by DAVID B. COE
“I suggest we move along,” he said.
Kad led them around the back of a larger stone building, still angling them toward the outer wall. They managed to cover a short distance without being discovered, but as they emerged from a narrow passage between two buildings, they encountered a large contingent of pirates. Two dozen, perhaps more. Landry considered a tactical retreat, but already Redman’s men had blocked off the entrance to the byway they had followed. They would have to fight their way through.
“Keep close to each other,” Godfrey said, speaking to Kad and his men. “Again, we’ll take the center.”
Kad cast a quick look at the men blocking their escape, who had begun to advance through the passage. “What about those behind us?”
“Draper?” the commander said.
“Of course.”
The Turcopole pulled the stopper from the second vat of oil. He heaved it back between the two buildings. It struck one of the stone walls and shattered, dousing the passage with oil. Draper took Landry’s torch and threw it into the byway as well. Flames erupted, climbing the soaked stone wall and creating an impassible barrier. It would burn out eventually, but for the time being the pirates behind them could not join the fight.
Those in front of them presented enough challenges.
They charged, with a battle cry that resounded off the surrounding buildings. Landry slung his shield over his shoulder and drew his second sword, gripping it as well as he could with the swollen, pained fingers of his right hand. The other Templars fought with both their weapons as well. Godfrey whipped his blades around him with controlled fury, his wheaten hair and the silver of his weapons blurring amid the torch-fire.
Two men bore down on Landry. He had time to register their size – both were tall and muscular. Both favored their right hands. Then they were on him. He met their initial assaults with his swords raised. The blows shocked both arms, sent tremors through his chest, tore a grunt from his throat. He held on to both weapons, though. A small victory.
A cry from behind him distracted him for an instant. The two pirates attacked again, pounding at him in unison. He barely parried one blow with his own sword. He took the second poorly with the rusted weapon in his wounded hand. The pirate’s blade careened along the length of his own, and skipped over the hand guard and across his wrist. The bracer he wore offered some protection, but he hissed a breath at the pain. A wash of blood warmed his hand and dripped to the ground.
The pirates pressed their advantage, slashing at him again.
Landry parried a third time, with more success. But he couldn’t keep this up indefinitely. Standing in tight formation with the other Templars had seemed a good idea at the start. Now, though, he needed room to move. As the pirates readied their next assault, Landry struck at them, swiping at each with his blades. They had to defend themselves. As they did, he slipped between them, spun, and attacked again, whipping both swords at only one of them. He raised the rusted blade, leveling a blow at the man’s head. A blow he knew the pirate would attempt to block.
By the time the man realized his mistake, Landry had used his off hand to slice the man open from armpit to navel. The pirate went down, blood gurgling in his throat.
Landry whirled again to meet the other pirate’s attack. It didn’t come immediately. Wary now, the pirate circled, looking for an opening. Landry gave him none. He bounded at the man, lashing with both weapons, high on the left, low on the right. The pirate evaded the blows, but tripped, fell onto his back. Landry swooped over him and delivered a killing blow to his chest.
He yanked the weapon free, turned, and ran to Gawain’s aid. Three pirates had him trapped against the nearest building. He bled from wounds to his arm, shoulder, and brow.
Landry plunged his blade between the shoulder blades of the middle pirate. The man’s back arched and he dropped his weapon. Landry shoved the man’s body off his sword and rounded on a second man. This cutthroat backed away. Landry advanced on him, feinted with one sword, and stabbed him through the throat with the other.
By the time he spun again, Gawain had killed his remaining foe. The Templar nodded to him, grim and breathless. They took in the destruction around them, both searching for their next opponents.
Several of Kad’s men had been killed. Landry had no time to make a careful count. The lead sailor himself fended off two attackers and looked to be overmatched. Blood soaked his shirt and covered one side of his face.
