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

other side of the animal, he could see the mighty broadsword bound to the saddle horizontally by two leather cords. It had been presented to him by a Templar knight back in Constantinople.

  Robert was a fine swordsman and the tutoring by his father had only made him more skilled. But the double handed broadsword, which needed two hands to wield it, required a completely different technique in comparison to the sword that hung from his belt.

   “You’re not going to wear your family’s colours?” asked Reynard.

  He turned to face the Commander and saw that Reynard was wearing the surcoat and livery of the Sancerre lineage. He remembered the black diamond on a field of yellow well. Behind the Commander, seeing to their own horses, he saw that the men were also wearing the same surcoats. Attached to Ruscar’s saddle was a kite shield with the same insignia and another triangular shield being carried by Jürgen.

  Jimmy was holding the pennant of the Sancerre house on his spear, which earned him a jealous glare from Nathanial. For it had been he who was awarded the same honour when they had journeyed from France to Bridgenorth.

   “Here,” said Reynard.

  The Commander held out a surcoat which was decorated in the Spurling colours. Robert stared with delight and pride.

   “Your sisters must take the credit. It was they who cleaned it back to its former glory,” Reynard said.

  The surcoat was midnight blue, easily mistaken for black from a short distance. On the chest, was a white shield embroidered upon it, with a green oak tree at the centre.

   “Your family’s crest.”

   “I had seen it on my father’s ring but it never occurred to me that he had his very own colours. We always wore those of the Montgomery’s.”

   “Well he would do. He was Montgomery’s vassal, protecting their castle and lands. But these are the colours and the coat-of-arms of the Spurling family.”

   Robert swallowed and his voice shook slightly. “Thank you Reynard.”

   “Now enough with your whimpering. Say your farewells and let us be off,” said the Commander who turned and made for his own horse.

  Robert’s farewell was short. He ruffled the hair of his nephew, telling Thomas that it was his job to protect the castle from enemies. He turned to his sisters and reassured them that he would return and then finally turned to Nathanial.

   “I’m sorry Nathan, I wish I could take you with us,” he said extending his arm.

   “I’m not my lord. You said so yourself, we have a family to protect. God go with you Robert.”

  Nathanial gripped Sir Robert’s arm and held it firmly.

   “Ahh … just kiss and get it over with,” called Cherik.

   “And be sure to taunt that German arse while on your travels,” said Nathanial.

   “Can you think of anything that could humiliate that man?”

   “Aye. Deprive him of a whore when he’s just about to reach for his purse.”

  The two friends laughed and Robert walked over to his mount, pulling himself up with the help of his young page.

  As the Commander led the small procession toward the main gate, Robert steered his horse round to face his family one last time. He said nothing, instead he smiled and raised his hand in farewell.

  As he turned and trotted towards the gates, Kate started to weep into her husband’s chest. With his arm holding her tightly, he reassured her.

   “Don’t fear my love. He’ll return to us,” he said softly.

   “Why? Because he’s now a knight?” said Jennifer crossly.

   “No. Because he’s Robert of Oldfield!”

*****

The mercenaries’ journey south was relatively uneventful. It amused Robert, even after he had assured the Commander and the others that he had cleared the boundary forests of thieves and bandits, they were still on their guard, turning at every noise. It was the only time he could ever remember the Commander Reynard actually looking nervous.

   “It wasn’t you who was cracked upon the back of the head and dragged off into the depths of the forest,” muttered the Commander bitterly.

  Ruscar in particular, who would give his life for the Commander, didn’t take his fingers off the notched arrow, ready to fly from his deadly Persian bow. The Moor’s head continued to shift left and right, eyes darting in every direction, looking into the silent undergrowth, still bare from the harsh winter.

  However after leaving the forests behind unhindered, they were on two occasions, challenged when passing through other lord’s manors and estates. But when the two knights announced themselves as Sir Reynard Sancerre and Sir Robert Spurling, both mounted interrogators had quickly offered their apologies and let them continue.

   “So by which route do we take to reach our destination?” asked Robert.

   “By means of some old friends,” answered the Commander.

   “And they would be where?”

   “The first would be in London.”

Robert had heard stories of London countless times but never been there in person. On first sight it reminded him very much of the French cities they had passed through when they had journeyed through the French and Angevin territories back to England.

  However as they grew closer to its suburbs the rough and squalid conditions of the capital’s buildings made Robert thankful that he had never had to reside in such a place. Entering from the north-west, the odour of human waste and sewage was repulsive. Even the local guards looked unfitting to be called law enforcers.

  Seeing his friend’s expression of repulsion, Reynard closed his eyes, breathed in deeply and smiled.

   “Mmmm, marvellous to be in the open air again isn’t it?” he teased.

   “You call this air? It smells worse than the aftermath of the battle for the Galata Tower,” answered Robert pressing