Behind the Veil (19 page)

Behind the Veil  / The Royal Pavilions boo
k3
/ Linda Chaikin

The moon had already set. Where was Jamil?

Dressed in black, Tancred anxiously paced the chamber. He could fade into the shadows should he need to seek Helena and Jamil. Anything could have gone wrong! And most likely, something had!

He would not wait. With weapons concealed, he belted on his scabbard and moved toward the door. Suddenly it opened, and Jamil darted in out of breath, his eyes wide.

“News of great importance, Seigneur!”

Tancred caught him away from the door, setting him down on an ottoman. “Speak!”

“Mosul plans to kill Kalid on the road to Aleppo and bring Lady Helena to Syria! He says he will become Prince Kalid Khan.”

Tancred gritted with anger. “Where is he now?”

Jamil grinned. “I knocked him unconscious. I took his sword and two daggers. The sword I hid in the garden, because I was afraid one of the guards here might see me carrying  it, but the two daggers—” he produced them jubilantly from under his tunic and held them out to Tancred.

“Well done, Jamil! You left Mosul in the garden then?”

“Yes, the mistress and I moved him into the shrubs. We heard his guards coming and escaped.”

“Where is Helena now?”

“She went to the women’s chambers to find Aziza. She bid me come quickly to warn you. Kalid’s caravan leaves in the morning to escape Antioch. And there is more—the Armenian named Firouz suspects evil done to his wife by none other than Mosul! And, Firouz is full of anger over the dishonor. For us it is good news, yes? Surely you will make something of it, Seigneur!”

Tancred restrained his anxiety over Helena long enough to grasp the importance of Firouz. “You are sure of this? How do you know?”

“I overheard. His wife was crying and blaming Mosul. She confessed to Firouz that he’d been the one to treat her with disrespect, then scorned her. I heard every word. Firouz spoke bitterly of the Muslims and vowed that he would avenge her.”

“Ah!” Tancred had thought it might be so, but he had not suspected Mosul. “Did Firouz speak of how he would avenge her?”

Jamil’s eyes gleamed like lighted pools. He whispered, “He has heard of your Prince Bohemond. Firouz seeks a contact with him. He may betray the Seljuks into the hands of the Normans.”

Tancred grew still. Then, grabbing the boy, he hugged him. “Brilliant work! I will adopt you in Sicily as my son.”

Jamil sucked in a breath. He stared up at him then burst into sobs. Tancred hugged him again, then pretended to grow stern. “Enough, a growing knight must stay strong. Listen, I must speak with Firouz tonight.”

“I…I will hide in the shrubbery near…near his quarters,” Jamil quavered, tears welling in his eyes, though he blinked hard. “Tonight when h—he returns, I will somehow tell him you wish to see him.”

Tancred squeezed his shoulder. Jamil swallowed his emotions and said more calmly, “There is a trail winding up Mount Silpius, near the great Citadel. We can meet there unnoticed. I often go there.”

“Well done. Tell Firouz to come alone. You are free to tell him who I am. And better take one of these—” he handed him one of Mosul’s daggers, but then thought better, and instead gave him his own dagger. “We do not want anything of Mosul’s to be found with you. Remember, Jamil, use a weapon only if in mortal danger.”

“I vow it.” And he slipped silently away.

Tancred looked after him and smiled.

***

The gray stone wall, thirty feet high, stood above him, hardly visible in the darkness. On the southern section of the city, the far part of the wall was situated up among the hills and had only small postern gates, which opened onto narrow footpaths. It was too dangerous for an army to station itself within these ravines to attack Antioch. Normans, under Bohemond’s nephew, also patrolled the hills, cutting off supplies being brought through these gates by Syrians. Meanwhile, the armies of the feudal lords were camped on the plain north of Antioch.

The silence was interrupted by the faint stir of wind rustling laurel trees near the mosque. As soon as darkness fell there came a flurry of movement among the guards in the city. If anything went wrong and Firouz was discovered to be a willing betrayer, none of their lives would be worth anything by morning.

As Tancred silently made his way toward the mosque, he heard a rush of commands coming from Seljuk captains on the street, followed by running feet of soldiers hasting to obey orders. He saw the flash of torches and the Seljuks mounting swift horses to ride in the direction of Mount Silpius.

