The Knights Dawning (The Crusades Series)

by James Batchelor

  William pulled his horse around to survey the battle field. All was chaos. Henry and the remaining knights were outnumbered at least three to one. William scanned the meadow for the giant. He located him on the opposite side of the field, calmly watching what transpired. William spurred his horse forward to work his way to him.

  ***

  The bandits from the trees were upon them, riding through their ranks and crossing swords with the knights. The first side made a pass, leaving several saddles empty. As they charged among the men, Henry easily deflected the clumsy stroke of one bandit and then blocked a second stroke from a rider closely following the first. Suddenly the second wave of bandits was upon them, wiping out yet another group of men. The first made a wide circle and again rode back into the fight.

  Henry drove his sword at the closest Moor who had been one of Richard’s captors. His blow was deflected and countered. Henry caught this counterstrike on his small buckler strapped to his forearm and struck back quickly, but to no avail—the Moor’s shield took the blow with ease. The two were locked in this struggle until the Moor’s mount, reacting to a nearby pass of a bandit, turned. The Moor wheeled completely around to take a swing at the bandit. Henry took this opportunity and, rising in his stirrups, brought his blade down on the helmet of the Moor with both hands, cleaving into it and finishing him.

  A small group of bandits surrounded the chest and jumped down to collect it. The Moor that had been looking into the chest stood suddenly and rammed his sword into one of the closest rogues, only to have the next one cut him down where he stood. His face did not even register the surprise at the fatal blow, so swiftly was he dispatched.

  ***

  The giant was not overlooked in this all-encompassing melee. It was the wild running bandits that took notice of him first. A small group of them broke away and rode to meet him. The giant held aloft a large mace on a chain with spikes jutting from it. He began swinging it above his head. The first bandit to reach him caught the full force of the blow on his shield. The spikes did not penetrate the heavy shield, but the sheer weight of the blow shattered his arm. He screamed in pain and hunched protectively over his arm in the saddle. Another bandit was there, and the giant redirected the strike intended to finish the first man at the second. He dodged to the side, feeling the wind as the deadly mace rushed over his face. The giant kept the weight of the mighty weapon spinning in circles and immediately came around with another blow, but the bandit was also stabbing at him and he was forced to intercept the bandit’s blade with this swing. He struck it with enough force that the bandit’s sword was swept from his hand and went spinning to the earth.

  As the giant’s mace came around again, his opponent leapt from his stirrups, hitting the giant in the chest with his shoulder and sending them both tumbling to the ground. The giant lost his grip on his own weapon, and the momentum of the swinging mace carried it some distance across the meadow before it came to rest in the dirt.

  From across the field, William saw his chance and began carving his way toward the giant, his spear spinning and twirling, both ends finding targets in the fray. He was not careful to dispose of the Moors that he encountered. His only focus was on getting by them.

  The bandits had succeeded in loading the chest on horseback and were leading the heavily-laden animal back into the trees. With the disappearance of the chest, the motivation for all three groups enmeshed in the melee seemed to vanish. Henry recalled the remaining knights to him. Two of the saddles were empty from the skirmish. The Moors, their numbers now cut in half, broke and fled in confusion. The bandits retreated as suddenly as they had appeared, leaving behind several of their wounded.

  The giant, however, was otherwise occupied and could not beat a retreat with his men. He and the bandit wrestled to get to the fallen sword, which lay close to where they had landed. The bandit smashed the giant in the face with his elbow and jumped to his feet to run for the sword; but the giant, recovering quickly, brought a massive fist into the side of his knee, knocking it out from under him. The giant then lunged from all fours at the fallen weapon. The bandit desperately grabbed and hugged the giant’s legs, bringing him down mid-lunge into the dirt; but the giant’s reach was just long enough that, even being brought up short, he was still able to wrap his hand around the weapon while he kept his opponent busy with a flurry of kicks. The bandit rolled once to get away and looked up just in time to see his own leaf-shaped blade slicing the air toward him. It was stopped only a moment shy on the shaft of William’s spear. William made no attempt to hide from the giant the smug smile that he wore on his lips as their eyes met. The giant was now lying on his stomach, prostrate in the dirt, as William stood over him, weapon ready, every advantage his. Their eyes met, and for just an instant William saw fear in the giant’s eyes, replaced rapidly by rage. He roared and began hacking furiously at William’s feet and legs.

