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  Helena tensed. Mosul’s response to the mention of the Normans caused an unexpected glint in his eyes.

  “It is because of the Normans that Prince Kalid wishes to see you,” Mosul said to Helena. He then gestured to the three guards with him, who fell in around Helena. Mosul rode in front.

  They rode from the trail, then threaded their way down the slope of the long hill. As they neared the section of the great wall that overlooked the wide plain below Antioch, Mosul lifted his hand.

  Far in the distance, securely built on a rocky hill, the gray stone walls of the Castle of Hohms dominated the plain. A stab of anxiety penetrated her heart. Was her mother safe? By now she would have given birth to Sinan’s child. Tancred had told her that Bishop Basel was dead. Had he been hallucinating the night he had told her? And beloved Nicholas—oh, if only her stalwart uncle was here with her! Was he within the castle, or had he made it back to the camp of Bohemond with the other allies of Tancred? Even so, what could they do to aid them within the city?

  Helena stared off toward the heated plain. The sky was clear and the distant hills were humped like resting brown camels. She gazed upon a multitude of Western-warriors: Normans, Franks, Rhinelanders, and Italians.

  Mosul’s look was unpleasant. “If you hope to escape marriage to Prince Kalid by the fall of Antioch, you will be disappointed.”

  His temerity surprised her, though it should not have, knowing his character. She pretended shock. “What makes you think I wish to escape marriage to Prince Kalid?”

  He dared to throw back his head and laugh.

  “Your Loveliness, there are few who do not know your dedication to the Greek noble Philip Lysander, and how he tried to rescue you near Athens. And Nicholas came for you in the camp of the Red Lion. Your mother is Adrianna, once the wife of Sinan, and she now abides in the Castle of Hohms to give birth. Do you think the family of Emir Khan does not know this, and has not made plans to take the child to his grandfather in Baghdad?”

  So he knew more than she had though. “Sinan is dead,” she said. “And my mother will never surrender her child to Emir Khan.” She could have told him Philip was dead too, but he might then wish to know who it was that had dueled him.

  Mosul shrugged at the mention of her mother’s determination over the baby. “It is not my concern, Highness. I have plans of my own. I do not care if you love Philip Lysander, or how much you loathe Kalid. I simply go about my duties as his bodyguard.”

  “And your loyalties? Where do they rest, with Kalid or the family of Sinan?”

  He smiled coolly. “Perhaps with you, Highness.”

  She knew he lied, and she pretended to consider. “So you know I do not love the prince?”

  “When a woman is forced by many guards from the Castle of Hohms to attend her wedding, what is there left to think? And your bodyguard Bardas fought fifty Seljuks to try to release you. He was wholeheartedly loyal and has the markings of a true warrior. A pity he will not be traveling with you to Aleppo.”

  She could not conceal her alarm. He was callously informing her of new plans. She must not be brought to Aleppo and leave Tancred injured and confined in her present chambers! She felt the color drain from her cheeks as she contemplated the meaning of his words.

  “Aleppo?”

  His smile was wolfish. “The siege of the city will be long and costly. Prince Kalid has no intention of becoming trapped here. He will leave the city to meet the sultan of Aleppo in the morning. You, of course, will accompany him. Your bodyguard, however loyal to you, is not fit for the ordeal. He will remain here under my supervision until we can join you. That is, Your Loveliness, if you still insist that I do not take his place.”

  Overwhelming dismay numbed her brain.

  Mosul had to have seen her consternation. His teeth flashed against his swarthy face. “Fear not, Highness, my scimitar will be ready to protect you. I will prove as faithful to you as your injured Bardas. It may be I can even help you.”

  Helena recovered her affected confidence. Now what? There seemed no way out of this dilemma. She was leaving for Aleppo in the morning. That left no time for anything important. And Tancred would be left to Mosul while he was still recovering.

  Mosul gestured to the hot plain. “Look upon the barbarians for the last time, Your Loveliness. Soon your caravan will be ready, and you will see them no more.”

