Behind the Veil (2 page)

“He may be right, Cousin,” Norris said, eyeing Bardas with suspicion. “Never trust a Byzantine. Returning to the city of the Greeks is more dangerous than entering Antioch to seize Helena from Kalid.”

Tancred turned and looked at the two blond warriors bronzed by the sun. A brief smile touched his mouth.

“You would usually be right,” he admitted, turning toward Bardas. “But Bardas is now on our side. And your blades will join mine and Nicholas’s to insure our success in Constantinople—”

“And if this proves false?” Leif asked.

“Then he will pay with his head if he has deceived us.”

“We will make certain,” agreed Norris. “If anything happens to you or Nicholas because he is privy to a cunningly laid trap, he will walk barefoot on burning coals.”

Bardas shifted uneasily and glanced at the two Norman Redwan cousins.

Tancred clapped Bardas on the shoulder and smiled. “We have a new ally.”

Bardas lowered his head. “Seigneur,” he stated and brought fist to his heart. The Redwan cousins showed surprise, then looked at one another.

Tancred snatched up his satchel and weapons, and turned with Nicholas to Bardas.

“Then you shall bring us to Rufus!”

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

At midnight in Constantinople, the famous street Meese remained aglow with colored glass lanterns. The mile-long colonnade of a thousand shops and stalls were crowded with people from every land. There were wine shops and booksellers, vendors of hot Arabic coffee, and stands of rare perfumes and silk from Cathay.

Nicholas turned his horse to ride to the Sacred Palace with its numerous marble pavilions, porticoes, balconies, and gardens.

“I will meet with Irene, then if all goes well and you are able to free Helena, I will rejoin you on the road to the Castle of Hohms,” Nicholas told Tancred.

Had Nicholas been any other bishop, Tancred would not have permitted him to enter the palace alone, but he was indeed a warrior-bishop, and Tancred pitied anyone who stood in his way. Though Basel might be a match for Nicholas in battle, he was probably at the Castle of Hohms.

After Nicholas had disappeared  into the throng, Tancred turned to Leif and Norris. “Wait for me in front of the bookseller’s stall.” Then leaving a wary Bardas under their eye, Tancred walked across the cobbled street toward the fashionable wine shop constructed in spectacular Byzantine architecture. The shop was a favorite meeting house for the wealthy of Constantinople. Hired bodyguards of the elite also claimed the place for pleasure as did men of the emperor’s famed Varangian Guard. Though Tancred had friends among them, he knew he needed to avoid being recognized. Loyalty in Constantinople, however, was often not established on affection for one’s lord, but on fear or high pay, and many could be bought. There was a chance that someone who served Philip could be present. And Lady Irene was equal to the most clever mind in Byzantium, as he remembered from the last time she had held him as a prisoner.

Tancred entered the wine shop and saw soldiers and Greek nobles seated at tables. Tonight he wore a coat of fine chain mesh under a light woolen tunic of black. He was duly belted with his weapons, and a dagger was within easy reach in a leather wrist sheath. Heads turned to look in his direction, but he didn’t recognize any of the men present. A casual glance about for Rufus revealed nothing unusual that might alert him to a trap. He took a seat at a table near the back.

While he waited he ordered the celebrated Byzantium dish of shredded breast of chicken cooked in milk and sweetened.

He looked up. The door opened and Rufus walked in. At once, the young Byzantine aristocrats turned heads in his direction, somewhat curious and a bit unnerved by his robust appearance. Rufus ignored the glances thrown his way and, glimpsing Tancred, crossed the room to his table. His dark eyes measured Tancred.

Tancred used a boot to push a chair out for him. “Sit, friend.”

Rufus took his seat, a big man whose muscles filled out his black and crimson Byzantine brocade. Tancred loathed the fact that Rufus was ruthlessly controlled by Irene’s hold over his son, Joseph.

“I know you’re a man to be reckoned with, Redwan. If anyone can thwart Irene and Philip, it is you.”

