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

  After seeing to the horses, the other four joined them. Ridley had been the other of the two to fall but he was unscathed.

   “A good job you brought those spears Rob,” said Jimmy, breathing heavily.

  His friend was right, without doubt it had been the spears that had won the day for them.

  Two of the Almohad warriors were still alive but their wounds were mortal and would kill them soon enough. One of them was on his front trying to reach for a discarded scimitar. With the blood lust abating and his strength half drained Robert staggered over to the dying man, using his broadsword to help him. Without hesitation he turned the Moor onto his back with his foot, the images of the settlement and its inhabitants swam in his head.

  Gripping the sword in both hands, he plunged its point straight through the man’s breastbone, crushing the cavity beneath. The quick and merciful death was more than the man deserved. Blood burst from where Robert drove the blade as the body juddered before going still.

  The second was not so easy to deal with. Somehow, although he couldn’t rise to his feet, he flailed at his aggressors with his scimitar, snarling. Cherik, who had dismounted, retrieved one of the spears from the ground.

   “I’m too tired to put up with martyrdom,” he growled.

  Without another word and out of reach of the thrashing blade, he jammed the head of the spear into the man’s side, causing him to roar in pain and drop his sword. Seizing the chance, the German stormed forward kicked the scimitar away and slit the Almohad’s throat with his knife.

  Getting back to his feet, Cherik closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

   “Right then, now that’s dealt with,” he stretched his arms as if he had just awoken from a deep slumber. “Shall we have a look at the booty these bastards have on them?”

  Soon enough the brothers, Jimmy and Ridley were stripping the dead men of anything of value. Athaelstan, who continued to nurse Guy, was promised his share of the plunder so carried on tending to their unconscious comrade.

  Most of the enemy horses had bolted during the melee and of the six left, two were lame.

   “They’ll slow us down,” said Jimmy, seeing Robert checking the legs of one of them.

   “We’ll keep them for now in case we need to rest any of our own,” replied Robert.

  He turned to his own horse. Jupiter had quieted although his flanks still heaved and quivered and breath snorted through his nostrils in huge gasps. The young knight gently stroked his muzzle and the great beast laid its head against his shoulder.

  “Looks like I owe you my life boy, thank you,” he whispered. “Definitely extra rations tonight eh?”

Once Guy was revived they slowly returned to the pack horses and decided to make camp for the night. As well as Guy still recovering from his injury the rest of them were exhausted from the short but bloody encounter.

   “So where to tomorrow?” asked Jimmy.

  The Englishman was in good spirits. Delicious smells came from a large slab of meat, butchered from one of the fallen horses, and their plundering had been successful. Robert had no doubt that most of the loot had come from the raided settlement but loot was loot, and it was no use preventing his fellows from what was, as mercenaries, asserting their right.

   “We’ll continue south for another day which should allow us to reach the start of the mountain range and wait for the army there.”

*****

The allied armies had made camp along the north bank of the river. Due to the dry weather and low level of the water, scouts returned with news of several fords which were shallow enough to cross.

  The Commander was walking through the camp when he spied Selva washing her hands in a bowl of water. The young maiden had become bored with sitting around and doing nothing, so had asked Alfonso if she could assist the Forgotten Army’s surgeon.

   “I should warn you dear Selva, Clutter is not the politest of physicians. He is a skilled surgeon but bloody minded and enjoys his crass language,” the captain said doubtfully.

   “I am liking the sound of him already,” she had replied with a laugh.

  She had just assisted Clutter with splinting one of the men’s legs. The fool had fallen from his horse and snapped his shin bone.

   “You bloody idiot, you’re supposed to be part of the cavalry unit not a dancing monkey. This ain’t going to be pretty Ben, and it’s going to hurt like hell,” he’d said to the patient, who was already quaking in agony.

  Clutter placed a strip of leather between the man’s teeth and told Selva to hold him down.

   “Bite down hard lad.”

  The mercenary soldier yelled in pain while the surgeon went to work but Selva stood firm and forced the man’s shoulders down as he tried to lurch up. It was a huge relief when the pain became too much and the man passed out, making the job easier and the procedure quicker for Clutter to straighten the leg.

   “He’ll carry a bad limp for the rest of his days,” he said.

   “But he will survive?” she asked.

   “Aye he’ll survive. But ‘e won’t be fighting any more battles on this campaign.”

Clutter would never admit it but he had actually warmed to her over the last few days.

With the procedure completed and no more patients to see to, Selva had been dismissed and was washing the blood and sweat from her hands.

   “He would have come for you Selva,” came the voice of the Commander.

   “Your captain said