  Behind the Veil / The Royal Pavilions book3/ Linda Chaikin

  Chapter17

  Intrigue at the Emir’s Banquet

  Mosul escorted her through a cool garden, past a wrought-iron gate into a courtyard where a fountain soothed. She hesitated.

  “This way, Highness.”

  Helena passed through a double-arched colonnade with small inlaid lapis-lazuli-colored tiles and entered a shadowed room with brocaded divans and tables veined with gold. Several slaves appeared as if by a magic. Mosul spoke to them in low Arabic. Her unease climbed.

  When the slaves bowed toward Mosul and left the room, she asked, “Where is Prince Kalid?”

  Mosul’s smile was cool and confident. “His Eminence has sent a message. He regrets he cannot come at this moment, but will see you tonight at the banquet.”

  “Then I shall return to my chambers.”

  “His Eminence has left instructions you are to wait here until tonight.”

  Tension gripped her heart. This seemed a ploy by Mosul. “I cannot remain here! What of my wardrobe, my bodyguard—”

  “You will be provided everything you need, Highness. Simply ring the cord on the drape for a slave.”

  “Then I am a prisoner here, is that it?” she demanded, trying to veil her alarm. She must get back to her chambers to warn Tancred that Kalid was in Antioch. Was she being kept here to prevent her from warning him? Did Kalid or Mosul know about Tancred after all?

  “Not a prisoner, Highness—a guest, the soon-to-be-bride of His Eminence.”

  She suspected he was lying. Was Kalid even here in Antioch? Could he still be in Aleppo? This maneuver could simply be Mosul’s way to keep her confined while Tancred was being either arrested or assassinated in the chamber. What now? She must not let Mosul know she suspected him of lying.

  “Very well. When will I be brought to the banquet?”

  “Tonight. Either I or a guard will come to escort you.”

  She watched him depart, hearing the unmistakable clink of a bolt on the wrought-iron gate shutting her within. Trapped!

  What could she do? Scream? Bang on the chamber door? And who would hear or pay heed? Most likely these slaves were in submission to Mosul, or he wouldn’t have brought her here. She rushed to the door on the other side of the chamber and tried the latch. Locked, what else? Jamil knew she had been taken away by Mosul to supposedly meet Kalid, but how long before he returned from demonstrating the falcons? If there truly was a demonstration? It may be hours before Tancred knew what had occurred. But even so, what could be done? Would she even be brought to the banquet?

  She paced, head in hands. And while hopelessness assailed her, her heart cried out to the Lord God.

  Remain calm; think clearly. First of all, Tancred was no fool. Though injured, he was improving steadily. He remained a warrior, and he now had control of his weapons, even a scimitar, thanks to Jamil. He had already anticipated that his personal enemy would eventually discover who he was and he would not be taken by surprise. And when she did not return to her chambers he would know something was wrong and be on his guard. Jamil would get the facts to him that Kalid was in Antioch, and how Mosul had brought her to meet Kalid in the palace chambers. If Jamil did not show up and the falcon game was a ruse, then Aziza might get a message to Tancred.

  ***

  Tancred paced in Helena’s chamber while Jamil stood breathlessly and watched him. “There was no falcon game, Seigneur! Mosul lied to me! And my mistress went off with him under three guards to be brought to Prince Kalid. Mosul says Kalid is in Antioch! There is talk of the royal family escaping through
the postern gate tomorrow. And tonight there is a banquet given by the emir for Kalid and Lady Helena.”

  Night had fallen on the city of Antioch and danger was closing in; he could sense it with each beat of his heart. There was little time. Jamil had succeeded in sending the first message to Hakeem, but it would prove of no avail if Kalid were already in the city.

  “You saw Kalid?” Tancred persisted, questioning the boy. “You are certain it was he?”

  “I thought as you do now,” Jamil replied. “I said to myself, ‘Mosul lies when he tells my mistress the prince is here.’ So I made certain by asking Assad, who is much upset over the banquet tonight and Lady Helena not being here at the chambers to be escorted by him to the palace entrance. Assad affirmed it was so, that Prince Kalid is in the palace with the emir. Then I saw Kalid walking with the emir. Ma’sud Khan joined them and they huddled in much low speech as if planning to escape Antioch.”

