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

  The story of how he had come to own the mighty broadsword had become legend amongst the men of the Forgotten Army – the duel between the captain and the black knight. Unbeknownst to the captain, and indeed all the men in the army, the knight he had faced was Sir Martell de lac Santierre, a former member of the Brotherhood, who had betrayed them and joined with the Order.

  The Commander had decided Robert would re-join his old unit, under Alfonso’s command, which suited him happily. When he was first transferred to the Forgotten Army’s detachment of cavalry some years ago back in Genoa, he had really struggled with horsemanship. The continuous rolling in the saddle, the falls and the raw chafing of his thighs had been agonisingly unpleasant.

  However, over the last eight years, he had come to enjoy the thrill of riding his charger or one of the palfrey horses across the hills of Shropshire. Soon though, he would ride his warhorse, Jupiter, not across an empty meadow, but onto the field of battle.

   “You’ll also be leading the scouting party when the time comes,” said Alfonso. “I’m too old to go prancing off miles ahead to figure out the best routes anymore.”

They had been travelling for a week over the dusty plains, passing small outposts and villages. From a distance, they would see the inhabitants of the undefended settlements rush for the safety of their small houses fearing that the force approaching them was there to raid and pillage.

   “God Almighty! This bloody sun,” complained Jimmy. “It never seems to stop.”

  Jimmy had also been transferred to Alfonso’s unit a few years back. When on the move the mounted company would divide into two, providing the vanguard and protecting the rear of their caravan of wagons and supplies.

   “Missing the grey skies and bitter winds of England are you?” asked Robert with a smile.

   “Not on your life. But maybe a fine cloud just in front of the sun for a few hours would be nice.”

   “I’ll tell you what would be nice – a lovely bare-breasted lass to have a rut with,” said Cherik, who had rode up beside them.

   “Cor … that would be nice. With a pert bosom and bronzed, soft skin,” mused Jimmy hungrily.

   “Bet there were a few in that last settlement we passed.”

   “How about you Rob? Nice to see young Nathan has found himself a fine looking lady.”

   “Careful Jimmy,” warned Robert.

  Robert knew that his friend was only teasing. But there was only so much he would allow, even with his closest friends, to talk about his sisters in such a manner.

   “So?”

   “So what?”

   “So was there a fine young maiden you had hidden away back at Bridgenorth?” asked Cherik.

   “Afraid not Cherik. I hadn’t time for such delights. The borders of Wales and the outlaws of the forest took up most of my time.”

   “What, not even one of those pretty lasses from that tavern you recommended? Which was a fine choice may I say,” added the German.

  Robert laughed.

   “Not even those. Although our time together was brief, Sir Roger’s protective glare seemed to quell my desires.”

   “You sound like a fucking monk,” sighed Jimmy.

   “Or maybe he is just biding his time,” came the voice of Alfonso.

  The captain was following behind on his mount enjoying the banter amongst the three friends.

   “Not to say that my temptations aren’t more similar to you two scoundrels than that of Robert’s … but maybe his thirst for a fine maiden is more disciplined than the three of us,” he chuckled.

   “Bah, fat chance! I reckon he’s just too shy to tell us.”

  As close as his two friends were to him, the captain was actually more accurate. In all his time at Bridgenorth Robert had not once visited any of the local brothels. On the odd occasion, if he was with Nathanial and his men in one of the taverns, a local girl would try to catch his eye. But none were successful.

  Sir Roger had broached the subject on the odd occasion, but Robert would quickly change tack. Something deep inside him told him to hold out, and one day she would come for him.

   “Well then Rob. Sounds like it’s a monastery for you then after our journey to the south,” teased Jimmy.

   “Or maybe you could join one of those religious Orders, like the Templars. They prefer the church to a brothel and you can still use that sword of yours,” added Cherik.

   “Alright now lads, that’s enough,” said Alfonso.

  There was a stern tone in his voice, which ended the discussion.

  The captain was staring ahead to the east. Following his line of sight, the three men looked to the horizon. A vast dust cloud could be seen, growing in size.

   “Sandstorm?” asked Jimmy.

  For all his years, the captain’s sight was still strong.

   “Horses,” he answered. Then shouted, “Prepare arms! Robert, take command of the vanguard, while I report to the Commander.”

  Without another word, the captain turned and jabbed his heels into his horse’s flanks encouraging it to a swift gallop.

As the dust cloud appeared on the horizon the Commander trotted his mount further from the column, accompanied by Hamish and Ruscar. They too had concluded that it was no sandstorm.

   “Friend or foe is the question.” said Hamish.

   “Ruscar, can you see any banners amongst them?” asked the Commander.

   “Still too far Commander. And the sand hides their identity,” answered the Moor.

  The Commander looked to his right as he heard the sound of hooves approaching the three of them.

   “What do you make of it?”