The Crusader's Crown (Tales of the Brotherhood Series Book 1) by James Mercer (free children's ebooks pdf .TXT) 📕

Tomas Berengeur. He could not help but be impressed how the underlying grin and amused eyes of the Commander were hidden by a serious and innocent expression.

  Robert’s tutorage in the training of squires was extremely limited. His own training, when it came to arms, was pretty much all from the Forgotten Army, which, to be honest, most knights and nobles would say was not the most honourable.

  Meanwhile his knowledge of a squire’s responsibilities, when not on the battlefield, came from the short time he had spent with Sir Roger. Even then it had been planned that Nathanial would someday become Robert’s squire but he was presently far away.

   “Very well Reynard, two can play at this game.”

   “I would be honoured for you to become my squire John, but I should warn you that your training would be quite different to that of most squires. What skills I have, I would be happy to pass on, but they may not suit you.”

   “It is I who would be honoured and thankful to become your squire Sir Robert. The Commander has told me of your services to both the Forgotten Army and others, and I would be honoured to follow your standard,” replied John.

  The squire looked delighted at the acceptance.

  Oh bollocks …

   Robert took a deep breath and did his best to smile reassuringly. “As you wish, fetch your belongings and join me at my tent.”

   “I have them here my lord,” he said exuberantly.

   “Yes My lord, he has them here,” teased the Commander.

  The squire turned to fetch his things and Robert scowled at his friend while Reynard looked almost fit to burst with laughter.

  As the young knight and his new squire made their way towards the tents of Robert’s unit they spoke of John’s learning so far. By the sounds of it he was well educated, his English was far better than Robert’s Norman and also knew a little Latin.

  He was the second of five children and his father had been a vassal of Count Rolf. He trained as a page to his older brother before being given the honour to serve as Count Rolf’s squire three years ago. Although only seventeen years old he was well built and had nearly reached his full height.

   Robert stopped and John paused beside him. “John, one of the things I ask is that you do not refer to me as my lord. Sir Robert if you so wish but never my lord.”

  This was down to the mere fact that he knew he would never hear the end of it from his friends. When they arrived at his tent he quickly introduced John to Selva who welcomed him warmly and then found him lodgings with one of the other men nearby.

   “Ain’t that the lad who served that Count we was with?” asked Jimmy, who was sharpening his sword.

   “Aye, John has decided to join us.”

   “He is to be your squire?” said Guy, who was also preparing for the assault.

   “He is.”

  Jimmy snorted with amusement.

   “Unless you want to play the role of squire like we did back in Toledo Jimmy? It’s all the same to me?” asked Robert.

   “Not a fart’s chance. That was one of the most embarrassin’ moments of my life.”

   “Then I’d shut your mouth.”

  By early evening, Robert had introduced his new squire to all of the men under his command. They carried out the same interrogation as they had when welcoming Christoph to their circle.

  They bombarded him with questions and had quickly taken a liking to the lad. He was not some pampered noble who believed the world owed him something because he was above them in society. However Robert felt that it was more because, after seeking an approving nod from the new knight he served, John happily took the wine skin and almost drained it.

   “Aye, he’ll make a fine addition,” said Jimmy in approval.

  Robert felt slightly dazed. Without even trying, his small band of men was growing. He could not help feeling somewhat gratified that the two new recruits had chosen to serve with him. He must be doing something right.

Chapter 19

 

The Walls of Ubeda, September, 1212

The wheels of the monstrous siege tower rolled slowly towards the city. In his short career of warfare, Robert had experienced both defending and attacking against a siege. But never had he started an assault in one of these cumbersome siege engines.

  The trebuchets and ballistae had succeeded in destroying most of the city’s ramparts but the walls had held defiantly. Now it was up to the men to take the walls and finish the city for good. There were five siege towers in total trundling their way forward. At the same time troops under the Aragonese banner followed behind and a company of Navarrese infantry made their way toward the city’s barred gates.

  As they approached, Robert could hear thudding against the tower’s sides, constructed of wooden panels. Volley after volley the arrows of the enemy thundered against the war machine. Fortunately the towers had been well made and so far the timber armour held.

   “They waste arrows and effort,” said Guy.

   “Not if they use fire arrows,” replied Athaelstan.

  Images of crossing the Bosphorus suddenly flashed across Robert’s memory. When they had been aboard their rafts waiting to assault the shore beneath the Tower of Galata, they had been showered by fire arrows and the deadly pots of Greek fire. He wondered whether Reynard was thinking the same thing.

  The Commander was aboard another of the towers leaving Robert in command of the men within his own.

  The Commander had left Alfonso and a handpicked detachment of mercenaries back at the camp