Deus Militis - Soldiers of God

by Jonathan A Longmore

  One man tried to resist, refusing to drop his weapon and attacking one of the guards badly cutting his arm. He was finally clubbed to the ground and dragged along the hard surface to Faruq.

  Battered and bruised the merchant stared up at Faruq, ‘Your mother mated with a filthy pig and you were squeezed through her arse!’ He yelped as one of the men holding him punched him hard in the mouth, splitting his lips.

  Faruq looked at Salman as the injured man’s blood dripped from his chin to the earth, ‘You know he has to die, don’t you?’

  Salman was horrified, ‘You promised! You gave your word!’

  Faruq grinned, ‘I’m a thief and a murderer; my word can never be trusted.’ He nodded at the men holding the prisoner.

  Salman rushed forward, ‘NO!’ He was grabbed and held back by two of the men who had been employed to protect him and he fell to his knees as his comrades head was pulled back exposing his throat.

  ‘NO!’ Salman croaked, ‘He has children!’

  Faruq was unrepentant, ‘And one day they will meet again if Allah wills it.’

  ‘Do not speak his name, you filth!’

  ‘Do it,’ ordered Faruq.

  ‘I’ll do it!’ The guard who had been attacked drew his sword and stormed towards the condemned man, the blood still dripped from his fingers where it had seeped from the wound at the top of his arm, ‘He cut me only once, I will repay his generosity with one cut.’ He stepped in front of his victim and his blade ripped through the air and sliced open the windpipe sending blood spraying onto the ground in front of him. The dying man fell forward and clutched at his throat in a vain attempt to prevent his life force surging out of his body, the chokes and frantic kicks did not last long and with a few final spasms he lay, contorted on the ground.

  Salman stayed on his knees and stared at the body, his lips moved in silent prayer as Faruq’s men finished binding all the merchants and their servants, laughing and joking with each other as they did so. They had attacked many caravans in the past, but not only was this one the biggest and richest, it was also the easiest.

  Faruq spat on the ground and shouted orders to make the animals secure, ‘Any man who loses an animal, also loses his share!’ He looked down at Salman and indicated to two of his men to bind the old man’s hands. Salman didn’t resist, instead he simply stared at his son who was kneeling at the edge of the group of prisoners, a worried expression on his face as he saw his father being roughly bound.

  Faruq kicked his horse into a walk stopping a horses length from the kneeling men, ‘Salman asked for my word that I would not kill you,’ he shouted, before his mouth broke into an evil grin, ‘but I am a thief and a murderer and my word is like the shit falling from the carrions arse, it is worthless.’

  He stared at the prisoners expecting them to plead for their lives, to cry and wail like babies but all he saw was their eyes looking past him and smiling. He turned and his jaw dropped as he saw the line of Christian knights, their blood red surcoats framed by sparkling white cloaks, their lances raised and helmets glistening in the sunlight. His eyes widened and he screamed orders as his men started shouting at each other in panic.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Leopold always carried his shield slung across his back while he fought double handed, a skill he had perfected over the years and a talent that allowed him to stand out from other men. He was able to control his mount simply with pressure from his knees and feet. She was called Sternlicht, Starlight, and they had been together for ten years. In battle they were one being, each anticipating the other’s move, and for a man proficient in cruelty and brutality he had one redeeming feature, his love for Sternlicht.

  His scouts had found the bandits camped in the ravine, arrogant in their belief no one would find them or even be looking for them; an arrogance he was now going to prove was a grave mistake. He was preparing to attack the camp when one of the scouts galloped back and reported the appearance of two horsemen and the subsequent departure of the camp towards the east.

  He watched with a sinister grin as the man on the grey horse shouted orders at his men who formed a shield wall with a solid barrier of spears pointing toward them. Leopold’s eyes narrowed at the manoeuvre and their leader’s arrogant stance. They were soldiers or deserters, and deserters from any army deserved death, the more painful the better.

