by S A Monk
“I cannot swim.”
“And yet you were ready to rescue me?”
“How could I not?”
“Indeed,” he responded, lifting her into his arms. “I will keep you safe.”
Gabrielle knew he meant from drowning, but she took his words more deeply, knowing with the strictest certainty that as long as he lived, he would protect her from harm. Except when her mother was alive, no one had ever done that for her.
In the middle of the pool, he could stand without being submerged, but she could not, so he instructed her to wrap her legs around his waist. The hard blade of his arousal pressed against her most intimately, and she looped her arms around his neck with a shiver and a sigh.
“Does this help ease the soreness?” he murmured into her ear.
She leaned back to look at him. “How did you know I was a little sore?”
“How could you not be after all of our lovemaking? Has Reynald left you alone since Silvia?”
“He has for five years, thank the Lord!” she confirmed. “Silvia was such a blessing!” She laughed, thinking most women might not consider their husband’s mistress a blessing. “When Reynald met her, he was instantly smitten by her wealth and land holdings. Hebron is a rich prize. But he was also fascinated with her for other reasons, I discovered later. She enjoys his decadent amusements. She also shares his greed, and she was of the same political sentiment as Reynald. Did you know she believes Count Raymond had her first husband killed?”
Lucien nodded affirmatively. “There has always been speculation about that. At the time, both men were in line to be chosen as regents to young King Baldwin. Silvia’s husband was killed in the streets by an Assassin. Some believed Raymond had hired him to eliminate the competition. I am not one of those.”
Gabrielle knew Lucien considered Count Raymond of Tripoli a close and well-admired friend, so it was no surprise that he did not believe Silvia’s claim. But Reynald had, of course. Her husband had long hated Raymond, despite the fact that he had been inadvertently responsible for paying the ransom which released Reynald from the Arab prison in Aleppo a decade ago.
“Well, Silvia didn’t want me at Kerak, and I was more than happy to accommodate her and move to Jerusalem. Reynald seldom used his home there. He preferred to stay at the palace when he went to see King Guy. By the time Silvia came into his life, he had long tired of the poor sport I was anyway.
“He stole every dream I ever had at fourteen! And over the next few years, I discovered every cubbyhole and hiding place there was at Kerak. From my secret places, I could hear him bellowing for me, especially at his disgusting parties. Before he became grand master, Gerard de Ridefort was a frequent attendee, you know,” she said as he carried her back to the edge of the pool. “Several of your officers were, in fact. Would you like to know who?”
“I already do know,” he answered her disgustedly as he sat down on the water-covered ledge and settled her beside him. “There isn’t much I don’t know about the men of power on both sides of this conflict.”
Gabrielle thought it was probably the source of the cynicism she often saw expressed on his face. “Despite everything, though, it was Reynald’s and my father’s raiding and pillaging that tortured me the most. They would come back from their forays covered in blood and laden with booty, leading those they had overcome like animals to the slave markets.”
“His troops have always been loyal to him because he has made them rich men, too.”
“It has been the source of my father’s loyalty to him. Reynald has made Armand a wealthy man, with much more power than he ever had on his own.”
Lucien had an arm thrown around her and traced the shell of her ear, pushing her damp hair behind it in the process. “Did any of that wealth ever come to you?”
She shook her head. “Only when Reynald needed it to make me look good alongside him. But it didn’t matter. I wanted none of his blood money. And my mother truly did leave me enough to be independent of both my father and my husband, though I have only recently begun to use it.”
“What did she leave you?”
“A bit of gold, this necklace,” she told him, fingering the pendant hanging between her breasts, “A few very remarkable, and, I suspect, very valuable uncut gemstones.”
A look of astonishment crossed Lucien’s face. “Where did she get such valuables? Certainly, not from Armand. You have said he hated her and mistreated her.”
“He did. He was always cruel to her, from as far back as I can recall. If he ever loved her, it never showed. After years of his verbal and physical abuse, she finally took her life. At least, I think she did. That is what Armand told me.”
“How did she die?”
“She jumped off of a tower at Kerak, the one on the side of the cliff where it rises above the valley floor. She was found dead early one morning at the bottom of the rocks, and father said she must have jumped. No one ever questioned him otherwise.”
Lucien was sickened yet again by the reminder of what kind of men Gabrielle had lived with for so many years. At any time in the past, her life could have been easily snuffed out if her usefulness had diminished for either her father or her husband.
Studying her beautiful face, he stroked her cheek tenderly. “Do you think he killed your mother by pushing her off the tower?”
“He could have. But mama could have just as well taken her own life. She had grown very despondent. I have always had a hard time believing she willingly left me alone with Armand, though. She knew he didn’t love me anymore than he loved her.”
“I am sorry your life has been so hard, Gabrielle.”
She stared at him and smiled sadly. “It got better after Silvia. Then, when I went to Jerusalem, I met Brother Giles. He ended up being my confessor, though he was not a priest. He got me involved with the orphanage. Helping the children who became innocent victims of this war has given me purpose and peace. I suppose it has helped to compensate a little for losing my own child. It was a girl, you know. She lived for a few minutes after I miscarried.”
