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

   “Tolerance Frederick, it should not be long now.”

   “There are more of your Brother’s in the city?” said Chevalier curiously.

  The Brotherhood was supposed to be a smaller society than the Order, and their number in Baeza had been the largest host of Brotherhood knights he had ever encountered.

   “Good Lord no. We are the last of the Brotherhood who will be joining you. Ah, here we are,” said Anzac.

  Chevalier turned to see another group of monks heading their way. There were less of them compared to the first. The monk at the front of their party stopped and looked up at the mounted priest. He had a scar across his brow and looked nothing like the monks who had passed them previously.

   “A successful journey?” he asked.

   “Successful but not without sad losses,” replied Anzac. “Has all been prepared?”

   “Aye Father, as you ordered.”

   “Very good, then let us be off before dear Schaffer knocks that preacher from his perch. Please Sir Aguillard, if you would be so kind as to accompany us.”

  As they started to make their way out of the square the small group of monks formed a guard around the three of them. Chevalier counted ten in total. Four walked on each side with the other two covering front and back.

   “Mercenaries?” he asked Anzac.

   “No Sir Aguillard. The Commander uses mercenaries.”

   “So they are of the Brotherhood? Or at least followers?”

   “Who they are is no business of yours,” said Schaffer in front of them.

   “To answer your question, they are followers. But not of the Brotherhood.”

   “Then who?”

   “Why, me of course.” Anzac grinned

  When he had first encountered the priest, Chevalier thought the cleric was no more than a mere servant of the Brotherhood knights. But he was now starting to realise that this man of God occupied a high position of respect and influence within the Brotherhood of the Turin Shroud. This was certainly a man that the Order would find useful.

Chapter 20

Ubeda, October, 1212

Robert sat upon Jupiter as he watched thousands of slaves herded out of the city like livestock. Both Moors and Almohads walked in long lines, destined for the slave markets. There were men, women and children. Putting aside their religion and remembering his own childhood, Robert prayed that their children would one day find freedom.

  The Moor and Almohad warriors had been dragged away several days before under a heavily armed guard. Their fate would be the galleys, the mines or the execution block.

   “A sight that turns your stomach doesn’t it?” came a voice behind him.

   “I watched such a sight back in Constantinople. While men do such things to one another, how can there ever be peace?” he replied.

   “How indeed?” answered Christoph bitterly. He brought his own mount up alongside Jupiter.

  Robert immediately remembered the man-at-arms had been under the whip of the very people who were being led away right now.

   “Forgive my thoughtlessness, it must be different for you Cristoph?”

   “Different yes, something I approve of? No.”

  The two men watched the shuffling procession of misery and degradation a little longer in silence. The city had been sacked, its lords and merchants stripped of their wealth and its commanders executed. As well as those who traipsed through the open gates, hundreds of young women and girls had been taken by the knights and nobles of the Crusade.

  A column of mounted men-at-arms rode past them. A red and gold banner fluttered triumphantly, held aloft by one of the men-at-arms, and the knight leading the procession sat proudly and straight-backed in his saddle, as if he had taken the city himself. Judging from the immaculate turnout of the column, Robert highly doubted they had even seen the assault, let alone taken part in it.

   “Forgive me if I speak out of place sir,” said Christoph, guessing his thoughts.

   “Please continue.”

   “Your title will never put you on the same path as that man.”

   “God forbid!” Robert turned to the man and smiled, unexpectedly pleased by the compliment.

  “You’re right. I have never been able to see a fight without diving in first and then wondering what the hell I’m doing when it’s too late. And never in a hundred years could I get my clothes to look as immaculate and shiny as his, even when I haven’t been in a fight.”

  They both laughed quietly before being interrupted by the sound of another set of hooves clattering towards them on the sun baked ground. It was John.

   “Pardon the intrusion Sir Robert.”

  Robert had given up trying to encourage the squire to call him just Robert. But he accepted that it was more difficult for the squire, who had been trained to address the man he served in such a manner.

   “What is it John?”

   “The Commander Reynard asked you meet with him at his tent.”

  Robert had not seen much of the Commander for the last few days bar a couple of sightings from across the camp. Such time apart was good for the two friends. Also the Forgotten Army needed its Commander as much as the Brotherhood required his services.

  Trotting back to the camp they could see the tents of the armies being dismantled. The order had come the day before that the armies of the Catholic Kingdoms were to prepare to continue with the campaign. Steering Jupiter through the tangle of men collapsing their tents and packing the wagons, was quite a task. Men looked up frustrated by the giant warhorse obstructing them, yet it amused Robert that it was the charger they looked at warily, not him.

  The Commander was