Pagan's Crusade Read Free Page A

shiny white silk; some like piss-holes in the sand. His left cheek looks like a corn field, all ploughed up into neat furrows. Every hole is clearly visible from a distance of thirty paces.
    ‘ Right! ’ His call to order, sharp as a shutter banging. ‘Before we begin this chapter of squires, I have one or two announcements I want to make. Firstly – sunburn. Our Brother Infirmarian, Brother Gavin, has reported an alarming increase in the number of sunburn cases reporting to the infirmary. Brothers in Christ – are we men, or are we Michaelmas daisies? Sunburn is not going to kill you. I, on the other hand, will kill you if you keep on wasting our Brother Infirmarian’s precious time.
    ‘Secondly – new arrivals. You should have noticed a couple of strangers in the ranks today. Stand up, Kidrouk and Fulcher.’
    Twenty-two staring faces. Fulcher has freckles, no eyebrows and a bad case of sunburn.
    ‘Kidrouk has been assigned to Lord Roland and Fulcher will be posted to Acre next week to replace Bongratia, who was recently expelled for unmentionable conduct involving a female.’ (Replace the word ‘female’ with ‘pile of dead maggots’. He spits it out like a sour grape.) ‘The Scriptures tell us “by means of a whorish woman a man is brought to a piece of bread”. This is absolutely true and don’t you forget it. Sit down, Kidrouk and Fulcher.’
    It’s hot inside the chapter hall, and there aren’t enough benches. Everyone’s squeezed together – sticky with sweat – under a pall of buzzing flies. The windows are too high to look out of.
    ‘Now, today’s tactical talk is on the subject of brigands. First of all, does anyone not know what a brigand is? Excellent. Then we should make some progress.’ Rockhead starts pacing back and forth, and the flies get the hell out of his way. (They know what’s good for them.) ‘One hundred years ago,’ he continues, ‘when Jerusalem was delivered from the hands of the Infidels and restored to Christ, the way was opened for many thousands of pilgrims to visit the Holy Land. The road from the coast became littered with their corpses, as bands of brigands picked them off like insects.
    ‘But then a small group of knights, led by the Order’s founder Lord Hugh of Payens, set themselves the task of protecting these pilgrims, accompanying each one along the dangerous pilgrimage routes. Gradually the number of dedicated fighters increased, until they became an army big enough to defend the entire kingdom. Right now they are defending the kingdom. But protecting pilgrims from brigands has remained a vital part of our Order’s sacred duty to this very day.’
    Pause for effect. You can tell Rockhead’s learned this bit off by heart. Suddenly he snaps back to life again.
    ‘Some people might tell you that pilgrimage escort is a soft option. These people have boiled tripe for brains. Pilgrimage escort is hell on earth – and not because of the brigands. Pilgrims are called lambs of God for one very good reason: they’re as silly as sheep. Do not, at any time , give any pilgrim the credit for any brains. To do so is the road to instant disaster.’
    Hear, hear. Tell me something I didn’t know. Pilgrims on street patrol – your very worst nightmare. Either you’re picking their corpses off scrap-heaps (robbed and murdered) or hauling them out of the gutter (penniless and dead drunk). Even worse, the ones that can talk. ‘You call yourself a Christian? . . . Do you know who I am? . . . Are you going to do something about this? . . .’ God preserve us from the pious pilgrim.
    Someone sneezes, and Rockhead glares. He would ‘appreciate total concentration because of the important nature of the subject’, etc. etc. Looks like we’re in for a long haul.
    ‘Some brigands are just hungry peasants who throw stones,’ he announces. ‘Some follow caravans like wolves, preying on stragglers. Some come and go in the dead of night, leaving the odd corpse behind