  He felt no fear, only exhilaration as he sat comfortably on Sternlicht. She had taken her position in the centre of his men who were line abreast, their horses snorting, stamping their hooves and shaking their heads as they felt the adrenalin surge of their riders. They were beasts of war and their bodies quivered with excitement, eyes widened with anticipation as they readied themselves to charge into the men who were standing with shields and spears facing them. Leopold knew he was hopelessly outnumbered, less than twenty men against a hundred or more, but he was confident his men were worth three or more of the rabble in front of him.

  Leopold dropped his reins on Sternlicht’s shoulders and dug his heels into her flanks. She moved forward and his men moved with them. There was no need for shouted orders, they had all done this many times before and the whole line moved at the walk. The only sound from the line of knights came from the horses and the jangle of steel. Each horse had a leather peytral which had mail attached to it to protect the chest of the horse, essential when fighting men on foot, particularly those with spears or lances. As one, the advancing horses increased to a trot and with grim faces the knights kept their lances pointing upwards.

  The men facing them were getting restless and looking at each other. Their leader on his grey horse rode behind them along their length and shouted constantly. He turned in his saddle and screamed at his men who were still running to join the shield wall, and the knights in red and white drew steadily closer.

  Salman got to his feet and ran to join his son and his fellow merchants and together they all watched as the line of avenging angels, helmets glinting in the sunlight and cloaks billowing like wings increased their pace to a slow canter, and still the lances remained upright.

  Faruq ordered the men guarding the prisoners to join the line. The prisoners were no longer important, they could run if they wanted to because now the plan had changed, and Faruq shuddered as he saw death advancing towards them.

  Leopold felt euphoric as the distance between them shortened. Their leader seemed to be staring directly at him and Leopold wanted his head. Each man would pick his target and ignore everything else until the steel at the end of their lances pierced flesh. Their horses would slam into the line of men like a battering ram, but this ram would be accompanied by the hooves of war horses who would stamp down onto the bodies and heads of the men, crushing skulls and breaking bones; with each horse and rider weighing more than half a ton, the shock of the impact would drive them through dragging men and limbs with them.

  The shield wall was becoming thicker, in some places three men deep and the slow canter became a fast canter, and the lances still pointed to the sky, and the cloaks billowed, and the avenging angels grinned as they drew closer to the kill.

  Faruq bellowed at his men and they shouted abuse at the advancing cavalry. They braced themselves as the horses thundered across the hard ground, and the vibration sped through the rocks and made their feet tremble and their knees shake as fear flowed through their body at the sight and sound of armoured knights charging towards them. Some men had fought like this before, others hadn’t. The experienced ones stayed silent and waited for the onslaught.

  The gap was narrowing and Jabbar involuntarily backed away from the rear of the shield wall and Faruq let her, he knew what was going to happen and as brave as he was he did not want to be there when the fast approaching wall of steel and muscle struck. He glanced behind and the prisoners remained on their knees, huddled as close to the ravine walls as they could. He turned to face his front again and the lances were falling!

  They were seconds away and as one entity the canter bec
ame a gallop and the hooves pounded into the ground. The madness in their eyes and the moisture flung from their nostrils gave the charging beasts the appearance of flying demons. The lances fell and the knights screamed, and the men in the shield wall screamed back as the shockwave struck like a hammer from the gods and the steel tipped lances smashed into the line of men. The muscle and hooves and sheer force of the impact sent men flying and shrieking in pain. The lances pierced flesh and snapped, or were left embedded in bodies as the horses trampled over the corpses of the men who thought they could halt the onslaught. Those same horses turned as swords were drawn and the knights protected one side with their shields and hammered their blades onto the heads of their enemy who were still reeling from the impact that left nearly a quarter of them dead or wounded.

  Leopold wanted to kill their leader who had backed away from the fight still bellowing orders at his men, but the initial shock was wearing off and men started to move away from the swords hacking down at them. Leopold leant to his right and his blade sliced the top off a man’s head taking part of his brain as the man cried and fell to his knees to be trampled on. Blood flew everywhere and Leopold continued to cut and slash, finding flesh and bone.