Farther ahead in the darkness at the end of the street was a dome-covered building and several tombs. Tancred crept ever closer to meet Firouz. A few white-turbaned hadjis were in the galleries. Tancred caught the odor of burnt-out candles. He paused and waited.

Firouz crept from the night shadows, his round face tense and anxious. They met, walking in silence through the court while Firouz began to talk in hoarse whispers.

“You serve the Norman, Prince Bohemond?”

“I am distantly related. I have an audience with him.”

“Then listen well. You will never take Antioch by siege alone. Though the Byzantine emperor sends his artillery to destroy the walls, Antioch will stand impregnable. There is only one way for your army of crusaders to get inside Antioch.”

“I am listening.”

“Did you pass the sixty-foot Tower of the Two Sisters?”

“I did. The Tower was impregnable.”

“Yes, but nothing remains impregnable to him who has the key to the gate. I,” he whispered firmly, his voice shaking with rage, “Will see that Bohemond is let in.”

Astounded, Tancred remained silent for a moment. He could see by the offended man’s face that he was determined.

“What do you expect in return for this deed?”

“Vengeance!”

Tancred imagined what it would mean for unsuspecting Antioch to suddenly have the gate opened and nearly a hundred thousand swords turned loose. His mind went back to the fall of Biblical Babylon and ancient Assyria.

“You shall indeed see vengeance,” Tancred warned.

“I wish to see it!” his voice shook.

“Your wife—”

“Do not speak of my wife! They have insulted and shamed her! I want Mosul killed! Do you understand?”

“When the fighting begins, there will be few who escape. Bohemond will need surety that you speak the truth.”

Firouz was undaunted. “He may hold my son as hostage.”

“How shall I get out of the city?”

“It will be all arranged. Horses will be waiting. I will bring you there tonight. We must move swiftly. You must meet Bohemond and return by tomorrow night to take the city. Will you bring word to your Norman liege?”

If he did so, he would need to leave Helena to Prince Kalid until the Normans entered Antioch. Dare he wait? Anything could happen before he reached her again. Suppose Kalid moved her to another location? Suppose the rabble following the crusaders reached her before he did? Once the Normans stormed the gate, he had no doubt what would happen. Tancred wanted no part in the battle, nor was he yet recovered enough to fight for hours. And Helena could be mistaken for a Moslem princess.

“I will deliver your message, but Helena Lysander must come with me tonight. And I have the boy to think of. I cannot leave without them. Can you arrange it?”

“No, impossible. There is no time for that! I will see the boy is safe. But Lady Helena is under guard by Kalid. His soldiers surround her. If you go there now it will mean the end of our plan and your death.”

“Never,” Tancred stated. “I cannot leave her to him.”

“Kalid has no plans to leave Antioch tonight. News came that Kerbogha comes with a Turkish cavalry, and so Kalid is certain to wait.”

“No, anything could go wrong.”

“Then I will see to it that my spies watch her chamber until your return. If anyone should seek to move her elsewhere, I will use the power of intrigue to thwart them.”

“Thwart them?” Tancred scoffed. “How?”

“I can thwart Kalid,” he said with contempt. “There are ways. But if you wish Antioch—you must go tonight.”

Tancred gritted, weighing the outcome of his choice. If he stayed, there was little chance he could get Helena out of the palace and away from the guards, whereas access to the Norman camp might mean that he would locate Nicholas, Hakeem, or Leif. Their swords, added to his own, would better ensure his success in rescuing her. He could also confirm the need for an ambush on the road to Aleppo, just in case something went wrong and either Kalid or Mosul managed to escape with her.

“Very well. What we do, we do tonight. Firouz, your name will go down in history.”

“Let history record my deed—and the defeat of the Moslem Turks. Let Bohemond and the Normans ride into Antioch!”

“He shall. And the result will long be remembered. What plans do you have for Bohemond?”

“Tomorrow let Bohemond sound his trumpets of war and gather his forces, then ride off toward the east as if marching to confront Kerbogha. As soon as night falls, he is to double back. Have him gather his knights silently under the Tower of the Two Sisters. Wait until the patrol of Seljuks make their round of the wall with torches. When the torches are gone”—he paused—“and a rope ladder is seen hanging over the wall. I will be in the Tower. The invincible Bohemond must come up first with the Normans.”

“After the first three towers are conquered, the gate can be opened for the host. The Muslim city of Antioch,” he stated with coldness, “will belong to the Normans.”

