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

man they spoke of. Hamish had kept his line strong and his unit were still holding up well against the swelling numbers of the enemy. However his own men had slightly distanced themselves from their Captain.

   The ferocity of the Scotsman was terrifying. He had abandoned his shield and swung his double headed axe as if he were scything a field. The Almohad soldiers were now trying to avoid the red haired demon, covered in the blood of the enemy.

   The men waiting on their horses were becoming impatient. Their orders were clear, stay in position until the call sounded. Now they had to suffer the torment of watching some of their friends and comrades fall.

   “For fuck’s sake. Why don’t they sound the call to charge?” growled Cherik.

  Robert did not answer. He too was frustrated by the wait while their brothers-in-arms were fighting for their lives.

   “It won’t be much longer but we need to wait for the order,” he said finally.

   “Fuck the orders, my friends are down there,” answered the German angrily.

   “As are mine Cherik.”

   “Then let’s get down there.”

  Robert ground his teeth with irritation.

   “Guy, send word to the Commander, that I volunteer our unit to reinforce the right flank. Tell him with a fresh assault we will break their infantry’s line. The Commander should be somewhere amongst King Sancho’s banners and be quick.”

  There was a murmur of relief from the men as Guy rode off to seek the Commander. Robert could only hope that Reynard was there.

   “Be ready to charge.”

The Commander watched from his position at the carnage that was taking place before them. The Crusader army’s centre was starting to waver against the mass of soldiers that were at the Caliph’s disposal.

  King Sancho was less than twenty feet behind him, surrounded by his nobles and household knights. The King looked equally as concerned as he surveyed the onslaught.

   “Commander Reynard,” came a voice to his right.

  Turning in the saddle he saw a man-at-arms wearing the nightshade blue and white colours of Spurling. The man’s access was being barred by some of the King’s bodyguard.

   “Guy?” he shouted over the chaos ahead of them.

   “Yes sir. I bring word from Sir Robert and captain Alfonso. They ask permission to reinforce the right flank. Sir Robert believes if we can buckle their flank, it will have an effect on the centre.”

  The Commander was sure that the King had heard the conversation and he knew how frustrated his men would be, sitting in the front ranks of the cavalry watching their comrades fall. If it had been up to him, he would have been amongst his men at that very moment. But he knew what had to be done.

   “When the King’s banner signals, that is when we charge. You will tell the captain and Sir Robert to hold their position,” he ordered.

   “Very well sir,” answered Guy, who rode off immediately.

*****

Garcia was astride his great charger in the front line of the Templar knights. The Master Gomes Ramires and the entire Templar body had been requested to accompany King Pedro of Aragon and his forces on the left wing of the army. Chevalier was beside Garcia, disguised in a Templar surcoat.

   “You are confident Sir Olbrecht can lead your men?” Garcia asked over the turmoil.

  He was displeased by the Order knight being so close to him.

   “Olbrecht is more than capable of leading my men,” replied Chevalier, not looking at the Templar.

  Once again the man had tried to bait him but instead the knight had ignored his jibe and not taken his eyes off the battle ahead. He had lifted his visor to get a better view and quickly scanned the hundreds of banners at the centre and right flank. There was no sign or crest proving the Brotherhood’s presence at all. Not a standard, a surcoat, nothing.

   “The centre!” someone shouted. “The centre is breaking.”

  There was a cheer from the Almohads as the Crusader infantry started to flee from the centre of the line. The Almohad soldiers pursued, hoping to kill them from their exposed backs.

   “Cowards,” growled Chevalier.

*****

King Sancho watched in disappointment as the infantry of Castile and Portugal started to flee to the protection of their mounted comrades.

   “Sire! We must contain the breach now otherwise the entire line will be overwhelmed,” shouted the Commander.

   “Hold your tongue warmonger,” shouted another near to the King.

   “No Lord Rodriguez,” answered the King. “The Commander is right. Enough of this watching and waiting as our men fall. Let us bring victory to our people. Commander, Grandmaster Ruy Diaz, return to your men and support the flank. Focus the centre’s attention upon our far right.”

  Turning to two couriers, the King started to give out other orders.

   “Send word to King Alfonse that we are going to counter the breach and drive the infidel back. Also send word to King Pedro that we will need his support if the Caliph sends in his own cavalry to counter attack. Go.”

  Reynard had been introduced to Sir Ruy Diaz, the Master of the Calatrava Order only that morning and the two of them turned their mounts and raced them back to their own men.

   “Sir Ruy, your knights are the farthest of our right wing. Allow my mounted men-at-arms to draw their focus and then charge their flank,” shouted the Commander.

  The Order Master, nodded his understanding and then sped on to join his knights.

   “Here he comes!” shouted Jurgen.

  The men cheered as they saw him approach them. He stopped a moment to speak with Alfonso and then continued towards Robert’s division.

  “You took your time,” grunted Robert.

   “I understand your frustration,