Behind the Veil
Authors: Linda Chaikin
Behind the Veil / The Royal Pavilions boo
k
3 / Linda Chaikin
Behind
the
Veil
__________________________________
Linda Chaikin
Behind the Veil / The Royal Pavilions boo
k
3 / Linda Chaikin
Behind the Veil
Copyright @ 1998
Linda Chaikin
Cover illustration by Joe Nordstrom
Cover design by Eric Walljasper
All rights reserved.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Chaikin, L.L.
Behind the Veil / Linda L. Chaikin.
p. cm. – (The Royal Pavilions ; 3 )
ISBN 1-55661-513-2 (pbk.)
[ Crusades—First, 1096-1099—Fiction. 2. Middle Ages—Fiction. ]
I. Title. II. Series: Chaikin, L. L., Royal Pavilions series; 3.
PS3553.H2427B44 1997
813’.54—dc21 97-33845
CIP
Behind the Veil / The Royal Pavilions boo
k
3 / Linda Chaikin
AMID THE DEVASTATION OF WAR, THE CRUSADERS FACE A FORMIDABLE FOE…. BUT THEIR STRENGTH OF MIND AND TRUST IN THE ALMIGHTY GIVE THEM THE PERSERVANCE TO ENDURE.
Behind the Veil
Confident in Helena Lysander’s safety, Norman warrior Tancred Redwan sends Helena to his family’s castle, while he prepares to travel on to Antioch in search of his Morish cousin Mosul, assassin of Tancred’s brother. But the unexpected arrival of Helena’s bodyguard reveals that her entourage was overtaken and she never reached the safety of the castle. Held captive by the corrupt Bishop Basel, Helena now faces marriage to a Moslem prince, arranged months earlier by her scheming aunt, Lady Irene Lysander.
As the crusaders race to overtake Moslem-controlled Antioch, Tancred plots Helena’s rescue. Betrayal and intrigue precede him, but the obstacles give way to courage, leading Tancred to the most important battle of his life—one that will determine his future, both for his honor and for his love of Helena.
A FINAL SHOWDOWN WILL DECIDE THE FATE OF THE NOBLE WARRIOR, HIS MORTAL ENEMY, AND HIS BELOVED….
Behind the Veil / The Royal Pavilions boo
k
3 / Linda Chaikin
Behind the Veil / The Royal Pavilions boo
k
3 / Linda Chaikin
Table of Contents
Rendezvous in the Byzantine Wine Shop
Intrigue at the Emir’s Banquet
Behind the Veil / The Royal Pavilions boo
k3
/ Linda Chaikin
r
1
In the Camp of the Red Lion
Over a week had passed since the Western crusaders had fought the day-long battle with the Moslem Turks. The crusaders now camped among the spoils abandoned by the Red Lion of the Desert, whose tents and camels were sprawled along the desert plain between the hills of Asia Minor. In the late hours of darkness, saturated in summer heat, Tancred Redwan, recovering from his injury, lounged near one of the tents on a red silk cushion left behind by fleeing Turks. Tancred’s strong fingers absently played with the gold silk fringe, his mind on Helena.
He had treated his own wounds, received earlier in the day’s battles, and spread salve on his grazed side, binding himself with a clean cloth. His tunic was open to enjoy the faint breeze that stirred across the sand as he listened to the sound of a lute, remembering Helena’s kiss while flickering fires wove through the night air.
Silently, Bishop Nicholas Lysander, Helena’s rugged warrior uncle from the west, crouched beside a small cooking fire where a simmering stew bubbled in a blackened pot. From his moody expression, Tancred guessed that the warrior-bishop was worried over his sister, Adrianna. The child she was expecting would be the grandchild of the great Caliph of Baghdad. The father, Prince Sinan, had died in the recent battle and there would be trouble over who would rear the child.
Tancred remembered his own difficulties in Palermo, Sicily, and the conflict of faiths that had plagued him when growing up as the son of the great Norman lord, Dreux Redwan, who embraced Christianity, while his mother was from the Moslem family of al-Kareem. Tancred had been educated in both the Moslem religion and Christianity, and for a time he’d been obligated to memorize from both the Koran and the Bible, dividing his allegiance between his instructors: Nicholas at Monte Casino, and his zealous grandfather, al-Kareem in Palermo. Recently, Tancred had come to faith in Christ and carried a hand-bound New Testament that Nicholas had translated and presented to him as a gift when he arrived with the crusader knights.
Tancred held the Scriptures, and though it was too dark to read, he appreciated the feel of the leather cover that Nicholas had skillfully cut and trimmed to size. The New Testament was a precious and rare treasure. Except for the bishops in the great abbeys, like Monte Casino in Italy, there were few if any commoners outside the Western and Eastern branches of the Church who had free access to the Word of God. He had a strong desire to study it thoroughly, though recently there had been little time. Battles loomed even larger as the Western lords and princes leading their armies made plans to capture Antioch, and finally, Jerusalem!
