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

  Seeing the opportunity, after the attacker’s failed attempt in opening his abdomen, the man-at-arms raised his sword and swung downwards, intent on crushing the man’s skull.

  Although the absence of his strong mail made Robert extremely vulnerable, it also made him twice as fast. Spinning to the side as the man-at-arms swung down for the spot in which he had just stood, Robert drove his sword into the man’s side, pushing it deep into his chest. Well aware that the sergeant was still there, he turned just in time to block the sword that was intended to sever his head from his body.

  The sergeant’s tanned skin was now a deadly red. The lower half of his face was covered in blood where his nose had exploded on impact with Robert’s elbow. He swung again and again, fuelled with rage. Robert parried the blows easily but knew there was no time to waste. Keeping his blade raised above his head, almost inviting the attack. Robert allowed the sergeant to strike at his middle. He waited and then stepped back at the last moment. Then at the same time, brought his own sword down on the sergeant’s right shoulder. The deadly blow cut through the mail and leather, shattering bone and muscle, settling in his devastated ribcage.

  The sergeant merely stared at him bewildered, a look of confusion on his face as he dropped to his knees and collapsed to the floor.

  Where had these deadly heathens come from?

  Taking a short breath to recover, Robert looked to the walls. Jimmy had gone beyond the Gutsbergs, quickly killing the first guard, leaving a rondel dagger in the man’s neck and decapitating the second with his newly acquired sword.

  With most of their crossbowmen lifeless, those that were left to man the gates, started to advance toward the three trespassers who had killed their comrades. The plan had worked. Only one other of the Templar sergeants and one man-at-arms were left to protect the gate’s ancient draw bar. Still thinking that there were men above them as well, they were unaware that their fellows were already dead.

  Robert seized the shield of the man-at-arms he had killed and moved to join Athaelstan and Ridley. The three of them stood side by side, overlapping their shields and making their bodies impenetrable. Their opponents however were spread out, their shields raised and their spears and swords held back, ready to thrust their blades into the faces of the three barbarians.

   “Keep tight,” said Athaelstan, just as a bolt smacked in to Robert’s shield.

   “They’ve done it!” shouted Ridley, his voice victorious.

  Robert looked through the throng of the dozen armed men approaching them. He could see Cherik waving a torch side to side, signalling the approaching knights.

  Jurgen slid down the ladder and buried his axe into the top of the man-at-arms’ spine, its point bursting through the front of his neck. Seeing the man go down, the sergeant was just able to shout an alarm, when Jimmy dropped from the top of the wall, landing straight on top of him. His intention had been to skewer the man in the back but his ventail and well-made armour saved him. The two of them scrabbled on the floor, their primary weapons abandoned. The sergeant held a dagger while Jimmy desperately reached for his last and smallest blade, kept for just such a situation.

  Gaining the upper hand, the sergeant butted his helmet against that of Jimmy’s. The two helmets clanked together like a hammer on an anvil. While the sergeant had been ready, Jimmy had not and the strike left him disorientated. Giving him no time to recover, the sergeant then punched him hard with his mailed glove. Unconscious from the blow to his face, Jimmy’s body went limp, allowing the sergeant to rise to his feet. Grabbing the scruff of the almost lifeless mercenary’s collar, the sergeant raised his dagger, ready to drive it straight into the man’s heart.

  Robert’s own heart almost froze when he saw what was happening.

   “JIMMY!” he shouted.

  Just as the sergeant started to move his blade forward, a spear flew into his back and surged through his body, its tip just showing through his chest. Cherik stood upon the gate’s archway. His job of signalling the Commander done, he had retrieved a spear from one of the dead men-at-arms and thrown it without hesitation. As skilled as his aim was, he could well have killed Jimmy instead but there had been no time to consider such things. The sergeant dropped on top of Jimmy and was quickly hauled off by Jurgen who had run to aid him.

  At the shout of the sergeant. Several of those who had been approaching Robert and his two comrades stopped and looked back. The gate was unguarded and their sergeant was wrestling with a man on the floor before a spear seemed to appear from his back.

  The other blonde haired savage, who had just impaled the sergeant, dropped to the ground alongside the other and the two of them wrenched at the draw bar.

   “Stop them,” yelled one of the men-at-arms.

   “Too late.” Robert thought jubilently.

  The gate was stripped of its aged bar and the doors pulled open.

  In moments, what had only been an empty black void within the archway, changed into a magnificent sight as the Brotherhood knights and their squires charged out of the darkness.

  Ruscar appeared, his Persian bow already drawn back, and with perfect accuracy fired it at a man-at-arms who was charging Jurgen’s exposed back.

  The new arrivals started to cut down the last of what remained of those charged with holding the gates when Robert heard the clattering of hooves on stone. The tide which had momentarily turned in the Brotherhood’s favour