As he parried a blow from one man, the other appeared poised to deliver a killing strike to his back. Landry shouted at warning and sprinted to Kad’s aid. He knew, though, that he wouldn’t reach the sailor in time. Still running, he heaved his rusted sword at the second pirate. The flat of the blade struck the man in the face, knocking him off balance. Landry collided with the pirate a heartbeat later. Both sprawled to the ground. The pirate’s sword flew from his hand; Landry held on to his. He pounded the hilt into the man’s face, then drew back and pierced his heart.
Kad still fought the remaining pirate. He held his off arm tucked to his side, and grimaced with every parry.
Landry scrabbled to his feet, and jumped to the sailor’s side, taking the next strike on his sword. The pirate lashed at him, then spun – a move Landry had used countless times before. He countered with a pivot of his own. When the pirate completed his turn, his sword poised to strike, Landry was ready. He hacked at the man’s sword arm, nearly severing it just below the elbow. The pirate screamed. Landry finished him with another thrust to the heart.
As the pirate fell, Landry searched for another opponent. Seeing none left alive, he straightened, let his sword hand fall to his side.
“I believe this is yours.” Kad handed him the rusted sword he had thrown.
“My thanks.” Landry lifted his chin in the direction of the sailor’s injured arm. “How bad is it?”
“I’m all right. Let’s just get to the wall and find that sally port.” He paused to survey the scene, his gaze lingering on the men he had lost.
Landry counted four dead. All the Templars lived still, though every one of them had sustained fresh wounds. Godfrey and Tancrede leaned on their swords. Gawain clutched at the leg he wounded in Acre.
Landry didn’t know how many more encounters of this sort they could endure.
“This way,” Godfrey said, motioning toward the fortress wall.
“Godfrey.”
All of them turned at the sound of Draper’s voice. Another band of pirates, at least thirty strong, drew near. They were armed with swords and cudgels. At the fore walked a man in chain mail and a tattered, stained tabard bearing a Templar cross.
Redman.
Chapter 19
“I put this on just for you, Templars.” The Monk gestured at the tabard, a smug grin on his angular face. “I’d wondered if I would have occasion to wear it again.”
Gaspar stood a pace behind him. He appeared to be enjoying himself as well.
“Surrender,” Redman said, mirth fading.
“So you can execute us?” Godfrey answered. “I think not.”
“I’ve an idea,” Landry said softly. “But we need to retreat.”
“Funny,” Tancrede said. “Retreat was my idea, too.”
“You will die no matter the choice you make, Templar,” Redman said, still addressing Godfrey. “But think of the sailors fighting with you. They need not perish as well.”
“We’ve been through this before,” Landry said, remembering the men lost aboard the Melitta. “We need to go back, now.”
Godfrey took a moment to consider the force arrayed before them. “Yes, all right. Lead the way.”
Landry turned and ran, waving the others after him. “Follow me, brothers!”
The Templars and Kad’s remaining men ran with him. Landry explained what he had in mind as they ran. Redman and the other pirates pursued.
He couldn’t lead them far. Hobbled as they were, the Templars were unable to remain ahead of their captors for lon
g. Fortunately, for his plan to work, he didn’t need to cover much distance. He just needed to do so in time.
The first pirates caught up with them as the Templars and sailors reached the building they had left burning. Much of it was engulfed in flame, but to Landry’s relief it stood largely intact. He and the others backed away from the burning structure, keeping it in front of them.
The pirates stalked them, perhaps sensing that the prisoners could not survive many more battles. Redman and Gaspar trailed behind, appearing content to watch their men finish off Landry and his friends.
This fight began much as the last one had. Landry, Godfrey, Tancrede, and the rest of the Templars stood shoulder to shoulder, each wielding two blades. As the pirates descended on them, they spread, giving themselves room to maneuver. Kad and his men guarded their flanks.
Redman’s men battered them with blow after blow. Landry faced three men this time. It was all he could do to parry their attacks and prevent any of them from getting behind him. His brothers struggled as he did. They were biding their time, waiting for what they knew would come, what had to come eventually. Still, the punishment meted out by the pirates forced him to consider that he might have erred in leading them back this way. Another of Kad’s sailors fell, a cry torn from his heart and then cut short.