  “Then Kalid could only have gained access to the city by the little known trail through the hills,” Tancred murmured thoughtfully, looking at the map on the table.

  “And known only by the royal family,” Jamil added nervously. “Otherwise the Normans would have spied them coming from Aleppo.”

  “Do you know who will attend the banquet tonight?”

  “Aziza told me all will be there. Yaghi-Sian, Commander Kerbogha, Prince Kalid, Ma’sud Khan, and the emir himself.”

  What did Mosul have planned? Dare Tancred risk going to the courtyard? Could he masquerade as some unexpected Turkish official sent by one of the caliphs about the security of Antioch? Not likely, for both Kalid and Mosul would be there and recognize him at once.

  “The banquet, when does it begin?”

  “Soon!”

  If plans were in the making for the royal family to escape Antioch with Helena, it wasn’t likely they would leave tonight, Tancred decided. The trail was too dangerous for night traveling. That gave him a little time to think, to make plans of his own. He took hold of the boy’s shoulders, “Your mistress is in danger, Jamil. It is essential you watch her at the banquet, understood?”

  “Yes, Seigneur.”

  “And that goes for your sister and the other slaves loyal to our cause. Do not let Helena out of your sight. One of you must watch her at all times.”

  From beneath his shirt he pulled out the drawing of the palace and its environs and spread it on the table. “I want you to look at this and tell me if you think it is accurate. Take your time. It is very important, Jamil. Show me where Helena is being kept now by Mosul. Are there any unused paths, gates, gardens, chambers nearby in which I might conceal myself?”

  Jamil looked at the map with amazement on his face. “Where did you get this, master!”

  “Never mind for now. What do you think of its accuracy?”

  “Well done, master, except—we are here, and the chambers Mosul brought her to are on the other side of the palace—here. And this is a path through the back garden winding by the slave quarters and the orchard. The emir’s guards do not come this way often. And tonight they will be busy at the banquet. I come and go this way all the time. There are many trees and bushes to duck in and out of if someone comes. And over here—is a storage room.”

  “Good.” Tancred folded the drawing and replaced it inside his shirt, then took the boy’s arm and propelled him toward the door. “Watch your mistress, see what news you can discover among the slaves and guests—but whatever you do, be cautious. If we lose you, we lose our best opportunity of escaping.”

  Jamil’s eyes glimmered with pride and happiness. “I will not fail you, Seigneur,” he whispered. “We will yet escape.”

  Tancred smiled briefly and tousled his hair. “Go, then. I will wait here until the moon sets. If anything of importance is discovered, get word to me any way you can.”

  ***

  Outside the palace, bright moonlight illuminated the darkness. Yet Jamil reminded himself that Tancred would remain in the chamber until the moon set. The open colonnade with its wide steps lined with trees eased down into a very large garden that was walled and guarded. Haunting music wafted on the breeze, and soft lantern light fell across the path winding through scented shrubs and pines.

  Ahead, important guests from Antioch moved about with the rustle of garments, low voices and laughter. Jamil made his way silently through the garden toward the banqueting court. He darted here and there concealed, a slim figure in a dark tunic. He went across the court, avoiding the guards on patrol. Flaring torches revealed soldiers near the gate towers and on the wall. He saw horses waiting, and he went on to another section of the palace grounds.

  Here he entered a magical world. Dozens of colored lanterns flashed their soft light upon the scented garden like a myriad of prisms. He now heard clearly the lilting voice that sang a song of enchantment, while beautifully garbed guests talked. The spring moon shone in a clear sky. He hid in the trees watching the guests move freely about the garden. The talk was cheerful, and the aroma of rich foods made his stomach growl. He remembered the western crusaders camped on the barren plain not so far away. They were without supplies. Sickness and death prowled outside the walls of the city like starving dogs.