“I could wish to have your confidence,” Tancred said dryly. “What news do you bring of Lady Helena?”

Rufus watched him for a moment in silence, then leaned closer across the table, his face grave. “She asked me to get word to you of her situation.”

“You have spoken with her?”

“No one is permitted to see her.”

Tancred tapped the table. “Is escape possible?”

Rufus removed a hand-drawn map from inside his tunic and carefully pushed it across the table.

“I would not venture the task myself, yet she seemed to think you could.” There came a slight smile to his eyes. “I do not question your willingness to face danger where she is concerned, but you must decide. I despise
Jezebel
. If there is a trap, I would see her fall into it. I am but waiting, and it may be sooner than I had thought.”

Tancred understood that Irene was
Jezebel
. “Where is your son, Joseph?”

“
She has him in the palace.”

“The Sacred Palace!”

Rufus’s iron jaw flexed. “Joseph also despises her. He is there at her insistence. He would not stay if given an opportunity to leave.”

If his son Joseph turned against Irene and Philip, Tancred was sure it would mean the boy’s death.

Rufus, pointing to a spot on the drawing, said, “There is an underground passage here. It is unknown to many, even in the monastery. It was constructed hundreds of years ago. If you follow it, you will come out about here.” Again he pointed. “Here you will find a grove on the backside of the monastery wall.”

Tancred studied the ancient drawing. He had his doubts. He was accustomed to ancient passages from the Redwan castle and lands back in Palermo, Sicily. “You do not speak with certainty.”

“How can I? I have not been through the passage. There is a monk who serves Bishop Basel. He understands that Basel is a false bishop who was awarded Nicholas’s position through the stratagems of Irene. This monk has no allegiance of heart to Basel. He has promised to meet you in the meditation garden and lead you below to the dungeon.”

“Does Irene know of this passage?”

“The monk thinks not, but what can I promise, Redwan? You risk your life. Yet, should not a knight of honor risk his life for the woman with whom he is in love?”

Tancred lifted a brow. “Then we understand each other.”

Rufus slipped him a leather satchel. His eyes were smiling. “You will go there disguised as a monk. You will find everything you need in here. If anything goes wrong, I must not be held accountable. I will deny aiding you.”

“Understood. This underground passage, is there any light?

“Our friend said there are torches.”

Tancred folded the small drawing and took the satchel. “What of monastery guards?

“Three, perhaps four.”

As Tancred measured Rufus with a glance, he found the man’s face unreadable.

Rufus started to stand. “I wish you well, Tancred.”

“Before you go, what do you know of Philip?”

“He has returned to his position at the ministry of war. Do not underestimate him. He is not as subservient to Irene or Basel as he pretends. His ego has grown, and he believes he will one day be emperor. I’ve learned he has renewed contact with the Turkish commander at Antioch, Yaghi-Sian.”

Tancred recalled the treachery of the Byzantine against the feudal Western princes over Nicaea. The Norman Prince Bohemond and the other feudal lords had laid siege to the Turkish citadel for weeks. Just when victory seemed assured, they awoke the next morning to find the flag of the emperor flying over the walls. During the night the Moslem emir had surrendered as planned, to Philip the Noble, denying the crusaders the fruits of their first victory.

The news that Philip had secretly contacted Antioch was disturbing. He had not given up his plan to negotiate the surrender of the city to the emperor. Nor would Irene have changed her plans to send Helena to Antioch.

“Has Philip asked Irene for Helena’s release from the dungeon?”

“I’ve heard nothing of his ambitions beyond outwardly pleasing the emperor.”

“And Prince Kalid? Is he aware that Helena is now in confinement?”

“Kalid has been told nothing. He returned to Antioch to recruit more soldiers to confront the western crusaders.”

