Behind the Veil Read online

“No guards saw either of you?”

  “I was careful to keep us far enough away, behind some trees. The postern gate is behind the Great Tower. Sometimes it is guarded by fewer than six soldiers. Today we saw three, but there may have been others behind the Great Tower or in the rocks and shrubs.”

  Jamil’s description perfectly matched the map. Tancred looked out on the scenery, considering the difficulty of reaching that half-forgotten mountain trail. By now, the commander, Yaghi-Sian, would have guards watching the postern gate, and even have scouting missions on the trail. Tancred understood how steep and rugged the hills could be. Escape by such a route now, would not be possible until he recovered more of his strength.

  He was more tired and weak than he had admitted to himself, and he leaned his shoulder against the wall and continued looking out the window. Jamil looked up at him anxiously. “Shall I go for the falcon, Seigneur?”

  Tancred gazed down at him. “Where do you keep your falcons?”

  “Not far from here. I go there each afternoon to care for them.”

  “Who else knows that you keep them?”

  “Assad, the chief eunuch, and my sister, Aziza, also a few friendly guards that talk to me when they are not busy.”

  So it is not unusual for you to go there?”

  “It is no secret. No one watches me.”

  “Good, then. Take no chances.”

  “Shall I go and bring—”

  “No. There is less risk to you if I trust you to send the message. You must release a falcon to fly in the direction of the Castle of Hohms. If my faithful friend Hakeem is alert, he will know what to do to send his falcon intercept it. Tancred folded the paper several times into a small square and handed it to Jamil. “Should the task go ill, do not risk being caught with it. Destroy it.”

  Jamil stuffed the small paper into his tunic. “I will swallow it.”

  Behind the Veil / The Royal Pavilions book3 / Linda Chaikin

  Chapter16

  Mosul!

  Helena walked through the corridor from the women’s quarters toward her chambers, wondering about Tancred’s progress and whether he would be awake. She was anxious to let him know what she had learned about the postern gate. Yet, how could such an attempt be accomplished? Reaching her chamber door, she entered, shutting it behind her and quietly sliding the heavy bolt in place.

  The crimson draperies were drawn and the rooms were in semidarkness. Embers burned in the hearth, she heard nothing but her own breathing.

  Grabbing up her skirts she rushed across the room to Tancred’s chamber, then stopped. The empty bed stared at her. Gone!

  Had Mosul discovered Tancred’s true identity and seized him? For a moment she remained there, dazed. She struggled to control her emotions. She backed out slowly and, finding herself near the cushions by the hearth, she slipped to her knees, hand at forehead…. Mosul!

  “Dare I hope those emotions are spent upon me?”

  Her head jerked up, and Tancred stood there—Alive! Aside from the opening in his shirt, exposing the white bandage, he did not look ill. He wore the garments of the East—full black trousers and a silk shirt with wide sleeves drawn tight at the wrists. His sword was belted on, and he appeared the capable warrior of the past. He bowed low at the waist.

  “As your faithful eunuch slave, I am delighted to see you again, my Mistress.”

  The amusement in his greeting brought a smile of relief to her lips. She jumped to her feet. “Tancred!”

  “Refreshment, Mistress?” Exaggerating every condescending move, he waited on her with finesse. He tasted the cup first, as if checking for poison. He brought it to her. “How else shall your bond slave please you?”

  She laughed, and in a few steps she was in his arms. “I like you better as the Norman ‘barbarian,’ as long as you are my barbarian.”

  She grew sober, clutching his arm with unease. “Tancred, I am afraid.” She lowered her voice. ”Mosul is here. How can you face him? He would kill you!”

  “Soon I will be stronger. We will escape, and if needed we could even find our way to Sicily. With the arrival of the feudal princes, there will be war. Unless something unforeseen happens, there will be a protracted siege, it will undoubtedly take months to escape Antioch. I’ve attempted to send a message to Hakeem. If he is able to intercept it, he will get word to Nicholas to ambush Kalid’s entourage coming from Aleppo. That will leave only Mosul to deal with.” He walked over to the window. “Are you certain Mosul suspects nothing? He saw nothing of me or my belongings? It is like him to be shrewd and suspicious!”

