by S A Monk
The countess was giving rapid-fire directions to all the inside servants regarding the placement and tending of the injured. The count turned the supervision of the dead over to the archbishop, who had also ridden in with them.
Gabrielle saw Lucien and paled. He was covered in gore and blood; the only blessing being that his tunic was black and therefore hid some of it. She reached out for him. “Are you hurt?” she asked desperately.
“Nay, none of this,” he said with a grim sweep of his hand, “is mine.”
Gabrielle took his helmet from him, set it on the ground, and reached up to help him pull his mail coif off his head. His dark hair was plastered with sweat. His face was streaked with grime, and his hands were coated with dried blood, but Gabrielle wanted to throw her arms around him and cry for joy. She had been so worried for him all day!
He took her hand, and stared at how clean and soft it was. Such purity and grace!
“Gabrielle, Brother Giles is among the dead.” There was no way to soften the news of her long-time friend’s fate. “I am told he died quickly and cleanly, in defense of his Master, who is also dead. All the Hospitallers are dead, as well as all but a handful of Templars.”
“Mon Dieu!” she cried out in anguish as she dropped her head onto his upper arm. “Brother Giles and his companions were all such good men.” She looked toward the Templar Grand Master, who was dismounting slowly. “I see your illustrious leader suffered little harm,” she added bitterly.
“Fools usually do escape, while others pay the ultimate price for their idiocy.”
“Come inside, sir, and get cleaned up. I will help you, then see to the injured.”
Lucien stopped her with a hand on her forearm. When he saw the blood print it left, he drew back appalled.
“Do not worry about it,” she dismissed with a gentle smile. “Come. I will order water and a bath.”
“Gabrielle, some of the men are sorely injured. It may not be a pretty sight,” he warned her.
“I have seen blood and gore before. It is never pretty to see what men can do to one another in battle. I will be fine.”
Lucien felt her hand on the small of his back as she turned him toward the giant double doors of the keep. It was a great relief to know that he was not alone in dealing with the day’s terrible losses. God help him, he wanted this; to receive comfort from her and give her comfort; to never be alone again, to share life’s tragedies and joys!
“De Aubric!” Gerard de Ridefort bellowed angrily behind him. “Prepare yourself to leave,” he demanded to Lucien’s back just as he turned to enter the keep.. “As soon as my wounded are tended to, you will be going with me.”
Lucien had not spoken to the Grand Master since he had come upon the battlefield and found so many injured and dead. He had not trusted himself to speak to him. Now all his rage came pouring out in a feral growl as he spun around and glowered at the man coming up the steps.
“De Ridefort, you bloody bastard! Look what you have wrought?” Lucien roared with a sweep of his hand to encompass the body strewn yard. “You have squandered the lives of our men unnecessarily, all to serve your damnable pride and zealotry! You have cost the kingdom scores of fighting men that we desperately need right now. By God, I want to kill you for this, you fool!”
The Grand Master went red with rage. His hands fisted at his sides, and for a moment, Gabrielle thought he would strike Lucien down. The Templar leader looked at her malevolently, and she took a step back to stand slightly behind Lucien. The man was so furious, she placed a hand on Lucien’s shoulder blade in support.
“Seize them, both!” de Ridefort bellowed. “Seize de Aubric and the adulteress!”
Behind de Ridefort, there were four Templar sergeants. They moved up the steps to carry out their leader’s orders. Count Raymond’s sons and Hazir’s nephews, who stood nearby on the wide steps, immediately stepped in front of Lucien and Gabrielle, withdrawing swords and daggers. They were soon joined by the count and two of his guards. Lord Ibelin moved closer.
“I have told you, de Ridefort, you will not be arresting Lucien or Lady de Châtillon in my house!” Count Raymond warned angrily.
The Grand Master was out-numbered and out-flanked. He swore heatedly as he stared at Lucien. “Rest assured we will meet again, de Aubric,” he growled furiously. Then his gaze fell to Gabrielle. “I will see that Reynald comes to fetch you, woman. You have caused enough harm here.”