***

True to his promise, Firouz had horses waiting in the hills. He scanned Tancred uneasily. “You are strong enough to do this? Jamil says you were near death.”

“I’ve recovered,” Tancred claimed, but he would not say how weak he felt. “How do you expect to get me through the gate?”

“There is a trail along Mount Silpius that leads to the shepherd’s gate.”

Tancred was not sure he knew what he was doing. “There are many gates. Why is this one different? Surely it is guarded.”

“It is guarded. But it opens each morning to permit the shepherds to leave with their goats. While an army of crusaders would easily be spotted nearing the gate, one shepherd coming and going is a customary sight. The shepherds are deemed of little threat to the Seljuk guards. Often the shepherds bring them gifts of wine, cheese, and figs from the small Armenian villages in the hills. Your clothes are waiting.”

“And the shepherd I replace?”

“He is an Armenian Christian. He is privy to our plan. He also welcomes the arrival of the crusaders. All is arranged. You have but to follow my orders.”

Within two hours they had come to the place near the gate, and in darkness the simple but clever ruse was carried out under the nose of the Seljuk guards who walked the wall, watching the distant hills for signs of an advancing army.

Tancred found a horse tied and waiting a mile outside the wall, and a satchel containing more weapons and some food. Before the sun arose in the east, Tancred was riding toward the Norman camp to meet with Bohemond.

Behind the Veil  / The Royal Pavilions boo
k3
/ Linda Chaikin

The sun was hot and the Norman camp was astir with activity by the time Tancred rode among the thousands of tents. They had noticed him coming from the distance, and word of his arrival spread. He immediately asked for Bohemond. Several Normans came forth to greet him.

“Any news from Nicholas and Leif?”

“We have sent Ordic to the Castle of Hohms to learn their status.”

Did he imagine a guarded glance between them?

Tancred, more weary in body than he would admit, remained astride his horse as they led him forward to a large tent where the Norman standard fluttered on a pole.

The tent floor was spread with Moslem prayer rugs captured as booty in battles. Prince Bohemond was awake and armed, a massive warrior with bulging arms and shoulders. Tancred explained about the Armenian, Firouz, and his wife. “The Christian Armenian is prepared to let the Normans into the city. To prove his sincerity, his son will be sent as a hostage.”

The cold blue eyes of the Norman glinted. He remained silent for a moment, then he responded as Tancred had known he would. “I accept.”

The news was to be kept from the other feudal lords. Bohemond wanted to be the ruler of Antioch and he had a plan. With bold confidence he called for a council among his most trusted men.

After refreshments, a bath, and clean garments, Tancred sat beside Bohemond in the tent. Bohemond, without having mentioned Firouz’s offer, addressed the group. “The siege has been going on too long. I say, whoever manages to break through and take Antioch should become ruler of Antioch.”

At first they looked at one another as though Bohemond had lost his mind. Then, they refused the offer indignantly. “Take Antioch? How, may we ask? And have we not all endured this wretched siege and suffered? No single prince among us should become ruler over all the city!”

As they considered, one of the chief knights was bidden into the command tent to bring important news.

“Seigneur! Ill news! Kerbogha is within three days of the city. He has raised a new army of Muslims from the East and comes to bolster the fighting arm of Yaghi-Sian. The fresh army of cursed infidels outnumber us greatly. And, they have all the food and drink one could dream of!”

Tense silence held the lords captive.

They cast uneasy frowning glances at one another.

“If you intend to take Antioch,” Tancred spoke up, “You must do so now. If you wait it will soon become too late.”

While the news of the relief army under Kerbogha was dark tidings for the crusaders, it was favorable to Tancred. Kalid would not choose to leave Antioch with members of the royal Khan family now, not while expecting Kerbogha to arrive. Tancred had three days in which to rescue Helena. And if the Normans took the city, he would have her safely away even sooner—just as soon as he found Mosul.

The warm, dry wind sent the tent flaps shaking, like an omen of calamity riding in from the East. The lords all looked at each other with grim determination. They had all come too far, and endured too much loss and suffering to turn back now. It would be victory or death.

“Kerbogha’s soldiers will all be well-fed and their horses fresh,” Tancred warned. “Your knights and soldiers will be trapped between the walls of Antioch and the river. Supplies will not reach us from St. Symeon in time; we will be worse off than we are now. We will be caught between Kerbogha and Yaghi-Sian coming out from the city to fight. We will soon be encircled. I suggest to the lords gathered here now that they accept Bohemond’s offer while there is time to take them by surprise.”