  “I am no longer certain,” she admitted. “Even if he is not suspicious, what of those Seljuk soldiers? Some of them must have seen us embrace before you were surrounded.”

  “Yes, and sooner or later one of them may mention it, carelessly, or even for gain. But no one has approached you, or sent you a message?”

  “No. You think some soldier may try a bribe?”

  “Few can be trusted.” He turned toward her, his face set. “Mosul may come here—and I will be waiting. In the meantime you will learn all you can of what is taking place in the palace. There may be something that can be used to provide an advantage for us; perhaps even through your knowledge of Byzantine intrigue.”

  “There may be something,” she said thoughtfully. “Jamil mentioned an Armenian named Firouz. He serves Commander Yaghi-Sian, but he is displeased.”

  Alert, Tancred took her hand. “An Armenian? He is likely a Christian. This may be important, Helena. See what else you can learn about Firouz.”

  ***

  Through the following days Helena kept informed of the military situation in Antioch and of the battles raging outside the walls. Each morning she sent Jamil throughout the palace and city to spy on the Seljuk command, and toward evening he would return to report anything he had learned. Helena, in turn, reported to Tancred.

  As Tancred listened, studying his intricate map of Antioch, she told him how the Seljuks launched night attacks against the crusaders by slipping through the Bridge Gate near the Orontes River.

  “I could get through that gate with them—if I had the uniform of a Seljuk.”

  “You must not,” she pleaded. “It is too dangerous.”

  He seemed not to hear her, or at least behaved as though he had not.

  “They sent a barrage of arrows into some tents of the crusaders illuminated by campfires, and made short raids through their camps,” she told him.

  “And the Normans?”

  “They have run out of food, except for wagons of supplies the villagers and monks brought in to sell at outrageous prices. Only the wealthier knights can buy. They hope for relief soon from St. Symeon.”

  “Ah, Rainald!” he said. “May his Genoese fight valiantly. What else have you learned of Firouz the Armenian?”

  “I’ve contacted Aziza, Jamil’s sister. She is the chief serving girl to Firouz’s wife. Aziza is afraid of Mosul who has been offensive with her—she is a winsome girl, you see. She is willing to help. She will report anything she hears to Jamil. Firouz is angry with the Seljuk leadership here in Antioch because one of importance is seeking his wife’s romantic favors.”

  “Ah. If he is outraged over the treatment of his wife, there is a chance he may help the Normans. Tell Jamil I want to know the Seljuk who is troubling his wife, and whether or not Firouz has a spy watching them. Jamil will be rewarded in Sicily.”

  Helena folded her arms and smiled faintly. “And I thought I was the Byzantine.”

  ***

  Later that day Helena met with Jamil near the stables. They rode toward the hills as had become routine. During these times he would report to her what he had learned, and receive Tancred’s new orders. His winsome brown eyes were expectant. He was a natural spy, she decided, amused, in spite of the dangers facing them.

  “Tell Aziza to learn what she can about Firouz’s wife, but to use the utmost caution.” She saw his enthusiasm diminish. She knew he pref
erred to loiter among the soldiers to pick up bits of information on battles.

  Helena went on, “I have heard that Firouz is busy with Yaghi-Sian at a festive dinner tonight at the palace. Many important people will be there and, I too, am required. Try not to let the man’s wife out of your sight, but do not be seen, Jamil. Find out which leader she is meeting with behind her husband’s back.”

  He lifted his chin bravely. “I understand, Mistress. But I find no pleasure in this.”

  “Nor should you. Report back to me or Tancred as soon as you have any new information. If you are caught, tell no one what I asked you to do, or we are all likely to be imprisoned, or worse.”

  “I will not be seen, nor will I ever betray you and the seigneur.”

  “I am sure you would not,” she said gently. “You are loved by us, Jamil.”

  He blushed and fussed with his horse’s mane. ”But what of you, Mistress? Will you be at the banquet?”