  Here within this beautiful sanctuary, here, war seemed not a reality, defeat unthinkable. Here, gardens were sweet and green as obedient slaves moved silently about on bare feet bowing and serving the elite. Surely defeat and ruin was impossible, and the laughter they shared seemed to strengthen their pride in their superior culture. Who could take the great city of Antioch with its twelve gates and great walls? Who could undermine such strong soldiers with such loyalty to the Most Excellent Emir and his royal family?

  Jamil’s wide brown eyes peeped through the oleander bushes and saw his mistress. She was lovely in a shimmering dress of a Moslem princess as she strolled with Prince Kalid Khan. Jamil admired her courage to behave as though she had made peace with her destiny to become the wife of the emir’s grandson.

  They paused in their stroll among the guests as another man approached. Jamil recognized Yaghi-Sian, the son of the Red Lion. His physical presence belonged to that of a seasoned fighter who was hardened to suffering and death. A fixed smile was on his lips, his features bronzed by the sun. Several personal guards were behind him. At his side stood another official who appeared to be of Armenian blood—

  Jamil clapped a palm over his mouth to keep from murmuring in surprise, Firouz!

  The face of the Armenian appeared stifled; his eyes were fixed on the bodyguard of Prince Kalid—Mosul. Mosul, and his three guards, stood a few feet behind Prince Kalid and Lady Helena. In looking at Firouz, Jamil guessed a great struggle of bitterness. While Firouz was daily acting out his official duties, he was fully aware of the advances these powerful leaders were making toward his wife.

  “I bring important news from your friend, the Byzantine general Taticus,” Yaghi-Sinan was saying to Prince Kalid.

  The group walked across the courtyard toward a long table where food was heaped high.

  Jamil crept through the garden foliage to follow.

  The sight of so much food awed him. There were skewers of many and various meats. Jamil recognized lamb, and there were small roasted fowl, all hot and fragrant, being spread with various sauces by the hands of slaves. There were many other unusual dishes as well as the finest of wine, dried fruits, nuts, and a Syrian dessert made from fruit and almonds in bite-sized morsels.

  Jamil licked his lips, staring. He hesitated. If he was most cautious he just might be able to snatch—

  Then he heard his mistress speaking, and he remembered his vow to Tancred to watch Helena with his life.

  “General Taticus is here in Antioch?” she was asking in a calm, friendly voice. “Why did you not bring him as a guest, Your Highness?” she said to Kalid.

  “The general cannot risk entering the city for fear that Bohemond might see him.”

  “Ah, then Taticus is with the Norman barbarians? Did the emperor s
end him?”

  “Yes, to negotiate, even as they did with Nicaea.”

  “In secret?”

  “How else? The barbarians would kill Taticus if they knew what he was planning. If Antioch does fall, then it must fall to the Byzantines. If the barbarians take the city, blood will flow in the streets. If necessary we will make a bargain with General Taticus”

  “However, Your Highness,” Yaghi-Sinan spoke up with a superior tone, “We do not fear the barbarians. They will soon starve and scatter.”

  Jamil’s attention was drawn away. Emerging from out of the trees behind him was the Armenian Firouz and his wife! She was in tears and looked angry. Firouz spoke in a low tone that Jamil could not hear. He watched as Firouz took his wife by her arm and ushered her away.

  Suddenly Jamil remembered what his mistress had told him to do earlier. The opportunity could be ripe to overhear something important!

  His eyes became slits as he pondered his actions. He glanced back at Helena, who appeared outwardly composed as she nibbled on dainties and listened to the conversation between Prince Kalid and Yaghi-Sinan.

  Jamil frowned. What should he do? Count Redwan had told him not to allow Helena out of his sight. He looked back over his shoulder. Firouz and his wife were getting away. But he had also told him it was important to watch Firouz! Jamil made up his mind. Nothing appeared to be endangering his mistress at the moment, and look—Firouz and his wife had stopped and were talking among the trees!

  He slipped through the trees as silently as a wisp of wind and pursued the retreating footsteps of the Armenian and his weeping, angry wife….

  ***

  Helena watched for an opportunity. Left in the company of women who were speaking of the upcoming wedding, the unguarded moment presented itself as little by little, one step at a time she eased a few feet away, and then a few more. She snatched the moment and slipped into the acacia trees.