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

outside his tent looking down at the rickety campaign table that had accompanied him across most of Christendom. On either side of him stood Alfonso and Hamish. The two captains were following the finger that was moving across the map spread upon the table.

   “The castle lies here, on the plateau of this rocky hilltop. Grandmaster Rodrigo Garcés says that an assault on the eastern fortifications would thin the Caliphate’s garrison and give them a better chance of taking the main gates.”

  Robert dismounted and remained silent while the Commander continued his talk with the Italian and the Scotsman.

   “Good morning Robert, if you could await me in my tent,” said the Commander, not looking up.

  Nodding his respect to the two captains he ducked inside the Commander’s tent.

  On entering, he nearly went for his sword when he saw the man sitting on a chair in the corner of the canvas chamber. Sir Tomas Berengeur was as still as a statue.

   “Are you always so alert, Sir Robert?”

  There was a look of amusement on his face.

   “Something to do with assassins trying to gut me in the night I guess.”

  The Aragonese knight chuckled at the retort.

   “You take things too personally. Surely you would do the same if your Brotherhood demanded it of you?”

   Robert blew out his cheeks. “That I would Sir Tomas.”

  At that moment the Commander entered.

   “Ah good, you remember one another,” he joked, noting Robert’s hand on his sword.

  Alfonso had followed the Commander in, wineskin in hand. He walked over to a large chest where four goblets were placed and started to pour.

   “Please Sir Robert, take a seat,” the Commander said formally.

  Robert pulled a nearby stool across and sat down. The captain approached and handed him a goblet and did the same with Sir Tomas.

  The Commander waited for his own goblet to be handed to him before he spoke.

   “Sir Tomas. As you requested, I have gathered the other Brotherhood members who reside within the Crusader armies,” he said.

   “There are only two of you?”

  There was one other Brotherhood knight within the Crusader armies but Robert knew why the Commander had hidden that information from Sir Tomas. The Temple knights had offered both support and money to aid the army which fought the Cathar resistance. As honourable a man as he was, Sir Elizondo Quintos’s presence may well have ruined this new affiliation before it even started.

   “There were more,” answered Robert. “But sadly, thanks to Esca and his associates, some are dead and others have returned north.”

   “Why did they go north?”

   “Our duty is to protect the Treasures of Christ and when possible, take the sword to the Order. We succeeded in both this time, but word will reach their Grandmaster of their failure and more will come for us,” explained the Commander.

  Sir Tomas took a moment, ‘Had they found the Crown?’

  He took a sip from his goblet and mulled over the answer the two knights had given him.

   “Now, you wished to talk with us.” said the Commander.

   “I will accept your offer and take you to the Cathar lords at Languedoc,” he said finally.

   “For what purpose exactly?” Robert asked.

   “As you said Sir Robert. Maybe together we can sway the Vatican from the persecution of my people. If the Order of the Blooded Cross is as powerful as you say, my lords will most likely wish to hear your proposition. Better they hear it from both me as a Cathar and two knights of the Brotherhood.”

  Could this be a trap?

   “How much time will you need?” asked the Commander.

  Robert guessed that Reynard referred to how long Sir Tomas would need to concoct a believable story for the King and his generals without rousing suspicion.

   “I can meet you in two days’ time, an hour past sunrise, north east of the camp.”

  The Cathar knight raised his goblet towards the Commander and then looked at the young Brotherhood knight whose light grey eyes were eyeing the man suspiciously. Slowly Robert raised his goblet in a toast with Berengeur and the Commander. Sir Tomas downed his goblet of wine in one, bade them farewell and departed the tent.

   “How many will you take with you?” asked Alfonso.

   “Only those that ride with Rob’s scouting party.”

   “And the Forgotten Army?” asked Robert.

   “They are to stay here with Alf and Hamish.”

   “The Crusade is to go further?”

   “That is undecided. But King Sancho has sent word this morning that he wishes the Forgotten Army to offer their support to retake the castle of Salvatierra,” answered the Commander.

   “Salvatierra. The castle of the Order of Calatrava?”

   “Indeed.”

  The discussion continued for a further hour, deciding where the Forgotten Army would meet the Commander after their services were no longer needed by King Sancho. Robert was charged with gathering his company of men and having them ready for their journey north. All preparations had been planned when the Commander spoke of the inevitable.

   “What about Selva?” asked the Commander.

  Robert had been thinking the very same thing. He had hoped that after they had stopped the Order and prevented Esca from retrieving the true Crown that he would be free to return to England and take her home with him. But his duty to the Brotherhood took precedence over such hopes.

   “She will accompany us to Languedoc,” Robert answered firmly.

  The Commander’s face was expressionless while Alfonso looked amused.

   “She is a good rider Reynard. She is familiar with the men who ride with us and I am confident that she will assist in any way she can,” insisted Robert.

   “She would be safer