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  She rushed through the garden toward the back of the palace and paused there to glance in all directions. Behind her, music from the qitara played on the warm wind. Her heart continued its pounding. Were guards on patrol ahead? Could she reach her chamber to warn Tancred?

  She moved ahead, then a man’s voice startled her, “It is good I have found you.” He reached out to grab her arm. “I thought you would come this way if given the chance.”

  Mosul stepped from the shadows, his dark eyes sharp and amused. He mocked a bow.

  So he had deliberately faded from view to give her an opportunity to slip away? Helena tensed.

  “I am seeking my slave,” she said. “Since you locked me away from chamber all day, I wish to inquire on the health of Bardas. Does that meet with your approval?” she asked coldly.

  “Your thoughtfulness is noteworthy, Highness. Such concern for a eunuch slave is indeed rare.”

  She felt she may have made a mistake bringing her bodyguard to the forefront.

  “I think not,” she quipped. “Thoughtfulness for Bardas is a matter of my own safety. Bardas has been tested and tried in many dangers. He’s served me since I was a young girl.” She scanned him. Did he believe her? “I would find it difficult to trust another bodyguard, even if he did serve the prince.”

  Mosul’s white teeth showed in what resembled a smile. “I assure you, Highness, by sword or scimitar, I am your faithful servant. Speaking of slaves, where is the boy Jamil?”

  Her relief that he did not seek further discussion of ‘Bardas’ turned quickly to unease where Jamil was concerned. “He is about on an errand. Why do you inquire?”

  “He has disappeared.”

  “Surely not.”

  “I have guards out now looking for him.”

  “Guards! Seeking for a boy?” she scoffed. “Captain Mosul, you are beside yourself. Why should my boy-slave answer to you?”

  “Your Highness, he will either confess to me or to Prince Kalid. Which shall it be? I would not advise testing the wrath of the prince. You will soon learn that he is a hard man to soothe.”

  Cautiously her mind felt its way along, trying to discover how much he knew. “Then why not ask the Chief Eunuch Assad? It is he who oversees the slaves and reports to me of any wrongdoing.”

  “Lies are not comely for such a beautiful woman.”

  That he would dare say so, and also make comment on her appearance, showed him to be a man of dangerous ambitions. She grappled for time.

  “You dare speak so?”

  “Why pretend? You make a grave error if you think I am a fool. Jamil was seen by another slave releasing a falcon before this afternoon’s game.”

  “Of course,” she pretended scorn. “The boy raises and trains them. It is no secret. He told you so on the trail. Was it not you who this very afternoon bid him go to the field to serve His Eminence in such matters?”

  “Ah, I am not speaking of today’s game.”

  What did he mean? Did he know about the message Tancred sent to the Castle of Hohms a few days ago?

  She shrugged as though bored. “Should I know what the boy does with his falcons?”

  The dark eyes mocked her. “Only a fool would underestimate a member of the Byzantine nobility. Your intrigue, I have studied and profited from. I intend to profit still further. We both know of what I speak, Highness. Jamil sent a message to those friendly with you at the castle. I want to know to whom he sent it, and why.”

  Mosul’s ambitions could only be guessed. Knowing his vicious nature as described by Tancred, she realized he was far more dangerous to her than Kalid.

  “I do not doubt your ambitions. It is a pity that Prince Kalid does. He should never have trusted you as his personal bodyguard.”

  He smiled. “You are right. His Eminence is not as clever as you, Your Highness. His own ego demands complete loyalty from the commander of his personal bodyguard. What he does not know is that I have chosen men to guard him who first owe their loyalty to me. They are all soldiers of Moorish descent. We owe nothing to these Seljuk Turks. In the end we will take what we want and ride free.”

  “You are a fool to tell me this. I could go to Prince Kalid.”

  “He will not believe you. And, even if he did, it will do him no good, as you shall see tomorrow.”

  “Whatever you have in mind, it will not succeed. I shall warn him of imminent betrayal.”

  His smile was unpleasant. “Will you? I think not.”