Tancred stood and searched Rufus’s features, recognizing truthfulness. “I will not rest until I locate my cousin Mosul and prove to Walter of Sicily that I am innocent of the murder of my half-brother Derek Redwan. As for Irene, who threatened me and even imprisoned me overnight at Nicaea, she now has the woman I love. Once I have rescued Helena I am willing to be about my own business—if she keeps at bay. Meanwhile, I am pleased to consider you a friend, Rufus.”

Rufus held out his hand. “Farewell, then. May your courage be anointed and blessed with victory!”

As Tancred watched him walk away, he felt both respect and sympathy. Rufus was a true warrior. Tancred only hoped the hour would come when the man could rescue his son Joseph, and escape from Irene’s evil chains!

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

Tancred wore the customary dark habit and tall black hat as he walked sedately through the courts and gardens of the monastery keeping his head somewhat lowered and his sword concealed. Bardas followed, dressed as a common slave in a tan hooded tunic pulled low over his forehead. The monastery district of the Green Vale of Lycus was built near the foot of the Great Wall; it greeted Tancred with cloistered serenity. There were many buildings, libraries, guest houses for pilgrims, infirmaries for the ill, workshops, and wine cellars, all surrounded by the fragrant shade of gardens. He paused in the meditation garden, waiting for his promised contact and leaned against a tree, then thought better about it and sat down on the meditation bench. It was his habit to lean against things and such a stance might give him away to any who knew him.

A monk crossed the grass and casually caught Tancred’s eye. As the monk came near the bench he slipped Tancred a leather bag. Tancred and Bardas followed behind him, walking unhurriedly, and it appeared to Tancred that Rufus had arranged matters well. The three of them came to the other side of the monastery. A sullen gray building stood shadowed by vines. Passing under a side arbor, a small door brought them into a quiet stone chamber with the entrance to a narrow passage which they followed to a steep flight of chiseled steps illuminated by torches on the walls. As previously planned, Bardas waited there while Tancred followed the monk down the steps. Moving his hand cautiously inside his robe, he touched the handle of his sword.

The steps ended abruptly. They stood in an alcove. A lone guard lounged with a ring of keys on his belt. He eyed them.

“Why do you come?”

“To minister mercy to Lady Helena Lysander,” the monk said quietly. “Lady Irene is now concerned about her increasing illness. I have brought a physician as ordered.”

The guard stood. He pointed to the leather bag and Tancred passed it to him. The guard searched through the various medicinal herbs and wine. Apparently satisfied, he returned the bag to Tancred and, at the same moment took a key and dropped it into the monk’s trembling hand.

Did the guard notice?
Tancred glanced calmly at the guard, and saw his gaze abruptly measure them both. If he insisted on searching, Tancred knew he would find his sword and daggers.

“Have you been here before?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” the words came casually, “I brought her food yesterday.”

“By whose orders?”

“Why, Lady Irene Lysander’s of course, and the Minister of War, Philip the Noble!”

The guard looked at Tancred. “Are you a Physician?”

“A student physician, newly arrived from Mount Athos.”

The monk’s head turned to Tancred. The guard hesitated, a shrewd glimmer in his dark eyes.

What had he said in error?
if anything,
‘Mount Athos.’
Fool, Tancred thought to himself, what do I know of these Greek monasteries?  

“Come,” the monk told Tancred, and started toward the downward steps. Tancred began to follow, now alert for trouble. The guard halted him.

“Wait! Where did you say you come from, Physician?”

Tancred kept his head lowered, fully aware that he must have made some grave error. His hand slipped toward his sword.

The monk tried to answer for Tancred, but the guard waved him to silence. “You, Physician-Monk, answer for yourself.”

Tancred paused. “I arrived last week,” He began slowly, trying to stall for time. “I have been training as a physician. They sent for me when they discover the woman was worsening.”

The guard’s eyes hardened. “The monks at Mount Athos are so rigid in their celibacy that not even a female beast is permitted there. You could not be called upon to treat a woman.”