  The advantage changed from Leopold’s men to the bandits as they regrouped and started to attack the horses from all sides. The horses kicked out in pain as spears and swords found their mark.

  A horse fell and took its rider with it, and he was hacked to death before he could stand. Another horse fell and the rider was luckier as he jumped and landed on his feet, his shield saved his life and he parried and thrust in desperation. There was no finesse, this was simply kill or be killed and Leopold saw another horse start to fall; they were vulnerable!

  ‘REGROUP AND DISMOUNT!! REGROUP AND DISMOUNT!!’

  The horses had slammed into the line and trampled bodies, splitting flesh and breaking bones but now they had to be saved. The knights forced their way back through the mass of enemy and leapt from the horses that turned and trotted away from the fighting as their training had taught them. Leopold failed to fight his way through to the bandit’s leader but he continued to draw blood as his two swords cut down on both sides. Sternlicht was shaking from a dozen wounds and he forced her through the enemy ranks until she was clear.

  They would fight on foot. He saw at a glance he had already lost three men, others were wounded but they formed their own line and were matching strike for strike and the bandits started to drop to the ground with horrific wounds. Leopold knew they were still hopelessly outnumbered and saw another of his men fall with a spear through his mouth. He dismounted, slapped Sternlicht on the rump and she cantered away, blood seeping from her wounds. The odds were still four to one against, and even with their skill and ferocity those odds were not good. As another knight fell so the odds became worse.

  The fighting was ferocious and without mercy, no quarter asked or given on either side but the bandits were gaining the upper hand, and Leopold and his men were being forced back.

  They were surrounded and the battle became a series of small skirmishes as men fought in groups although the knights were starting to weaken. Spears and Damascus steel were finding their targets and the once white cloaks were now splattered with blood. The knights fought with a desperation as the heat of the sun and the weight of their armour started to sap their strength. A group of Leopold’s men found fresh impetus when one of their number fell to his knees, their blades became whirlwinds of steel as they fought to protect him, and the enemy were pushed back allowing the wounded knight to escape to the horses.

  Leopold was trapped and found himself fighting off six men as their leader sat on his horse and continued to scream orders. A spear found its target and Leopold cursed at the pain in his thigh that was compounded when the blade was pulled out. The spear was thrust again but Leopold managed to cut through the shaft. A sword blade glanced off his helmet. He swung his falchion and felt the blade hit resistance as it sliced down an unprotected face. He fell back but there were still five men attacking and Leopold parried, thrust, slashed, cut and sliced, but a sword smashed into his left arm and the shock as it struck the mail almost crippled him. The falchion fell from his fingers and he realised he was staring at death. Another blow to his helmet and one to his shoulder knocked him sideways and he fell to one knee and slashed wildly to keep his attackers at bay, but even he was starting to weaken.

  ~

  Faruq heard nothing above the noise of the fighting, the cries of the wounded, the clashing of steel against steel and the incessant shouting and grunting as men tried to kill other men. Something made him look behind and he knew it was all over when he saw more of the white cloaked, steel helmeted knights charging down the ravine past the Caravan with lances pointing forwards.

  He groaned and shouted at his men to turn round but his voice was lost in the din of the battle. He shouted again and several of his men turned and stared in horror at the new threat. Even more shocking were the four Saracens riding at their head fighting with the Christians, and slowly men started to turn as word spread; it was too late as the lances found targets. One knight and the four Saracen warriors turned towards Faruq who knew he could fight or run, he glanced about at the mêlée and realised there was nowhere to run to. He rode at the five men who bore down on him. It was a sudden violent clash and Faruq felt the long sword of the knight smash down onto his head. His ill-fitting skull cap would have deflected the blow in normal circumstances but not this time and he felt the misshapen edges cut into his head. He fell back dazed and stunned; falling from his horse he lay semi-conscious and listened without hearing as his attackers carried on past him to join the fight.

