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

“You haven’t been young for at least three generations,” said Jimmy, who was walking towards them.

   “Ah shite. Did you have to bring that whore-mongering, little piss-ant back with you?”

  The three men laughed as Jimmy clapped the armourer on the shoulder.

   “Well now you’re back. Take those bloody dresses off,” he said, pointing at Robert and Jimmy’s surcoats.

  Removing his surcoat and hanging it from Jupiter’s saddle he watched a group of five men walk passed.

   “You’re not wrong about new faces. Has the army lost so many of the men?” he asked.

   “You’ve been away some time now Rob. But not as many as you’d think,” replied Godfrey. “A lot of the lads have given up soldiering and decided to settle down or head home.”

   “Tarken?”

   “Settled on the southern border of the Hungarian Empire. With the loss of his hand and that old arrow injury, he was tiring. Found himself a woman and breeds horses now.”

  Robert recalled the Commander gifting his prize warhorse ‘Crixus’ to Tarken when they had voyaged back to Sicily with Chuma.

   “And Clutter?” he asked.

   “Ah, that butcher is still with us,” grinned the armourer.

  Robert had always liked the merciless Clutter. He was a fine surgeon, who knew his trade but was blunt with his diagnosis.

   “Come on. You can finish the questions over a drink,” said the armourer.

*****

Ponferrada Castle, April, 1212

Chevalier was standing upon the highest parapet of the fortress’ walls with his fellow Brothers. They surveyed the mounted party of knights and men-at-arms riding towards the castle’s main gate. There were at least thirty of them and Chevalier had no doubt that Garcia was at the head of the procession.

   “Why the change in colours?” asked Sir Olbrecht, referring to the surcoats and shields.

  Sir Olbrecht Scholz was a knight of the Teutonic Order, who had joined with the Brothers of the Blooded Cross several years ago. He, like so many others amongst the Order of the Blooded Cross, had been told to continue to serve their original Masters, so as to feed information back to the Grandmaster Pierron.

   “To disguise their true identity,” he replied.

  Chevalier was certain that Garcia was carrying out operations which had not been sanctioned by the Templar Masters. He wondered whether even Garcia’s followers were aware of the rogue Templar’s plan.

  As the troop of heavily armed horsemen neared, a trail of sandy dust following them, he studied the surcoats of the knights and their men. They were dark brown with an orange crucifix across the front, as were their shields and the few banners that hung from their spears.

  It was now the third time he had seen the group leave and return, dressed in the same attire, and each time they returned they were joyous and bloodied.

   “We confront them tonight. Have the men prepared in case we are met with hostility,” ordered Chevalier.

   “Where will we challenge them?” asked Sir Guarin Caron, the youngest of the three knights.

   “It is most likely he will be in the caverns below, conversing with that wretched Cardinal of his.”

That evening Chevalier had been correct in his assumptions. They descended into the caverns that lay beneath the castle and were soon confronted by a sergeant who attempted to bar their way. The problem was swiftly dealt with when Sir Olbrecht knocked the man unconscious. Leaving him in a bloodied heap at the entrance, they stepped through into the giant cavern, with its foreboding tunnels that trailed off into darkness.

  It was the first time that Sir Olbrecht and Sir Guarin had seen the incredible underground construction and they stared around awestruck.

   “Over there,” said Chevalier, pointing to the door that acted as the Cardinal’s office.

  The door was ajar and voices could be heard from behind it. Holding up his hand to halt his companions, Chevalier stood in silence to listen to the conversation that came from the small chamber.

   “All three sources indicate the same location,” came the voice of Garcia.

   “But we must be sure. We will have only one chance before those confounded devils discover our intentions,” answered the snide voice of the disgraced Cardinal.

  Hoping to hear more, Chevalier’s chance was disturbed by a yell from behind them.

   “You there, stay where you are!”

  He turned to see the Templar knight who had shouted the challenge was advancing with his sword already drawn. Behind the knight were four men-at-arms each brandishing a spear, levelled and pointing straight at the Order Brothers.

  While Scholz and Caron both stood ready to cross blades with their own swords drawn, Chevalier left his sheathed. He was eyeing up the five men as the door behind him creaked open, revealing Garcia and Esca.

   “What is the meaning of this?” demanded the clergyman.

   “Hold your tongue,” growled Chevalier.

  His eyes then turned to Garcia.

   “Enough of your games Sir Alejandro. You came to us for help and you keep us in the dark. I will not stand for it any longer.”

   “So you come to me in force?” replied Garcia as if surprised.

   “If I were to come in force, I would have brought all of my men. It was your men who drew their blades first.”

   There was a pause. “I see,” said the Templar. “Sir Brian, put away your sword Brother. And you men, return to your posts.”

   “They have assaulted one of our sergeants,” objected Sir Brian.

   “Then he should have stepped aside when ordered to by a man of noble rank,” retorted Chevalier. “Now, enough of your stalling. Share what knowledge you have with us or my Brothers and I will return to our Grandmaster and inform him of your betrayal.”

  Garcia knew full well that the