“Tancred is right. If Bohemond and his Normans can win the city, let us bestow it upon him willingly,” Duke Godfrey agreed, surprising the other princes with his humility. “I wish Antioch behind me. Let us get on to the holy city of Jerusalem.”

There arose a murmur that soon yield to consent, and a round of touching fists and shoulders showing loyal agreement.

***

Tancred went to the tent of his cousin Leif. Adele made much ado over Tancred’s injuries bidding him to rest comfortably while she went out for the physician Thomas of Aguilers. She returned within an hour bringing the famed medical man, then set about to prepare nourishing food.

“You are well on your way to recovery, Tancred. Your medical knowledge must have availed you.” After clean cloths and medical salve was applied, Tancred was left to his meal and the report of news from Adele. After she spoke of conditions in the camp,  he inquired about Leif.

“A message arrived a week ago,” she said in a low voice, glancing toward the tent opening. “He remains with Nicholas. Hakeem received your message. He came here very late one night a week ago, searching for news of you, but I had none to give him.”   

“Hakeem! He took a great risk in entering the Norman camp!”

“He stayed only long enough to tell me that Leif and Nicholas are alive, and with your other friends. He brought a warning to you from Leif.  Walter of Sicily and members of the clan had secretly visited the Castle of Hohms just a week before you arrived to rescue Lady Helena from Prince Kalid. Leif and Nicholas are now riding toward Aleppo as you bade in your message. Seigneur Rolf Redwan and Rufus and Bardas also ride with them. Count Rolf is anxious to see you—and to confront Walter.”

That his uncle Rolf, now his adoptive father, would contest Walter’s avenging spirit, and leave the castle and ride with Nicholas surprised Tancred. He suddenly longed to see Rolf again. He was growing weary of battle and conflict and yearned for rest of soul and warm conversation with family and friends, especially Rolf Redwan and Nicholas.

“Where is Walter of Sicily now?”

Adele suddenly stiffened, and Tancred saw her friendly expression change to one of alarm. He looked in the direction of her gaze as a brusque voice ordered, “Do not reach for your sword, Tancred.”

Members of the Redwan clan moved into the tent, encircling him. Tancred despised his folly. Weariness had allowed him to drop his guard!

Adele sucked in an indignant breath and stood to her feet. “What is this? How do you think you have the right to push your way into my personal abode? You have no right! If Leif were here he would have drawn his blade against you, Sir Walter!”

“Stay out of this, Adele. If Leif were here, he, too, would answer for treachery and betrayal against his own Redwan clan!”

Walter of Sicily was in his forties, ruggedly handsome, with a glint of auburn in his blond hair. A deep scar ran across his bronzed cheek. He was garbed in ringed leather armor, a long Viking sword strapped to his lean hip.

Walter, in seeing his nephew for the first time since his respectable and scholarly studies at the Salerno medical school near Rome, appeared faintly surprised as Tancred stood from the cushions—as though the tested warrior before him could not be his young nephew. Then Walter’s countenance hardened.

Tancred revealed nothing of his own thoughts or feelings at seeing his blood kin again. His uncle’s lack of belief in his honor had hurt him deeply, but in facing him now, Tancred affected calm; he would not plead with him for leniency. Tancred still considered that Walter’s vow against him had less to do with Derek’s assassination than with pride of position in Palermo and the Redwan inheritance. He remembered what the old one, Odo, had said that night at Palermo when Tancred was trying to escape: “
Walter may be my son, but pride does not blind me to his
ruthless ambitions. It is not the loss of young Derek that prompts him to see you pass through the ordeal of craven, but the knowledge that you are the future heir of the Redwan legacy.” 

Was it true? In many ways Walter was an honorable warrior.

Seigneur Walter strode boldly forward until he came within feet of his nephew Tancred. “Bind him,” Walter ordered.

Adele rushed in between, her blue eyes gleaming. “For shame! Tancred is injured from battle. Can you not see? Have you no pity?”

“I do not want his pity,” Tancred stated.

Walter’s cheek flinched. “I had no intention of offering any.”

Tancred’s lean, wolfish cousins loitered in the back of the tent, uneasy. They had been studying their cousin and liked what they saw. News of Leif and Norris Redwan coming to his side in loyalty had reached them earlier and they were troubled by Walter’s persistence over Derek Redwan’s death.