  He gestured his arm toward a path leading away from the celebration. “Shall we take a stroll, Highness? We must talk.”

  Helena glanced toward the silent garden and felt her nerves tingle. The dark eyes were cold and mocking.

  “My company will prove more congenial than the darkness of a cell.”

  Trapped, she turned onto the path, and Mosul walked beside her, a strong figure clothed in a black knee-length cloak. His heavy boots crunched on the gravel as the music and voices ebbed away. She was alone with this assassin. What clever scheme did he have on his mind now?

  “I suppose your disloyalty to the prince has something to do with the arrival of the Normans,” she suggested, hoping to bait him into explaining.

  Mosul gave a short, boastful laugh. “I know the warrior spirit of the Normans. I know Seigneur Bohemond. They are determined and fierce. They will sit out the siege of Antioch whatever length of time it takes. But I have no time to waste sitting about Antioch to satisfy the pleasure of the emir’s son. The city will eventually fall, and with it, the rule of the emir’s family, which means Kalid Khan.

  “So, of course, you have made other plans,” she said coolly.

  He turned his dark head and glanced down at her as she walked beside him. “Only a fool would waste his life for the sake of loyalty. What profit to me and my men is loyalty to a family about to lose their rule?”

  “A better warrior would call it honor.”

  “What good is honor when you’re dead?” he scoffed. “I have my own interpretation of honor. Do not trouble yourself, Highness. Neither is the Byzantine a worthy judge of honor. Your treacherous Greek emperor is a master of cunning. He deals falsely behind the backs of the very warriors he has summoned forth to fight his own enemies.”

  “Never mind the emperor. What is it you intend with me?”

  “Just this. Antioch will fall. I have no reason to stay in service to Kalid. There are a hundred other princes in the East, and just as many emirs and sultans. My sword is such that it will bring me into favor of many who need protection from personal enemies, or invaders. Why should I die here, while Kalid and the royal family secretly escape with you to Aleppo? I will enhance my future, and gain riches in the process.”

  He stopped on the path beneath some trees and looked down at her. “On the road to Aleppo, Kalid will take on a new face—mine. I intend to become the new Prince Kalid and escape to Syria.”

  Could he accomplish it? She believed he could. Fear seized her. Mosul intended to commit multiple assassinations on the trail over the hills! Had he not said the soldiers guarding the royal entourage were Moors loyal to him? She realized suddenly that Mosul had laid his plans well. She would not be left to Kalid but to Mosul.

  Helena took a step backward. He reached for her arm in a tight grip and pulled her toward him. “You will cooperate.”

  “Let go of me. Do you wish me to scream? Kalid will have you arrested!”

  He can do nothing. He flees Antioch like a rat in a lighted dungeon. It is your word against mine. He trusts me because his pride will not believe in betrayal. He needs me for protection. His head is left to my mercy.”

  “Then I shall enlighten him!”

  “Do so, and you will see him choke on his own blood. It is much too late for Kalid to move against me,” he boasted. “I have spent the last year setting my own men in place. If he is fool enough to try and stop me, we shall see who is in authority.”

  He released her abruptly and she stepped back, rubbing her wri
st.

  “Do not look so shocked,” he said. “Other men have schemed to possess you, have they not? You are a woman of beauty. It may be that I shall send word to Bishop Nicholas. If he wishes his niece back, he will pay a handsome price—a royal ransom!”

  “A year in a dungeon is preferred to your company! Go ahead! Bring me to Kalid! Tell him I sent a message to the Castle of Hohms by way of a falcon if it pleases you!”

  “Then if you will not cooperate for yourself, you will for Jamil and Aziza. I have come too far and have too many ambitions to see them slip through my fingers now. You will cooperate with me to save her.”

  She looked into his scathing eyes. “Aziza! You have her?”

  He snatched her arm again. “Do you wish me to send her back to the wife of Firouz alive? She is now being held by my guards.”

  Helena tried to think, but his grip was hard, and his bold savagery frightened her.

  Thus far, Mosul did not know the message sent to the castle was from his deadly enemy Tancred. But what if Aziza were forced to talk?

