in resuming a marital relationship with her. Of that, Gabrielle was certain. He had grown tired of her long before they had parted ways. Not for the first time, Gabrielle wondered if Reynald had some sinister reason for wanting her under his eye again.
She shuddered unconsciously and turned away from her troubled study of her husband.
"Are you well, Lady de Châtillon?" Brother Lucien inquired with a perceptive look.
She smiled for him. "I am fine, thank you, Brother de Aubric."
"How are your charges since last I saw you?" he checked, scooting closer.
"They are still talking about being rescued by the soldiers in white. I think they found the whole affair rather exciting. One of the older boys even wants to become a Templar when he grows up. They would like you to come back to play stick ball with us."
Lucien’s beard sometimes hid his smile, but Gabrielle could see it in his expressive eyes.
"I think I could arrange a game of stickball. You made it look great fun." He laughed. "I can't remember the last time I played a game or did anything simply for fun."
As the seats beside her began to fill with women, Gabriella was acutely aware of all the female heads that turned Brother Lucien’s way. The sparkle of amusement in his dark, glittering eyes had them all mesmerized, including her.
His handsomely chiseled face was singularly attractive, even when it was set in his usual intense, slightly menacing expression. But when he smiled or laughed, his dark good looks were transformed into breathtaking male beauty.
Lashes that were too long and thick for a man lifted to unveil eyes that could steal a woman's soul. There wasn't a woman at this end of the table, young or old, that wasn't staring openly at him now.
Aware of the attention they were drawing, Gabrielle was growing increasingly uneasy. Feeling her face heat with much more than self-consciousness, she was relieved to find respite in the entrance of the royal couple.
Everyone rose as King Guy and Queen Sibylla strode up to their places of honor. Both were regally dressed in sumptuous silk brocades that reflected Byzantine designs.
Before the royal couple sat down, the Queen, who was a fetching woman of an age with Gabrielle, greeted those near her, including Gabrielle, then turned her attention to Lucien de Aubric, who stood taller than the men and women around him. "I understand from the tongue waggers that we have you to thank for the valiant rescue of our dear friend, Lady de Châtillon," Sibylla said, smiling at Lucien. "As always Brother de Aubric, we commend your valor."
Guy Lusignan echoed his wife's gratitude and praise. "Your chivalry is indeed commendable, frère. My wife would be deeply upset if she lost her most esteemed friend. What she has done for the orphans of the kingdom has even caught the attention of Sultan Saladin." The King, a handsome man not much older than his wife, looked at Gabrielle and smiled. "Ah, I see that you did not know, Lady Gabrielle, of the sultan's favorable notice." Then King Guy slid his gaze to the Templar still standing before him. "What think you, Lucien de Aubric? Will Saladin soften toward us because of this lady's brave acts of charity?"
"I would hope so, your highness."
"What? Have you heard nothing of this?" the King laughed. "You are the realm's greatest spy. Your intelligence is indispensable to us. Come you, frère! We could not function without it. Surely, you are more privy to Saladin's words and actions than anyone in this room."
"How I wish that was so!" Lucien laughed. "I cannot lay claim to having heard about Saladin's knowledge of Madame de Châtillon's virtuous endeavors, but I have no doubt they would soften even his heart, for the lady deserves much merit for her courage and steadfastness with these foundling children." Lucien looked to the lady in question and saw how embarrassed she was by all the lavish attention. Attempting to turn the royal couple away from them both, he congratulated the king on his thirtieth birthday, tactfully omitting how old his sovereign was.
The rest of the room took up the congratulations and the royal couple took their seats, relieving Gabrielle and Lucien of their attention.
As soon as the servers arrived at the table with the food, Lucien took his leave with a chivalrous bow to the king and queen. Then he gave Gabrielle a brief bow before departing. As he walked away to rejoin his brethren at their table below the Grand Master, Lucien saw the deep scowl on his superior's ruddy face. It was matched by an equal one on Reynald de Châtillon's. Gabrielle's father looked as angry as his companions.
Lucien didn't have to guess why they appeared furious. There was nothing in any of the king's or queen's comments that would have pleased them. And because the king had greeted Lucien before the Grand Master, de Ridefort was likely seething. Well, Lucien thought, it wouldn't be the first time he had garnered the Master's fury, nor would it be the last. Lucien had known for a long time that the two of them were on a collision course.
