Behind the Veil Page 6

  “I am a man accustomed to treachery. I will also take one of your excellent swords.” Tancred nodded in the direction of a cabinet where Toledo swords boasted their strength.

  Rainald stood and spread his hands. “I am a generous man. Why not? Have your choice.”

  Tancred went to the cabinet and, one by one, tested their feel while Rainald watched, his expression showing that he knew Tancred to be no fool in bargaining.

  Tancred chose the best, glanced at the captain to see his response, and Rainald sighed at the loss. Tancred smiled, belted on the scabbard, and slipped the sword into place.

  “You know your weapons, Tancred.”

  “I would likely be dead by now if I did not. And, unfortunately, I have several enemies sworn to my death.” He then reached under his cloak and pulled out the half tunic.

  Rainald’s white teeth showed beneath his slim black mustache. Rainald drew a Damascus dagger and cut the tunic in two. “Friend, my ship is yours, my wine, and my sword—but in Constantinople, the beautiful women are mine.”

  “No contest, my Captain. There is but one for me.”

  Rainald refilled his glass and raised a brow at the wine left untouched by Tancred. He looked at him questioningly.

  “I took a vow of restraint when a boy at Monte Casino. Have you any water?”

  “Water!” Rainald grimaced.

  Tancred laughed and caught up a water-skin hanging on a hook on the cabin wall. “With lions sniffing my trail, it is wise to remain alert.”

  “Ah, but you are safe aboard my ship.” Rainald shrugged, sank into his captain’s chair and propped his boots. He grew serious, watching Tancred, who leaned into the wall drinking from the water-skin.

  “When was the last time you changed this water?” Tancred mocked.

  “I don’t recall the month…”

  “So I thought.”

  “So you are a Norman,” Rainald stated reflectively. “We Venetians know about the Norman conquest of Italy. From what part do you come?”

  “From Apulia, in Sicily.”

  “I know Sicily well. Count Roger rules.”

  “We are distantly related.”

  “Your father was a shipmaster?”

  “Somewhat. Mainly, he was a warring lord in service to Count Roger.”

  “The brother of Bohemond? He hopes to take Antioch, does he not?”

  “As do all the western princes,” Tancred said, “Including Count Raymond and Duke Godfrey.”

  “But Count Roger did not come on the expedition to retake Jerusalem. Why did he remain in Sicily?”

  “He is not the restless adventurer that Bohemond is.”

  “And your father? Did he also remain in service to Count Roger?”

  “My father is dead. I have an adoptive father—my uncle Rolf Redwan, seigneur of the Castle of Hohms.”

  “Ah! And your journey now, where does it take you?”

  Tancred explained about the assassin, how his other uncle, Walter of Sicily sought him, and the treachery of Philip the Noble and Lady Irene.

  “Betrayers!” Rainald said with loathing.

  “And you?” Tancred inquired.

  “First, I go to the Genoese quarter of Constantinople,” Rainald said. “I must deliver weapons to the Venetians.”

  “The weapons below?”

  “You saw them?”

  “I had hoped to borrow one. I couldn’t get near them long enough to accomplish it.”

  “After delivery,” Rainald went on, “I bring a report to the military in Constantinople.”

  Tancred told how he had once served in the imperial cavalry at the guard castle of Herion. “But you—you do seem to me the military type.”

  “I cannot help my elegant flair,” Rainald said, brushing imaginary lint from his sleeve. “Have you been long a slave to the wretched baron?”

  “I have wasted months I could not lose!”

  Tancred pressed him for news of the western knights. “When I left, the princes had defeated the Red Lion outside Nicaea.”

  “They are journeying south across the Amanus Mountains of northern Syria toward Antioch.”

  Tancred thought of just how treacherous the mountain pass was. His uncle Rolf had told him how he had crossed it, losing his horse and a guide. There were miles of nothing but rock, intolerable heat, and no water.

  “They are lacking sufficient food and water,” Rainald said. “News arrived of many dying on the crossing, and mules and supplies are lost. They should arrive at the walls of Antioch around October if they make it.”