Noticing how Nicholas remained moody, Tancred attempted to dispel the dismal atmosphere. “Come, Nicholas, I am starving. Whatever concoction you have been brooding over for so long will not be made more edible by your glowers. Surely it is ready by now, the dawn approaches.”
Nicholas looked over at him grimly, his robust dark eyes glinted in the firelight. He dipped the ladle into the pot and filled a bowl with something thick and steaming.
Tancred took the bowl and gave a whiff. “What is it, leftover camel?”
“Saracen goat gruel—it will give you the courage to fight a hundred infidels.”
Tancred ignored the maliciously amused gaze of his godfather; he was too hungry to refuse the food.
Somewhere in the distance, the lute player continued his heart-rending music. Despite Tancred’s unspoken longing, there came an inner peace. Helena and her mother were reunited; he knew that his cousin Mosul, the assassin who had murdered his brother, was in Antioch as Prince Kalid’s bodyguard, and his two Norman cousins Leif and Norris had come over to his side against their uncle, Walter of Sicily. There was hope amid the spreading tragedy of war and death.
Nicholas stared off toward the stars…as though considering a finer eternity he wished to embrace.
Tancred set the empty bowl down and stirred restlessly. Tomorrow they would begin the march toward Antioch. He watched as Nicholas stood alert, looking into the darkness. “Someone comes.”
Tancred’s keen hearing had picked up the sound of hesitant footsteps approaching. He reached for his weapons.
Nicholas drew his heavy blade. “Who goes there? Step into the firelight, lest we take you for an enemy.
A voice called hopefully at the sound of Nicholas’s words. “I am no enemy, Master Nicholas. I seek Count Redwan.”
Tancred tensed. He recognized the familiar voice of Bardas, the eunuch slave who served Helena. He pushed himself to his feet as the breeze tugged at his open tunic, and he restrained a surge of anger. The last time he had seen Bardas was the evening the eunuch had betrayed him to an enemy, Lady Irene Lysander of Constantinople.
Bardas drew warily near the firelight, his eyes darting from Nicholas to fix upon Tancred. Bardas fell to one knee, head bent, keeping to the shadows that covered him.
“Why have you come?” Nicholas asked sternly.
“I shall explain everything, Master Nicholas, but I must first beg the peace and forgiveness of Count Redwan. Let me speak, not for my sake, but for the sake of Lady Helena!”
At the mention of Helena, Tancred’s concerns stirred within his heart. His fingers tightened about the handle of his sword. “Come forth, Deceiver.”
Bardas cautiously drew near.
“That is close enough. If this is another of your ruses, you will surely die, Bardas.”
“I come in peace, Redwan. Upon my path of honor.”
“Honor? You mock the word.”
“I did not betray you Count Redwan. That evening in the Court of the Oranges the enemy must have followed me. When I left you and returned with your horse to bring you to Lady Helena, as promised, Lady Irene’s soldiers had already surrounded you. There was nothing I could do alone, so I went to find Master Philip. There was no other recourse. But I beg you to listen! I bring new information, most distressing—and as you see, I have not gone to the Noble Philip, but risked coming here to you and Master Nicholas! I now understand that you and Nicholas are two men to be trusted! And I vow my loyalty to you both.”
Tancred walked up, retaining his drawn sword, and looking down at him. His blue-gray eyes were hard, and his hair, the color of ripened wheat, glinted in the firelight. After a moment of silence he lowered and sheathed his blade. “All right. What information?”
“The entourage you sent to bring Helena and her mother to the Castle of Hohms was attacked and overcome by Bishop Basel’s soldiers! They knew about the defeat of the Red Lion and were lying in wait. Helena is not at the castle with her mother. She was taken back to Constantinople to Lady Irene!”
Tancred held back a rush of anguish. Basel had long desired Adrianna for his own and, along with Lady Irene, had plotted the marriage of Helena to Prince Kalid. If both women were now under their scheming authority—
Nicholas stooped to the dust, grasping Bardas’s shoulder. “Basel holds them prisoners?”
Bardas struck his fist to his chest in despair. “He has your sister, Lady Adrianna, at the Castle of Hohms!”
“Who sent you to inform us?” Tancred demanded, cautious. He’d been betrayed in the past.
Bardas looked up, his eyes reflecting his own caution. “Rufus,” he admitted uneasily, “But he swore me to silence.”
Tancred trusted Rufus, but Bardas… Tancred studied him evenly. There was a look of sincerity, even desperation in his eyes.
“Where in Constantinople is Helena?” Tancred gritted.
“In a monastery dungeon.”
“How did you escape to come here?”
“Rufus aided my escape from prison to bring you word.”
“And Philip the Noble?” Tancred asked coldly.
