“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I told no one anything. How could I?”
“The banner. The lion throne. How did you know?”
She stared at him in bewilderment. “Know what?”
He studied her expression. “My God, you don’t know,” he said wonderingly. “I thought Kadar might be right, that I’d somehow told you without being aware of it. But you don’t know about the lion throne.”
“Of course I do. I created the pattern and stitched the banner.”
“And you realized it was a throne?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing could be clearer.”
“It wasn’t clear to Kadar. Was it clear to Selene?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. We didn’t discuss it. I suppose she knew it was a throne.”
“Ask her. I’ll wager she didn’t.”
“What difference does it make?”
“I don’t know.” He shuddered. “But it does make a difference. You could see it and they couldn’t. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe it was something I did.”
To her amazement she saw that his face was pale in the firelight. “You’re talking nonsense. I stitched a lion throne and it’s your fault?”
“It wasn’t any throne, it was the throne.” He paused. “It was the throne I saw in the caves below the Temple. It was her throne.”
“Her?”
He opened his lips to speak and then shook his head. “You know too much already. I cannot—”
She felt a sudden burst of rage. “Oh, no, you won’t do that to me. You say that these Templars are now going to hunt me down and kill me no matter what I do. You’ve wrapped me in silence and treated me as if I had no mind of my own. You’re going to answer all my questions. I will know the reason why this is happening to me.”
“It’s best that I—”
“This is my life. You’ve stolen two years of it. I’ll not let you steal my right to make decisions for myself ever again.”
He gazed at her a moment longer before shifting his gaze back to the fire. “Ask your questions.”
“Whose throne was it that you saw?”
“Asherah.”
“And who was Asherah?”
“She was a goddess worshipped by the Israelites in Canaan many centuries ago.”
She nodded. “Before they realized there was only one true God.”
“No.”
She went still. “What do you mean? After Moses came down from the mountain with the Ten Commandments, they worshipped only one God.”
“No.”
She whispered, “You’re saying the holy books lie?”
“I’m saying that the holy books were written by men, and perhaps they didn’t wish to admit to falling from the true path.”
“It could not be.”
He smiled bitterly. “You see how it shocks and horrifies you? Our religion is based on the holy books, and you cannot conceive that they’re not perfect. You’re afraid that if one lie exists, the entire fabric could be rotten.”
“Blasphemy. There is only one God.”
“Did I say anything else? All I’m saying is that the Goddess Asherah was worshipped in Canaan even though it was forbidden. God was known as Yahweh and the goddess Asherah was His wife. They called her the Lion Lady, and she sat on the lion throne and was known as the Goddess of Fertility.”
She shook her head. “I will not believe it.”
“It happened. The Canaanites would not give up their goddess. Finally, in an attempt to sweep her from the earth, the holy men destroyed every idol and religious relic pertaining to Asherah.” He paused. “Except the lion throne. They brought the throne to the Temple of Solomon and hid it deep in the caves together with a tablet forbidding that it ever again see the light of day.”
“Why did they not destroy it?”
“Superstition. They’d been guided by the goddess for centuries and, according to the Canaanites, she was the wife of the one true God. The lion throne was the symbol and seat of her power. What if there was some truth in the myth and they offended her by destroying it?”
“I cannot believe the Templars were equally superstitious.”
“No. By the time they uncovered the throne and tablet, thousands of men had fought and died in the Crusades to prove to the infidels there was only one true God. They desperately wanted to destroy the throne. But they couldn’t do it.”
“Of course they could do it.”
“Perhaps they were afraid to. For another reason. There was something in the tablet that confused and terrified them. Something that could have been taken in one of two ways.”
“What are you talking about?” she whispered.
“There was a phrasing…. There was some doubt that Asherah was a separate goddess.”
She looked at him in bewilderment. “What?”
“It appeared there was a possibility that Yahweh and Asherah were not man and wife…but one. One god…or goddess.”
She stared at him, stunned. He could not mean it.
“They couldn’t take the chance of destroying a truly holy relic. The throne had to be kept inviolate, but no one could ever know it existed.”
“Everyone knows God is male.”
“Of course they do. But the tablet—Perhaps it only meant that Asherah was the part of God that gave fertility. Surely God must have many sides to His vast power.”
“And one side is a woman?”
“I did not say that.”
“Because you’re afraid to say it. Just as they’re afraid to say it.” She shivered. “I’m afraid to say it also.” God must remain the deity she had known since childhood. Everything else in the world could change, but God must remain the same. “I will not believe it.”
“Then don’t believe it, but realize that the Templars will do anything to make sure that no one else will believe it either. The Pope and Church rule the world. Nothing about the doctrine they decree must be questioned.”
“I do not question. How can anyone question the true faith?”
“Listen to me: the Templars fear you will question it. You created a banner that is a taunt and a challenge to them.” He paused. “And you gave it to the infidel.”
“Nonsense. My banner had nothing to do with gods or goddesses. It was your banner.”
“If it was mine, why did you give it to Kemal?”
“You know why. I would have given it to Satan himself to get it out of my sight.”
