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

to the southern coast of France. She was a fast ship who had also defeated a corsair galley but even if her hold were empty, she wouldn’t be able to accommodate the horses and supplies.

The following morning, Bomani and his crew, slowly coaxed the horses aboard the large vessel. Their handlers were patient and gentle, yet firm and one by one each animal, although unhappy about it, was led aboard and stabled below.

  Robert continued to watch the flurry of activity on the deck as the captain’s crew made their final preparations before setting sail.

   “With the wind in our favour, we should make Gijon in a week or so,” said the captain.

   “That should give us enough time to rendezvous with Anzac and Schaffer,” replied the Commander. “You say they are in Aragon?”

   “When I last saw them, they said they were on their way to the Monastery of Saint Michael.”

  Although he was not an actual member of the Turin Shroud Brotherhood, Chuma had become a valuable and trusted ally to them. As well as transporting them on many occasions or smuggling goods, he was an excellent contact as he was continuously on the move, trading in the countless ports of both Christendom and Palestine. Gossip and information were always stockpiled away until his next rendezvous with them.

   “Then let us be off. Bomani!”

  The captain relayed instructions to the first mate, who in turn bellowed them across the ship’s deck. Fearful of the mighty sailor’s temper, the rest of the crew moved quickly so as not to anger the man, and in less than an hour the galley was out in open waters.

*****

The Castle of Ponferrada, Castile, February, 1212

Sir Aguillard Chevalier scratched the skin under his greying beard. The rich dark brown hair on his head had also changed over the years to a dusty grey.

  He and his men, consisting of two Order knights, their squires and two dozen men-at-arms, had accompanied the Templar knight, Sir Alejandro Garcia, across France and over the Pyrenees. From the crest of a rocky hilltop in western Castile, they surveyed the construction that was before them.

  To gain favour with the Templars, King Alfonse had gifted Ponferrada castle to the Templar Order a few years before. Its original foundations had stood since the Roman era but a century ago it had been seized by the Moors. Then after a long and bloody campaign, a Christian army led by the King’s father had won it back.

   “You intend to expand the castle’s fortifications?” Chevalier asked the Templar.

   “Not just expand Sir Aguillard, but strengthen it tenfold,” Garcia answered proudly. “On the south side, they have already started to build an outer wall to protect the local inhabitants. One must consider their protection after all.”

  Both men knew full well that the Templar Order’s first duty was to protect the pilgrims who travelled to the resting places of long dead saints. And to do such a duty, they had been awarded land, castles and money.

  However this Templar cared nothing of the pilgrims’ safety, or the serfs and peasants who worked the land. But to keep up his ruse, he must be seen by his superiors as carrying out his task, issued by the Masters.

   “Come. There are preparations to make before we leave to join the Crusade,” said Garcia.

  As they led their horses onto the road that led to Ponferrada’s gates, Chevalier could not help but admire the new fortifications of the castle’s outer walls. Labourers and engineers could be seen at work, whipping the oxen to drag the granite stone blocks up the slope which would be added to the half-finished construction.

  Entering the main gates he looked up and saw the deadly spikes of the portcullis above them. Halting in the courtyard of the inner bastion of the fortress, they were quickly approached by squires and attendants to assist the new arrivals. Dismounting without assistance, Chevalier handed the reigns of his horse to his squire and patted the animal’s neck. The strong palfrey had served him well on their long journey.

  Viewing the battlements, he could quickly see that the stronghold was heavily garrisoned with Templar sergeants patrolling the walls. Although these men were not anointed knights like himself and Sir Alejandro. They still wore the same white mantles with its crimson crucifix upon the chest.

   “Sir Aguillard,” said Garcia. “If you and your Brothers would follow me. My man here can show your men to their quarters”

  Chevalier nodded and gave the order for his men-at-arms to follow the appointed Templar sergeant to their temporary billet. Meanwhile he and his two Order Brothers followed Garcia towards the main Keep of the castle, constructed of even older stone than that which surrounded it.

****

Port of Gijon, February, 1212

Regardless of the clear blue sky and a strong winter sun high above, there was still a cold chill in the air. From the bow of the ship, Robert looked west at the everlasting expanse of sea. On the horizon was a long smear of grey storm clouds gathering.

   “That’ll be across here within a day or so,” said Chuma.

   “Dangerous?” asked Robert.

  The sea captain nodded.

   “She’ll tear anything that rides the waves into splinters.”

   “So you’ll stay in Gijon for a few days?”

   “Looks like we’re going to have to. I have business to attend to anyhow,” he replied.

Gijon, situated on the northern coast of Spain in the Bay of Biscay, was a pleasant looking port. Its docks were amass with small merchant and fishing vessels. As the dark galley veered amongst her neighbours, she looked daunting and forbidding.

  After some skilled manoeuvres by the ship’s crew, they were able to dock in one of the deep water quays. Once anchored, with some considerable effort the