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

  The Templar knights and their sergeants charged, their spears lowered, and hit the Brotherhood knights on their flank. Amongst their white mantles Robert spied some wearing another livery over their mail hauberks. A dark, burnt brown cross on yellow. The Order.

  Robert, Athaelstan and Ridley immediately started to move right, circling the melee. As they neared the gate, they could see it was being barred by three squires. Jimmy had been moved behind them by Cherik and Jurgen to prevent his body from being trampled to death.

  Arriving at the gate he saw that their horses had been brought. The Gutsbergs had already pulled themselves onto their mounts. With the absence of armour, there was no need for assistance. Seeing Jupiter, Robert skirted the other horses and ran towards his own.

   “Good to see you boy, are you ready?” he said loudly.

  Jupiter snorted angrily and stamped his front hoof in reply, he knew from the commotion ahead what was coming and was ready to enter the skirmish.

   “Good lad.”

  Unstrapping the heavy mail draped behind the saddle, he tossed it aside and pulled himself up. First tightening the fixing to his helmet and strapping his shield to his arm he looked around him. Cherik and Jurgen had already joined the fray while Athaelstan and Ridley seemed to be waiting for him. The two had discarded the kite shields and now held their own favoured circular shields. Athaelstan had also changed his helmet and now wore his own with the mask which covered half his face. Even with no mail he looked frightening.

   “Let us not dawdle then. Time to charge!” he yelled.

  The three of them dived into the deadly skirmish.

  The conflict seemed to be evenly matched. One Templar, a sergeant and two men-at-arms were down. From their own force, Sir Edward had been struck from his horse along with his squire who had tried to protect his master. Three of the mercenaries that Reynard had brought with him were down. Sir Eugene had also fallen and if it had not been a killing stroke he had certainly been trampled to death.

  With so many men and horses in such a confined space the restrictions made manoeuvring one’s horse more difficult than usual. Robert had been lucky to have turned in the saddle just in time to see a sword coming for his exposed back. He quickly raised his shield to deflect the strike but could not turn Jupiter to face the man head on. The knight struck again but higher this time and Robert only just blocked it. Seeing that the Templar was intending to strike from above Robert started to raise his shield when a sword almost severed the knight’s head. Blood erupted in all directions, covering Robert, Jupiter and the knight who had dealt the blow. Schaffer looked like a knight of the netherworld, his mail and black surcoat showered in blood and his maddened blood shot eyes staring out from under his helmet.

  Without a word the knight kicked hard into his charger’s flanks, compelling it forward to hunt for his next prey.

*****

   “They have breached the town walls,” guessed Chevalier, strapping his sword back on to his belt.

   “Hurry you fools or I’ll have the skin off your backs,” snarled Garcia to the men digging frantically in front of him.

  On hearing the threat it took all of Chevalier’s strength not to end the rogue Templar’s life there and then. The men in the pit toiling were those of the Order not the Temple.

   “It’s there. I know it’s there,” muttered Esca.

  The power hungry Cardinal looked almost crazed as he stared wide eyed at the pit in front of the ancient piece of granite. His hands were together, as if he were trying to muster God’s help to reveal the Treasure of Christ.

  Then came the sound of a single rider. The horse’s hooves clattering against the stone street. It was one of the last of Chevalier’s men-at-arms.

   “My lord,” he said, breathing heavily.

   “What news Edgar?”

   “My lord, they have broken through but we hold them at the gates, for now.”

  There was doubt in the man-at-arms voice. Edgar was a fine soldier and to doubt him would be foolish.

   “We should rally the rest of the men in case they overcome our force at the gates,” Chevalier said, turning to Garcia.

  Garcia stared suspiciously at the Order knight. Now was the time when any one of them would likely double-cross the other.

   “Very well. We shall meet them together. Have your men continue digging. You two,” he said to two of the sergeants nearby. “Guard this pit with your lives if you have to.”

  The two sergeants saluted at the knight’s order.

   “The rest of you, mount your horses and be ready to kill what remains of the enemy.”

   “Sir Guarin is with those that went to reinforce the gates?” Chevalier asked Edgar.

   “He is my lord.”

   “If the enemy has gained the upper hand, tell Sir Guarin and the others to fall back.”

   “Fall back?” said Garcia furiously.

   “The enemy will be tired and their force whittled down. We engage them with a fresh batch of troops,” answered Chevalier.

The Brotherhood knights and their mercenary allies were slowly but undeniably becoming the victor. More than a dozen horses were absent of their riders. Robert had just torn open the throat of an Order man-at-arms when he was joined by Cherik.

   “Have you seen that mad priest?” he shouted.

  Robert looked across the bloodthirsty carnage to Anzac. The aging priest was in the centre of the melee. A mace in one hand and a buckler shield in the other. Robert knew the priest would sometimes wear mail under his habit but he