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

Under the layers of grime and dust, some had skin which was pale and raw, others, the bronzed tan of the Mediterranean nations and some looked as though they were of Saracen and Egyptian heritage.

   “What are they?” asked one of the men confused.

   “The last line of defence,” answered Robert in disgust. “A human shield to protect the cowardly generals. The same generals who have abandoned their warriors and left them for slaughter while they run from the field like frightened sheep.”

  Most of the slaves had dropped to their knees in abject terror while others held out their hands in desperation, pleading for help.

  Dismounting Jupiter and briefly patting his valiant charger’s neck, Robert sheathed his bloodied sword and approached the dishevelled human chain gang. He removed his helmet, pulled his mail coif back and held his hands up to show he meant no harm.

  To his right he spied one of King Sancho’s men pull an unarmed servant from one of the surrounding tents. Without a word, the knight drove his sword through the man’s stomach and as the dying man dropped to his knees, swung his sword across to sever the servant’s head. His actions were only making the prisoners more frightened.

   “Cease your actions you bloody fool,” shouted Robert. “Can you not see you’re terrifying them?”

  Startled, the knight looked across at the mercenary, an expression of fury etched on his face. At first Robert presumed that the knight would not understand him. But as he glared back, covered in the blood of the man he had just decapitated, Robert recognised the coat-of-arms imprinted on the knight’s surcoat. It was from a family in Aquitaine.

   “You dare talk to me as if I your equal, hire sword?” challenged the knight.

   “No, he is right,” came the stern voice of King Sancho himself.

  The King trotted forward, moving himself between the two adversaries.

   “And he is no hire-sword. That is Sir Robert Spurling and you will lower your sword Sir Armand de Nerac,” he growled.

  The King’s vassal lowered his sword in embarrassment.

   “You have my apologies Sir Robert. Such a sight caused me to forget my honour,” said the knight.

  There was no sincerity in his tone, and it was obvious to Robert even if it was not to the King.

   “No apology is necessary Sir Armand. If I had had such a fearsome opponent face me after such a sight, I too may have acted as you did,” replied Robert.

  Sir Armand de Nerac reddened and glared at the Englishman.

  Ignoring him Robert continued towards the cowering slaves. He began to feel there was something unusual going on. Then it struck him, there was no odour, no stench of human waste. The slaves had been kept like all others, in that they were half starved with long unkempt hair. But only when he was closer did Robert realise that the dirt covering the slaves was that of maybe only the last two days. The Caliph would not have risked disease or tolerated a stench around him.

  The other mounted parties, including the King, remained silent as Robert progressed toward the quaking prisoners.

   “Lord please, we have committed no crime,” said one of the men.

   “What is your name?”

   “My name is Christoph. I was a sergeant-at-arms to Earl Simon de Montfort.”

   “And you are a Christian?”

   “I am lord, most of us are. But a few are of the other faiths,”

  He nodded to a man who looked like he was from the east.

   “I am no lord. I am merely a knight of England. How long have you been here?”

  The men surrounding them remained silent enough for the words to be heard between the mercenary knight and the chained slave.

   “How long have you been here?” he asked again.

   “We crossed the sea with the Caliph some months ago,” answered Christoph. “Word had reached him that the Christian Kings of the north were due to invade his lands.”

   “His lands!” snorted a knight amongst King Sancho’s entourage.

   “And how long have you been kept like this?”

  Robert pointed at the chains and manacles that bound the slaves to one another.

   “I know not sir. Time is a luxury we have not been given.”

  Robert continued to look at the manacles that gripped Christoph’s hands. They were well made and required a key.

   “You are safe now Christoph, and soon you shall be free once more. For the Caliph spoke true. The Kings of the northern realms have indeed come south to give battle and they have been victorious,” came the voice of the Commander.

  Reynard had dismounted and now stood a few paces from Robert and Christoph. He held out an arm indicating King Sancho who had remained in his saddle in silence.

   “I present his Royal Highness, King Sancho of Navarre, one of the victors this day.”

  It was not within the Commander’s power to suddenly offer freedom to the slaves before them. However as the ragged group knelt in supplication and the men around him cheered, the King was gratified by the adulation.

   “Commander Reynard speaks true. You are all of you safe from the infidel,” announced the King.

The bloodbath that followed caused as many deaths as those lost on the battlefield. After an hour of deliberation and petty squabbles amongst the Kings and nobles the armies were given the freedom to loot, as was the custom. Robert wearily led Jupiter back through the camp on foot listening to the screams of dying men, the pleas for mercy and the groans of those whose deaths were slow and painful.

  The word of the shield wall of chained slaves had spread fast and only encouraged the victors’ lust for more blood.