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

  Robert didn’t know much about the Almohads apart from that their empire stretched across most of North Africa. His eyes drifted towards Ruscar, who as usual, had preferred to eat in silence and merely listen.

   “I know what you’re thinking Robert,” said the Commander. “But I can assure you, Ruscar has been given the choice to remain elsewhere while we venture south but he says he has sworn himself to the Forgotten Army and that is where he shall remain.”

   “You mean he’s a mercenary and the money’s good,” added Cherik with an ironic grin.

   “Either way, does it not concern you that you will war with your own people Ruscar?” asked Robert.

   “Like you all warred with the Christians of Constantinople?” replied the Moor quietly.

  Ruscar was right of course. In their last Crusade, the holy army of God had in the end sacked and destroyed one of the greatest Christian cities in Christendom.

   “So why come to me?” continued Robert. “I hold no sway over the northern Barons and what men they have they intend to use against the King and his supporters.”

   “The Forgotten Army has already started its journey west to serve under the banner of King Sancho of Navarre. They should be crossing southern France at the moment and will wait for us on the borders of Andorra.”

   “And you have come here to ask me to join you?”

   “War is igniting everywhere Rob,” answered the Commander. “England, France, the kingdoms of eastern Christendom. Everywhere.”

   “So men are hard to come by?” asked Nathanial.

   “That they are.”

   “What men I have here Commander, I need to keep to protect the lands. Not for me, not for the Montgomery’s but for the people who work it.”

   “I respect that Robert and if your men must stay, so be it. But you are honour-bound to serve the Forgotten Army for another two years, for you did not complete that which you agreed to. And more importantly Rob, that the Forgotten Army needs you.”

  The Commander’s voice was serious and stern.

  Robert was silent for a moment, as were the rest of the men at the table. His grey eyes looked at each man and each man looked back. He sighed.

   “It is late and I have much to organise if I am to leave my family. If you ride along the western road you’ll find a tavern at a crossroads. I hear the wenches there are happy to go bare breasted for a little silver.”

  Jürgen slapped the table in satisfaction.

   “Now you’re sounding like the old Robert! What say you Nathanial, shall we go in search of some fine ladies and a roll of the dice?”

   “My lady awaits me upstairs my friend and I am more than happy with my lot,” smiled Nathanial, slightly blushing at his declaration.

   “Suit yourself,” said Jimmy, getting to his feet.

   “And friends,” Robert called as the brothers and Jimmy started towards the door that led outside.

   “Behave yourselves!”

  Ruscar soon stood as well and said he was going to see to the horses. Robert got up and moved towards him.

   “Ruscar my friend. Please, I have had rooms prepared for you. I know my sisters would prefer to hear that you accepted their hospitality.”

  The Commander and Robert waited while Nathanial led the silent warrior from the hall, leaving just the two of them.

  Robert filled his goblet with more wine before walking to the dying fire that lay in the stone hearth. Taking the iron poker, he prodded the charred timbers, igniting them to life again and added another log.

   “I must admit. That was a very fine performance you put on this evening,” said Reynard.

   “All of it was true,” answered Robert who was still coaxing the fire.

  Once satisfied with his efforts he turned to his friend.

   “And now it is time for you to tell me the truth. I’m certain you have more than enough men indebted to you to join in this crusade.”

  Robert waited patiently while Reynard emptied his goblet and then refilled it.

   “The Brotherhood has been summoned,” he said.

   “I heard some time ago that Di Vinere had fallen?”

   “It did. Not long after our departure I’m afraid to say. Fortunately those who were present at the gathering had heeded the words of the elders. Most of the council and the other Brothers had already left the castle and gone into hiding. But alas, some had not.”

   “Count Henri?” Robert asked hesitantly.

   “Dead. Along with another of the elders,” answered Reynard sadly.

  Robert closed his eyes, his fists clenched. He was seething with fury and hatred and felt overcome with a desire for retaliation against their avowed enemy. Count Henri Arbiseux had been the elder who had allowed Robert to join their Brotherhood.

   “The Order?” he asked.

   “Most likely. Though our spies report it was the banner of the King of Sicily which led the assault.”

   “What of the catacombs?”

   “The vaults had been emptied by the Brotherhood already. But the tombs of our fallen Brothers. Who knows?”

  The incredible catacombs of the Brotherhood knights were imprinted in Robert’s memory. He could remember every detail of the stone coffins that allowed the knights, who had made it their mission to protect the treasures of Christ, to rest in peace.

   “And the Council. Have they relocated?”

   “At present they remain in hiding. But that is the real reason why I have come. Sir Quintos of the Templars has been in contact with Father Anzac and Sir Frederick Schaffer.”

  Robert remembered the three men well. His first encounter with Father Anzac and Sir Frederick had been in Venice, when he had