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

  A beating followed, carried out by two of Garcia’s sergeants. With each question during the Templar’s interrogation, the only responses from the Imam were whispered passages from his own faith and their holy scriptures. Now the man was a bloody pulp, hardly able to move let alone sit up or stand. The only sign that the man was still alive was the slow rise of the Imam’s chest and the groaning, mumbling of prayers.

  All the while, Cardinal Esca had been scurrying around the converted church, looking for clues to the resting place of their treasure.

   “Enough! Bring me hot irons. Let us see how long he holds his tongue, once we’ve taken an eye.”

   “Before you do that Sir Alejandro, perhaps you would allow me a chance to try and coax some information from him,” asked Chevalier.

   “Suit yourself but be quick, for we have little time. Esca, what news?”

  Esca was red in the face as he continued to look at the sheets which contained the writings of his research. He knew that if he did not have an answer soon, he may well end up like the tortured mass who lay on the floor before them.

  “I need answers and he will have them,” he replied, nodding towards the Imam.

  “Very well, then let us try a different method,” answered Chevalier. “Sir Guarin bring water.”

  Taking a knee, Chevalier gently lifted the Imam’s head and slowly poured some water into the man’s mouth.

   “I thank you,” whispered the bloodied man.

  He spoke their language.

   “I do not ask you to betray your belief. I am here for something that is of little use to you and great value to me,” replied Chevalier.

  The knight’s tone held no concern or pity, but neither was it threatening or dangerous.

  One of the Imam’s eyes was swollen shut but he opened the other a little and looked up at the knight.

   “What do you seek?”

   “We come for a gift, left to us by our God. End your suffering by answering my questions. The knight I travel with will go to any lengths to get it. He talks of blinding you. What may follow, I know not.”

  The Imam shook a little and then spoke again. His voice was starting to fade. Garcia’s torturing had gone too far.

   “Remove the veil and you will find what you seek,” he croaked.

  Quickly the three knights and the Cardinal scanned the walls for a veil. There were two that hung from the ceiling, they were made from red and black silks and there was a depiction of the sacred crescent moon, but nothing else of consequence. Garcia pulled at one of them. Its hooks that clung to the ceiling snapped easily and the banner floated to the floor.

   “He lies,” growled the Templar.

   “Maybe not,” said the Cardinal.

  The cleric walked towards the church altar. The Muslim faith had no need of such things, yet the marble fixture had remained. Upon it rested a bronze ornament, a foot tall, shaped like a candle stick and at its top, the same crescent moon of the infidel. Covering it was another sheet of fabric. This one was in the colours of gold and green. Such a decoration would have been common in a Christian church.

  The cleric ran his hands across the fabric, it was courser than the two that hung from the arched stone ceiling. In one swift movement he wrenched the veil from the covered alter, causing the bronze decoration to clatter to the ground and revealing that which had been hidden beneath.

   “Such beauty,” whispered the Cardinal in admiration.

  The altarpiece was adorned with fine carvings, depicting the holy saints looking back at them. It was only when they got nearer did they see at its centre, the engraving of a crown.

    “You would hide such a sight?” said the Cardinal coldly.

    “You waste your breath priest. He is dead,” replied Chevalier, getting to his feet.

  The Order knight was wiping blood from the blade of his dagger.

   “You killed him. What if he knew more?” hissed the cleric.

   “He had served his purpose and would have died shortly anyhow.”

   “We could have aided him,” argued Esca.

   “What more would he have known you fool?” mocked Chevalier. “Can you not see that the crown is the marker?”

   “The marker?” asked Garcia, intrigued.

  The Templar was not to know and the Cardinal was too ignorant to remember. But Chevalier was highly astute, not just in combat but also in logic and research. He was the person who had been so close to discovering the resting place of the treasured relic in the care of the Moslem. He was obsessed with the idea that such treasures would have great power against the enemy.

   “You. Fetch me a hammer or an axe and be quick,” he said to one of the Templar sergeants.

  The sergeant looked to his Templar superior who nodded his approval. Garcia was not overly pleased that Chevalier felt he had the authority to give such orders but he was eager to see what the Order knight had discovered. The sergeant left to seek what they required and soon returned with a heavy metal blacksmith’s hammer.

   “This should suffice,” said Chevalier as the sergeant presented him with the hefty mallet.

   “Leave us,” ordered Garcia, dismissing the two sergeants.

  Lifting it high, the knight swung it down in a curve and crashed the hammer against the marble altar. A crack appeared, and although the destruction of such finely detailed carvings would usually be regarded as a tragedy, even a sin, none of them presently cared. Another two strikes and the stone gave way and crumbled to the ground, revealing a