Lucien pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. What could he say that he had not already? If it were possible, he would wish her a new past. But all he could give her was the present and hopefully a future. Though the kingdom was on the brink of a major campaign by Saladin, he was determined to survive and offer her a new life, a safe and happy life. Of course, his survival depended on the grace of God to a large extent, but he prayed that was what the Almighty had in mind for him.
This woman needed him. He wanted to restore her dreams, then fulfill them. And he needed her.
She brought out the good in him. In her, he found some redemption for his many trespasses over the years.
There had been other women, though damned few, actually. He had tried to follow the Order’s rule about fraternizing with women and indulging in carnal relations, but he’d joined the Order young. His physical needs had never been truly suppressed by the rigorous prayer and physical training meant to not only hone bodies and souls, but baser appetites, as well. He seemed better able to uphold his vows when he lived among his brethren, than when he was required to be away from them for long stretches because of the demands of his job.
He’d been disillusioned and unhappy for too long. He lived and labored in a brutally violent world. The years of bloodshed, cruelty, and disappointment had destroyed the young idealistic knight and monk he’d once been. He’d lost too many friends to this conflict over religion and land; knelt beside them on the desert sand as their life’s blood drained from their stalwart bodies. He’d become completely disenchanted with the greedy, inept, vainglorious men he served.
Gabrielle de Châtillon reminded him that there still was beauty and goodness in the world. Her noble compassionate heart lent solace to his battered soul. She eased his disappointment, his sorrow, his disillusionment. She lent hope to his lost dreams. In truth, she was a wonder. She had suffered so much. He could barely imagine how a person could
stand strong in the face of such heartache and cruelty. He admired her greatly.
And he loved her.
Shifting her, he lifted her onto his lap. The water came just above the tips of her beautiful breasts, but he did not let himself become distracted by their tempting curves. Instead, he watched the way the ends of her hair floated on the surface of the water. It calmed his desire for her and helped clear his thoughts.
He stared into the sapphire depths of her fathomless eyes. Her lashes were wet and spiky, and it made them look even larger than they were. He had to narrow his own not to become lost in them. “Gabrielle, I can’t promise you a future yet. I shouldn’t even try, knowing what’s coming, but I want to.” He’d been thinking of talking to her about these things all day, and he wanted to tell her how he felt about her while they were not making love.
“I love you, Gabrielle. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, always, if God allows it.”
He could see his declaration took her back, but she did not look displeased, only worried. “But what if you cannot be released from your vows? You are given to God, Lucien.”
He took one hand and lifted it to his lips as he smiled softly at her. “I am given to you, my heart.”
Her hand moved out of his to rest against his cheek. “And I am still married….”
“There are many obstacles. I won’t deny that. But I believe we can overcome them. I doubt it would have come to this between us had God not willed it.”
“Think you so?”
“Aye, I do think so.” He turned her hand and kissed her soft wet palm. “Love is the greatest of all gifts. Do you not recall that from the scriptures?”
Gabrielle hooked an arm behind his neck. “Aye, I do. And, Lucien, I also love you.”
His smile was exultant. “Then when we are beyond all this, you will marry me?”
“In a heartbeat!” Her smile was just as joyous.
“We may have little at first,” he warned her, wishing he did not have to. “I am not sure yet what I will do now than I am no longer a Templar. I have no home to return to.”
“It matters not,” she said, easing his concern. “Those things mean nothing compared to love.”
“I will find a way to take good care of you, Gabi,” he vowed solemnly.
“You already do, Lucien. I know you will continue to do so. And I will take good care of you also,” she promised happily.
“Then we are given to one another, my love.”
“Yes,” she whispered in agreement against his lips as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her from the pool. With their lips locked in an unbroken kiss, he sure-footedly strode to the blanket he had set upon the ground and lowered her beneath him.
+++
They spent a few more days in the cave, but that was the only day Lucien spent completely with Gabrielle. He still had a job to do, and he pursued it over the remainder of the week. One evening they heard men and horses outside the cavern, on the other side of the waterfall.
Lucien immediately doused their small fire and their single torch. Both he and Gabrielle crept carefully to the outer grotto to look and listen. Beyond the cascading water, a dozen Arabian soldiers had stopped to water their horses and fill their gourds from the small pond below the falls.
They conversed in Arabic to one another, and Lucien and Gabrielle listened to their talk of home and their speculations about when they might return to it. When they were finished, they remounted and rode away, never suspecting that they had been watched the entire time.
The next morning, Lucien was gone for most of the day. When he returned, he announced that they would be leaving the following morning. He advised Gabrielle to dress in her unbleached muslin tunic, pants, and kufiyya. The native attire was practical for travel, and she’d blend into their surroundings much better than if she wore her more brightly colored tunics and pants. Before they resumed their journey to Damascus, he was going to show her what he had discovered so far.
By noon, she was perched on a sandy hilltop, flat on her stomach. Beside her, Lucien pointed out the immense encampment in the valley below. Both of them were clothed in tan robes. Gabrielle imagined they blended in very well to the desert hillock. Even their dark heads were covered by unbleached muslin head scarves, banded across their foreheads by strips of braided silk. A swath of thin muslin cloth was also draped across the lower half of their faces.
