Behind the Veil (3 page)

At the moment it did not occur to her that she was blessed to be alive. She thought only of how dreadful she looked and that she did not want to face Tancred, ignoring the obvious—that he had already seen her in this condition.

She glanced about hastily. There would be a bath somewhere in this great house, and perhaps a woman’s summer wardrobe in the main chamber.

The marble steps took every ounce of strength she had; she rested several times before going on. Above, she came across a small room with rugs and a low table, and beyond, a round marble tub with a running fountain. There were sweet-smelling spices and oils, and she bathed, then washed her hair.

There was a sun garden past the alcove, and she went there to rest on the marble bench among the herbs and flowers. After weeks—or had it been months?—in the dungeon, the cleansing experience brought forth sighs of thankfulness to the Lord God above. She drank in the quiet beauty and the feel of warmth upon her skin. Soon she thought of nothing more but the peace of the moment and remained there until her hair was dry, giving thanks to God for sparing both her and Tancred, and interceding for the safety of her mother, Adrianna, and the child she expected. The child was due to be born soon—what evil thing did Irene have in mind? 
Philip would know
.  She
must
talk to him to find out! He must do something to safeguard the baby, as well as her mother.

With her hair dried and in desperate need of brushing, she went off to find a clean garment. The women’s chamber was not difficult to find. Carpets decorated the floor, rich Byzantine wall hangings depicted hunting scenes of embroidered animals, and there was a large bed with brocade coverings.

Helena found the wardrobe and donned a robe of dark blue silk and ivory. It was too large and she tied the waist with a gold-braided sash. May the owner of this garment not despise me for using it, she thought. A pearl-handled brush was on the table, and she hurriedly began brushing and then braiding her hair.

As she worked she thought of Tancred. Had Rufus managed to get a message to him?  Somehow the idea that it had been Philip was no longer feasible.

Opening the chamber door, she stepped into the passage and beyond the stairs. Bardas was setting a low table with fresh fruits, bread, and cheese. The sight of her faithful bodyguard brought joy to her heart.

“Bardas,” she cried, “Oh, I did not know you were here! You are safe! Thanks be to God! I thought—thought you had been killed in Kalid’s ambush at the peasant’s olive grove.”

“Ah, Mistress, I was brought back from the olive tower with Master Philip. Rufus arranged for my escape.”

Helena did not inquire as to why Philip had not arranged for his escape…and her own as well. She was aware of his emotional collapse after what occurred at the ambush. Before sending Helena to the dungeon, Irene had boasted of having her son Philip spied upon and of  arranging to have Prince Kalid arrive to thwart their attempt to run away and be married against Irene’s plans.

“Mistress, you are looking well again. This is a festive day!”

“”Yes, and you must tell me everything that happened. Where is Tancred?”

“He is with his two Norman cousins. They are looking for Master Nicholas. He hasn’t returned yet from a meeting he sought with Lady Irene concerning you and your mother.”

Her joy at seeing Bardas evaporated as he explained how her uncle had come to seek their whereabouts from Irene. What if Irene had arrested Nicholas!

“Do not worry, Mistress. We both know Nicholas to be  a man who can outwit your aunt, or Bishop Basel if it comes to it. And he has only been gone three days.”

“Three days?” Was that all? It seemed she had been struggling in and out of her fever for weeks, but Bardas told her they had arrived at the residence just a few days ago.

He explained all that had happened while she ate, and Helena was surprised at her appetite. Her burdens became lighter again, and the smiling face of Bardas convinced her that the future would brighten now that Tancred was with her.

“Have you the jewels I entrusted to you? Did you sew them into the garment?”

“The garment is safe, but I did use an emerald to bribe the guard of the family that owns this house. It was Count Redwan’s idea,” he said, a hint of complement in his voice.

Helena smiled. “The perfect place to rest and prepare for the journey to the Castle of Hohms.”

Bardas brought his tunic to her. “Everything remains sewn inside as you requested.”

Helena was pleased that her idea had worked. “Did you say Tancred has gone into Constantinople?”

“He ventured there, yes. Hoping to learn news of Master Nicholas.”

