The Crusader's Crown (Tales of the Brotherhood Series Book 1) by James Mercer (ink ebook reader txt) 📗

  The rest of the evening was mostly taken up with tending to their wounds. Blades of knives glowed orange as they were heated and used to cauterize. The night’s silence was punctured by short screams of pain and sharp intakes of breath as Father Anzac went to work treating the injured with his bone needle and cat gut to stitch up sliced muscles and deep cuts.

  Schaffer growled as Anzac wrapped fresh linen over the Teutonic knight’s open wound. The bolt had been removed and the wound cauterized and now his other arm was being covered over to prevent infection. He was relieved when he saw that he could still move his fingers but was not surprised when Anzac had told him he would never carry as much strength in the arm again.

Robert sat in silence and watched the Cardinal’s spiteful eyes darting in all directions. Esca and Chevalier had been separated on the request of the Order knight.

   “If you leave him in my company it is likely I will kill him before you do,” he had said without any apparent irony.

  The Brotherhood knights were not surprised, considering that the Cardinal had intended to flee with the Crown for himself.

   “So what be the deal with that there prisoner?” asked Jimmy. “I heard one of the knights say he was a Cardinal.”

   “Aye Jimmy, that he is,” answered Robert.

   “And we’re going to kill a man of the church?”

   “He’s no man of the church. But they won’t kill him. He’s more valuable to them alive.”

   “What about that knight there?” asked Guy.

   “I don’t know much about him,” lied Robert.

   “Probably worth a ransom I reckon,” said Cherik thoughtfully.

   “A high ransom indeed,” came the voice of the Commander.

  Reynard emerged from the dark.

   “Which we’ll all benefit from once it’s paid,” he assured them. “Rob I need a word.”

  Robert joined the Commander out of earshot.

   “How are they?” asked Reynard.

   “The same as always. Happy to have survived another battle and pleased with the rewards. But as I said before, they aren’t fools Reynard. They know that there’s more to this.”

  The Commander thought on Robert’s words and then patted him on the shoulder.

   “Your father would have been proud of what you accomplished today,” he said with a smile.

   “What we accomplished Reynard.”

  The Commander chuckled.

   “Get some rest my friend. For tomorrow we bury our Brothers.”

   “And then?”

   “Then we listen to what our captured Cardinal has to say.”

Robert remembered the wondrous tombs hidden beneath the castle Di’ Vinere back in Sicily. He remembered the intricate detail of the effigies of the fallen knights of the Brotherhood. Some had been carved in stone while others in marble and some even in volcanic glass. It did not seem fitting for the Master of the Keys, Count Rolf and Sir Eugene Archambeau to be buried under a pile of sandstone rocks and rubble.

   “Rest assured Robert. Our Brothers will be remembered for their honour and bravery. Their bodies may lie here until they turn to nothing but their names will go on for as long as the Brotherhood survives,” said Anzac.

  Sir Eugene’s squire and the Commander’s men were also buried upon the plateau. Unlike the three Brotherhood knights, whose swords and daggers had been taken by Anzac, they were buried in their full armour and weapons. Father Anzac said a few words over the small row of graves and then started to mount his horse.

   “We’re not going to place at least a cross?” asked Harold, Sir Arnaud’s squire desperately.

   “No my son we are not. This land is still torn by war and such things will only invite thieves or prying eyes. I would rather these brave men lay in peace as they should,” answered the priest.

With their comrades buried and their wounds tended, the battle-scarred party made good time and by sunset they had left Baeza far behind.

  Putting half his men on sentry and the others to guarding Sir Aguillard, Robert and the Commander joined Anzac and the other Brothers around one of the fires near to where the Cardinal was bound. Meanwhile the two squires, Harold and John, were tasked with tending to the horses.

  Anzac leant forward and removed the strip of cloth that had kept the cardinal silent, then taking a sip of water from a flask he offered it to the cleric. The priest drinking from the flask first was proof enough that the water was not poisoned so the Cardinal drank greedily. Slowly his parched mouth was refreshed and the dust washed away. Putting the flask aside, the Cardinal looked at the small group of Brotherhood knights.

  Since their departure from Baeza, Esca had thought long and hard about the encounters he had had with the Brotherhood. In their company, memories of his luxurious past seemed closer and the feeling filled him with a strength that he had not felt for some time. No, he would not give them the satisfaction.

   “For a knight who takes the cross, God can only bless him so much before the holy warrior’s other sins will rob them of their purification. By holding me against my will you are committing such a sin as we speak,” he said coldly and plainly.

  The Brotherhood knights said nothing. For a moment the only sounds were the crackling of the fires. Then the priest leant forward.

   “Do you play chess your eminence?” asked Anzac.

  Esca frowned, looking at him as if he were mad.

   “Although taught it at a young age, I didn’t master it for over a decade,” the priest continued.

  Robert was as confused as the Cardinal. His eyes flicked