  “I must go. Assad requires it of me. The emir has requested my attendance. Something is happening, but I do not know what.”

  They rode back toward the city, and as they sought to avoid the Tower, Helena saw a group of soldiers. One of them recognized her and sounded the news. Jamil frowned, gripping his reins. “Beware, it is Mosul,” he hissed.

  Mosul! Helena prepared her emotions for a confrontation. Whatever her reaction, she must not show fear and give him cause for suspicion.

  Mosul rode up and halted his fine horse abruptly, causing the animal to toss its black head. Helena found her path blocked by the insolent young man. He was strong in appearance and swarthy, with sharp dark eyes and a well-trimmed Moslem beard. He bore the blood of arrogance, the insidious pride of a man planning his climb to higher authority.

  Dressed in light armor and wearing a dark cloak, his eyes swept Helena again. His eyes were cold and unrelenting, but glinted in an overextended awareness of her beauty.

  Helena’s gaze refused to waver. “You are in our way, Captain. Is it customary to detain the future bride of Prince Kalid?”

  Mosul bowed low in the saddle, every expression in contradiction to the polite gesture tradition demanded.

  “Your Loveliness, I am quite aware of who you are, and I have been out searching for you since the slave admitted you had left your chambers for the stables.”

  Her first anxious thought was whether Mosul had been inside her chambers.

  “I am under orders to guard you,” he stated.

  Guard her! The news could not have been more devastating.

  “And whose orders are those?”

  “His Eminence, your future bridegroom.”

  She noted a slight tone of mockery in his voice. “Prince Kalid has returned?” She kept her voice devoid of alarm.

  “The orders were given, Highness, before he departed for Aleppo. I had thought you knew of them, that Ma’sud Khan had informed you.”

  “He did not. And as I have been inside Antioch many days already, I see no need for such sudden admonitions. I have my own bodyguard from the Sacred Palace in Constantinople, and I need not, nor wish to have, any other bodyguard.”

  His mouth showed impatience. “Until the Byzantine eunuch has recovered his strength, I am your bodyguard. From henceforth, Highness, may I suggest you go nowhere unless I am notified.”

  “Am I your prisoner, then?” she retorted coolly.

  He ignored the pert question. “It is for your safety. I am sworn to it. And now that the prince has returned to Antioch with Kerbogha, he has been searching for you. Tonight there is a banquet in his and your honor.”

  “Kalid…is here…in Antioch?” she could not thwart the impulse to grip her reins. A grave error. Mosul saw the reaction.

  He smiled. “I see you are pleased, Highness.”

  How had Jamil failed to hear of Kalid’s return? Was Mosul lying?

  “But how? The walls are surrounded by the crusaders—”

  “There is a route into the city; no one knows of it except the royal family and certain military commanders. The barbarians will not stop the House of Khan.”

  Her heart turned cold. She must be careful not to show her dismay to Mosul.

  “He is upset over your disappearance. You should not have ridden off.”

  She found her voice again at last. “There was no need for alarm, nor for searching my chambers, as though I am some slave.”

  “Your chambers were not searched, Your Loveliness. But the next time you wish to ride the prized Arabian stallion, I will escort you. Yet, there is little time for that now. Matters have changed.”

  What did he mean? She tensed. Both of Tancred’s enemies were now within Antioch.

  Mosul looked past her toward the rocky slope. “What were you doing near the Tower?”

  “My mistress wished to see all Antioch,” Jamil hastened. “The view overlooked the palace.”

  “Are there not more worthy sights than half-starved barbarians? The coliseum built by the Byzantine emperor Justinian would likely be of more interest to the heritage of your mistress. There is nothing up that slope but dry rock…and a postern gate,” he suggested, his eyes coming back to Helena. He measured her.

  The gate Kalid and Kerbogha had come through? She said nothing and sat straight in her saddle.

  “You, Jamil, know better than to ride near the Tower.”

  Jamil turned mute. In fear that Jamil would say something rash, she maneuvered her horse between the boy and Mosul.