“And our horses, and Apollo?” she asked of the prized horse she had given to Tancred when his own Alzira had been stolen by his cousin, Mosul.

Safe, and waiting for your recovery. Count Redwan will be greatly pleased when he returns to see you up and well.”

“Good.” She hesitated, thinking of her mother and Bishop Basel’s obsession with her. However, she could feel some peace in knowing that Basel, unlike Irene, would not harm her mother.

“There is something you must do, Bardas. I must get a message to Philip to learn whether Irene is aware of the hide-away where Bishop Basel was likely to bring my mother until the birth of the baby. No one else must know, however. Disguise yourself in the monk’s robe and go to Philip.”

“Mistress! Alas! Do you think it wise? Suppose the enemy is watching him, expecting you to send a message to Philip?”

“Philip has proven his abiding friendship with me. You saw how he was willing to fight for me when Kalid arrived.”

Bardas scowled. “He did not fight, Mistress, he—”

“Enough, Bardas. I’ll not be content until I have learned all that is known about Bishop Basel’s plans and my mother. Is Philip strong enough to meet me at the Golden Horn?”

“Yes, he is not bodily ill—but is this wise, Mistress? Count Redwan will heartily disapprove, and if I should do this thing he will accuse me of breaking my allegiance to him as my new seigneur!”

She caught a breath of surprise. “You have sworn allegiance to Tancred rather than Philip?”

“I have,” he said gravely. “I now know the Norman is a knight of honor, and that he is in truth a titled count from the Norman kingdom of Sicily. He has the courage of a tiger!”

She laughed in spite of herself, pleased.

“The Norman will not be pleased if you send me to Philip,” he stated again.

“No, he will not,” she confessed. “But, he trusts me now about Philip. Tancred knows I do not love Philip, and he knows how I must learn where Bishop Basel has taken Adrianna!”

Bardas, grieved and scowling, grumbled like a displeased dog but bowed stiffly and left the room for the garden…

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

Bardas, dressed as a monk, left the house by the back garden and stopped when he reached the gate. Here, he waited, pacing among the trees and flowering bushes. Where was the Norman knight? An hour passed before the sound of footsteps approached. He concealed himself until recognizing Tancred with a monk’s mantle thrown over his shoulders to cover his weapons. Bardas paused inside the gate until Tancred’s arrival.

“Seigneur Redwan! I have been waiting for you! My mistress intends to sail to St. Symeon as soon as her mother is brought here by Master Nicholas. She sends me to make arrangements. In loyalty to you, I could not depart without telling you.”

Tancred strode up and clasped his broad shoulder. “You did wisely, Friend. So then, your mistress is awake.”

“She is awake and speedily recovering. She waits now for you near the fountain.”

Tancred was pleased but uneasy. Already she was taking command.

“Nicholas has not returned from the Sacred Palace, and until he does, there is no hope of discovering Lady Adrianna’s whereabouts. As for making arrangements on the wharf, I have already considered buying passage. But the arrangements cannot be made until the hour of our secret departure. We cannot fully trust those on the wharf with our plans. Spies are everywhere; so are men willing to betray for treasure.”

“Aye, just so. And so I told her, but…there is something more she wishes of me,” and here Bardas paused and glanced over his shoulder toward the house. “She sent me also to get a message to Philip. She wishes to speak with him here.”

Philip again!
Tancred restrained his frustration. “One word to Philip and Irene will be on our trail. Even now, I’m not certain Philip’s doesn’t know where we are staying. There was a man trailing me from the city. I lost him, but there may be others.”

“So I thought, and so—”

Tancred, always alert, was hearing stealthy footsteps approaching from the direction he had just come. Bardas, too, tensed and stepped aside into the trees, hand on his sword-hilt.

A guard stepped forward with caution. “Redwan?” he called in a low voice. “I come in peace. I bring news. It is urgent!”

Tancred, cautious, gestured Bardas to remain concealed. Bardas withdrew,  sword in readiness.

“Speak!” Tancred said quietly.

“I am the guard that Bardas paid to let you and Lady Lysander stay here.”