“And that’s who the Temple will think you gave it to. They’ll believe I told you of the throne and you crafted a banner to give support to the infidel.” He shook his head. “And it won’t help that Kemal claims the banner miraculously helped him to win every battle since you gifted him with it.”
Her eyes widened. “But the banner had nothing to do with it. It was mere coincidence that he began to win battles.”
“Was it? Tell that to Kemal, tell the Grand Master of the Knights Templar.”
“I tell you, there is no magic connected with the banner. It was only chance that led me to create—” A sudden memory swept over her of those days of possession when she had worked unceasingly creating the banner. She said shakily, “I’m no witch. I can weave no spells. I only wished to create a banner that would be yours. I focused my thoughts on you, and the pattern came…. It was there.”
Ware met her gaze.
“It was not magic.” Her hands clenched into fists. “I will not accept that it was anything but chance that the pattern was similar to your lion throne.”
“I won’t argue with you. I have no way of knowing what is truth or not.” He rubbed his temple. “Perhaps it is only chance. Everything has been blurred since the night I saw the throne.”
“It’s not blurred for me. All you’ve told me is foolishness, and if the Templars believe it to be true, they’re more than fools, they’re madmen.” She scooted down under her blankets and turned her back on him. She must stop shaking. There was no reason to be upset. Nothing had cha
nged since Ware had spoken the unspeakable. God would not strike her down for merely listening to such blasphemy. Yet she felt as if everything had changed and that the firm ground beneath her feet had been swept away.
“Don’t be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Then you’re braver than I was.” Ware’s hand fell on her shoulder. “I know how you feel. After I saw the throne, I had no time to do anything but run and hide. It was only after I was wounded and Kadar was caring for me that I began to think. I felt like a child in the dark.”
“Don’t touch me.”
“It is only in comfort,” he said haltingly. “I believe you need comfort.”
“I need nothing from you.” She should move away from his hand, but, dear God, she did need comfort. She wanted to roll over into his arms and let him hold her and shut out all the uncertainties.
He took his hand away. “Very well.”
She was suddenly cold and alone. She wanted him to touch her again.
“But listen to me. If you believe in God, you must believe that there is a pattern to His creation. Perhaps the pattern is not stitched in exactly the manner you thought it to be, but the pattern exists. We must hold to that truth.” He paused. “And I don’t believe God will punish you for looking differently at the pattern of life. God is good, it’s man who is evil.”
“Everything is exactly the same. I’m not looking at it differently.”
“You will.” She heard rustling sounds as he lay down between his blankets. “You’ll try to keep it out, but it will creep in under the barriers. Let it come. Make terms with it. God gave us minds. Surely He meant us to use them.” He was silent a moment before he said, “You’ve done nothing wrong. If any sin has been done, it’s been by me. I’m the one who will be punished.”
“Not if your enemies have their way.”
“They won’t have their way,” he said. “Go to sleep. We must be on our way tomorrow at dawn.”
Sleep? She had doubts that she would sleep this night. Her mind was a terrifying whirl of visions of lion thrones, banners, and forbidden goddesses. Even the alien idea that God could have womanly aspects was as frightening as the rest. As a slave she had always thought of God as if He were the ultimate master who could be kind or cruel, a God who gave man His favor and woman only His tolerance. She had fought to free herself from the bondage of other masters, but her mother had taught her she must accept and revere the God of the holy books without question. It did not matter that God let Church and man decree that slavery was acceptable. God was God.
She must block all these wicked thoughts out of her mind. In spite of Ware’s advice, she would not let any of his words affect her.
Her efforts were to no avail. The last image in her mind before she fell into a restless slumber was of golden eyes shimmering from a silken banner….
“There it is. Maysef lies a few miles straight up this trail.” Kadar reined in and looked up at the mountain. “You are sure, Ware?”
“I’m sure. We have no choice.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I saw puffs of dust on the horizon behind us when we stopped the last time.”
Thea felt a rush of fear. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“So that you could worry too? It would not have been sensible.”
No, Ware would never share a burden if he could bear it alone. “I would like to have known.”
He shrugged. “Now you do.” He glanced at Kadar. “You go first. They know you.”
“Let us hope the Old Man doesn’t have new acolytes who aren’t familiar with me.” Kadar nudged his horse past them on the trail. “Oh, well, follow me.”
“Do you think Kemal will stop here?” Thea asked, looking over her shoulder. Was that haze in the distance the dust clouds about which Ware had spoken?
“It depends how much he values his head above his honor,” Ware said. “I’d judge he’ll come after us…until he runs into the first of the Old Man’s followers. Then he may be discouraged.”
Thea shifted her gaze to Selene, who was following Kadar up the trail. “I won’t have her put in danger. Could we leave her hidden here in the foothills?”
“Would she stay behind?” Ware shook his head. “Not unless we tied her to a tree, and then she’d be helpless if Kemal found her. She’s safer on the mountain with us.”
The mountain did not appear to possess any aspect of safety to Thea; it was dark and shadowy and full of menace. She shifted her shoulders uneasily. Imagination. It was only a mountain like any other.