Lucien edged through the men who supported him. “Lady de Châtillon is the cause of nothing here, de Ridefort.”
“She is, and we are not finished!”
“Maybe not, but you will leave the lady alone.” Lucien stood nearly nose to nose with his former superior, his big body clenched in barely suppressed rage. “She is of no concern to you, now or ever. My withdrawal from the Brotherhood had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with your reprehensible leadership. You are not above judgment, brother.”
“My God, you insolent bastard! You dare to talk to me that way?”
“I have always done what was right for the kingdom. What have you done, but injure and weaken it? These deaths are on your head, de Ridefort!”
“By God! I will have you arrested for this!”
“I think not.” At that Lucien turned his back and walked away, leaving the Grand Master seething impotently on the steps of his former lord’s keep.
+++
It was nearing midnight by the time Gabrielle finally climbed the stairs to her room. Along with all the other women in the castle, she had spent the entire evening tending to the wounded. Brother Conrad would be able to depart with his Grand Master tomorrow. Too many others had not fared so well and had joined their brethren, Templar and Hospitaller alike, in the past few hours. Preparing the dead to be buried, either in their respective commanderies had been the worst work of the evening.
Gabrielle had helped tend to the body of Brother Giles. He was going to be transported back to Jerusalem to be buried in his commandery, after which an election for a new Grand Master would be held. It had been heartbreaking to see her dear friend lying dead on one of the trestle tables below. He had been her closest friend for the past five years. Many times, Giles had been her confidante and even her confessor, though he had not been an ordained priest. His support had been indispensable. Dear God, but she would miss her gentle-hearted friend!
At midnight, the countess had told her to retire for the night. As she wearily climbed the stairs, she imagined Lucien was soundly asleep. She had not seen him after he had retired to his room hours ago. In her own chambers, she washed the blood from herself, then changed into the nightgown Lucien had given her. Once she donned her robe, she headed for his room. She could not sleep until she looked upon his beloved face at least.
The only light in the room came from a fat candle that marked the nocturnal hours. The lines that scored the wax showed the hour to be after matins. Gabrielle’s tired body and grieving spirit told her it was indeed that late.
Lucien was indeed sound asleep, sprawled on his back, in the center of his bed. He had gone to bed clothed in breeches and a thin unbleached linen shirt, which at the moment hung loose over his hips and was open wide at the neck. His arms were flung out beside him, and one leg was bent and angled toward the edge of the bed. His feet were bare. His dark hair was tousled, and his ink black lashes rested thickly on his chiseled face. Fine black hairs dusted his chest where his shirt was unlaced. Though he should have been, he wasn’t snoring, and Gabrielle laughed silently at that, concluding that he must be as chivalrous in sleep as he was awake.
His silky thick hair had fallen over his brow, and she ached to push it back. In truth, she ached to lie down with him. He had been with her the past two nights, and she had grown accustomed to his nearness. She’d felt safe and protected in his arms; nothing seemed capable of hurting her when she was with him. She’d lived in fear and misery for so long, it was heaven to be treated with such solicitude.
But
last night their relationship had ventured past simple concern and gallantry, and Gabrielle was far from unhappy about the direction it was going. With Lucien, she had hope that physical intimacy with a man could be all the minstrels and bards often sang about. The pleasure she had experienced in his arms promised something new and wonderful. She anticipated exploring it with him, but not tonight.
Tonight, she would just like to lie beside him and maybe hold him. He had lost good friends today, and he’d been full of grief, rage, and bitterness this evening. He truly was a man who felt things deeply. He was eons removed from her vicious husband.
Having made up her mind, Gabrielle walked to the door that opened onto the hallway and bolted it. Master de Ridefort had been given a room off the great hall downstairs. He was too close for Gabrielle’s comfort. She did not want him walking in on Lucien and have yet another grievance to lie at his feet.
The pompous old bastard! She would have liked to tell everyone tonight what a hypocrite he was. She should have!
