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Cardinal needed no second warning. While Garcia raised his shield so as not to be the next victim, Esca hitched up his frayed habit over his bony legs and ran for the nearest cover.

  Running for an open door in one of the buildings, he glanced toward the pit. They had done it. They had prised it loose and the three of them were hauling the great block out of the pit. It had to be a sign from God. Changing course, he ran for the pit. Scrabbling over the edge and dropping down into the four foot deep hole, he beheld the three labourers. All three men were red faced and drenched with sweat and dirt.

   “Sir Aguillard must know of what you have accomplished. He awaits the enemy in that building across the way. One of you must reach him. You,” he said, pointing to one of the three. “You must stay and protect this sacred place. You two make haste and inform Sir Aguillard go, go.”

  With the chaos taking place around them, the two men were oblivious of the Cardinal’s intentions. Pulling themselves out of the pit and grabbing their swords, they started to run for the building in which Chevalier continued to wait. Then as they neared the door of the building in which their master waited, the knights of the Brotherhood appeared, roaring their war cries.

   “My lord, they flank us from the rear,” came the voice of one of Garcia’s men.

  Garcia spun around to see that his sergeant spoke the truth. Unlike their compatriots who continued to dance in the shadows, these men were most certainly knights of the Brotherhood.

  There were only four of them. However each one of them was clad in full mail and stayed in close formation. Their shields were held up to protect their chests and their swords were drawn, ready for combat. These were not mere men-at-arms, these were men who had been trained since they were young boys.

   “Ambush!” he shouted. “Reinforcements to the rear.”

  Those who were nearest had seen the new arrivals for themselves, while those slightly further away rallied to the knight’s call.

The Master of the Keys bared his teeth as the first of the enemy started to charge them. Breaking away from his comrades, he confidently strode forward to meet the first of his adversaries. The Templar sergeant brought an axe up high to bring it down on the aged knight. Sir Arnaud gave the man no chance to allow the heavy weapon to build up momentum. Instead he raised his shield, causing the hefty axe head to thump against its front. Thinking the knight would try to bring his sword across the sergeant’s middle the man started to move his own shield across. But instead Sir Arnaud jammed the crossbar of his sword in to the sergeant’s mail-covered neck. The strike was so powerful that the steel of the cross bar split the links of the chain and sunk deep into the man’s flesh.

  Discarding the fresh corpse, the Brotherhood knight looked for the next man who would face his wrath. To his left he could see that Sir Frederick was exchanging blows with another of the Templar men-at-arms. To his right, Fitzbois was fending off two of them. Without a second thought, Sir Arnaud drove his sword into the man closest. The point of his fine blade punched deep into the man’s side causing him to collapse to the ground allowing Fitzbois a fair fight.

  Ahead of him he spied another of the enemy slowly approaching. By his handsome pot-helm, the aggressor had to be a knight.

  “At last. A worthy foe.”

   “And there they are,” said Chevalier.

   The four knights had appeared and already three of the Temple men-at-arms were down.

   “Now we go.”

  At that moment the door burst open. The two Order soldiers were breathing heavily, their eyes alight with the look of triumph.

   “My lord Chevalier. We have done it. The slab is free,” said one of the two.

   “And who guards it?” asked the knight.

   “It is protected by the Temple guards who surround it and Defoe holds it with the Cardinal,” the man-at-arms replied.

  Chevalier trembled with fury.

   “You fools, get back there immediately and kill that snake. The rest of you follow Sir Guarin and confront those knights who have just appeared. I want at least one of them alive.”

   “Chevalier what is …”

   “That serpent of a Cardinal intends to take the Crown. We must stop him. Take the men and hold those knights off.”

  Chevalier drew his sword and started to run for the pit as fast as his armour would allow him.

  Sir Guarin drew his own sword and quickly turned to the last of the Order men-at-arms.

   “Come. Let us crush these men who try and take what is ours by right,” he said proudly, pulling his great helm onto his head.

Sir Elizondo had just spitted a second of the Templar’s soldiers when he spied a knight burst out from a doorway. The knight was running in the direction of where the Commander had made his attack. About to pursue him, another knight appeared from the door way followed by another four men.

   “Finally,” came the voice of Schaffer. “At last the Order show themselves.”

  Sir Frederick started towards them.

   “The knight is mine,” he shouted. “Come Elizondo. Let us show them why they should fear those of the Brotherhood.”

  A spear struck against Schaffer’s shield. It had been a fine thrust and its tip had broken through the inner side of the knight’s shield. Giving it no thought the giant knight brought his sword down on the spear that the man-at-arms was trying to pull loose. Sir Frederick’s heavy blade shattered the thick shaft as if

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