Free Behind the Veil by Linda Chaikin Page A

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.”
    Tancred was rather amazed over the simplicity of the scheme. Rufus was the one man capable of deceiving her as to Philip’s actual whereabouts. She would be compelled to cooperate to save Philip whom she needed to secure her rise as empress; but after releasing Nicholas, would she try to stop them from leaving Constantinople?
    The hippodrome came into view, empty and dark. It had been arranged for the gate to be left open, and they drove through and onto the track. The empty stands gazed down upon them, and Tancred envisioned the seats as though filled with hysterical ghosts, shouting their approval—or clamoring for a death.
    A glance at Rufus, showed himself immobile, his strong features displaying signs of resignation. Tancred reached under his cloak and felt the security of his sword. He trusted Rufus, but Irene was not to be lightly disregarded.
    They waited in the chariot at the far end of the colosseum. The minutes slipped past and there was no sign of Philip’s chariot, or Irene. Had Philip been alerted?
    Tancred heard the prance of horse hooves and the rattle of wheels—a chariot was entering the gate. He stared ahead into the darkness. As it approached, Rufus spoke in a low voice, “it’s Philip.” Rufus stepped down from the chariot and walked toward the dark stands.
    Except for Philip’s personal bodyguard, Captain Demetrious, Philip was alone. Why had he come without his soldiers? How had Rufus lured him here?
    Seated in his royal chariot, Philip leaned toward Demetrious, abruptly questioning.
    “Are you certain Basel said he would meet me here?”
    Bishop Basel…his father , Tancred thought. So that was what Rufus had told him.
    Demetrious produced a small cauldron of coals and lit two torches which he set into sockets at the sides of the chariot. Soon an area of the hippodrome around Philip’s chariot was ablaze with light, and Tancred could see Philip in his royal purple, woven with gold. His handsome, aristocratic face showed uncertainty as he caught sight of Rufus standing near the colosseum seats.
    Captain Demetrious left Philip’s chariot, and walked off into the darkness.
    Stunned, Philip looked after him. “You fool! Get back here. Where are you going?”
    No reply came. Philip’s startled gaze darted about the hippodrome, then fixed upon Rufus’s empty chariot as Tancred walked toward the torchlight.
    “Basel?” Philip called toward him, his voice showing bewilderment, then growing tension when no reply came. “Basel…Father, is that you?”
    Philip stepped down and looked about in the torchlight surrounding his chariot. Grave alarm showed on his face. “Demetrious! I will have you strangled