But assassins did not lurk behind trees and rocks on any other mountain.
“Shouldn’t we go faster?”
“Not until it becomes necessary. The horses are tired and we may need a sudden burst of speed.”
“Won’t Kemal’s horses be tired also?”
“Perhaps. If he didn’t bring extra horses to switch.”
She had not thought of that possibility and did not wish to dwell on it. “Why won’t this Sinan welcome Kemal? Is he not a follower of Saladin?”
“He hates Saladin.”
“Well, then won’t he welcome the Templars if they come after us?”
“He hates the Franks also.”
“Then where does his allegiance lie?”
“With his own sect, the assassins. He rules an independent state here in the mountains. For the most part he’s content to watch and wait for Saladin and the Franks to kill one another.” He paused. “If they do not offend him.”
“And if they do?”
“At one time Saladin sought to destroy the assassins. He came here and laid siege to Maysef. Sinan was not in residence, and it should have been no trouble to capture him when he journeyed back to defend his fortress. For some reason they found it impossible to intercept him. Then Saladin became troubled by hideous nightmares every night. He was afraid to go to sleep. He became worn and haggard, jumping at shadows. One night he woke in his tent and found on his bed some hotcakes that only the assassins were known to bake, a poisoned dagger, and a paper with threatening verse written on it. Saladin was convinced that the Old Man of the Mountain himself had been in his tent. His nerve broke, and he sent a message to Sinan asking to be forgiven for his sins and begging self-conduct out of the mountains. He promised to leave the assassins forever undisturbed.” Ware smiled sardonically. “Sinan graciously pardoned him.”
Thea found the tale darkly fascinating. “How did the assassin get into Saladin’s tent? He must have been surrounded by his army.”
“Ask Kadar. Infiltration is part of the training of all Sinan’s followers.”
Her gaze went to Kadar. “Would he answer me if I asked him?”
“Probably not. He doesn’t talk about his time with Sinan.”
Kadar’s words came back to her. One must learn to walk the dark paths. But sometimes it’s possible to learn too much, delve too deep.
She suddenly realized she didn’t want to know about those dark paths. If she did, she wasn’t sure she would ever view Kadar in the same way. She went back to the original subject. “Do you suppose the guards were bribed to be blind when the assassin slipped into Saladin’s tent?”
Ware shook his head. “Sinan has been known to use bribery and deception to position his players, but those close to Saladin are too loyal to be swayed. No, Sinan used other means.”
Nightmares and terror. Thea shivered. “How can a man’s dreams be controlled? It must have been pure chance.” The sentence sounded familiar, and she recalled she had used the same words in regard to the creation of her banner. She quickly veered away from the memory. “You don’t believe in the magical power of this man, do you?”
Ware didn’t answer directly. “I believe he’s a brilliant man with a monstrous self-love and no soul. Put those qualities together, and there are roots planted for a morbid blossoming. Over the years he’s become accustomed to being worshipped and feared more than any man in this land. Death in battle has become commonplace, but a man who can ste
al life when it’s least expected holds the ultimate power.”
“Will he hide us?”
“If Kadar discovers him in the right mood. He finds Kadar interesting and is prone to be lenient toward him.”
“And if he’s not in the right mood?”
“Then we’ll run as if Satan were after us.” He added grimly, “As indeed he will be.” He glanced over his shoulder and stiffened. “They’re coming.”
Thea turned and then inhaled sharply.
Armored riders. Coming fast.
Her gaze was drawn to the man in the forefront of the riders.
Over Kemal’s head the lions on the banner shimmered strong and vivid in the fading light.
“Come on.” Ware grabbed her reins and spurred his own horse to a gallop up the steep, rocky incline.
Pounding, driving speed.
The wind tore at her hair and stung her cheeks.
The horses labored, their breathing heavy, nostrils flared as they struggled up the trail.
Hoofbeats behind them.
Her heart leaped with fear as she glanced over her shoulder.
How had Kemal gained on them so quickly? Extra horses, Ware had said.
Ware was muttering curses as he urged the horses.
They could go no faster, and the hoofbeats behind them were louder.
Shouting.
Kemal’s shrill voice. “Acre. Avenge Allah. Avenge Acre.”
Dear God, he sounded right behind them.
A small flat plateau ahead. They would be able to go faster.
But so could Kemal.
His riders streamed around them, surrounding them.
Kemal raced toward her, sword drawn. His eyes glittered wildly. “Witch. Daughter of demons.”
Ware wheeled and rode in front of her. “Take care of her, Kadar.”
“No!” Thea cried.
He paid no attention. He was riding directly at Kemal, fighting his way through the multitude of soldiers that had closed in around him. “Me, Kemal. Where is your courage? Honorable soldiers don’t fight women.”
A mace struck him in the shoulder, jarring him in the saddle. He was not deterred. “And they do not hide behind their men. Come and meet me.”
“Did your King Richard face the men he butchered at Acre? You deserve no more honorable death than a dog.” Kemal gestured to the soldiers. “Cut him down. I want his head for Saladin.”