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

had always thought it was just a precaution. The truth was now told as the red faced cleric, sporting a cut on his brow, roared as he brought his mace down on a Templar knight’s shield. When the knight tried to counter the attack, Anzac punched the oncoming sword with his buckler. As the sword was pushed back, the battle-crazed priest brought his mace down on the knight’s mailed hand, which was holding the sword.

  A small shudder climbed up Robert’s spine as he heard the faint shout of pain over the clamour before them. The sword dropped to the floor as the mace shattered the bones. That hand would never be used properly again and certainly not for war.

   “By God, that priest can fight,” said Cherik in awe.

  At that moment Robert saw a single man-at-arms appear. He was wearing the disguised coat-of-arms of the Order. He was shouting something to what appeared to be a knight by the look of his great-helm. He had just knocked Ridley to the floor. Urging Jupiter through Robert fought to aid his comrade.

   “Fall back,” shouted the knight, with the covered face.

  The last to fall was another of Garcia’s men-at-arms. As he turned his horse in an effort to follow the others, Sir Arnaud swept his sword across the man-at-arms’ back. If the strike which had split his back open, had not killed him already, certainly the broken neck that he acquired when he hit the ground did.

   “Stop!” bellowed Robert. “Sir Arnaud stop. Do not pursue.”

   “Do not pursue? Are you mad Sir Robert? Of course we pursue,” shouted the Master of the Keys.

   “Not yet my lord. There are more of them who await us,” answered Robert.

  Every man and every horse still breathing were red faced and fighting the restrictions of their mail, as it weighted down their heavy breathing.

   “More?” asked Sir Arnaud, removing his helmet.

  His whitening hair was plastered against his scalp.

   “You are certain Sir Robert?” asked Sir Guillame Fitzbois.

   “It is true my lord,” said Athaelstan.

  The warrior had pulled up his armoured mask and was holding a blood soaked cloth to his shoulder. “We all saw them in a courtyard on our way here.”

   “A courtyard?” asked Schaffer.

  The German and his horse were both covered in gore.

   “Aye Sir Frederick. It looked as though they were digging,” said Robert.

   “Then we haven’t time to piss around talking,” growled Sir Arnaud.

   “Sir Arnaud cease your temper,” shouted the Commander.

  The Commander’s bellow silenced the survivors of the battle. Sir Arnaud’s eyes looked as though a thunderstorm were about to strike from within.

   “Sir Robert you are sure there is no other way out of this city bar these gates?”

   “I am sure Sir Reynard.”

   “Then we must attack and soon. But we need a better tactic than to blindly charge into a fresh detachment of mounted Templars?” said the Commander.

   “With your permission Commander, I have one,” replied Robert. “We do what they did to us. There is another route through the town. They were expecting us to follow so that means that they will have at least over half of their men awaiting us to charge them.”

   “Sir Robert is right,” said Sir Arnaud reluctantly.

   “Very well. What casualties have we?” asked Schaffer.

   “Sir Eugene is dead, along with his squire. Sir Edward and Count Rolf’s injuries are too severe to fight. Two of Sir Reynard’s men are with injuries and three others are dead including my own squire,” replied Sir Elizondo.

   “Commander I protest. I am fit to fight,” said Ridley.

   “You will guard the gates Ridley, as will Athaelstan and Guy,” ordered the Commander.

   “As you wish Commander,” Athaelstan said, answering for both of them.

   “You two will stay here as well,” Sir Arnaud added, pointing his sword at his and Count Rolf’s squires. “See to the wounded and guard the gate. No one gets through, am I clear?”

   “Yes my lord,” they replied in unison.

   “Very well Sir Robert. Lead us to this excavation and we shall see if they need assistance with their dig,” said the Commander.

They rode as fast as the lean streets would allow, which was not much. When passing the church, Anzac broke off from the party. Robert and his compatriots had no doubt that the priest had his reasons.

  Leading from the front, Robert had taken the risk of sheathing his sword and was carrying a torch high in the air. Dawn could not be far off. Lacking his armour and knowing that the enemy were likely to be ready with crossbows, he pulled his shield close to protect his body. With the Commander to his left and Ruscar his right, he was confident that his flanks were as well protected as they would ever be.

  Recognising the street in which they were using Robert raised his hand to halt the party.

   “We’re here.”

   “By now they’ll know we’re coming,” said Schaffer.

   “And they’ll be ready for us,” answered Robert.

   “Then what would you suggest?” asked Sir Elizondo.

  Robert considered the manoeuvre he and his comrades had used at the gates. Turning in the saddle he looked at Jurgen, Cherik and the last of the mercenaries who had accompanied the Commander.

   “They will expect us to turn the corner in a mad rush,” said Robert. “And they will either charge us or more likely try and reduce our number with a volley of bolts. The courtyard is too small for all the horses.”

   “You suggest we attack on foot?”

   “Better. We go straight for the heart. A group of us go for those at the pit where they’re digging. Whatever Garcia and his allies have planned for us