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

   “I thank you Your Majesty. We shall remain outside until your council is concluded and King Alfonse is informed.”

   “You do not wish to present the news to the generals yourself?”

   “Nay sire. If all works out, I would prefer you and the King Alfonse take the credit,” replied the Commander. Robert opened his mouth and then shut it hastily as Reynard caught his eye.

   “Very well. I shall speak to King Alfonse with haste.”

As the two walked back out into open air, met by the watchful eyes of King Alfonse’s bodyguards, Robert could not help but ask.

   “Why did you not want to tell the King yourself? Mercenaries we may be, and the Forgotten Army’s reputation is known well enough, but such news would have showered us in glory.”

  Reynard smiled. “He calls me old. But he still has so much to learn,” he thought to himself.

   “Who’s to say that our rogue Templar or some other allies of the Order are not standing within the King’s tent right now? We two are among the few Brotherhood members known to the Order. Do you really think we should walk in side by side and put ourselves within the grasp of the enemy?”

  Robert exhaled a huge breath. It was so obvious and yet he had not weighed up the consequences. He felt foolish and extremely naive.

   Reynard smiled and clapped him on the back. “You did well finding the shepherd. Come on, let’s try and find some shade and the company of the lads. I for one could do with a jar of wine. I wager it won’t be long before we receive word from the King or one of his men.”

The Commander and Robert remounted their horses and led the party a little way back from the Castilian command tent. Reynard was right. They had been handing around a small jar of wine when King Sancho arrived.

  The King had obviously decided on making a grand entrance, accompanied by a group of his own bodyguard and several of his household knights. The distaste on some of their faces was more amusing to the Commander’s men than insulting. They were used to such looks but that still did not stop them from having their fun.

   “’Ave ya’ a problem pretty one?” growled Cherik towards one of the retinue, sharpening the blade of his Saxe.

  The young knight, who sat arrogantly upon his pampered mount, had gone ahead of his King and was staring about in disgust. The German’s comment made the fool quickly whip his head around, a mixture of horror and fury on his face. Who would dare address him in such a way? The King however, who was still a little further back, said nothing.

   “Barbarians!” said another of the royal entourage nearby. Jimmy made a show of cleaning his nails with a razor-sharp dagger.

   “Quite an assortment of warriors you have amongst your force Commander,” the King said, staring around him.

   “Some of the finest in Christendom Your Majesty,” Reynard replied forcefully.

   “The finest?”

  The King viewed the motley group of mounted fighters around him. He noted the wild manes of hair and different skin tones. Not to mention their varied array of armour and weapons.

   “And these are your men Sir Robert?” he asked, nodding towards the small group dressed in the same colours as his.

   “No sire. They also belong to the Forgotten Army, as I do, they merely wear my colours. In the end, we are all as one when we fight together. The men would risk their life for the Commander as would he for us.”

   “You would risk your life for these men-at-arms?” asked the King impressed.

   “I would sire. It has always been so.”

   “Very admirable. I wish my knights went by the same code – we may then carry a reputation as respected as your mercenary force.”

  King Sancho spied the shepherd, flanked by two warriors and nudged his horse forward.

  On seeing him Martin clumsily dismounted and took a knee as the monarch continued towards him and then stopped. The shepherd bowed his head and Sancho could see that he was trembling violently.

   “There is nothing to fear loyal herdsman. If the words you speak are true, then your future will change beyond your wildest dreams. Arise.”

  When he got to his feet, one of the King’s knights took a small leather purse that hung from the cantle of his saddle. Handing it to the man, they watched as the sheep herder peered inside to find three gold coins. His eyes widened.

   “Serve your people well and you will receive more. Much more,” the King said in the local tongue.

  Although he did not know exactly what had been said, Martin pressed his hands together in thanks and bowed. The gold had been enough to calm the man’s nerves a little.

   “Well it seems our work here is done sire,” said the Commander.

   “So it would seem. I thank you for your services Commander. And if this man’s news proves true, as I said before, I can guarantee that you and your men will receive more than what was originally agreed.”

   “Your Majesty is too kind,” replied the Commander, bowing his head to the King.

After Sancho and his entourage departed and made their way back to the Castilian command tent, Jimmy steered his horse up beside Robert.

   “Arrogant bastard isn’t ‘e?”

   “So could you be if you were a King.”

   “But we may have just delivered them the best chance of victory?”

   “And we will be rewarded for it.”

   “Right then lads. Let’s get back to camp. All this fancy acting has given me an appetite,” said the Commander.

   “Aye, and it would be nice to get out