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

the small fire, encouraging the blackened timbers to liven up. The two of them watched as the steel spear head started to glow while it remained in the golden heart of the fire.

  During the silence he glanced towards her. She was looking straight at him, a sad, uncertain expression on her face. He placed his other hand on hers.

   “Whatever happens Selva, I will come back. I did before didn’t I?”

  She smiled and then leant forward to kiss him. As she placed her hand on his cheek and stroked it across the back of his neck he could feel his heart thumping through his chest. Her lips caressed his own and he felt a surge of happiness. Standing, he pulled her to her feet and out of sight in the shadow of the tent, placed a hand on her waist and pulled her close.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 14

 

Six days had passed since the victory at Tolosa. The captured soldiers and servants of the Caliphate were put to work clearing the field of the dead. The corpses of the Almohad warriors were piled up and burned, an insult to their faith, but what did the victors care of the infidel’s customs? Meanwhile, large mass graves were dug for the Christian soldiers. Priests shuffled through the pale dead bodies, still wearing the clothes they had died in. Every few steps, the clergymen made the sign of the cross, cleansing the dead Crusaders and absolving them of their sins.

  Wounded knights who could no longer be of use had begun to trail back through the pass and head north to their own lands. Many of the men who followed them had asked to remain with the army to obtain more wealth for their lords and more so for themselves.

  The vast fortune of plunder, seized in the camp of the Caliph, was beyond what any of the generals of the Crusade had expected. Young knights with no lands had suddenly become wealthy beyond their wildest dreams. Each of the four Kings, of course, took the largest sum.

  Tributes were sent to the Vatican, amongst them, the royal standard of the Caliph, which had flown from his pavilion. It left on the fourth day after the victory and was sent to the Papal states, escorted under a strong, armed guard, under the watchful eye of two of King Alfonse’s highest and strongest of nobles. Such a gift would gain huge favour with Pope Innocent III.

  The slaves who had been chained around the Caliph’s tent were taken under the wing of the Bishop of Toledo. There were many who privately felt the Bishop would show little interest in their future welfare, but for the time being such charity would bring plaudits to the cleric. After being fed and watered the freed slaves had been accompanied by an armed patrol to wash and were then provided with clean linens.

  It was on the third day that the former sergeant-at-arms, Christoph, sought out the Commander. He and seven others asked if they could serve under the Commander’s banner.

  Their request was accepted gratefully and Reynard introduced the eight men to Alfonso. After critically inspecting them up and down, he proceeded to instruct them in the Forgotten Army’s code and laws – like all new recruits taken into the Commander’s service, regardless of their experience.

  It was agreed the eight men would march with the armourer’s unit to begin with. It was a sensible move. The men were still weak and thin from their years of slavery, but some hearty meals and exercise with Godfrey the armourer would soon see them assigned to other units within the Forgotten Army.

  Even after four days the men in the camp were still celebrating their victory. With the virtual absence of women they drank and gambled till they passed out. Inevitably fights broke out and three men had been hanged to restore order amongst the rabble.

  However the victory had had its costs. The losses were particularly heavy among the Holy Orders. Pedro Gómez de Acevedo, the banner man of the Order of Calatrava, had fallen in the cavalry charge along with Alvaro Fernández de Valladares of the Order of Santiago.

  Pedro Arias, Master of the Order of Santiago, had mortal wounds and it was only a matter of time before his body gave up. Ruy Díaz, Master of the Order of Calatrava, had also been grievously wounded and preparations were being made by his knights to have him taken back to their stronghold in Castile.

  The last and most damaging to the morale of the many men who believed that the warrior monks were almost invincible, was the fall of the Gomes Ramires, the Templar Master of Leon, Castile and Portugal.

The following morning Robert woke to the usual sounds of the camp stirring. Sergeants shouting orders echoed across the rows of tents. Men groaning in pain – no doubt a combination of sore heads from the night’s celebrations and the slow healing of wounds and aching joints from the battle.

  But this morning for him, just like the last few, were ones he wished to remember forever.

  Selva lay naked, asleep in his arms. They were in her tent. His body still felt half broken from battle, his muscles sometimes so tight he worried they may snap if he were to move too suddenly. But with the woman he had loved over and over again that night, now wrapped in his embrace, he felt as though he could almost take flight.

  Inevitably it was not to last, and soon he heard voices nearby.

   “I