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

He had however, no problem with Alfonso who visited her a few times. Regardless of the titles Reynard and Robert carried the captain was by far the closest to aristocracy amongst the mercenary encampment and treated her with respect and courtesy. He had invited her to walk with him, reassuring her that in his company she had nothing to fear.

  When Robert hesitantly asked, Alfonso told him they talked of her home, of the Forgotten Army and most importantly, why he had not been able to return to her.

   “So he was ordered by the Generals of the Crusade to return to England?” she had asked.

   “That he was my dear. Had he accompanied the Forgotten Army back west, I’m sure he would have come for you.”

  From a distance, they could hear the clash of steel on steel and the captain could see a slightly concerned expression on her face.

   “Fear not Selva. It is merely some of the men training,” he reassured her. “Would you care to see? Some of our men are some of the finest swordsmen in the Crusader forces. It may also help you become a little more accustomed to the goings on in the camp while you are with us.”

  The young maiden was curious and considered what the kind captain had suggested. Maybe watching the men would help her feel more comfortable in her new surroundings. Nodding at his suggestion, the captain led her through a row of tents until they came out on to the training ground.

  She quickly spotted Robert on the far side, sparring with one of the Gutsberg brothers. While the man with his wild blonde hair, carried a blunted axe in one hand and a practice sword in the other. Robert faced him with a sword and shield. Both men danced around one another, swinging blows when they felt there was an opportunity to disarm their opponent.

  The two of them were grinning at each other. They were a fair match, both of them highly skilled in combat.

   “Why do they laugh?” Selva asked.

   “Robert and Cherik have known each other for many years and count one another as brothers more than comrades,” answered Alfonso.

   “Who is the better?”

   “They are relatively evenly matched my dear. Cherik is the more ferocious of the two but although younger, Robert is clever. Keep watching.”

Cherik had spied the captain and Selva watching from across the training ground and decided to use it to his advantage.

   “Better not lose now old friend. Not when your pretty maid has arrived,” he grinned.

  Guessing his friend’s intentions, Robert merely smiled.

   “Don’t worry. I’m sure we can find you some old hag to cheer you on,” he said it loudly so others could hear.

  There was a chuckle from the men nearby, several of whom had ceased their own training to watch the duel between the knight and the tribesman. Cherik had flushed pink at the jibe and swung his axe which thumped onto Robert’s shield. Expecting the strike, Robert stepped forward to break the full power of the blow.

  At the same time he brought his sword up, intent on hitting Cherik’s side with his sword. But the German was too smart for such a ruse and the blunt-edged sword clanged against his own. The two were now locked firm, neither giving ground.

  Other men shouted encouragement to the two of them while others were making wagers.

  Robert could feel his left arm starting to weaken. The strikes of Cherik’s axe on his shield had almost exhausted his arm. Their smiles had now gone and although their friendship was unbreakable, both now bared their teeth, summoning the last of their strength.

  Knowing he would be bested soon if he did not think of something quick, Robert remembered something Sir Roger had once said to him.

   “A shield is not just for defence!”

  With the last of his strength, Robert pushed at Cherik’s axe which was still pressing against his shield. Shoving it off for only a moment, as the German tried to come at him again, Robert quickly dropped to one knee and slammed his shield hard onto Cherik’s boot, causing his friend to howl with pain. Then in the same movement, he punched the shield forward into his kneecap before finally raising his shield only just in time to catch the thump of the axe.

  Cherik’s leg gave way and he fell to the floor. With the help of his sword, Robert pushed himself up and placed the blunt tip of the blade to his friend’s chest.

   “Yield.”

  Cherik laughed through the aching pain.

   “Next time, I’ll have you, you devious pig’s arse. I yield,” he replied.

  Discarding his shield and sword, he undid his helmet and then pulled his friend up. Cherik growled as the weight on his leg caused spasms of pain to shoot through his body. There were cheers from some of the men and groans from others as coin was exchanged.

  Robert looked over to Selva and smiled. His heart then lifted as she faintly smiled back.

   “Well that was a fine performance,” came the loud voice of the Commander.

  The men fell quiet.

   “Make sure you can walk on that leg soon Cherik, we have a week at most before we start south.”

  His words were loud enough for all present to hear.

   “Caratac, Taylor. Help Cherik back to his tent. Robert, have your scouting party ready to ride for Toledo within the hour.”

Exhausted, Robert pulled off his chainmail, hauberk and vest. In front of him was a large water butt in which he splashed water over his face and head. As he stood, the feeling of the cold trails of water trickling down his back felt good.

   “I did not know