“It is the reason why I have departed Mount Athos. My vow will be to serve here at the monastery,” he began smoothly enough, showing no alarm.

The guard took a step toward him. “I suggest you are lying!” He reached for his sword. Tancred threw aside his robe and whipped out his blade,  parrying the guard’s blow with the ring of steel. The guard lunged, but Tancred deflected his blade, and for an instant the guard was out of position. Tancred could have rammed him through, but merely pressed the point of his sword against his throat.

“I suggest you not make a sound.”

Bardas came up stealthily and struck the guard from behind. As he collapsed to the steps, Bardas stepped over him, snatching up his fallen blade.

“Quick, Redwan! Others are coming!”

They ran down the stone passageway, the monk in the lead. Torches flared above on the walls. They came to a dungeon, he turned the key and the door swung open with the creak of hinges. Tancred handed a torch from the wall to Bardas.

“Keep watch.”

“Swiftly, swiftly,” the monk breathed, throwing a glance down the passage from which they had come.

Tancred entered the dungeon.

It was small, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust well enough to see her. She was stretched out across some hay, and at first he thought her asleep. “Bring the torch.”

Tancred knelt beside her. Her dark hair was tangled about her pale face. When he saw her clearly, his heart was grieved. Her tunic of purple and gold thread was torn and dirty, but it was not this that brought anger to his soul. There were bruises on her throat and shoulder. Tancred gritted.
Thumb prints
. He guessed they had come from one of the guards…. In the struggle, her garment had torn.

“I should have rammed him through,” he murmured.

“Yesterday she was ill, but there were no marks on her neck,” the monk whispered, agitated. “I tended her myself, when bringing her supper!”

Bardas came running. “Soldiers have discovered the guard!”

Helena’s cloak was nearby and Tancred quickly wrapped it about her. Lifting her, he handed her over to Bardas. “Go! If needed, I will hold them off!”

Bardas moaned. “But Seigneur—”

“Go, Bardas!”

The monk rushed ahead with a torch as Bardas followed with Helena. Tancred extinguished the torches on the walls, throwing the passageway behind them into darkness. He heard the clink of footsteps as he slipped through the dimness after Bardas.

At the end of the passage, the monk was struggling with a lever concealed in a mortar gap, and upon pulling it out, an opening emerged in what had appeared to be a masonry rock wall. Short stone steps descended precariously into darkness.

“This way!” the monk hissed. “Hurry—”

Tancred closed the opening, shutting them off from the soldiers.

The monk led the way down the steps, holding the torch. This new passage wound on for some distance before Tancred felt a draft of fresher air. After some brisk walking, he could see an exit.

“It opens beyond the monastery wall into a grove of fruit trees,” the monk explained. “Do not stop until you get beyond the grove. Once there, you will find a high road that winds past large gardens. The road is not often used, but cross it with care. On the other side you will enter the gardens that belong to the private summer palaces of the nobility.

“What of you? You must not go back. The guard will inform your abbot that you helped us.”

“The abbot is a friend of Lady Adrianna. He will secure my safety until these matters are quieted. Do not worry about me. Go! And Christ aid you.”

Once they were outside in the sunlight, the monk closed the exit and rearranged vines and shrubs to conceal the opening before slipping away into the garden trees of the monastery. Tancred felt certain there was another passage that would lead the monk to a safe cloister.

Tancred led the way to the road as Bardas followed carrying the unconscious Helena.

They found a sheltered position near the road they were to cross, and from there Tancred watched a group of soldiers pass on horseback. Their own horses waited with his cousins, but in Helena’s condition, she would need rest for several days. They needed a place to stay and keep the horses. He had to inform Leif and Norris. Perhaps by now Nicholas had returned from his mission, and waited to hear from him.

Birds sang in the branches of the Judas trees, and flowers nodded their colorful heads in the soft breeze. The sun was still bright, but he dare not wait until dark. It would not take Irene long to marshal soldiers and begin a search of the city.

