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

  Esca was about to rush forward to be the first to see what they would find but Sir Guarin quickly grabbed his arm. The knight’s grip was strong and unyielding.

   “How dare you touch me without my consent? Unhand me,” Esca hissed.

   “Sir Guarin. Another word from the cleric and you have my permission to break his jaw,” muttered Chevalier.

  The knight had not turned, but continued to examine the dark fissure.

   “Well? What are you waiting for?” asked Garcia impatiently.

  Chevalier was in fact contemplating whether a trap awaited his hand, but knew time was of the essence. Removing his mailed glove, he reached in to search the hollow. Garcia held his breath as the knight started to withdraw his hand. When what he held was revealed, confusion blanketed his mind. It was a small casket, no more than two inches thick and nowhere near large enough to contain the crown.

  Sir Guarin approached, still holding the Cardinal by the arm, until they too could see what Chevalier had discovered. The small, wooden case looked worthless. There was no sign of importance or value.

   “Open it,” whispered Esca.

  As he opened the case, parting the lid and base, a small breath of dust drifted into the air. The hidden item had remained dormant for many years.

  The inside of the case was just as disappointing as the exterior. Only one item resided within. A single scrap of parchment. Picking it up and handing the case to Sir Guarin, Chevalier unfolded the ancient paper. Upon it were written a few lines in Latin.

  ‘A treasure such as this, should sit beneath the golden sun until the end of time. May its true gildings lie beneath that which they were meant for? And for any who wear it, may they be prepared, for war will follow you.’

  Chevalier read aloud.

   “For any who wear it,” said Esca in wonder. “The true Crown of Lombardy.”

   “It says nothing of its location,” said Garcia in disgusted anger.

   “May its gildings lie beneath that which they were meant for?” quoted Chevalier.

   “But how does it lie beneath something when they talk of sitting in the sun?” asked Sir Guarin.

   “A riddle,” said Chevalier.

   “We’ve no time for riddles,” spat the Templar.

   “The Cross!” said Esca excitedly. “That which it was meant for? The true gildings are the nails which held Christ when he was crucified. They speak of the Cross.”

   “The true cross? You’re telling me the crown is hidden beneath the True Cross?” said Garcia.

   “No. that would be too easy,” Chevalier said to himself.

  Chevalier started to walk and talk to himself. He stopped at a window and looked out at the sunlight. Meanwhile Esca, who had freed himself from Sir Guarin’s grip and was searching through his records.

  Garcia looked at the Order knight and the Cardinal as if they were madmen.

   “A cross in sunlight,” Chevalier said to himself. “A cross which will not be moved but would remain. A monument!”

   “Wait. I may have it,” said Esca, hearing the Order knight’s words.

  Minutes felt like hours while the Cardinal rummaged through his satchel of records. Finally he pulled a scroll from the bag that hung at his side. It had once been a page from a book but had been viciously torn from its bindings. Upon it was an illustration of a statue of a crucifix.

   “Where does it stand?” asked Chevalier.

  The Cardinal was hesitant.

   “Do not lie to me priest or I will have you whipped,” growled Chevalier.

   “The statue was to have been built in the south of the town, near to the clifftop,” he answered.

  The four of them hurried from the church and made their way down the main street towards the southern end of the town. As they walked, Garcia summoned any man he saw. Chevalier had done the same, asking Sir Guarin to fetch the rest of their men. Nearing the south of the town, they searched for the statue but to no avail.

   “A false trail,” said Garcia.

   “Maybe not,” answered Chevalier. “Esca. How long has the town been under the rule of the Moslem?”

   “At least two centuries, if not more,” answered the Cardinal.

  His eyes were fixed on the glare of Garcia. He knew the Templar had invested all his resources into this mission and would have the cleric’s head if it did not end successfully.

   “Bring one of the inhabitants to us. The older the better.”

   “You think they would know?” Garcia asked the Order knight.

   “What use would they have for such a monument? No use at all. It is likely they would have either destroyed it or let it fade.”

It was not long before an elder of the town was thrown at the feet of Garcia and Chevalier who stood outside the mosque. The old man had been struck on the back of his shoulder and a wet patch of blood could be seen slowly spreading over his garment. It was obvious by the man’s age and the treatment he had received that he would soon join the Imam.

   “You wish us to leave your home?” asked Chevalier.

  The old man dipped his head but said nothing.

   “You wish us not to harm those who have fled to the castle west of here?”

  Chevalier could see that his words had caught the old man’s attention.

   “I have no wish to kill the innocents of this town but if we do not find what we came for those who follow will likely do so,” he lied.

   “What do you want?” croaked the paling elder.

   “A statue of the symbol of the true God once stood in