The Crusader's Crown (Tales of the Brotherhood Series Book 1) James Mercer (ebook reader that looks like a book .TXT) 📖

   “That they will,” said Anzac.

  The tenacious priest stood before Robert and smiled a rare smile.

   “Once again we part ways Robert Spurling.”

   “Not for the last time I hope.”

   “Nay Brother, unless fate intervenes, not for the last.”

It had been agreed earlier that morning that the remnants of their assembly would part ways. Anzac, Schaffer, Fitzbois, Sir Edward and his squire would return north while Sir Elizondo, Robert, Reynard and their men would head west to re-join the Crusader forces. It had been decided that Count Rolf’s squire, John would also accompany them to inform the Count’s companions of his death.

   “You remember the chapel where we met back in Toledo? There you will find two of my men who can send word to me,” Anzac said to the Commander.

  “For the love of God. Cease your gossip and let us be off for this cursed sun looks devilish yet again,” grumbled Sir Frederick who was already mounted.

  Robert snorted in amusement. The Knight, whose arm was in a sling, would never change.

   “Safe journey Sir Frederick,” he said.

   “And the same to you Sir Robert. Be wary of that wretched cardinal, our Brothers here may honour the vow we made last night but that snake has betrayed too many to be trusted.”

   Anzac and Sir Edward both pulled themselves up onto their horses. Their armour was strapped to the saddle of one of the captured palfreys led by the squire Harold. All Robert and Reynard knew was that somewhere further north, the small party would part again. Likely Anzac and Schaffer going with Chevalier while Sir Edward and Fitzbois, the Crown.

  Chevalier had remained silent during the farewells between the Brotherhood knights. He too had his injured arm in a sling and would have to control his horse with just his knees and the one hand.

  He had watched the interrogation of the Cardinal the night before from a distance, but had heard none of what was said. Regardless of the Brotherhood’s foolish beliefs about the weapons of Christ, he could not help but admire their loyalty and most of all their trust in one another. It was something that sometimes lacked in the great hall of the Order of the Blooded Cross.

  As they turned their horses and started to head north, the Commander, his protégé and Sir Elizondo stood silent a moment, watching as the dust cloud became more distant.

   “What are you thinking Robert?” asked Reynard, not taking his eyes of their fellows riding away.

   “Where do I start Reynard? We have the Cardinal in our custody, our Brother knights head north with a captive of the Order along with a Treasure of Christ. And now we return to the Crusade.”

   “You worry about the Cardinal?” queried Elizondo.

   “I would not be surprised if that snake has yet another ally aiding him in the shadows. But this web of allies, deceivers, traitors, spies, where does it end?”

   “It doesn’t my friend and that is what our Brotherhood is there for. No matter who it be, Order of the Blooded Cross or another, there will always be those who wish to use the Holy Treasures left by Christ to gain power and shed unnecessary blood.”

   The Commander turned and patted his friend reassuringly on the arm.

   “Come. I must speak with the men before we begin our journey.”

   The seven mercenaries remained still in their saddles as the Commander approached them.

  The Commander nodded toward Esca who remained tied and gagged on his palfrey.

   “Sir Elizondo, you may stay if you so wish.” said the Commander.

   “What you have to say to your men is for their ears only. I shall wait with the squire John,” answered the Templar with a nod of acknowledgement as he turned his horse away.

   Commander Reynard looked at each of his men. All of them bar his mighty Ruscar were showing wounds from the deadly melee at Baeza.

   “I trust all of you here with my life,” he started. “And I hope you have the same belief in me. But trusting me to lead you into battle and be victorious is no longer enough. I must now trust you with words. Words that go no further than this assembly of eight of the finest fighters I have ever been honoured with fighting alongside.”

  Robert looked at the pride that showed upon the face of each man.

   “I know you have questions, for none of you are fools. But I cannot tell all of what this mission has been about. But before what I can tell you, you must swear on your own lives that you will utter not a word to any beyond the men who gather here now.”

  In the brief pause, Ruscar drew his dagger, holding it in his right hand, with his left he then clenched the blade. He hissed sharply as he whipped the razor sharp edge within the enclosed hand. Opening his hand, blood had covered his palm and raising his hand he spoke.

   “I swear to you, my Commander, that what you say here and now, I will never break that trust.”

  The other six all followed the Moor’s actions and made an oath of their own. Reassured, the Commander spoke again.

   “The actions we took back at Baeza were beyond just a task of stopping a rogue band of Crusaders. And thanks to you we have fulfilled that mission. But now we have a new one. One that at first may sound small and insignificant but I assure you it is far beyond that.”

  This time even Ruscar who usually showed little emotion and Jurgen who was often sporting a wild grin, carried a look of curiosity.

   “That man who sits upon