A path led through the grove, and Tancred followed it to a cutoff that brought him to a tangled slope where some horses munched on grass. “We need shelter,” Tancred said, sizing up the area.

“Shelter here? Soon there will be guards searching for us, swarming this area like bees.”

“Yes, but if we continue on foot they will spot us. They will expect us to go toward the city gates to escape. We will hold up here for a few days, then make for the Castle of Hohms.”

Tancred gestured across the road to where the domes of splendid houses shone in the sunlight. “Those private palaces—are they occupied?”

“Bardas followed his gaze and frowned. “No…the nobility arrive at their leisure. Usually in spring when the entertainments are just beginning. Many have returned to their villas in Athens, and even Corinth.”

“You would know the nobles who own these houses better than I. Surely there is a vacant residence more isolated that the others. Find one.”

Bardas sucked in his breath, astonished. “Seigneur, are you suggesting—?”

Tancred’s smile was faint. “We must. If need be, bribe someone. You have the jewels with you?”

“I have an emerald. The rest are sewn in the hems of my outer tunic.”

“The emerald should suffice. Go, your mistress needs rest and care before we travel to the castle.”

*** 

The private garden of a noble’s summer palace was walled and secluded. The birds chittered, and cool water splashed  invitingly in the Greek fountain. Helena lay on cushions in a room where dappled sunlight fell across the floor. Awakening, her feverish mind groped for understanding. Where was she? She was too drowsy to concentrate on finding the answers, and her thirst was excessive. There was someone with her. Her blurred vision could not see his face, yet she sensed his presence, and it was protective and comforting. She could reach and touch him and when she did she thought it must be Philip, and now she had been put in the dungeon—then who was this silent stranger beside her, always there, yet so unreal? At night he stood at the window staring out, reminding her of a shadow. She would call out, “Philip?” and he would not answer, yet he always came.

When morning light flooded the unfamiliar chamber, she closed her eyes and went back to sleep. The next time she awoke it was evening darkness. She had a faint memory of quiet voices, candles, and the nauseating smell of food; then she was alone again with the stranger. The candle went out, and the shadow took his place at the open window. The next time she awoke he was gone! Panic seized her. A vision of the dungeon tore at her mind. Rats! The guard coming toward her, and when she screamed he grew angry and grabbed her throat—

Helena awoke with a start, hearing her own muffled cry for help, but faced not the dungeon’s dark walls—but the pale golden light of a new dawn.

She lay still, trying to understand where she was. Already the birds were chattering, and fragrant air flooded the chamber through the open colonnade. Certainly she was not at home. Had Irene taken her away? And where was her mother!

Her eyes now focused clearly, and though she remained weak, her mind was alert. This was no dungeon, but neither was it her chamber in the Sacred Palace. It was a lower chamber in  a summer palace, but whose?

Everything came rushing back—the ambush by Bishop Basel’s soldiers…the trip to the monastery dungeon…Irene’s bodyguard, Rufus, to whom she had called out for help, pleading for him to send a message of her plight to Tancred—

Tancred
!

It was
he
who had kept vigil during her illness, not Philip! She sat up, the sudden movement brought dizziness.

The chamber was empty, but outside in the warm garden she heard him moving about. How long had he been with her?  Hours? Days? How had he managed to get her out of the dungeon? The last hour they had held each other, she had asked him if he would find her again. “
My dearest Helena, I vow it. I do not know the day or hour, but I shall return for you.”

That precious hour had come sooner than she had expected. But she would not face him yet. Her appearance must be dreadful.

She tossed the cover aside and staggered to her feet. Weakness enveloped her and she swayed, catching herself on a table. There was a gilded mirror and she frowned. One glimpse of her reflection brought despair. Her ankle-length tunic was rumpled and in need of washing. She had grown thinner and paler. Her dark hair hung in tangles giving her a childlike appearance. The bruise marks were visible on her skin.