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

vindictive deceitful eyes locked with those of the treacherous knight, he remembered how much he despised the man.

  He quickly evoked Count Larivierre and Sir Everard Dubois of the Order along with their followers. Both of them heartless, cruel men who were prepared to go to any lengths to succeed. Yet through their arrogance and stupidity they had underestimated the two Brotherhood supporters and their mercenaries and had paid for it with their lives.

  But back then he had had power, he had influence and the support of the papacy. Now he survived off the meagre scraps offered him by this defiled knight who would have happily cut his throat had he not still needed him.

   “As you wish Sir Alejandro,” he croaked sullenly.

*****

Robert and his men stood on the summit of a ridge assessing the terrain before them. The desiccated plains seemed to carry on for miles until they reached the mountain range which acted as a natural fortification and border for Al-Andalus.

   “Looks like the army is on the move,” said Ridley from behind them.

  The warrior of Saxon lineage had briefly left his five comrades and was looking back towards the north. The sight was reminiscent of the French Crusader force that had turn tail and fled back to their homeland.

  The others joined him and could see a dust cloud in the distance, growing larger on the horizon.

   “What would you reckon Jürgen?” asked Robert.

   “A force that size. In these conditions. Probably a day and a half behind.”

   “It’ll take ‘em longer,” said Athaelstan confidently. “They’ll stop at the ford we crossed this morning.”

  The veteran of the Varangian bodyguard knew a lot about combat in arid conditions such as these. The borders of the Byzantine Empire were much like the lands they were scouting across now.

   “If the generals have any sense they’ll water the horses and the army, before continuing. That’ll take at least half a day.”

  Robert turned in the saddle and continued looking south. His heart stopped for a moment when he saw what he thought were the signs of another approaching army. However the colour was wrong and the mass did not seem to grow, if anything it was becoming fainter.

   “That’s no dust cloud,” he said, pointing in its direction.

   “A settlement maybe?” answered Jimmy.

   “Or what’s left of one.”

  Halfway through their descent from the plateau of the ridge, Robert started to regret his choice of route. The horses were unsure of the gradient and were slipping on the copious loose rocks, causing them to lose their footing.

  Cursing himself again for his decision, he finally gave the order to dismount and continue the journey down to level ground on foot. Without the burden of their armoured passengers, Jupiter and his fellow mounts were far more sure footed and were able to keep up with their masters’ steady pace.

  Once back on flat land they remounted and eased the horses into a trot towards the smoke which had now thickened and become darker in colour. A mile or so off, it was apparent it was a settlement and the nearer they got there were sure signs there had been a raid of some sort.

  Although Robert had ordered the men to arm up, he was relatively sure, whatever had taken place, had already ended. Coming to the edge of the village, they could see that it was surrounded by a dry stone wall. It was no higher than waist height.

   “Most likely to keep the livestock in,” said Ridley.

   “Leave the supply horses here. Shields up and stay tight.”

  Robert’s voice was calm but stern and for the first time, he felt ready to lead these men.

  They continued towards the centre of the settlement and came across a sickening sight. Men, women and children had been butchered as they had run for their homes. The sound of movement caused the seven of them to draw their swords ready for an ambush. Then their adversary appeared from the shadows. It was a small goat.

   “Well at least there’s dinner.”

   “Shut up Cherik,” growled Robert, unamused at the German’s joke in such circumstances.

  They continued down the street which led to a circular, public courtyard. At its centre was a water well and around it were a dozen men-at-arms lying dead. A horse lying a little further away from the heap of bodies groaned in pain and was panting the last of its life away. The poor animal had been left to suffer slowly, skewered by a spear and three arrows in its side.

   “Check the other entrances but stay within the courtyard. Jürgen, put that poor animal out of its misery.”

  While the other five remained on their horses and checked the other streets that met at the centre of the village. Robert and Jürgen dismounted and Jürgen quickly dealt with the dying horse by neatly slitting its throat. He walked over to join Robert who was kneeling down at the side of one of the soldiers. The man had died quickly from a vicious strike between his neck and shoulder which now covered his body. His open eyes stared eerily at them.

   “What vexes you Rob?”

   “Look at the surcoat,” he answered.

  Although the crest was now drenched in blood, Jürgen could make out the castle of gold on what had been a white shield embroidered onto the surcoat’s badge.

   “The coat-of-arms of the King of Castile,” he replied.

   “A scouting party like ours I guess,” said Robert.

  As the others returned, reporting that there was no sign of the enemy, Robert showed them what he had discovered.

   “We take no risks. Pair up and check the entire settlement again, from the outer wall to the centre.”

   “What are