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

to guard their prisoner. There had been no objection from the ageing captain so the Commander decided that he, Robert and Hamish would split the rest of the men three ways, in three of the five towers and lead the first wave as requested by King Sancho.

   “Can’t be far now,” said Jurgen.

  The top platform could only hold a dozen men at a time, with another dozen waiting on the platform below and the troops of Navarre and Aragon following behind. There was a small gap between the siege tower’s bridge, which would be lowered when the time came, and the protected side of the tower. It provided the only light into the compartment. Jimmy quickly peaked through to survey what lay in wait for them.

   “There’s a fair few of them bastards waitin’ for us,” he said.

  Another reminiscence from his past emerged when Robert remembered how his friend John Crook had been killed in the attack on the walls of the Galata Tower. By the time the Crusaders had conquered the battlements the tower’s fortifications had been a mass of corpses.

   “All the more sport for us,” answered Cherik encouragingly.

  Robert had ordered his party into three rows of four, with himself at the front along with Athaelstan to his left and the Gutsbergs to his right. The four men of the third rank, which included John, were all holding crossbows to provide covering fire when the bridge was lowered. To the right of them, the sound of a colossal crash could be heard followed by the screams of men.

   “Ballistae,” said Athaelstan calmly.

   “From which side though?” asked Guy.

  Robert wondered whether the men’s pulses were racing as much as his own. Although his palms were dry and his nerves remained strong, the combination of having to wait so long to know what was coming was always trying. After another agonising five minutes, the tower finally shuddered to a halt. They had arrived. He could hear the shouts of defiance from the defenders on the other side of the raised drawbridge.

   “Shields up!” he shouted.

  The front and second rank pulled their shields tight against their chests and kept their heads low.

   “Let it go.”

  The bridge dropped, filling the dim compartment with bright sunlight. In the few seconds it took for their eyes to adjust, Robert felt two arrows thump against his shield. A cry of pain sounded from behind him.

   “Return fire,” he shouted over the uproar.

  The four at the rear, fired over the shoulders of their comrades. Robert’s eyes had cleared in time to see a crossbow bolt skewer an enemy archer in the neck.

   “Charge!”

  A dozen or so of the defenders awaited them on the crumbling parapet. They were all well-armed and wearing full armour. As he charged across the bridge, a spear head scraped along his shield. Once across and close enough he kicked out at the spearman. His heavy boot rammed into his assailant’s face, forcing him to stumble backwards. There was a brief yelp before he pitched backward and disappeared over the side. From such a height, his death would be quick and his body broken upon the paved roads below.

  The spearman’s disappearance allowed Robert space to recklessly drop down onto the ledge. Almost instantly, an attack came from both sides, an axe to his left and the curved blade of a scimitar coming from his right. Raising his shield, he met the blow of the axe. The force of the strike rattled down his arm. With such blows it would not be long before his shield would become ineffective.

  Blocking the scimitar with his own sword he waited for the inevitable. As if on cue, Jurgen’s pickaxe slammed down upon the helmet of the Almohad, biting through the metal and deep into the man’s skull. The appearance of the Crusader knight, who had confidently planted himself on the battlements, had become a deadly and unexpected distraction for the defenders. Their focus, drawn to the knight, made them vulnerable from attacks that would come from two sides.

  Jurgen’s victim crumpled to the floor allowing the warrior to drop down on to the parapet beside his friend. As he did so a second strike crashed against Robert’s shield. This time Robert heard a sharp snap as his well-used shield nearly split in two. With his right flank protected he turned to face his aggressor, but before he had a chance to do anything, Athaelstan’s war axe took the man’s head clean off, slicing through the chain ventail as if it were paper.

  With both sides now protected, Robert discarded his shield, quickly sheathed his sword and drew his Templar broadsword that had been strapped to the back of his baldric. The battlements’ walkway was just wide enough to fit two men side by side. While Athaelstan blocked another attack with his shield, Robert swung his sword into the man’s side, its blade cutting deep into his middle.

   “Jurgen, Cherik, start right. Athaelstan with me,” he shouted.

  As the two pairs started to slowly fight their way along the walkway of the ruined battlements, more of the men were able to exit the siege tower and follow the fray.

  The highly effective combination of Robert’s broadsword and Athaelstan’s axe was almost unstoppable. Only three men, all of them brandishing long pikes, had succeeded in landing a strike against them. But their efforts were in vain as all three were swept aside by the shield of the Varangian warrior and his powerful arms.

  Step by step they made their way toward the stairway built into the walls that led to the ground. Over the enemies’ heads Robert could see that the Commander’s tower had also reached the walls and he and his troop were now making headway along the parapet. With the Crusaders coming