“Come forward then, show yourself,” Tancred ordered.

The man did so, his face tense, his eyes blinking.

The nervous guard kept glancing back over his shoulder toward the wooded road.

“What news do you bring?”

“Your Norman cousin sends word to be on guard. He has noticed a slave prowling. He worries he may have come upon your concealed horses. He trailed after him, but he disappeared through the garden gate near the trees.”

Tancred studied him for a moment. Was he lying? Was this a well-laid trap?

Tancred glanced toward Bardas who slipped beside him and whispered, “This is the same one I paid the emerald to for his silence.”

“But greed only grows. We must be cautious.” He turned to the house guard. “My cousin’s name, what is it?”

“Leif Redwan,” he said without hesitation.

Both of his cousins had been on watch during the night, Leif near the garden gate; Norris, farther away toward the road near the monastery. Bardas had been guarding the entrance nearest Helena’s chamber. The news of a slave slipping about was not good. Had the monk who aided them been forced to talk?

Tancred could not depart yet! Nicholas was to arrive tonight, before they could buy passage and sail for St. Symeon.

“Where is Leif now?”

“Out searching,” he said nervously, “Making certain there are no more. I fear a slave was sent to ready the abode for Senator Lucian. Lucian may return unexpectedly. You must go—” the house guard hesitated, then turned toward the road. “Someone is coming.”

Tancred held his blade, alert. Bardas did the same. The house guard slipped through the trees and was gone.

Norris Redwan entered the gate and said quickly to Tancred, “Rufus waits for you. His son is injured. Bring your medical satchel and come.”

“Rufus? What happened?”

“His son who worked in the royal Library escaped, Rufus with him, and two soldiers. The woman Irene is searching for them. The soldiers say Joseph is injured badly.”

“Rufus has long planned for this moment,” Bardas said. “Shall I get your satchel, Seigneur?”

“Yes, be swift, Bardas.”

“Where are they?” Tancred asked of Norris.

“At the slave quarters, about five minutes from here among the trees.”

Bardas came running up and Tancred took his medical satchel and followed after Norris. “Guard your mistress,” he told Bardas. “Remember that slave that Leif spotted spying about.”

“A slave, spying?” Norris inquired. “I saw Leif twenty minutes ago and he said nothing of this.”

Tancred stopped, and briefly told Norris what the house guard had communicated.

Norris scowled, and Tancred grew uneasy. “If he had told me of someone other than Rufus and his son, I’d have cause to wonder.”

Norris kept scowling and they walked on. Their boots crunched over the gravel walkway.

“The sooner Nicholas arrives and we leave this place the better,” Tancred said quietly. The sun was breaking through the morning haze.

A private mercenary soldier was waiting some hundred feet from the slave quarters. Seeing them, he walked forward.

“Do you know him?” Norris inquired.

“I have seen him with Rufus at the armory.”

Tancred was concerned about whether his medical supplies were adequate. “How badly is he wounded?”

“The messenger did not say.”

“Did you actually see Rufus?” Tancred asked bluntly.

“No, I”— Norris sucked in an incriminating breath. “Fool that I am!”

Tancred glanced about the trees. He tossed his satchel to the bushes and unleashed his sword.

Norris, looking confused, nevertheless followed suit. “What is it?” he breathed between his teeth, glancing about.

Like a wolf smelling a trap, Tancred scanned the chinar trees. The soldier walking toward them hesitated, as though he noticed their suspicion.

Tancred touched his cousin’s arm. “A trap. Quick! Away! Toward those trees—”

Their action forced the hand of soldiers in hiding, who emerged from the trees on both sides of the path. Philip the Noble angrily pushed his way past his men. “Do not let them get away!”

The soldiers rushed the two Normans. At once Tancred and Norris were fighting for their lives, dealing blow after blow to hold off the advancing soldiers in service to Philip. It was madness; they could not hope to survive. The fighting raged for a timeless period when suddenly Bardas rushed up with sword drawn and entered the onslaught. The sound of heavy blows of steel upon steel captured the morning. With Bardas beside Tancred and Norris on his left they fought for a clearing in which to escape back to the house. Soldiers lay gravely wounded, strewn across the path, but Philip stalked at a safe distance. His voice rang above the ringing steel and grunts of men: “Pursue them! After them! Do not let them escape!” 

