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

us. Now enough talk, for we waste time. If you wish to earn your coin, then we ride hard,” said the Master of the Keys.

  Without another word The Master of the Keys, Sir Edward and the Commander all pulled themselves onto their horses. Following their example, Robert and the rest of the men did the same. Ruscar, at a nod from the Commander, cantered off ahead. A few moments passed while the Commander and his two guest compatriots observed the mounted company of fighters.

   “Remember men. Discretion is what is required. So we go to the north of the paddock and then circle the camp,” ordered the Commander.

  Then turning his horse he urged it forward in to a trot, taking the lead.

The men carried out their orders. There was no cheering or shouting as they passed the outskirts of the camp. For all the sentries knew, they were merely a mounted patrol or scouting party. When they came to the southwest corner of the camp, with their backs to the mountains, they started south.

  The party rode in a column, with scouts ahead. The men had paired up, while the supply horses were led at the rear by the unfortunate squires and some of the men, hand-picked by the Commander.

  Robert rode in the second rank, alongside Sir Edward.

   “So how far is it?” asked Robert.

   “We should reach the rallying point in another mile or so,” said Sir Edward.

   “Beggin’ ya pardon lord. But what rallying point?” came a voice from behind them.

   “You’ll have to excuse my good friend. Jimmy here has sharp eyes for scouting and even sharper ears for listening,” laughed Robert nervously.

   “Is that so?” smiled Sir Edward.

  Fortunately Sir Edward had not taken the intrusion as an insult.

   “To answer your question Master James, we rally with others who will join us on this quest,” he replied.

   “Good job we’re getting coin for this. With this many men, the loot won’t be much,” grumbled Cherik.

   “Have faith Master…?”

   “Cherik m’ lord.”

   “Master Cherik. The armour of these robber knights alone will fill your satchels with treasures,” answered Sir Edward.

  The knight seemed to be enjoying the chat.

   “Now that’s the sort of news I like to hear,” said Jimmy with approval.

   “But first we have to win Jimmy, and these aren’t a bunch of pampered princes. These are knights and men-at-arms of the highest quality,” said Robert.

   “As quality as us?” asked Jurgen, from the rank behind his brother.

   “Aye Jurg. As such quality as us.”

   “Sorry to interrupt your fascinating conversation but if you would be so kind to cease your chatter,” came the voice of Sir Arnaud.

  The Master of the Keys had been riding alongside the Commander and the two had hardly said a word to one another.

   “Look there,” said the Commander. “It’s Ruscar, he has news.”

   “What makes you think that?” asked Sir Arnaud.

   “For he would not return otherwise.”

  The mighty Moor cantered toward them, not wanting to tire his horse too much. The warrior had shed his heavy armour and placed it on one of the supply horses to relieve his mount of the extra weight. Pulling on the reigns he slowed his palfrey.

   “Column halt!” shouted the Commander.

  The men slowed immediately. While the sandy, dust settled, many of them took long draughts from their water skins. Robert did the same but only took small sips and washed it around in his mouth before swallowing. He felt Jupiter shuffle, as he tried to adjust in the confined space.

   “Steady boy, steady,” he said, reassuring his charger, patting him on the neck.

  He felt guilty that he did not have the sufficient amount of water to share with his faithful companion.

   “So what news Ruscar?” asked the Commander.

   “It is as you said Commander. The other knights who will ride with you. They wait beyond to the southeast.”

   “They wait for him do they?” said Sir Arnaud, a clear note of sarcasm in his voice.

   “I follow the Commander Reynard. I fight for the Commander Reynard. I do not follow you,” said the Moor bluntly.

   “Good work Ruscar,” replied the Commander ignoring the ill-tempered exchange. “Join the column and have one of the men take your place. Have them ride with a message for those who await us and tell them we will be with them within the hour.”

  With a smile the Commander turned to his old mentor.

   “Not the answer you were expecting?”

  The Master of the Keys watched the Moor nod to his Commander and then trot down the line. There was a hint of a smile on the aging knight.

   “I like him,” he answered.

   “He is one of the finest. Come Sir Arnaud, we have delayed long enough,” replied the Commander. “Column advance!” he shouted turning his head forward.

An hour later, the column of mercenaries, headed by four knights of the Brotherhood, arrived at the location where the other members had arranged to meet. The Commander, and Robert in particular, had to play their part down and give the impression to the men that they were not familiar with those who had awaited them.

  All of the Brotherhood knights who had met at Toledo were there, including Father Anzac. The Calatrava knights, Fitzbois and Archambeau, Sir Quintos and Count Rolf Kendricks of the Santiago Order. They had all brought their squires, while Schaffer and Anzac, the two faithful travelling companions, brought only themselves and two fine looking horses.

  Like the new arrivals, none of them wore their usual surcoats, which would have immediately been recognised by the men. Instead they wore an array of chainmail hauberks, thin leather jerkins or blank surcoats to protect them