Dropping her robe over the high footboard at the end of the bed, Gabrielle slid onto the mattress next to Lucien. He stirred and turned toward her, but did not awaken. She pressed a feather light kiss to his brow, then snuggled against him and pulled the blankets over them both.
+++
Lucien awoke at his usual early hour, startled to find Gabrielle curled up next to him. He was shocked to think he had not heard or felt her get into bed with him. He was normally a light sleeper and could come to immediate alertness if he had to. He truly must have been exhausted last night not to have felt her presence.
But it was not unwelcome. Waking up to her was a great joy. He stared at her beautiful sleeping face and smiled, glad that she had chosen to come to him last night. This was where he wanted her, close beside him.
Her hair had come nearly free of her sleeping braid, and it flowed around her in soft disarray. He could not resist caressing the gold shot strands. They were so fine and so soft. Wisps curled enchantingly around her delicately shaped face. One of these days they were going to be able to lie together without concern for the coming day, but unfortunately not this day.
With de Ridefort threatening to take Gabrielle and him back to Jerusalem, they needed to be gone from here, and he had a job to do yet. Last night he had decided that he was going to take Gabrielle with him when he left today.
With a full heart, he leaned in to place a kiss on her lips. When she only smiled and snuggled deeper into the covers, he gently shook her shoulder. “Gabi, wake up.”
“Ummm…. Why?” She peeked at him drowsily through slitted eyes and frowned, not fully alert. “It’s barely dawn.”
“True, but we need to get up and be on our way.” She was so pretty in the morning, all soft and sweet and tempting. His willpower to leave the bed was sorely tested. His mind and body too easily imagined pulling her against him to explore all her delightful secrets.
Gabrielle reluctantly awoke, stretched, and finally scooted up onto the pillows. The high, carved headboard at her back was cold against her bare arms and thinly covered shoulders. She crossed her arms over one another and shivered.
“Where are we on our way to?” she asked with a yawn as Lucien swung off the bed and headed toward the chest that held his clothes.
“Eventually Damascus,” he replied as he knelt down on one knee to search through the chest. With his dark head bent over the carved wooden container, he pulled out the loose-legged trousers and tunic he had worn beneath his desert robes on the journey here.
Gabrielle frowned. “That sounds dangerous right now.”
He looked over his shoulder at her. “It is, but it is safer than leaving you here. With de Ridefort threatening to take you back to Reynald, you would be too vulnerable alone. If he does not try to seize both of us today, he will surely send men back to take us. Raymond needs to mend his differences with King Guy. He cannot afford to give you sanctuary against the king’s men. And with the Brothers of the Hospital in disorder after the death of their Grand Master, would not be much protection in Jerusalem.”
When he had acquired the last pieces of clothing he needed, he rose and came back to the bed to lay them all out. “I cannot afford to take you back there, at any rate. I need to conduct some surveillance in the region, then meet with my informants in Damascus. The king will need an accurate assessment of Saladin’s troop build-up and some advance warning about where they will strike first.”
Gabrielle watched as he pulled his thin linen sleep tunic over his head and reached for the clean undertunic on the bed. She had to bite her lower lip to keep from gasping. Every inch of his torso rippled with hard-earned muscle. His skin was only a shade less dark below his neck. The well-defined bronze contours of his upper body revealed his magnificent strength and his dual heritage.
The momentary sight of his naked chest stole her breath. He had an imposingly sculpted body, though her glimpse of it had been much too brief. “Surely, you do not need me hindering your work,” she said, scooting to the center of the bed as he slipped the fresh tunic over his head. “I will only be in the way, and be useless baggage.” Reynald and her father had often reminded her of that fact.
Lucien stopped what he was doing and sat down on the edge of the bed to look at her. “You will not be in the way. Nor will you be useless baggage,” he assured her with a smile that deepened the grooves at the corners of his mouth. “I have friends in Damascus who will welcome us into their home. You speak Arabic as well as a native, and can pass for one as well as I can.” He lifted one hand and trailed his fingers down her bare arm, from shoulder to wrist, catching her hand in his when he reached it. “Besides, I have a couple I want you to meet in Damascus who have agreed to help you place your Muslim orphans. Dress as a Muslim and leave your Western clothing here.”
