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

yes. But I also suspect that he has been lucky on several occasions. Not long after I joined the Order I was told that he had been apprehended in Palestine but escaped. Then in Constantinople, the Count Larivierre nearly had him. He was a fine knight and Sir Everard Dubois, for all his faults, was one of the finest swordsmen I knew. But both fell to the mercenary Commander’s sword.”

   “So he should not be underestimated?”

   “Do not forget Sir Guarin, that the man surrounds himself with butchers and barbarians. Whatever men say of hire swords, those who follow Reynard, have proved they would happily die for him. It has been said that many a time it was his savage warriors who have saved him not his own sword.”

   “In particular, this Robert of Oldfield?”

   “Indeed. Robert of Oldfield. A peasant who seems to have sprung from nowhere and has caused as much irritation for the Order as the mercenary Commander. It is almost as if the ageing brigand is grooming the man to take his place.”

   “I know not whether I have the skill to face this legendary foe who has thwarted us so many times, but I would gladly face this Oldfield with steel and put him to the test,” answered Sir Guarin, glaring into the fire. His eyes ablaze with excitement.

   “That you may Brother Guarin. But do not forget, that our mission this time is not to capture a member of the Brotherhood, but to recover the lost Crown. Such a triumph would devastate the Brotherhood more than the capturing of their stronghold at Di’ Vinere and the execution of their elders.”

As the two conversed quietly, another watched from a fire not far from their own. Esca observed in silence. The face of Sir Aguillard brought memories flooding back. He remembered their first encounter, and the ignorant youth Dubois, so hungry for success and glory, it had got himself and his fellow Brothers killed and brought the Cardinal to ruin.

   “Scheming again Esca?” came the voice of Garcia.

  The knight had approached stealthily and took a seat on the ground next to the cleric.

   “You really do despise them don’t you?” he continued.

   “So would you if you were in my position,” spat Esca.

   “I suppose I would.”

   “Then why keep them alive any longer? You could overpower them here and now and leave them to decay into nothing. Their coin has been put to good use. Their scriptures have been of help. The rest, we can do ourselves.”

   “Maybe we could. But what if we are wrong and the garrison has not left the town? What if the garrison is stronger than we thought? And what if they are still withholding material vital to the location of the Crown?”

  Esca knew the Templar was right. He was not a military strategist, but he knew that in such hostile territory, they would need all the men they could get.

   “Fear not Cardinal. When the time is right, they will die. And you will see your luxurious living returned to you.”

  The fleeting thought of his silk wardrobe of fine clothes, his comfortable litter, pulled by slaves and armed guards, gave him more warmth than the fire in front of him.

  Garcia rose to his feet and was about to disappear into the shadows, when he stopped. His voice was cold.

   “But I warn you Matthias Esca. Should you betray me, you will suffer the slowest and most agonising of deaths – worse than all others, the Brotherhood and Order knights included.”

  Esca was no fool. He was under no illusion that if the Templar knight had his way there would be no riches or power for him once the Crown was in their possession. His only leverage was the knowledge of the writings he had discovered and still had safely locked in his mind. He knew that once he had led them to their objective he would be killed.

  The Cardinal knew that Garcia still needed him, as much as he needed them. His challenge now was to find a way of spiriting the Crown and himself away to safety once it had been found. Away from Garcia, away from the Order and away from the Brotherhood.

  Then and only then could he fulfil his agreement that he had made with those that still remained in the shadows.

*****

The mixed company of knights and mercenaries made good ground over their first day. Signs of the fleeing army of the Caliph could be seen from the tracks of men’s boots and horse hooves. Items of clothing and armour had been discarded and abandoned, allowing them to move faster.

  It had been thanks to Jurgen, whose turn it had been to scout ahead, that they came across a fresher path of tracks. These were more orderly than the dozens of others they had seen; the men had obviously been in disciplined ranks, much like the Brotherhood knights and their deadly escort.

  They followed them until the light dimmed, and were relieved when they came across a small waterway flowing east. Any other priest would have called it God’s will but Anzac’s only comment had been, “About bloody time!”

  The horses took precedence and all the men were charged with watering their mounts before quenching their own thirst. Robert was impressed to see that, despite the knights having squires to carry out such tasks, they tended to their own horses themselves. As he allowed Jupiter to deservedly hydrate himself, he watched with interest as Count Rolf patted the shoulder of his horse, allowing the animal to guzzle the water greedily.

   “Good lad, drink deep my friend,” the man said fondly.

  Turning, he saw Robert watching.

   “He has been a faithful companion, these past eight years,” said the Count slightly self-consciously.