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

smile changed to a scowl and his eyes narrowed. The two men remained silent. The Cardinal glowered at the interrogator who smiled back.

   “You bore me Fernando Handos and I have nothing more to say to you,” hissed the Cardinal.

   “There is no need, for I have what I came for. What they said is true. You are a hard man to read Matthias Esca. But I can read you, for I too am a master of it.”

  Fernando rose to his feet and summoned Ruscar who entered and bound the Cardinal’s hands and replaced his gag.

  Just as the interrogator was about to step outside, he stopped.

   “Once you became a prisoner of the Brotherhood you would have known they would likely keep you alive to extract information from you. Now they know that your last ally, the person who put you on the path to the Crown of Lombardy, is still out there, think on this your eminence.

  “I cannot speak for the Brotherhood, for I am not one of them. But your life now hangs on a thread. You could either continue living by giving the name, or have your life ended now. Whichever you choose, the Brotherhood will find that person, and end them. They always do.”

  Without another word he stepped outside, closely followed by the Moor.

Alfonso emerged from the tent to see the Commander grinning and Robert looking bemused. The captain held a finger to his lips and indicated they further themselves from the tent before they spoke. Once out of earshot, the Commander clapped a hand on Alfonso’s shoulder.

   “Fernando Handos. Where on earth did you come up with that name?” he laughed.

   “He owned a whore house back in Toledo. A charming fellow as it happens,” replied Alfonso.

   “But you sounded so genuine,” said Robert in admiration.

   “Was that not the entire point Robert? Anyway, now you know for certain that there is indeed someone else who also participates in this web of secrets and silent war.”

   “Thank you Alf. Once again you have proved you would be a valuable member of the Brotherhood if you so wish it,” said Reynard.

   “And as I have told you many times Reynard, I am happy to assist from time to time but I want no part of it,” he answered politely. “Anyhow, I shall bid you both good day and go and find out the latest news. The men are getting restless and they’ll be hangings soon if we’re not careful.”

   “Hangings?” asked Robert alarmed.

   “You know the ways of the men Rob. If there’s no official fighting to be done, sooner or later they’ll pick a fight with one of our neighbours,” answered the Commander.

  The two of them watched the captain head in to the heart of the Forgotten Army’s camp before Robert spoke.

   “You still think it is not just the Order trying a different method?” he asked.

   “If they are then that knight Chevalier is as good an artist at deception as Alf.”

   “So what now? Do we send word to Anzac and Schaffer?”

   “For now we wait.”

   “You think the captain correct, that there’ll be trouble within the camp soon?”

   “He’s not often wrong when it comes to such things. Good thing we have been summoned to meet with King Sancho tomorrow.”

   “How kind of you to keep me briefed,” Robert said sarcastically.

   “What’s wrong? Your petal not washed your surcoat for you?” teased the Commander.

  Robert frowned at the remark and then smiled.

   “Actually she did.”

   “I know.”

   “How did you know?”

   “Because she offered to do mine as well.”

  Reynard barked a laugh at the look on Robert’s face and lightly punched his chest.

   “I’ll see you at dawn. Meet me at my tent,” he said, walking off in the same direction as the captain.

  For a moment Robert felt baffled, unsure of what to do. He looked at Ruscar who was standing near to the tent. The fearsome warrior had started to carve another talisman that would expectedly end up hanging alongside the others on his saddle. Unlike the usual bone or wood, this time it was different to any he had seen before, a jet black stone. The Moor’s sword was at his side and his bow and quiver of arrows were within arm’s reach. Every few moments he would look to the tent and quickly scan the nearby surroundings.

   “You alright there Rob?” came the voice of Guy.

   “Aye thank you Guy.”

  While Ruscar had remained during the interrogation, Guy had been told to go and get something to eat, but now he returned to continue his turn of guard duty.

 

Leaving his two comrades to safeguard their prisoner he made his way to his tent. It was early afternoon and the sounds of the siege could be heard throughout the camps. The crashes of the stones hurled into the air and crashed against the city’s fortifications followed by the distant shouts and screams.

  Arriving at his tent he saw Selva talking to a man that he recognised but could not quite place him.

   “I am truly grateful mistress Selva,” he heard the man say.

   “It is my pleasure Christoph. I hope that it serves you well and keeps you safe,” she replied with a gentle smile.

   “As do I,” said Christoph.

  Christoph. Robert remembered the sergeant-at-arms who had been one of the hundred slaves manacled together like animals to surround the Caliph’s tent. Robert recalled that Reynard had welcomed Christoph and a dozen others to join the ranks of the Forgotten Army. The man had put on more weight and muscle since he last saw him, which would not have been hard considering the squalor in which they had been kept.