  “Release Aziza unharmed, leave Jamil alone, and I will do what you say.”

  His teeth showed in a chill smile. “That is better, Highness, and very wise. “But to be sure you keep your bargain, she will not yet be released.”

  He still grasped her arm and she struggled to release herself. Unexpectedly, there came a sickening thud, his head shot forward, his breath caught, and he fell against her, knocking her down as he collapsed.

  Helena felt pebbles pressing into her arm as she lay on the ground, stunned.

  A harsh whisper reached her ears coming from the shrubs. “Mistress!”

  Jamil! His voice was enough to send new strength racing through her veins.

  Jamil tossed aside a large rock and bent down, placing his hands under Mosul’s armpits; he struggled and grunted to pull him. Helena, breathless, scrambled to her feet, and together they managed to slide him into the shadowed shrubs. Jamil quickly removed Mosul’s sword, then felt around his boots, coming up with two daggers. He stuffed them into his belt, and gripped the sword.

  “Listen! Someone is coming!” she hissed

  “Mosul’s guards! Mistress, quick, away!”

  They ducked and darted through the trees until they came to an outer wall. Here, Jamil paused while she caught her breath.

  “Mistress, what will you do now?”

  “How much did you hear?”

  “That there is a plan to assassinate the royal family on the road to Aleppo, and hold you for ransom.”

  “I must get word to Tancred. There is more at risk than our escape.”

  “What do you mean?” he whispered.

  She hesitated to tell him of Aziza’s plight for fear he would attempt to rescue his sister from Mosul’s guards. Instead, she said, “Mosul knows of the message sent to the castle. He thinks I sent word to the Normans, offering to betray Kalid for my freedom. Mosul’s men must not find you, Jamil. They will torture you until you confess all, which includes Tancred.”

  “I will never betray you or the Seigneur,” he insisted, his large brown eyes determined.

  Her heart ached. “Oh Jamil, you were a fine warrior just now. I shall always be in your debt. But I do not ask you to risk torture. Mosul is vicious. The best of warriors would be forced to tell him all.”

  “Not I, mistress, nor Seigneur Tancred!”

  She grabbed him in frustration. “Listen to me! You must do as I say. Remember what you told me when we rode the stallion up the slope?”

  “You mean about the postern gate—how I could escape if my head were in danger?”

  “Yes, you are in danger now. You must take my stallion and live up to your boast. Ride like the wind to the Castle of Hohms and wait for me there.”

  “But , mistress, I cannot! The stallion is waiting with Prince Kalid’s caravan near the Gate of the Dog. They expect to leave tomorrow. I have the stallion there so that Master Tancred can ride him when we all escape on the road to Aleppo.”

  “Kalid insists that ’Bardas’ be left behind until he fully recovers, and you heard Mosul’s plans of betrayal on the road. There will be no freedom, Jamil. You must take the opportunity to escape tonight.”

  She reached an affectionate hand to the boy’s face, brushing aside the dark brown wisps of hair. “There is little time. They are looking for you.”

  “What about Aziza?”

  “I will do what I can for her.”

  “But there is other important news, Mistress. It is about Firouz. I was on my way now to tell the seigneur when I saw Mosul coming for you in the garden.”

  Helena had lost hope in Firouz. What good could he do for her and Tancred now?

  “Mistress, the moon is setting!” he said with significance lost on Helena. “I must go to the seigneur at once!”

  “Go then!”

  Jamil sprang off among the trees as nimbly and silently as a hind. Helena made her way toward the women’s quarters in search of Assad. If anyone knew how to aid Aziza, it would be the chief eunuch.

  ***

  Assad stood on the lighted terrace with a scowl on his face. He paced, then scanned the garden. His eyes fell on Helena as she came hurrying from the trees. He threw up his hands and came puffing down the steps.

  “Your Loveliness! At last! At last! His Eminence looks for you everywhere!”

  As Helena stepped into the lantern light, the chief eunuch’s eyes widened.