  “A long siege will also deplete their food supplies.”

  “That is where we noble Genoese come in. With the western knights threatened with famine, it is important to capture the small port of St. Symeon in order to bring in supplies. That, my friend, is left to me and others.”

  Tancred’s estimation of the man climbed. The small but strategic port of St. Symeon was located near Antioch, and a main road led from the dock to the gates of the fortified city.

  “That is my destination also,” Tancred told him.

  “A Genoese fleet will leave soon. And you? A man of your breeding will undoubtedly fare well. What do you seek at Constantinople?”

  “Lady Helena Lysander. She may now be in the custody of Philip the Noble.” Or married to Philip or Prince Kalid at Antioch….

  The smooth dark brows arched in wonder. Again he measured Tancred. “You play with very high stakes.”

  “The prize is well worth the risk.”

  “A man to admire sits before me. If I can be of help, you have merely to ask.”

  “There is something,” Tancred said. “I have enemies in the city as you already know. I cannot risk being seen and reported to Philip or Irene. I and Bardas would take refuge in the Genoese quarter.”

  “Then you and your servant will be my guests,” Rainald offered. “It will be some time before the fleet sets sail for St. Symeon. Philip will not easily find you.”

  Behind the Veil / The Royal Pavilions book3 / Linda Chaikin

  Chapter7

  Return to Constantinople

  Alone in the fashionable rooms that Rainald had provided, Tancred opened a window which looked directly onto the cloistered quarter of wealthy Genoese merchants. Beyond the walls that ran along the seaward side of the quarter, the wharves and quays were crowded with seamen’s houses on pilings over the water. The city within a city was built near a triangular point of land that opened onto the mouth of the Bosporus. Ships from all the known ports could be seen moving from the open sea, and through the strait of the four-mile-long horn.

  Across the Bosporus, dark under gathering clouds, lay the hills of Asia. Nicaea was there, recently under Byzantine rule, and farther east beyond the mountains the great city of Antioch was under siege by the western princes.

  The problem now facing Tancred was immense. To confront Philip in his own arena was to place himself once more to great risk. Philip’s grand ambitions drove him to stoop to most any level for political esteem and position. His pride had awakened an insatiable drive for power, no doubt influenced by his mother Irene, who at times exhibited—what seemed to Tancred—behavior bordering on insanity. As for Helena, the worst may have befallen her since he’d last seen her at the summer house.

  Rufus came to mind as a critical source of information. Somehow he must be contacted with a message. Captain Rainald’s unexpected return provided the opportunity Tancred needed. Emperor Alexius was to receive a group of Genoese to discuss the need to take the port of St. Symeon in order to open up a supply route for the western armies.

  “With a bribe, I might somehow get a message to this bodyguard friend of yours named Rufus,” Rainald suggested.

  During the days of waiting, Tancred moved about the Genoese quarter, cautious not to remain in one place for long. If only his faithful Moorish friend, Hakeem, were here! Tancred had not heard from him since he had sent him ahead to Antioch. Could anything have befallen him at the hand
s of either Mosul or Kalid? Kalid did not know Hakeem by sight, but Mosul knew him well.

  The streets were full of spies; Tancred could trust no one. Even confiding in Rainald was a risk, but one he must take. So far, the Genoese captain had done nothing to warrant suspicion, and Tancred needed an ally. As for Bardas, clothed as a monk, he was continually on watch in the gardens around the Sacred Palace searching for any hint that Helena remained in her chambers under the control of Irene and Philip.

  Several more days passed before Rainald met with the emperor. Tancred was in disguise, waiting in the public stables, moving among the stalls of fine-blooded horses, and examining the chariots. A slave came toward him leading an Arabian mare, sleek and magnificent.

  “This afternoon in the armory,” the slave whispered as he passed by with the spirited horse.

  Rainald was wise to not approach him with the news himself, but to use an agreeable informant. Tancred’s respect for the man grew.