“How long can this take?” Landry hollered.
The pirate directly in front of him frowned at his cry, no doubt wondering what he could possibly mean.
And in that moment, the first of the rum casks exploded, as the knights and sailors had known they would. The pirates, who had their backs to the building, flinched at the explosion, losing their balance and lowering their guards.
The Templars struck at them, cutting down several men before the pirates recovered enough to raise their blades again. The second and third casks erupted, blowing the roof off the building and driving several of the pirates to the ground. Burning planks of wood pelted down on the combatants. The Templars and Kad’s sailors fought through the onslaught, like men caught in a flaming rainstorm.
Two more explosions made the ground tremble and scattered burning debris in every direction. In the confusion, Landry and his comrades managed to kill and wound nearly a score of pirates.
By now, though, the fire had destroyed the structure. There were no rum barrels left to explode.
At the first explosion, Redman and Gaspar had raced forward to help their men. They reached them now, and threw themselves into the battle. Landry tried to get to Gaspar, but a burly pirate stood in his way, wielding a cudgel that must have weighed two stone at least.
Tancrede engaged Gaspar. Brice pitted himself against Redman.
The pirate swung his hammer. Landry dodged rather than parried. Tancrede fell back under Gaspar’s assault. Brice parried desperately.
The pirate swiped at Landry with the cudgel again. The iron head passed so close to Landry’s face that he felt the rush of air, smelled the tang of metal. The swing left the pirate off balance. Landry hewed at him with both blades, carving open the man’s back and shoulder. The pirate howled. Landry dropped the rusted blade and, gripping his sword with both hands, hacked off the man’s head.
He spun.
In time to see Redman drive his blade into Brice’s chest.
The young knight went rigid, mouth open. He dropped his sword, clawed at the blade of Redman’s weapon. The Monk, eyes alight with reflected fire, twisted his sword and ripped it out of the lad. Brice fell.
Landry roared. He reclaimed his second sword and bounded toward the Monk.
“Good!” Redman shouted, seeing his charge, a fearsome smile distorting his features. “I hoped to kill you myself. You are the cause of all this.” He waved his blade as he spoke, a shimmer of steel that encompassed all the damage the Templars and sailors had inflicted on his compound.
Landry said nothing. Reaching the man, he struck at the Monk with both blades. Redman parried one blow with his sword, the other with his shield, which also bore the red cross of the Temple.
He countered with a flick of his own sword. Landry swiped at the man’s blade, but he was too late. He felt a stinging high on his cheek, a trickle of warmth running down into his beard.
“First blood is mine,” Redman said. “I hope the rest of this won’t be so easy as that. I expected more of you, Templar.”
Even as he spoke, the tip of his sword whipped out again. It nicked Landry’s neck, drawing more blood.
“He was a friend of yours, the boy I killed.” He gestured with his shield toward Brice’s body. “Ah, but of course. He was your brother. You are all ‘brothers.’” He laughed.
Landry sprang at him, swords whirring. Redman parried one, twisted away from the other, and landed a blow of his own to Landry’s side. The edge of Redman’s blade didn’t penetrate his mail, but it sent Landry tumbling and stole his breath.
He bounced to his feet again and circled the Monk, adjusting his grip on his swords. He had sparred with his fellow Templars in training. He knew what it was to fight men as skilled as he. But he was wounded, weary. Redman was neither.
Landry feigned an attack with his right hand, stepped closer to the Monk, pivoted and pounded at him with both swords. That, at least, was what he intended.
His weapons, though, carved through nothing but air. Redman stabbed at him from the side. This time, the point of his sword pierced Landry’s armor, slicing into him just above his waist.
Landry gasped, flung himself down and away. The blade tore his flesh. Blood soaked his side. White-hot pain paralyzed him for the span of a heartbeat.
Redman prowled toward him, mockery gone, murder in his gaze.