One bold young Byzantine lunged with gritted teeth at Tancred who struck past his sword and smashed the side of his head.

They were far outnumbered, and at last Philip’s sanity seemed to rouse itself. “Circle behind them, you fools! Trap them like wolves in a pen!”

Norris was in deadly trouble with three soldiers closing in upon him. Tancred tried to help, his blade exchanging furious blows, when he heard Norris gasp as a spear pierced his chest. Norris grasped it, falling to his right knee.

“I want Tancred alive!” Philip shouted.

Tancred did not hear him. At that moment, little else mattered when he saw Norris dying among the dew-drenched flowers into which he had fallen. Tancred knelt beside him, wiping sweat from his eyes in order to see. Norris was slipping into unconsciousness, blood on his lips. A final breath, then stillness—It was over.

Tancred’s fist clenched. He heard nothing but the thudding his own heart, like a war drum, in in his ears.

Lord God,
he prayed, broken in spirit,
Norris,
my cousin, like a
brother
….

When he became aware again, soldiers had surrounded him with pointed blades, their breathing coming hard, their sweating faces grim. Bardas was sprawled on the ground holding his shoulder where blood soaked his sleeve.

Philip strode up and pushed his way through his men, his dark eyes cold and brittle. He refused to glance at Norris’s body.

“It is you, Tancred, who are to blame for his death, not I.”

“As if you care. You will pay for this, Philip.” His voice came as deadly as a sword thrust.

“Bah! You Redwan, will taste the shame and humility you have forced upon me!”

From behind them there was a scuffle as soldiers were bringing someone from the cottage. Tancred heard Helena’s muffled cry of outrage. His reason rushed back as he understood she had been captured inside.

“Tancred!” she struggled to break past Philip, but he blocked her.

Tancred stood. His emotions, having ebbed to the bottom in watching the death of his Redwan cousin, now turned with fury. He struck Philip a savage blow that toppled him backward into the men behind him. Blood streaked down his cut mouth as he stared with dazed eyes at Tancred.

Helena was still trying to twist free from two soldiers who held her arms, but seeing Tancred, she soon sank into hopeless silence, her eyes darting down to the body of Norris. She winced and turned her head away, and a pitying sob came to her throat.

Philip recovered and stood glaring at Tancred. He took a white handkerchief from his purple vesture and blotted his mouth. He managed a contemptuous smile. “I could kill you, but not before Helena. You will not die
yet
, Redwan. That would be too easy for you. And she would hate me for it.”

“Let him go, Philip,” she demanded. “If you touch him or Bardas further I will loathe you till the day I die.”

“Let your arrogant boast of becoming emperor prove itself here and now with your sword,” Tancred challenged Philip. “If the created stars are your trust to bring you greater glory, surely they will fight for you now. You put your trust in Zeus! Let him show himself on your behalf! Or are you afraid to show your soldiers that you are a miserable coward hiding behind the silk skirts of Irene?”

Philip’s hollow laughter rang among the tree tops as he tossed his dark head back and drowned out the song of a twittering bird, convincing the men that looked nervously on that the garden lurked with evil.

“I have nothing to prove, Norman. It is you who will prove what you are made of. Senator Lucian has more at his summer house than fountains and roses. Take him to the dungeon. String him to the whipping post!”

“Philip!” Helena cried, “You have gone mad!” She broke free of the guard and before they could stop her, reached Tancred. He embraced her. “It is all right,” he whispered. “Don’t be intimidated.”

She trembled, her eyes sparking with fear and tears. His touch sought to radiate courage and confidence.

“Take her away! Philip demanded with fury.

Tancred looked into Helena’s eyes, they saw only each other.

“I will live,” he whispered for her alone. ”Whatever happens to either of us, I will return for you one day.”

Her eyes clung to Tancred’s as the soldiers took her away.