“I have not seen Master Philip since the attack by Prince Kalid that night at the peasant’s olive grove. After Kalid’s escape with Helena, when he brought her here to the Red Lion’s camp, Philip became ill…and…”
“And?” Tancred demanded.
“We stayed at an inn where Lady Irene and her soldiers arrived. They arrested me and took Philip to the Sacred Palace.”
Nicholas became grave. “I believe he speaks the truth this time. Irene is likely to manipulate Philip with her astrology. And Adrianna needs protection from Basel.”
“I should have escorted them to the Castle of Hohms,” Tancred said, blaming himself at the foul turn of events.
“Neither of us could have known Basel’s intentions, but we must find a way to stop him.”
Bardas looked hopefully from one to the other. “Rufus has a plan to help Helena,” he insisted. “He wishes to meet Tancred in Constantinople.”
Tancred cast him a sharp look. “And walk into a trap?”
“Seigneur! I beg you, I did not betray you to Lady Irene in the Court of the Oranges! There must have been spies watching
me
as well as
you
when I sent you that message.”
Maybe so
.
“And Rufus says he has a map of the dungeon area where Helena is kept.”
A map!
Tancred met Bardas’s gaze steadily, but the man did not flinch, convincing Tancred he spoke the truth. Still, his anger burned that matters had turned out so wretchedly. Why had he not considered Bishop Basel before sending Helena and her mother to the castle?
“We’ve underestimated Basel,” he told Nicholas.
“Yes, the battle here overwhelmed us, and after the victory we too easily laid aside our armor. We believed Basel’s disappearance was inconsequential. But Satan does not always attack as a roaring lion, he may come like a sidewinder.”
Tancred turned to Bardas, who watched them anxiously. “You say Philip has returned with Lady Irene to the palace and your emperor? Has Philip done anything to help Helena?”
“I know of nothing,” Bardas admitted anxiously.
“Then he has again surrendered his will to Irene.”
“But in pity, Count Redwan, he was ill when I saw him last.”
Tancred had noted that this meeting tonight with Bardas was the first time he addressed him as a seigneur. There was no scorn in his voice and his manner offered trust and respect. Moved by the genuineness of Bardas’s words, Tancred laid a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Let us begin anew Bardas. We shall bury the past.”
Bardas, looking humbled, bowed low. “I confess I was wrong about you, Seigneur. I now know you to be a man of honor. There are few who can aid her now, except you.”
Nicholas nodded. “Yes, when did Basel’s men attack the entourage?”
“A week ago, Master Nicholas.”
A week
, Tancred considered.
Nicholas studied Tancred’s expression. “Yes, this could be a cunning trap. It offers the kind of bait Irene likes to use.”
“Or perhaps Philip?” Tancred mused.
Could a trap be waiting for both him and Nicholas?
Tancred looked at Nicholas. “Yet, would Irene approve of Bishop Basel taking Adrianna to the Castle of Hohms? She has opposed Basel when it comes to Adrianna. Look at her actions toward me at Nicaea. And when she learned, probably through Philip, of Basel’s plans to find Adrianna, Irene abruptly left and returned to Constantinople.”
“We must be extremely cautious, Tancred. Philip is back under her control at the Sacred Palace.”
Bardas snorted his recent dislike for Philip the Noble. In the past Bardas was nearly as dedicated to him as to Helena. “My mistress, Helena, did not speak of Philip, she is asking for Count Redwan,” he told Nicholas. “And I have something that will help prove that she and Rufus sent me.” He knelt and opened the satchel he brought with him, removing a purple cloak—the same one Helena had worn when Tancred had last held her in his arms.
Tancred glanced at Nicholas and there was no mistaking where he stood on the matter.
“Basel holds the key to locating Adrianna,” Nicholas said. “First, we will go to the Sacred Palace. I will need to pay Irene another visit. Though Basel led the ambush, she will never give up until she discovers where he has brought her.”
The wind stirred about the battlefield, whipping the fire and obscuring the light of the stars. Nothing else seemed as urgent, thought Tancred; he must help Helena. Rufus could be depended upon, and now, also Bardas.
Nicholas laid one hand on Tancred’s shoulder, and the other hand on Bardas. “We will go together and find her.” And the flicker within his dark eyes appeared to read Tancred’s soul. He looked toward the darkened east— “And the child Adrianna bears. He, too, is blood of my blood. I will not surrender the babe to the teachings of Islam. Should the Almighty help me find them again,” he said quietly into the warm dark night, “I will, with Adrianna’s agreement, see that the babe is raised to know the one and only Savior of men, Jesus Christ. As it is written, “And this is eternal life, that they may know thee….”
Tancred’s two Norman cousins had walked up and must have overheard the dark news. Leif Redwan spoke his concerns. “This will end badly enough, Tancred. Is it wise to trust the word of one man? Even now, Lady Helena might have been sent to Antioch to marry Prince Kalid. Let us go on to take the city.”