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

why they often squabble with each other in blood over pathetic patches of dirt that mark their borders. However, with a combination of a demand from the Pope, support from other nations and the opportunity of seizing things they are all eager for, they have made an alliance to fight against the Almohads and drive them back south.”

  Power and wealth. That’s all it was in the end, just like Constantinople, Robert thought glumly.

   “And it is King Sancho of Navarre who has purchased the services of the Forgotten Army this time?” he asked.

  Robert remembered it was Count Peter of Amiens who had hired the Forgotten Army on the last Crusade, which went completely awry and ended up in Constantinople instead of Palestine.

   “Indeed, King Sancho is the lucky investor of the finest mercenary force this time.”

   “But a King!” said Robert impressed.

   “Don’t look so surprised Rob. When we get to the gathering of the Crusade, you will see more kings and princes in one place than you have or ever will see again.”

Chapter 4

Southampton, February, 1212

The convoy of supply ships made good time, and despite the rough weather, reached the coastal town of Southampton in two days. The rains had followed them for the whole of the first day but then diverted north-east while the convoy continued their journey south.

  The air was bitterly cold as their cog slowly drifted into the port. Robert rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them but it was useless. A faint memory, of a cold journey along the rivers of France, aboard a barge bound for Rouen echoed in his thoughts. He remembered his old friend Sir Leon purchasing a small brazier for their journey. The small device was just enough to battle the cold and stop Sir Leon, Nathanial and himself from freezing to death.

  How he wished for that brazier now.

  The ships docked and the Commander and his small company, struggled to control their horses as the animals reared and resisted against their masters. Robert’s mount snapped and shrieked, eager to be free of the tight, swaying confines of the ship.

   “Steady Jupiter,” he said gently trying to pat the charger’s neck, hoping to calm him.

   “Jupiter?” asked Cherik.

   “I let my nephew, Thomas, name him. He was an ancient god of war. Fierce and fearless.”

   “A good name then,” grunted the German as he too tried to encourage his chestnut brown palfrey from her stall.

  Finally ashore, the company of men and horses, walked along the dozen wharfs that clung to the dockside.

   “So who is this second friend who will aid us on our journey?” Robert asked.

   “Well, that would be me,” boomed a familiar voice behind him.

  Spinning around he saw a portly man with dark, bronzed skin, dressed in handsome, thick clothing. Since their last encounter, the man had aged. His finely kept moustache was thinning and whitening at the tips, while his hair, which was tied back, was turning a silvery, grey.

   “Chuma!” Robert laughed.

   “Master Robert Oldfield. How good it is to see you again, my young comrade,” smiled the Egyptian merchant.

  Behind the wealthy trader stood another familiar face. The only other man he knew, who could smile less than Ruscar.

   “Bomani, you are well I trust?” said Robert extending his hand.

  The tall, broad shouldered, first mate looked down at Robert as if he were a stranger to him. Then after a few moments he took Robert’s hand and shook it briefly. The man’s attention had been diverted by Jupiter. The animal was hardly troubled by its surroundings and remained still, looking in the direction of his master.

  The Egyptian walked forward confidently which caused the charger to rear. Bomani gently tugged at the reins and started to stroke the mighty beast’s neck firmly, talking to it calmly in his native language. Slowly the horse began to settle and stop pulling against the leash that still held him. Bomani then turned back to face Robert.

   “He is a fine animal,” he said walking back to his captain’s side.

   “Still as friendly as ever,” muttered Jürgen.

   “Aye, still cheerful.”

   “So you wish to make sail straight away?” Chuma asked the Commander.

   “As soon as possible.”

   “Very well, if you will follow me. We will let the horses stay on land tonight and then load and make sail early tomorrow.”

  They were an odd looking sight as they walked along the port to the furthest quay. The Commander, Robert and the men had all donned their surcoats again, so as not to rouse suspicion. However, they were a strange spectacle, the Egyptian merchant leading from the front and his first mate bringing up the rear. Then in between, two heavily armoured knights and their deadly looking men-at-arms.

   “She was too heavy to berth in the main dock and I thought you’d prefer the discretion,” said the captain.

   “You thought right,” the Commander replied, patting him on the shoulder.

  Robert had been adjusting the buckle on his belt and gasped when he looked up and caught sight of the galley that bobbed on the water in front of them.

  It was a dreaded looking thing. Like a wreck that had been dragged up from the depths of the sea. The entire vessel was painted black and two white sails were currently furled on the mast, at its centre.

   “Something wrong Robert?” asked the captain.

  He had noticed the surprised expression on the young knight’s face.

   “The Scarab?” he asked.

   “Ah fear not. My beautiful lady awaits me back in the port of Gijon,” replied Chuma.

  The Sea Scarab was the fine sleek vessel that had transported the Commander and Robert from Constantinople to Sicily and then on