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a decade, maybe too long," he replied with a
weary note in his voice. "I, too, was an orphan. Both of my parents died
when our keep was razed by my mother's people. I was taken in by a Templar
friend of my father's. I grew to adulthood in one of their preceptories in
Iberia."
    "You mention your mother's people," she ventured. "Are
you not a Frank?"
    "My father was French. My mother was a Berber Moor from
Morocco. They met when he went to Spain to aid the Iberian king’s reconquest.
After he and a contingent of Templars took my mother's brother's holding, he
married her and stayed to be appointed baron there."
    She sniffed. "So your mother was a spoil of war?"
    "Maybe at first, but my father loved her dearly, and died
at her side, defending the home they had recreated together."
    Gabrielle dropped her head in embarrassment, unable to hold
his piercingly dark stare. "I am sorry. I had no right to assume…."
    "’Tis of no consequence," he interrupted.
"Where do you come from, lady?"
    "I was born in Antioch," she volunteered with a
smile, in an attempt to seek absolution for her rudeness. "My father came
over with King Louis VII on the Second Crusade. He married my mother, who was
born of a French crusader family resettled in Antioch. He and Reynald actually
took up the cross together in France. My mother died when I was ten , after we had moved into the castle at Kerak.”
    Lucien stared at her for a long time, then pushed to his feet.
"I suppose we should be on our way, else we will not make Jerusalem by
nightfall."
    Gabrielle let him help her to her feet and smiled warmly at
him. "Thank you for the meal and the conversation, Brother Lucien. Both
were most enjoyable.”
    “It has been my pleasure.” His dark eyes followed her as she
rounded up the children who were playing near the wagon, deciding that despite
the scowling glances from his brothers, he had thoroughly enjoyed his encounter
with Reynald de Châtillon’s wife.

CHAPTER
3
    They rode into Jerusalem through David's Gate since it was
nearly a straight path to the headquarters of the Hospitallers. Past the mighty
Tower of David, they traveled along the crowded streets of the great city,
carving a path through the throngs of people filling them.
    Gabrielle was grateful for the canvas top of the wagon that
hid her and the children from prying eyes. If her husband learned of her
conspicuity, riding through the city with a wagonload of orphaned children,
surrounded most visibly by the white cloaked Knights of the Temple, he would be
immensely displeased. Her undertakings were of no concern to him, as long as
she refrained from embarrassing him.
    Her infamous husband's rules applied to everyone but himself.
He had long ago set her aside for his mistress. And while she cared not a whit
about the arrangement, and was, in fact, relieved to be released from her
husband's heavy-handed attentions and lascivious appetites, she was frequently
reminded of his embarrassing conduct by some of the tongue-waggers at court.
    Still, she always tried to conduct her activities as
inconspicuously as possible.
    The Jerusalem commandery of the Knights of the Hospital of
Saint John was a sprawling quadrant of buildings. The Church of the Holy
Sepulcher stood at the north end of the square, while to the south, the monks'
religious house had absorbed the monastery of Saint Anne. The entire complex
had been built on the site of the monastery of Saint John the Baptist.
    It included a great hall that was so enormous, it could hold
two thousand pilgrims and several hundred knights. Across from that, was the
large orphanage that was run by the brothers and the sisters of Saint John the
Baptist. The hospital stood next to it.
    It was operated on an astounding scale, providing every
comfort and luxury for the patients it cared for. The Hospitallers believed
every man, woman, and child was the Savior, and that it was their Christian
duty to serve them as such. They took in everyone who needed care,