Landry forced himself up, raised both swords. After a moment’s consideration, he tossed away the rusted blade and unslung his shield.
“A good choice, I think,” Redman said. “Not that it will matter in the end.”
Landry rushed him, shield raised, sword sweeping out toward Redman’s neck. The pirate blocked the sword strike, and pounded the hilt of his sword into the side of Landry’s head. Landry stumbled, fell again.
He dragged himself up, sucking at the air. The gash in his side screamed agony. Blood loss made his hand tremble. His legs were uncertain beneath him.
He stared at Redman, watching the pirate saunter toward him. The Monk made no attempt to shield himself. He didn’t seem to think Landry was much of a threat.
In truth, he wasn’t. Exhausted as he was, his weapon might as well have been forged of lead. He could stand, but he wasn’t sure he could take another step, or even move his shield to counter a killing stroke.
He had come to believe that they would find their way out of this fortress, that they would cross the Mediterranean to France and, eventually, reach Paris. Yes, there had been a time when he doubted, but Godfrey had challenged his faith, and he had come to see in that challenge a chance to redeem himself before the Lord. If he believed, if he reclaimed his faith in God, God, in turn, would deliver him and his brothers. That was what he had told himself again and again in this last day.
Now, it seemed, he had been wrong. About so many things. They would not all be going home. Brice lay dead only a few feet from where he stood. The young knight would not see Paris again.
Neither would Landry. He would die on this cruel rock in the middle of the sea, his blood spilled by a fallen Templar.
Redman loomed before him, smiling again. His sword raised to deliver this final blow.
Do I deserve this fate, Lord? Landry wanted to ask.
But he didn’t. He feared the answer. And as it happened, he didn’t get the chance.
So many things he had gotten wrong.
Including, it seemed, the number of barrels of rum that had exploded.
One last explosion from the scorched building shook the ground. Landry, facing the fire, raised his injured hand to shield his face.
Redman had his back to the structure when the barrel exploded. He half turned to see what had happened, even
as the force of the explosion staggered him, sent him reeling toward Landry.
Landry had some strength left after all. He stepped to the side, brought back his sword, and swung with all his might. Redman appeared to remember at the last moment where he was, what he was doing. His gaze snapped back to Landry. His eyes widened. He tried to flinch away, to raise his blade in defense.
He did manage to raise his off hand, as if warding a blow. Landry’s sword sliced through the Monk’s fingers and then cleaved his face in half. Redman swayed, Landry’s sword holding him upright. A shower of blood stained the pirate’s old tabard, the red Templar cross seeming to vanish as the cloth was soaked crimson.
Landry pulled the blade free, allowing Redman’s body to sag to the ground.
He turned. Gaspar stood perhaps twenty paces away, staring at the Monk’s bloody corpse. Four pirates stood with him. Not enough to fight the six surviving Templars and the eight men Kad had left. The pirates backed away. At last they wheeled and ran. Landry took two steps, intending to pursue them, but Godfrey called his name.
“They’re going to find more men,” the commander said. “We can’t defeat them this way. This is our chance to get away.”
Landry knew he was right. “What about Brice?”
“We have no choice but to leave him.”
“Godfrey—”
The commander cut him off with a raised hand. “I know what you would say. We left dead men in Acre as well. Do you doubt that the Lord saw to the preservation of their souls? He will do the same for Brice. We will pray for him. But we must get away from here.”
Landry eyed the lad’s corpse, breathed a quick prayer, and crossed himself. His brothers did the same. Kad and his men waited in silence. When the Templars finished their devotions, all of them, knights and sailors, made their way at speed back toward the nearest expanse of wall.
Fires burned in several buildings, including the prison that had held them. A cloud of dark smoke hung over the fortress, its underside stained a shifting, baleful orange by the flames. Landry heard shouts from every direction, but Redman’s pirates seemed to be in chaos. The knights and sailors encountered a few individuals along the way. Most fled when they saw the escapees. The few who dared try to stop them died in the attempt.