  “His Eminence, the grandfather of Kalid, made it clear to me on my arrival that I am not a prisoner in Antioch. Therefore, I do not see why it is any of your affair what I do, or where I choose to ride with my slave.”

  Mosul’s smile was unpleasant. “As I have explained, Prince Kalid has made me your guard. I am under orders to carry out his will. He has sent me to bring you to his quarters. There has been an unexpected change in plans.”

  Helena’s heart pounded. What change could this be?

  “I dare not suggest how displeased His Eminence is at your disappearance.”

  “Disappearance! I took my Arabian for a ride. Have you forgotten it was he who gave me the horse as a wedding gift? Am I not intended to ride him as I choose?”

  Mosul’s eyes were steady. “I dare not say how angry he will be when he discovers you ordered your slave boy to bring you to the postern gate leading to the mountains—he may consider making you a prisoner.”

  Helena felt a dart of fear where there had been none a moment before. Mosul was not an easy man to contest. She could easily sense he was trying to intimidate her. Could he know about Tancred?

  She had her first test with the nature of the man Tancred had trailed for four years—a relentless man, who had planned Derek Redwan’s death in Palermo and craftily managed to bring the charge of murder against Tranced.

  Mosul turned to Jamil. “This could mean trouble for you. And for your sister, Aziza. Tell her to come to me tonight if she will save you from punishment.”

  Jamil’s eyes clouded. “Aziza has done nothing wrong, Captain Mosul. I cannot ask her to do such a thing.”

  Helena’s anger flared. She had faced too long the intrigue of Lady Irene to surrender to the intimidation of Mosul’s threats. Only one thing frightened her—that he might learn of Tancred. When facing an enemy, she knew that countermoves were essential.

  “If there is any punishment to be rendered to my slaves, Captain, I will be the judge of that. You are not Jamil’s master, nor Aziza’s. You are not to lay a hand on either the boy or his sister. Is that clear? If you go against my wishes, I will go to His Eminence and plead charges against you. Do not forget that I will soon be his bride. As such, you will honor my requests. If not, I will ask Kalid to have you replaced.”

  Whether or not she could have Mosul removed was doubtful, but he must think she would try.

  Mosul’s hard face was immobile, but the dark eyes glittered. Helena lifted her chin and added with authority, “As for this gate you make so much of
—are your Seljuk guards so weak that I and my slave boy could take away their weapons? Do you fear we shall flee like frightened goats into the mountains? I am here in Antioch to stay. And know this: once I become the emir’s daughter-in-law, I will plot my own climb to power. Make sure, Mosul, that you do not get in my way—not if you wish to survive and prosper.”

  Mosul studied her, as though he understood she would not be as easy to intimidate as some others.

  Helena sat astride the Arabian stallion as the picture of ambition and determination. The lovely face bore the practiced expression of authority.

  Mosul bowed his dark head. “No threat intended, Your Loveliness. Perhaps I was too hasty in my remarks.”

  “Perhaps, indeed.”

  “His Eminence is anxious; you can imagine how he feels. As I am held accountable for your safety, I was a little too harsh with Jamil. If you will permit, I will now escort you to Prince Kalid.”

  Helena turned cold inside. “Very well,” she said.

  Mosul turned in his saddle to Jamil. “As for you, count yourself favored. His Eminence has heard of your way with falcons. He wishes to see a demonstration of the hunt this afternoon.”

  There was more in Mosul’s eyes than Jamil could understand. Jamil brightened. Helena guessed Jamil wished the opportunity to use a falcon to send another of Tancred’s messages to Hakeem.

  “I am honored, Captain Mosul.” Jamil turned to Helena, his eyes shining. “I have long awaited such a moment, Mistress. May I go to the field?”

  Her throat was dry. She feared now for both Tancred and Jamil.

  “You may go,” she said. “But remember the banquet tonight. I expect to see you there, should I need you, Jamil,” she said, meaning far more than his service as a slave.

  “I will remember, Mistress.”

  Mosul warned Jamil, “If I were you, I would make sure your falcon catches the prey.”

  “I learned the art from the best falcon trainers in the world, the Normans. He will return with the prey.”