  William easily stepped out of reach and reversed his swing, bringing the blunt end of the spear sharply against the giant’s hand. The bandit’s sword landed in the dirt several feet away, and again everything froze as William and the giant stared each other down.

  “I know not what perceived wrong you have received that you should harbor such malice against my family, but it matters not now. You die as you have lived, like a dog in the dirt.”

  The corners of the giant’s mouth flicking up in the traces of a smile that he could not repress were the only warning William had of the attack. He jammed his spear straight back and caught the belly of the first of a group of Nizari charging to the aid of their leader. Maintaining his grip on his weapon, William executed a quick forward roll to keep him clear of the others and came up facing this new group of enemies. He was aware of the giant crawling quickly out of reach, but there was nothing to be done about it for the present.

  Before him stood three Saracen soldiers, the fourth down on his knees, looking in shock at the blood covering the hands that were pressed over his belly wound.

  By now the bandit had recovered his weapon just as he was attacked by a fifth man who made a clumsy lunge with his long sword. The bandit quickly sidestepped it, knocked the blade down with his own heavy weapon, and swung up along the length of the Moor’s extended arm to find his unprotected neck.

  The whole exchange had taken only a moment, but the giant had regained his weapon and was charging back toward William. The bandit, heedless of the direction the giant was headed, interposed himself in his path. Their fight was not complete.

  “Not now!” the giant roared, unleashing a furious assault on him. “You are not important. Stand aside!” It is difficult to block a mace on a chain with a sword as the chain tends to wrap over the blade and cause unexpected results, such as broken blades, or even the swordsman losing his grip all together. As such, the bandit did not try to block the fierce strikes from the stronger man. Instead, he rather skillfully deflected them. But the giant did not lose his momentum—each time a stroke was deflected, he continued his strike, bringing his heavy weapon around again and again until he found a weakness in the bandit’s defense. A hesitation, a misjudged parry, or a misstep and it would all be over.

  Meanwhile, William faced his new attackers across only a few yards of ground. They knew who he was and were in no hurry to rush him now that his back was not to them. It was too dangerous, and none of them wanted to be the first into the devil’s teeth. William's focus was only on his targets. His anger at this injustice was focused on them and only them. He was cognizant, however, of the fencing match taking place between the giant and the bandit not far from him, and he knew he needed to end this quickly. He studied the men closely. One Moor in the rear was protecting a wounded knee. Another had his guard low from trying to use a weapon that was clearly too heavy for him, and the third looked ready to retreat at any moment. William was studying them so closely that he failed to notice still another Saracen approaching from the rear.

  Without warning William leapt, feinted a quick stab of his wea
pon at the antsy opponent, who promptly jumped backward. He dropped and spun, kicking his heel out, taking out the man with the bad knee who had instinctively shifted his weight back to it when William advanced. As a result, when William connected with it, it popped and he screamed as his leg folded under him. William did not stop spinning but came up with his spear coming around at head level, catching the claymore-wielding Saracen in the face as he attempted a stab at William. William had the reach on him, however, and he lost his right eye to the point of William’s spear before he could make contact with his thrusting attack.

  William withdrew a step to assess just in time for the Saracen quietly approaching from behind to get there. William was still unaware of him when the Saracen made a savage stab at his unprotected back.