  “Ah! Ah! What has befallen you now!”

  “I became lost in the back garden—”

  He groaned and rolled his eyes. “Back garden! What were you doing there?”

  “I was looking for Aziza. When did you see her last?”

  His round face scowled, showing he knew nothing of her fate. “Aziza is not to be wandering the back garden, nor should you. When will you listen to my orders—you are limping!”

  “It is nothing. A mere scratch. I simply tripped over a loose stone.”

  His brows thundered together at the very idea of such a disgrace. “A loose stone? Here? In the emir’s palace? Forbid!”

  “Oh Assad! Please!” she cried impatiently. “Will you see if you can find Aziza. I fear something terrible has happened to her.”

  “It would be no wonder the way the damsel runs about in areas off limits to female slaves,” he stopped, and his concern overcame his frustration over the impropriety of the women under his authority.

  “Something has happened to Aziza?”

  Helena cast a backward glance to make certain none of the guards were about. She whispered urgently: “Mosul has her. She is being kept under guard by his loyal men. I cannot explain all that is involved. But if you can find out where she is being held and do something to release her, you may save her life—and Jamil’s.”

  Assad’s eyes grew troubled and stern. “Mosul is a hard man. The day was bleak when His Eminence chose to bring him to Antioch. I fear there is little I can do on my own, but I shall try.”

  He clapped his hands and a slave girl appeared and bowed. “When did you last see Aziza?”

  “This morning, Assad.”

  “Ask quietly among the other servants to see what you can discover about where she may be. Be cautious. There may be trouble.”

  The girl bowed and hurried out.

  “Your foot worsens, Your Loveliness. The prince will never forgive me. You must rest in one of the other chambers. I will send word to him to come at once.”

  Helena was led away, amid clucking sounds of worry and disapproval.

  Behind the Veil / The Royal Pavilions book3/ Linda Chaikin

  Chapter18

  His Eminence

  A discreet knock on the chamber door brought Helena to her feet.

  Assad had returned her to the same chamber which Mosul had taken her, insisting it was the prince’s wish to meet her there in the palace. Her garment was changed into a fresh one, and her hair redone with jewels. She had been waiting for over an hour and beginnin
g to think Assad too, may have gone over to the side of Mosul. Then the chamber door opened—

  “This way, Your Eminence,” Assad’s voice rang out anxiously. “Her Highness waits for you!”

  Assad swept wide his arm for Prince Kalid to enter, then hastened to close the door behind him, leaving them alone. Helena was surprised to see Kalid. In truth, she had suspected the whole story of her being brought here at his wishes to be a ruse.

  Kalid faced her, no corpulent son of an emir, as Mosul had portrayed him, but apparently a man of equal cunning. It seemed to her wearied spirits that two scheming warriors, each deadly and determined, vied for control of her future, not for love, nor because of her beauty alone, but for political ambitions. If worse came to worst, she would certainly opt for the hand of Kalid rather than Mosul, not that it would make much difference, for she rejected both of them. There was room in her heart for only one man.

  Perhaps the strength she now saw in Kalid, would permit her to explain part of her dilemma.

  The prince’s black eyes considered her coolly. “You tried to escape.”

  “Your Excellency,” she said and gave a bow of her head. “I apologize for this inconvenience. I suppose Assad explained.”

  “You may dispense with formality. I understand you came from the back garden?”

  “Yes. I—”

  “Then you may have seen the man who attacked the captain of my bodyguard. He was found by his men unconscious, and robbed of his weapons.”

  She could see he was watching her response closely. Did he suspect her involvement?

  “Where is Mosul now?” she asked.

  “He was taken to his chambers, and the physician called. Why do you ask?”

  “Because it is necessary I speak to you alone, without any of his men about.”

  Kalid did not appear surprised. “There are two guards waiting outside, but they are trustworthy.”

  “You must not trust any of them, Your Eminence. They are first loyal to Captain Mosul. What I say now, you may reject. Yet I could not live with good conscience if I did not warn you.”

  He showed surprise at her sobriety. “Very well. I am listening.”