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

  Seeing the confusion on Robert’s face, the Count smiled. Letting go of the reins of his mount he walked over to join Robert.

   “His mother was a palfrey while his father, a mighty destrier. What a warhorse he was.”

   “You knew him?”

   “He was my father’s. Our family had a fine stable master who bred horses. He hoped to breed horses with the size and strength of a destrier but with the speed and endurance of a palfrey. But such breeding is hard. Only Hereward came close.”

   “Hereward, lord?”

   “Surely as an Englishman, you know of the warrior Hereward?”

   “Aye lord. The Anglo-Saxon rebel who refused to succumb to the Norman rule.”

  Robert remembered the tales he had heard from travellers passing through Oldfield. They spoke of Hereward and the descendants of his followers who continued to fight for a lost cause.

   “He was said to be one of King Harold’s finest warriors.”

   “Not just of King Harold. But legend has it, one of the greatest of those who fought in the Varangian Guard,” came the voice of Athaelstan.

  He and Ridley had been near to Robert and the Count and overheard their conversation.

   “Forgive me my lord. I forget my place,” said Athaelstan, bowing his head.

   “No, no friend. Please continue,” said Count Rolf with a friendly smile.

  Athaelstan looked a little nervous. Others had taken an interest.

   “When I served the Emperor – in the halls of the Varangian Guard in Constantinople, the warriors would speak of an Anglo-Saxon lord who travelled to Byzantium. He went by the name Oslac, but those closest to him, who had travelled from the west, a band of Saxons and Danes, would sometimes call him Hereward.”

   “He was given command of the guard in two battles against the Seljuk Turks, on the eastern border of the empire. They say that he carried a shield with a wolf’s head painted on its front and fought with a double headed axe. Legend has it that on the third day, the enemy fled when they saw him charge them again.”

  There was a brief pause after the Varangian had finished.

   “A finely told tale,” said the Count. “To think, that if all the warriors of King Harold had been like that of the mighty Hereward, the Conqueror may have had no choice but to run back to his Dukedom.”

   “And your fine charger my lord. Meaning no offence, has he earned his name yet?” asked Ridley, putting his knuckle to his head in respect.

  Robert was unsure whether his man had gone too far. He did not know Count Rolf of Kendrick well, and was uncertain as to whether the lord would take such a question as impertinent. However, to his relief the Count laughed. He whistled through his teeth and his horse immediately lifted his head and responded to the call, walking towards him. When he stopped beside his master, Count Rolf patted his neck proudly.

   “That he has, on more than one occasion in fact.”

Robert sat at his fire, listening to the banter of his men. Even with dry meagre rations, they were able to make a joke of it. The memory of Wilfred entered his thoughts again. The old rogue could always bring laughter to an evening meal.

   “Dreaming of your lass back at camp Rob?” said Jimmy slyly.

   “I bet he is. I certainly would, with such a beauty waiting for me,” teased Cherik.

   “Yeah, but first you’d have to find a lass that would put up with you,” answered his brother.

  The others laughed.

   “So, what do you think we’ll find at Baeza then? Robber knights with riches, surrounded by men at arms or something else?” said Guy.

   “What do you mean, something else?” asked Robert guardedly.

   “I don’t know yet. But there’s something missing from this undertaking. It just doesn’t seem right. I was thinking of having a talk with one of the squires. See if they could shed a little more light on it. What do you think sir?”

   “I think you’d be wise to forget that idea,” replied Athaelstan. “Being of noble birth, you should know that well enough Guy de Bois. Squires are loyal to their knights. They’re often well tutored and trained to be mindful of such tricks.”

  Robert was relieved it had been the Varangian who had deterred his compatriot from delving into the Brotherhood’s plans.

   “Anyhow, as long as we get the coin and a bit of extra loot, I’m ‘appy,” said Jimmy, sharpening his hunting knife.

  Robert recognised it as Wilfred’s old blade. The men closest to the old warrior had asked the Commander’s permission to share out his belongings as keepsakes. The Commander had agreed, but insisted that Wilfred was buried in the old ways – with sword in hand and shield on breast to hang on the walls of Valhalla.

  Most of the dead had been placed in mass graves. The Commander ordered his men to be buried separately at the eastern foot of the mountain, where the sun would catch their resting places in the early morning.

   “As long as there’s loot, you’re always happy,” replied Robert, doing his best to drive the last memories of his old friend from his mind.

   “Aye that’s true,” grinned Jimmy.

   “Anyhow, I think Athaelstan’s right. If there is more to this task we’ve been set, maybe best just to see it through, without asking too many questions. Who knows? We may even come out better than we expected.”

  There was a murmur of satisfied agreement and Robert hoped it would be enough to put Guy off from pursuing his suspicions.

   “Anyone spoken to that priest yet?” asked Cherik suddenly. Robert was immediately