  That afternoon Tancred went to the armory of the Varangian guard. The armorer, a powerful man of Scandinavian ancestry, kept a courtyard where soldiers met to practice with various weapons. Hired Normans of Viking ancestry belonging to the Varangian guard were often present as were other bodyguards and soldiers. Discretely scanning those present, he spotted Rufus practicing scimitars with a Persian. Tancred was careful not to draw attention to himself, as he merged among the others, dressed as a common mercenary soldier.

  Tancred acted to prepare for sword practice, keeping his face averted. Rufus finished his practice with the Persian, then casually found his way over to Tancred.

  “Try your hand at this, soldier.” Rufus handed him a scimitar. “It’s used with deadly precision by the Moors.”

  Tancred tried the balance of the menacing weapon. Swiftly he ran it through a few steps of style.

  “Not even a Seljuk prince could do better,” Rufus stated distinctly.

  Their eyes met. Had he intended to convey a message? Who else could the prince be but Kalid?

  Rufus spoke in a lower tone. “She was brought to the Castle of Hohms soon after you disappeared.”

  Tancred gritted. “I did not disappear willingly! Philip sold me as a slave!”

  “Unfortunate. I searched for you to no avail. Your whereabouts were masterfully covered by Lady Irene. Nevertheless, Redwan, I tell you the truth. She has been sent to Basel at the castle. Undoubtedly, he will—if he has not already, sent her on to Prince Kalid, unless his feelings for her mother, Adrianna, cause him to spare her daughter. With Basel—one never knows.”

  Tancred’s hopes revived a little. His uncle Rolf Redwan was at the castle, and both Helena and her mother knew he could be trusted as a friend. Could Adrianna have managed to speak to Rolf without Basel knowing? If she’d been able to tell him of her plight and Helena’s—then Helena’s arrival would not go unnoticed by him. He might prevent her from being sent on to Antioch. It was a hope, at least.

  “And Nicholas?

  “Imprisoned. For now, Madame Irene is consumed with Nicholas, as well as my son Joseph. Nicholas refused her—she despises him.”

  Tancred, always cautious of the golden Jezebel, the mistress of astrology and intrigue, frowned over the news. I must find some way to free Nicholas before going on to the castle. “Where is he held? In the Sacred Palace?”

  Rufus’s lip curled with contempt. “She moves him from place to place to make it near impossible to know for certain where he is being held. She plans to hold him indefinitely and foil any allies who wish to free him. Yet,” Rufus said cautiously, “There are ways. I know her better than all others. With both you and Bardas, it may be that we can do something. Joseph may be able to learn Nicholas’s whereabouts. I will be allowed to see my son briefly tonight.”

  Hope lived on in Tancred’s heart, but the news about Helena kept it from shining brightly. Philip had betrayed her out of revenge. He stared evenly at the scimitar still in his hand. What if Helena were already a married to Kalid? Everything would change between them, and yet nothing in his heart had changed. He would always love her.

  “And Philip?” Tancred asked, his voice deadly cold.

  His favor with the emperor has grown since the fall of Nicaea and the Citadel’s return to Byzantine rule.”

  Tancred was well aware that Irene had successfully arranged for the victory to be attributed to Philip’s military genius.

  “He has worsened,” Rufus went on wearily. “When he was a young he was talented and gracious. Though his pride was evident, recently he is wholly preoccupied with political advancement to the extent that he no longer struggles with his conscience. Now he is like Irene—clever, scheming, and lacking integrity. Someday I will destroy Irene, and that hour is fast approaching. It is the only reason I remain here.”

  Tancred had another important question about Philip’s treatment of Helena. “Who betrayed her to Basel?”

  “When Lady Helena refused to show for the wedding to Philip, he became enraged; he felt humiliated before the emperor. She despised Philip after learning of his treachery to you and your Redwan cousin. She would have nothing more to do with him. He knew she loved you—that there was no hope of regaining her devotion. In vengeance toward both of you, he delivered her personally to Bishop Basel to bring her to Prince Kalid.”