  ***

  The bandit saw what was happening. He saw the man sneaking up behind the English knight and knew that if this assassin succeeded, he would be outnumbered quite suddenly. He tried to call out but it was useless. The knight was too engaged to hear him. The giant at last started to tire in his barrage of assaults, and the bandit caught the handle of the mace from a clumsier stroke on the base of his blade. It slid down to his hilt, and he and the giant were eye to eye. There was something strangely familiar about this face now that he was up close, but he was sure that he did not know him. The bandit slammed his right elbow into the giant’s face while maintaining his hold on his blade. The giant stumbled back, jerking his mace free with his right hand as his left hand came up to his face.

  The bandit saw his chance to finish this, but just then the other Saracen was rearing back to strike the unsuspecting knight’s back. Without hesitation, he turned. “William!” he roared and hurled his sword end over end. The Saracen heard him shout and paused just long enough for William to dive aside and avoid the thrust. The Saracen lurched back out of the way, and the bandit’s spinning blade made a deep gash in his right arm that was yet extended from attack.

  The giant did not hesitate, and the bandit turned to face him just in time to see the mace come down toward him with crushing force. The bandit lurched at the last moment so that, instead of hitting him in the head as was intended, the mace smashed down on his clavicle with the spikes cutting deep into his body. The force of the blow made the bandit’s left side go instantly slack, and he started to collapse. The giant brought the mace up and around in a heavy underhand swing into the bandit’s chest as he pitched forward. The force of the blow spun the bandit’s entire body around so that he landed on his face in the opposite direction he had been falling.

  “No!” William screamed, desperate to end this struggle quickly. He was aware that even as he traded blows with this wounded man, the Saracen with the broken knee had struggled to his feet. William extended his spear straight on and charged the Moor that had been at his back. It was a foolish move that left William open to an easy parry and counterstrike, but so surprised was the Saracen after fending off strike after strike of oblique attacks that his parry was too little too late, and his blade was dashed aside by the force of William’s drive, which plunged into his stomach. William took a hopping step forward and kicked the body off his weapon with a foot to the dying man’s chest. Whirling his spear, he spun round and hurled it with all the force of his panic at the crippled man who was even then hobbling toward him. The Saracen’s dark eyes grew wide in the instant he recognized his fate but knew there was no way he would avoid it. The spear entered his chest, and the finely crafted head of the weapon exploded out the back of his leather armor, carrying his body back as his feet came up, propelled rearward by the force of the strike. He landed on the earth several feet back from where he had last stood, the spearhead driven into the earth by the weight of his body.

  Seeing that the field was rapidly emptying of all but the English knights, the giant crossed the short distance to his horse, slowed just long enough to retrieve something from the grass, and leapt into his saddle to gallop to the safety of the trees.

  William raced over to the bandit, who was lying in a heap on the ground. Panic seized him, and William slid in the dirt on his knees in his haste. A glance was all it took for the shock to jolt through his body. The giant was instantly forgotten. He turned the bandit onto his back. William could hear a wet sucking noise as the bandit tried to inhale. “David, you’re going to be all right,” William said desperately. “Henry! Henry, its David!” he screamed. His friend was still alive but could not speak because of his wound.

  David’s light blue eyes were wide, and panic was plain in them. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came. “Relax,” William said too forcefully. He was trying to hide his own panic as he cradled his friend’s torso on his lap. He tore a strip of cloth from his clothing and held it over the gaping wound that was all that remained of his crushed clavicle and shoulder. The cloth was instantly soaked in blood. William was consumed with too many emotions to articulate. He had seen too many wounded men to fool himself; he knew David's wound was mortal, and he had no idea what to say that might comfort him. So instead he yelled, “Hurry!” as Henry and Neil raced across the field toward them. The remaining knights were dressing the wounds of the injured.

  “David, I'm sorry,” William said. “I'm sorry that I was not with you. I'm sorry that I did not get to you. I'm sorry I was not a better friend to you.” The words were spilling out as he watched the light dim in the eyes of his oldest friend.