She loved the warm strength of his hand over hers. No man had ever held her hand, except to drag her somewhere. When Lucien did it, it was with such tenderness. “You want me to travel with you for however long it takes you to conclude your business?” She truly wanted to go with him, but thought that there could be harmful consequences afterwards as a result, especially for him. She was still a married woman, and he was still probably a Templar, despite his renunciation of his vows.
Lucien stared at her, guessing the reasons for her concern. “It is an unusual request, I know. But your life continues to be in danger, and there is no one to properly protect you against your very powerful husband and Master de Ridefort.”
“Only you,” she told him with quiet conviction.
His face held a hint of embarrassment. “I will continue to try.”
“You have succeeded very well so far.”
He held her soft, blue-eyed gaze with a longing he could not hide. “Gabrielle, when this is over….”
She lifted one finger to his lips to silence whatever premature promise he had been about to make. “You are the best thing that has ever happened in my life, regardless of what tomorrow brings. I am simply grateful for all you have done for me, and each day we have together, Lucien de Aubric.”
Within the hour, Lucien and Gabrielle had bundled all the clothing and supplies they would need into their saddlebags and a couple of rucksacks. They were in Count Raymond’s stable saddling their horses when the ex-regent appeared. He walked up to them and smiled sadly. “I am truly sorry for all the trouble I have caused you, Lucien. If I had not….”
Lucien cinched up the strap on his piebald gelding’s belly, then turned to his friend.
“You have not caused me any trouble. This was de Ridefort’s doing. All I ask is that you patch up your differences with the king for the sake of the kingdom. We must be united when we face Saladin, else all is lost. Guy needs your wise and experienced counsel. De Ridefort’s and de Châtillon’s self-serving propositions cannot be all that he hears.”
Raymond nodded in solemn agreement and turned his attention to Gabrielle. “Lucien will be able to take care of you as I cannot, and I
am sorry for that, lady. Had I not created this mess for myself, I would gladly stand firm against any who tried to take you from here, even your husband. But Lucien is correct. I cannot afford to bear arms against the king’s men or the Templars should they come after you.”
Gabrielle smiled and dipped her head in empathy. “I completely understand, Count. You and your family have been very generous so far.” She looked toward Lucien, who had been given all the knightly equipment he needed, plus a fine Arabian horse from the Lord of Tripoli. “Tell Eschiva thank you and good-bye. I will return or send for my things later. Be safe, all of you.”
“Go with God, and stand strong, Raymond,” Lucien said as well. “I will meet up with you and the king’s army when I am finished gathering intelligence.”
Lucien lifted Gabrielle onto her saddle when she was ready, then swung up easily onto his own horse. The count grasped his forearm and gave him a single firm handshake. “God be with you, both of you, my friends. I will pray for your safe and timely return.”
CHAPTER 13
That first day, Gabrielle and Lucien rode beyond the eastern edge of Count Raymond’s Latin seigneurie of Galilee. By early afternoon, they reached a place where Lucien wanted to camp. They had ridden carefully around the lushly fertile valley of Yarmuk, into the western end of the Yarmuk gorge, within the Terre de Suethe, where the falls of Al Hamah were located. Luckily, they had not run across any Saracen soldiers, nevertheless it was a dangerous area because there were abundant water sources all about, and lots of pasture for a large enemy encampment. A network of caves were carved into the bluffs, southeast of Lake Tiberius, and the availability of fresh water made any one of them a good place to set up a hidden camp from which to conduct reconnaissance forays over the next few days.
Lucien knew most of them, and he liked the idea that he could hide Gabrielle and the horses inside of one of them while he went out to scout the area. He chose one that he had used before and left partially equipped. It was concealed by a waterfall and dense brush. In addition, a steep escarpment sloped downward in a scarred rocky slash across the face of the falls.