Below them there was a huge Arab encampment. Gabrielle guessed more than a thousand men. Colorful silk pavilions sat alongside dingy canvas tents. Horses and camels were tethered and corralled behind them, while campfires in the front lay dormant, waiting for preparation of the evening meal.
Since it was the middle of the day and seasonably warm for early June, the encampment was relatively deserted. Gabrielle imagined most men were either inside their tents resting or off patrolling the area. A few were training in small groups, on horseback and on foot.
“There are so many!” she whispered in awe.
“This is just one encampment. I have discovered three more north of here. I suspect there may be more yet between here and Damascus.”
“How many men have you estimated so far?”
“Possibly over five thousand.”
Gabrielle blew out an audible breath. “And this is just the beginning of Saladin’s call to arms. How many more will respond in the months to come?”
“That is what I intend to find out, but I suspect four to five times as many. I think Saladin himself is still in the south, at Kerak, but that, too, I will have to discover. Depending on who answers his call to jihad, men will probably come from northern Syria, Jazira, Egypt, and from the Kurd’s territory in Iraq. We may even see some from Turkey and Afghanistan. Saladin has won dominion over many lands, and he has put out his call for war, far and wide.”
Gabrielle was visibly alarmed. “Oh, Lucien, how can the Christian army hope to prevail against such numbers?”
“By refusing to be drawn out into open set battles that require an army marching across the desert. The Arab bowmen are very good at harassing such a formation. If we stay behind the walls of our fortresses, we may have a chance to defend ourselves successfully against such enormous odds. Luck and prayer might also help,” he added grimly.
She reached for his hand and held it tightly, worried beyond description for their future.
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, then added a kiss on her muslin covered cheek for extra reassurance. “Come, mi’lady, we must be on our way to Damascus. I will uncover more there.”
+++
Because Lucien often took detours to scout the region, it took longer than normal to travel to Damascus. One day out from the city, they stopped for the night near an outcrop of boulders and a pair of towering date palms. The lonely sentinels provided a scant bit of shade, while the granite monoliths provided protection from the desert wind in the waning light of the setting sun.
Gabrielle sat down on her bedroll and tiredly leaned back against one of the stones as she watched Lucien get their foodstuffs from their tethered horses, then gather a few scraps of dried brush for their nightly cooking fire.
Closing her eyes, she told herself she simply needed a few moments of rest before she got up and assisted Lucien with their evening tasks. When he came to shake her awake, she thought she had only been asleep a few moments. She was surprised to find he had prepared their evening meal all by himself. A mortified apology left her lips as she accepted his offering.
"I fear I have been keeping you awake too much these past few nights," he told her with a dark flush that thoroughly enchanted Gabrielle.
She scooted closer to him as he sank down beside her against the boulder. "I am not complaining. I was simply a bit more tired today." She set her bowl in her lap and swiveled to cup her hand around his bearded cheek. Her lips played along his cheekbone, then the hollow beneath it before leisurely journeying to his ear, where she had to sweep aside his head scarf before she could let her t
ongue tease him.
Lucien chuckled, then laughed as she cleverly tormented and tickled the shell of his ear. "Eat, mi'lady," he finally implored, lifting her bowl back into her hands. "This is much better hot than cold."
“As you are, sir.” Gabrielle relented with a disgruntled pout that quickly disappeared with his descriptive promises of what he would do to her later.
While she ate, she watched the man beside her, lingering long and lovingly upon his handsome, darkly etched face.
There were so many reasons beside his physical attributes that made her love this disavowed monk. She had never known such a caring and tender man. Except for her mother, she had been unloved all her life. Lucien de Aubric's love for her was like rain falling on parched earth. It was a precious gift of grace to a woman who had despaired of anyone ever caring for her.
She had long ago decided she must be unworthy of love and happiness. Then this cynical spy with his tarnished idealism and uncompromising chivalry had walked into her life and changed it profoundly. He had sacrificed much to champion her. He’d stood up to her powerful husband, her abusive father, and his own commanding officer to protect her, and then he had miraculously fallen in love with her.
The day he had revealed that to her was the most joyous of her life. His declaration had literally restored her soul, not to mention her self-worth. For the first time ever, she felt whole and happy.
And his tender passion had healed her fear of intimacy. Reynald had never made love to her. He had sexually abused and bullied her. But Lucien’s gentle touch and tender concern for her pleasure was erasing all those terrible memories. She was even learning how to please him; how to touch him in ways that she never would have dared with her husband, for fear of inciting Reynald’s brutal lust to an even greater degree.
And, dear God, never would she have trusted a man the way she had come to trust Lucien de Aubric! How vulnerable she had always felt! With Lucien, she felt herself growing stronger and more confident daily.
The only thing that terrified her anymore was the impending threat of war that surrounded them. Seeing all of those men who had answered Saladin’s call to arms chilled her to the bone. It did not appear that war could be averted, and she knew that soon, Lucien would have to return and answer his king’s muster. Every day, she prayed for his safety and survival. Would God be so cruel as to take him from her when she had finally found such joy and happiness?