  The terror in David’s faced increased as he felt the darkness closing in on him. He gripped at William’s arm frantically in pain and desperation, his back arching in pain. The end was near. William tried to imagine what would be on his mind at this moment if their roles were reversed. He offered a silent desperate prayer for his friend. “David,” he said in a calm voice, hoping that David could not see the tears that were streaming down his face or hear them choking his voice, “be comforted. Salena and Rachel will be watched over.” David’s body began to spasm. William gripped his hand tightly through it. “Do not fear the reaper,” he said gently. “He takes you to the arms of our loving Savior, as you lived in honor and glory.”

  David’s arm slackened and his eyes went dark as the light of his spirit slipped from him. “Goodbye, my friend,” William said through tears that flowed freely down his face.

  Then Henry and Neil were beside him. Henry squatted and gently checked David’s breathing and heartbeat. It took only a moment to confirm what he already knew. Neil stood in shock and said nothing.

  Henry put his hand on William's shoulder. William, still kneeling by the body of his friend, was unable to stem the flow of tears. “He was a good friend to you, and he died with honor on a noble quest in the field of battle,” Henry said awkwardly. “No knight can ask for more than that. He will be buried with honor.”

  “No,” William choked through his tears. “We will take him with us!”

  “Toward what end?”

  “He deserves a proper burial in his own soil.” William was climbing to his feet again.

  “His body will never survive the trip home. It is too far,” Henry protested. “Let him be buried with dignity here rather than as a bloated, stinking corpse in England.”

  “We will bury him in The Holy Roman Empire then. I will not leave him here in this unholy place.”

  “But this is the land where our Lord walked, the land of Abraham,” Henry argued. “This is the Holy Land.”

  “It is not dirt that makes a place holy; it is the actions of the people who occupy the land.” William turned back to look at his friend’s body. “The Lord lived among these people because they were the most wicked in the world, and now it is occupied by filthy heathens that are no better. I will not have him left here in this place. We take him with us.”

  Henry wanted to argue, but he saw the futility of fighting it. “Wrap him up,” he ordered two knights working nearby. “He's coming with us. Now let’s be off immediately. It is not safe here.”

  As if to punctuate his statement, he stopped.
r />   “I want—” William started.

  “Shh!” Henry ordered sharply. “Listen!”

  The meadow seemed eerily quiet now. A strange contrast to a bloody field that moments before had been steeped in commotion and death. Then they felt it. It was a sensation more felt than heard, a dull rumble like thunder in the distance. “They’re coming,” Henry said, and all at once everyone was moving. Henry broke for his horse and shouted to the other knights. “They are coming! Ride, ride!”

  “Neil, help me!” William ordered as he was shouldering the body of his friend.

  Neil looked around nervously and then helped William throw David’s body over the back of his horse. There was no time to secure him. William jumped into the saddle and spurred his horse forward as Neil raced to his own mount.

  They broke into the tree line as a small army of Nizari made a wide sweep from the road into the meadow, only to find an empty pasture that could have lain undisturbed for years.

  ***

  The Nizari reined in sharply and surveyed the meadow. Abdul had expected to find Amir, Bashir, and a group of knights. Instead all he found was an empty meadow in which scarcely a twig was moving. For the briefest of moments, Abdul knew panic as he thought they had the wrong location. But upon closer inspection, he could see dead among the grasses. This must be the place.

  He quickly counted the dead—only seven and none of them Amir. So, where were the knights? Where were the English dead? What had happened here? “The trees!” he answered his own question. “They must be fleeing into the trees, and Amir is pursuing them.” They might be getting away, he thought again with some panic due to the displeasure he knew another failure would most certainly arouse in Amir. Abdul could not afford another failure. He needed to act quickly. “This way,” he ordered and charged forward. “Three lines,” he commanded without pause. The group divided into three separate arms and thundered into the trees. Abdul’s line charged directly into the trees at the far end of the meadows, while the other two groups split into a “Y” shape around the center group and entered the tree line at opposite angles. Abdul was counting on the fact that if the knights were fleeing, they would be in a dead run and would not be taking the time for subterfuge, making them easy to track.