Gérard de Ridefort was not a career Templar like his mentor and friend, Arnold de Torroja, had been. De Ridefort had come to the Levant in the early seventies, and he had taken service as a knight in Count Raymond of Tripoli's employ. When the count had failed to deliver a wealthy heiress to de Ridefort as had been promised, Gérard had become a bitter enemy and opponent of Count Raymond.
After serving as marshal of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, he had joined the Order a mere five years before becoming its Grand Master. There had been much dissension at his election, and Lucien had clearly voiced his disapproval. But by the time the man had taken his post as supreme leader of the Brotherhood, Lucien had firmly established himself as the highest ranking intelligence officer within the monastic fraternity. His post gave him unusual freedom. And because of the indispensability of his task and the reliability of his information, he was seldom challenged or disciplined.
Lucien had a feeling that was going to change. The Grand Master and Reynald Châtillon were of identical minds politically and militarily. Both strongly favored unbridled aggression against the Muslims. Both were fanatically zealous in their pursuit of it, and both had tremendous influence with King Guy. They also both hated Count Raymond III of Tripoli and his political faction, of which Lucien and the Hospitallers were adherents, though Lucien tried to keep his political views out of his intelligence work.
Lucien and Reynald also had a long, unpleasant history. It went back nearly a decade to the battle at Montisgard in 1178. Newly knighted and fully invested as a Templar, Lucien had participated in the rout that sent Saladin's army running back to Egypt. Reynald had commanded a division under King Baldwin IV. Because of the king's youth, Reynald had outrageously usurped the king's authority repeatedly during the campaign. The overwhelming victory had enabled Baldwin to overlook his vassal's arrogant conduct, but Lucien had been angered and shocked by the disrespect shown the sovereign.
Six months later, Lucien had again fought beside the courageous young king. Baldwin had personally requested that Lucien, who had fought heroically at Montisgard, serve as a member of his personal bodyguard. He’d been beside the king during his campaign to oust Saladin's militant nephew from the Valley of Banyas. Near the entrance to the valley, the Christian troops were taken by surprise. The king had escaped to safety only because of Lucien's bravery and protection.
Coveting action and glory, Reynald had urged Odo de Saint Amand, Master Torroja’s predecessor, to attack a large Egyptian army division that was led by Saladin's son. Vastly outnumbered, the Christians were swiftly defeated. Baldwin, recovering from the near disaster of his recent offensive nearby, had not been informed of the attack, as he should have been. Consequently, he was unable to regroup quickly
enough to intervene. Not only were hundreds of Christian knights and monks killed and captured, but Baldwin was placed in personal jeopardy and had to flee for his life across the Litani River. Again, the young king had nearly lost his life except for the intercession of his bodyguards.
Reynald's impetuous quest for battle and glory had cost many lives that day and the capture of the Temple's Grand Master.
Lucien and Reynald had not crossed paths in a long while, although de Châtillon's intelligence network among the Bedouins sometimes dangerously interfered with Lucien's objectives. For the most part, though, Reynald had been busy raiding and plundering the Arab lands that bordered his fief of Oultrejourdan.
His calamitous naval expedition into the Red Sea three years ago had shocked the Islamic world and audaciously challenged Saladin's reputation as Protector of the Holy Places. Reynald's troops had come disturbingly close to Mecca with the intent of stealing Allah's corpse in order to bring it back to the Christians for desecration. Saladin's brother had held them back, but the raid had made de Châtillon a marked man.
Then a month ago, de Châtillon had seized a large Muslim caravan traveling from Egypt to Syria. All of the Egyptian guards had been killed and the merchants and their families captured and sold into slavery. It had been a violation of the truce Raymond of Tripoli had established with Saladin after Baldwin's death. Saladin had demanded reparation for the raid, and King Guy had ordered Reynald to make amends, but the barbarian had ignored him. The sultan now considered de Châtillon his bitterest enemy. The price on his head was huge.
To Lucien and many others, Reynald de Châtillon was a brigand; a rogue of the most dangerous kind. Gérard de Ridefort was definitely his co-conspirator. Both men were egotistical, foolhardy, and fanatical. Their ruthless manipulations had culminated in the coup in November, and all their despicable acts had propelled the kingdom significantly closer to war. Based on the intelligence Lucien had gathered, a full war with Saladin was inevitable. It was no longer a question of if it would happen, but when.
