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

slice through his opponent’s mail and leather and bite deep into the man’s flesh.

  The man growled in pain. The injury was by no means mortal, but such a wound was agony, and he was tiring, by both his armour and now the loss of blood. He took his stance and attacked for a third time. Again Reynard blocked the strike but this time, unexpectedly, his aggressor stepped forward and the two blades locked tight. The two men snarled like wild dogs trying to overcome one another.

  Seeing an opportunity and using the advantage of his full armour, the man-at-arms butted Reynard with his helmet, splitting the Commander’s brow. Retreating back a few paces, Reynard could feel the blood dribbling down the side of his face. Before he could regain his footing, the adversary came again and punched forward with his shield.

  The force of the assault sent the Commander to the ground. He looked up, his vision blurred, and could hazily see the man standing over him, victorious.

  However, taking those few moments to savour his victory over the notorious Reynard Sancerre, was the attacker’s downfall. His mission, to capture the Commander alive, he thought was complete, but he still had to assist in the dispatching of an unwanted guest to the party.

  At the very moment he turned to help his companion a sword blade was driven deep into his chest. The thrust had been so powerful it punctured chain, leather, muscle and bone twice over and burst out of his back.

  The Master of the Keys stood in front of him, his chest rising heavily and his own opponent lying a few feet away, surrounded by a pool of blood. The look on the elderly knight’s face was so ferocious that in the last moments of his life, the man-at-arms could understand why the blade had bitten so deep.

   “When will you fools realise, that we of the Brotherhood are there to protect one another as much as the Treasures of Christ?” he growled.

  Pulling the sword free, allowing the skewered body to collapse to the ground, Sir Arnaud knelt beside the injured Commander.

   “Reynard! Reynard, can you hear me?”

  Although his eyes were closed and his head thudding, Reynard answered his old teacher.

   “By God that hurt more than the beatings I used to get from you,” he croaked.

  Taillefer sighed. He wouldn’t admit it but he was relieved to know that Reynard was still with them.

   “Can you walk?”

   “Aye, just give me a moment. Arnaud, the bodies. They mustn’t be found,” he mumbled.

  He knew Reynard was right but was more concerned about the injured man’s condition.

   “I’ll survive Arnaud. Fetch some of my men. Have them strip and dump the bodies. We can’t risk them being discovered.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 11

 

La Mancha

Robert and his six comrades continued south and made camp under the shadow of the mountains. It had been two days since their encounter with the Almohad scouting party. Now all they could do was wait.

   “The Army will certainly have trouble finding a way through these monsters,” said Jurgen, as he looked up at the vast rock faces.

  The German was chewing dried meat while he surveyed the natural defences that separated the Christian Kingdoms from the Almohad Caliphate.

   “Aye, this could well delay the whole campaign by months,” said Ridley gloomily.

   “Why’s that then?” asked Jimmy.

   “They go east and they’ll have to destroy the Caliph’s strongholds to secure the army’s supply routes. They go west, they encounter the same thing.”

   “You think the garrisons at the fortresses will be at full strength then?”

   “For sure. You imagine how many more enemy patrols there are out here, doing exactly the same as us. There’s no doubt they know we’re coming. The Caliph and his nobles aren’t fools. They’ll make sure every fortress is well provisioned and prepared for a long siege.”

   “And that’s not even including the army accompanying the Caliph at the moment,” said Athaelstan.

   “The only advantage we have right now is that they don’t know which way our Army is heading for at the moment,” answered Robert.

   “Then can I suggest something?” said Guy.

  The man still wasn’t at full strength but had insisted he was fit enough to continue with the others. Athaelstan had done a good job cleaning the wound and bandaging it up.

   “By all means,” replied Robert.

   “How many days would you say the Army has before it will have to make a decision to go either east or west?”

   “I’d say three or four days,” said Jurgen.

   “So why don’t we scout the area ourselves. We may be able to find an alternative option for the Generals?”

   “Saves us sitting on our arses doing nothing,” said Cherik.

  Robert pondered for a moment. Ridley’s guess, that the plains were likely teeming with more scouting parties like the one they had already encountered was probably right. As one, they could likely fight off another attack but divided, they would have no chance. Still, Cherik was right, sitting around doing nothing would only torment them further.

   “It’s a fine idea Guy. Tomorrow, two of us will ride east, two of us west. The other three stay here with the supplies and horses. But if either pair encounter hostiles, they return back to the camp. Agreed?”

  There was immediate consensus and the men started to discuss who would go and who would stay. Robert had already said firmly that although it was his idea, Guy must rest and would remain at the camp. Disgruntled, the youngest of their party sat in silence