Walter turned a sharp look upon them. “Did you not hear me? Why do hesitate!”

Tancred believed he saw divided wills. They would not meet his level gaze.

Then, an older cousin spoke up from the back of the tent, “Do not try to draw blade upon us, Tancred. Not even you can take fifteen Redwans.”

Tancred looked at Cousin Cervon, lean, savage, and in his thirties. “There can be no just trial until Count Rolf is present as my adoptive father. He is with Nicholas and Leif on the road to Aleppo. If Walter is willing to ride there with me, this matter can be settled fairly, and according to Norman custom.”

“You want us to go there because Count Rolf believes you are innocent,” Walter stated brusquely.

Rolf was also in line to succeed Tancred’s blood father, Dreux, as head of the family. Though Rolf had left Palermo, it was readily understood that if Rolf should return to claim his birthright, Walter would have to step aside.

Tancred ignored his insinuation. “Mosul assassinated Derek. He is in Antioch serving Prince Kalid. I would have caught him by now, had I not been betrayed.”

Walter’s eyes were brittle, the strong jawline stubbornly set. “To kill your half-brother was not enough; do you also insult me with this tale of Mosul?”

“If you had spent these nearly three years hounding Mosul instead of me, you would have learned my vow of innocence to be the truth.”

His uncle did not speak, he showed nothing but a twitch of a muscle in his cheek. His gaze swept Tancred and unexpectedly, he sighed. “The sight of the younger son of Dreux conjures blood affection. I loved my brother Dreux, whose skills as a warrior I respected. And alas! You look much like him. There are times, Tancred, when late at night before the campfire I tell myself you could not have assassinated Derek. Not you, the one son of Dreux, who respected life and wished to be a physician. But,” and here again, he sighed, “It was your dagger that killed him. The slaves reported having seen you flee the courtyard where Derek met with Kamila. And you were to marry her, but she loved Derek instead. Jealousy has caused many-a-man to commit deeds he would condemn in others.”

Tancred, surprised by his words, wondered if Walter was speaking of himself.

“I did not kill Derek. I did not love Kamila. The slaves must have been bribed or threatened. Mosul is the answer to all things between us.”

“Neither your silken tongue nor your skill with the sword will save you this time, Tancred. You demand the presence of Rolf? Impossible. It is said he is not at the castle but setting an ambush on the road toward Aleppo. Do I not know you are friendly with the Moslems? And should we behave the fools in riding with you toward Aleppo? It is said Commander Kerbogha rides from that direction with a cavalry of Turks. Or is it your wish to turn us over to him?” He turned away. “Take his weapons, Cervon. We will hold a fair and just trial among the Normans.”

Tancred turned and looked at his cousin.

Uneasily, Cervon gestured. “Unbelt your scabbard.”

Tancred did so. Another kinsman scowled, as though he thought the whole business of the morning unpleasant.

“Bind him strongly,” Cervon said. “If you do not, we may lose our long-lost cousin before we ever take Antioch.”

Something in his voice caused Tancred to look at him. Cervon merely smiled grimly.

“I remember well how he used to escape us in the woods,” Cousin Olin said. “He always was a—”

“Silence,” Walter commanded. “We will not discuss the past. There is to be no mention of family! Not here, not now.”

“Though you hold me prisoner,” Tancred said, “I know that Antioch will soon be taken. I have come from inside the city with a message for Bohemond. Send for him. Let him speak. He will tell you it is so.”

Cervon smiled at Olin. “First he lures Norris and Leif away to his side, now he tells us the fate of Antioch is in his brilliant hands.”

***

An hour later, a tense, hushed silence held the Redwan clan.

Tancred had been tied hand and foot, to two vertical posts.

The thirty Redwans, astride their Great Horses, detached themselves in groups of six in a wide circle around him.

The seigneurs, Tancred’s uncles, had debated with Walter over the wisdom of pursuing the custom of craven at this time. “It is true what Adele said. He has taken serious wounds in battle,” cousin Cervon said to Walter. “It is not good to go through with the trial now.”

If craven were used to determine guilt, the accused, by surviving the prescribed ordeal, was declared not guilty. The Norman trial punishment, however, was so severe that few survived the hours of endurance.

“He is not strong,” Olin also argued. “The trial cannot be fair and just to him. Is it not wise to wait?”