  De Capo barely gave the fallen horseman a second glance, the strike should have killed him but he was stunned and unseated and he would be out of the fight for good. He correctly identified him as the leader and with his horse twisting and turning in her desperation to throw herself into the battle he quickly surveyed the scene as his men thrust, hacked and stabbed men who were confused by the unexpected appearance of more avenging angels riding demonic beasts of war.

  He spied Leopold fighting for his life against overwhelming odds and shouted at his Saracens who all joined him in turning their horses in his direction. They reached Leopold as he took another wound - a slash to his arm which penetrated through a broken link in his mail. He was astonished as he saw Saracen fighting Saracen, and in his exhausted state he just stared as his attackers were hacked to death by their own people.

  The tide had turned again and the Knights of the Imperial Order of Jerusalem once again had the advantage. Those on foot found renewed strength and energy and charged forward, cutting down onto heads and bodies. As they surged forwards they stamped on the faces of those that fell, and the blood splattered and sprayed and gushed onto the ground to be soaked and dried by the ever relentless heat of the sun.

  The second attack by de Capo had brutally destroyed half the men who were left and the odds were now even. Faruq’s men weren’t cowards but they knew when they were beaten and a man fell to his knees and threw away his sword and begged for mercy, others followed but the knights had a bloodlust and they continued the slaughter of those who surrendered.

  De Capo shouted orders at his Saracens and they all dismounted and protected Leopold from further attacks as a number of Faruq’s men refused to give up. They yelled obscenities at the four Saracen warriors who were fighting with their enemy, lunging forwards in a desperate attempt to kill them and finish what their comrades had started. They met the same fate, dying swiftly as the curved swords split open their flesh. As the rest of the yielding bandits were being slaughtered de Capo spun his horse round and screamed at his men, ‘PRISONERS….I WANT PRISONERS!’

  He rode through the melee repeating the order and slowly his men heard the command and raised swords were lowered. As the killing stopped and men took stock of what had happened they stood and stared. Men bled, sweated and shook as the rage of
battle slowly left them, and those that stood looked at those who were still mounted and waited as de Capo rode slowly amongst the kneeling men. He stopped, looked down at the survivors, at the corpses of his men and watched while Leopold hobbled across being helped by Bundar and Ali.

  ‘Bind them, find me their leader and release the merchants.’

  ‘For once I was glad to see you,’ said Leopold as he stood leaning against the two Saracens, ‘and I owe these men my life.’

  De Capo nodded, ‘Aye, and not so long ago you tried to kill them.’

  Leopold ignored the comment and looked about at the carnage his men had caused and watched as the surviving bandits were bound, ‘What are you going to do with them?’

  De Capo turned in his saddle and surveyed the scene, ‘Punish them….those are my orders from the Constable.’

  Leopold looked up at de Capo and gave a small nod, ‘So what we do next is legal?’

  De Capo removed his helmet and wiped his face. He unstrapped a water skin, pulled the stopper and took a huge mouthful before replacing the stopper and lobbing it at Leopold.

  Once he had taken a drink he smiled up at de Capo, ‘Well, is it legal?’

  ‘Aye, it’s legal…..but,’ cautioned de Capo, ‘there will be no spiking.’

  Guarded by de Capo’s men, Faruq and his surviving men knelt in rows and watched in silence as the severely wounded were put to the sword. The victors simply walked among them and either thrust their swords into their throats or pierced them with lances, they all died quickly.

  Faruq’s head was covered in dried blood from the cut he sustained from his ill-fitting skull cap and once more he cursed the man who attacked him with the hammer. If the skull cap hadn’t been damaged the sword strike may have glanced off and allowed him to escape. He saw Salman talking to the knight who had attacked him and the knight listened intently. Salman turned and pointed at Faruq. The knight looked in his direction and spoke to two of his men who turned and walked swiftly towards him.