  Tancred’s heart churned with anger. “He has sealed his doom this time. To betray me was a matter I could eventually overlook, but I will not forget what he has done to Helena. I will see him before I leave Constantinople. Can you arrange it?”

  Rufus mused, his dark eyes troubled. “I think it is possible. Do you intend to find Helena afterward?”

  “Yes, at whatever the cost.”

  “You will do what your convictions demand, but if she has already been sent to Antioch, you will face not only the sword of war, but the scimitar of the prince’s guards. They are a band of fanatical warriors who constantly surround him. They will take death in order to protect him, Helena as well.”

  Tancred returned the scimitar. “I am aware of the way of the Moslem. You forget my mother was a Moor. Sword or scimitar, I will find her. And, I have a vow to keep, whatever the outcome.”

  “As you will.” Rufus glanced about casually. “Among Philip’s personal bodyguards there are certain men, no longer loyal, who respected both Nicholas and Lady Helena. They are not pleased about Philip sending her to Basel. News has also circulated through one Captain Alexander that Philip treated you unjustly. The soldiers respected your leadership when you served in the imperial cavalry. They know Philip pretends to be a soldier when he is not. There is intrigue and discontent.”

  “Then Philip has enemies in the palace?”

  “Quite so.”

  “That is just what I hoped to hear.”

  “I have a plan. I have learned intrigue and deception well from the Byzantine masters. Meet me outside the wine shop tonight.”

  ***

  Rainald was anxiously awaiting Tancred’s return, and jumped to his feet the moment he came through the door. Rainald wore the uniform of an imposing Genoese naval captain, which required that he must soon leave for St. Symeon. Time was short to accomplish so much in Constantinople.

  “I was beginning to fear this man Rufus had betrayed you,” Rainald said. “Did you discover anything useful to your cause?”

  Tancred told him the news.

  Rainald measured him. “Your plans? Do you still wish to go to St. Symeon? I am under orders to sail no later than tomorrow night. We intend to seize the port. The crusaders under the princes will not be far away.”

  The news added to Tancred’s restlessness. “I cannot leave until I confront Philip and free Nicholas.”

  Rainald picked up his two bags and walked to the door. “I’m returning to my ship. We will sail after midnight tomorrow, friend. I will look for you, but I cannot wait long.”

  “Understood.”

  They parted, and Tancred paced the room. He thought of what awaited him. The sun seemed
to take longer than usual to set behind the sea of Marmara. Tonight he would meet with Rufus. What news would he bring?

  Behind the Veil / The Royal Pavilions book3 / Linda Chaikin

  Chapter 8

  The Hippodrome

  Tancred walked alone down the street to the wine shop, his chain mesh concealed beneath dark clothing.

  Rufus drove up in a chariot. His face was strained, and Tancred noted he also appeared somewhat dazed.

  “Did you locate Bishop Nicholas?” Tancred asked in a low voice.

  “He will meet you at the hippodrome—as will Philip.”

  Tancred, alert, noticed the lack of emotion in Rufus’s tone. Where was the enthusiasm for having arranged Nicholas’s escape from the Sacred Palace?

  Tancred studied him for a moment. “What happened?”

  “It no longer matters about me, Redwan…come, there is not much time. You and Nicholas must be aboard Rainald’s ship tonight.”

  Did this mean Rufus and his son would not be joining them?

  Tancred jumped in beside him. The chariot turned onto a shadowed street and continued straight ahead.

  “All is arranged where Philip is concerned,” Rufus said. “The young rat was easier to bate than its mother.”

  What did he mean? Tancred’s suspicions grew that matters with Irene had not gone well. Yet—Nicholas was to meet him at the hippodrome, so he had escaped—and Philip would be there. The tension showed on Rufus’s face as he drove the chariot in distressed silence.

  “What has happened, Rufus,” Tancred demanded. “Is this a trap you are forced to play?”

  “No, Tancred my friend, it is no trap, not for you or Nicholas. I promise you that.”

  “Then?”

  Rufus heaved a sigh. “I told Irene that she must release Nicholas at once. That you had captured Philip and would kill him if she did not cooperate.”