The morning sea wind washed over Gérard’s face. He stood alone in the balcony of the manor, overlooking the sea, just as he liked to do back in Elagnon. His left hand had mended well the last month, and he had been exercising it, so that it could be as strong as it used to be. He could now spar with Xavier and he did so every dawn with gusto. That morning’s sparring session had concluded several minutes ago, leaving the knight with some bruises and scratches and Xavier with some more.
Gérard turned and entered the room, closing the balcony door behind him. He looked on the office and saw a single letter, left there by the servant that took care of the pigeons. The knight took the letter, broke the seal and started reading.
“A call to arms, again?” said Xavier suddenly as he entered the room. “Indeed. It’s from Lord Robert. He says his spies discovered the hideout of pirates that have been plaguing the seas for years. The very same pirates who killed the previous lord of the Trident.” said Gérard, picking an apple from a basket on the table. “And?” asked the man-at-arms raising an eyebrow. “And it’s deep in Vashta territory, and we have just signed a treaty with them. Lord Robert is eager to proceed with their extermination, of course, but the Grandmaster hasn’t made any decision, yet. So, I am to take some men and travel to Bae-Acre with the Order’s Cog, in order to be ready if the Grandmaster approves of this assault.” Answered the knight, as he chewed the apple. Xavier scratched his chin. “How many will you take with you?”
“You, two or three men-at-arms, and twenty sergeants. A good complement, don’t you think?”
“You descend from a naval house, you tell me.”
Gérard sighed. “Pick the men and order them to prepare. Ward will take command in my absence.” Xavier bowed and left, without saying a word.
------.------
The familiar feeling of leaving safety emerged at Gérard’s breast, and his stomach tightened as he boarded the Holy Order’s Cog, the
Divine Wrath, with Xavier, three men-at-arms and twenty sergeants. The crew welcomed them on board and made every effort to make them comfortable. As soon as the preparations were made, the ship sailed from the anchorage of the Trident with course to Bae-Acre. Gérard’s uneasiness quickly turned into excitement and trepidation for the coming battle, as his beloved sea winds caressed his skin.
The journey was short and unperturbed. The ship’s captain, who sported a Germanic name that Gérard found impossible for some reason to remember-he resolved to just call him “Captain”- appeared eager for the coming battle, as they entered the port of Bae-Acre. The knight stared at the massed fleet of the Order and could share the captain’s optimism. Cogs, Carracks, some armed with the latest canons from the forges of the Reich, others with traditional catapults and ballistae and all of them bearing the azure sail with the red cross emblazoned on it. Many Lords of the coastal settlements had also brought their ships at the command of Robert Agerton, their standards adding a splash of colour in the multitude of the Order’s blue sails.
The
Divine Wrath closed with Lord Agerton’s flagship, the Carrack
Ferocious and Gérard with Xavier boarded the vessel. “Gérard, Xavier! You arrived just in time!” said the Steward, who sat in a command chair, magnificent in his golden trimmed plate armour and crimson cloak. The knight and the man-at-arms bowed deeply. Lord Robert rose up, waved his councilors aside and stood before the two men. He placed his left hand on Gérard’s shoulder. “Good to see you again! How’s the hand?”
“It has healed well my lord. What is going on?”
“We received orders from the Grandmaster. We are to destroy these pesky raiders!” answered Robert jubilantly. “Get to your ship and keep in formation! We leave immediately!”
Afternoon. The waves broke upon the
Divine Wrath’s wooden hull, as the ship moved into the vanguard of the fleet. Sergeants hastily made ready their crossbows while the crew manned the ballistae and hefted their arquebuses. Enemy ships had been spotted on the horizon. Apparently the pirates had decided to engage in open war with the Order’s fleet
. Are they so bold, or rather desperate? thoughtGérard as he stood on top of the prow in full armour. Other, lesser knights might have discarded the protection for fear of drowning, but Gérard was of House Châtillon, born into the sea. He wouldn’t be wrong-footed in the slippery wooden deck of a ship, like the clumsy mainlanders. The sea was his friend.
The knight held the shield in his left arm, and cradled his greathelm in the right hand. His blue surcoat had been wetted by drops of seawater from some bigger waves. He could see the masts of the pirate ships closing the distance. “Full sails ahead!” commanded the Captain, his voice lost amidst the organized chaos on the ship’s deck.
Gérard looked to his right and left and his chest heaved with pride as the Christian fleet surged to meet the Muslims. The ballistae started to fire their huge flaming projectiles. The knight placed his helmet on, stiffening his vision, but making him feel safer.
The two fleets closed the distance quickly. Several vessels had been struck on both sides by the flaming projectiles, but the real bloodshed was about to begin. The flagship
Ferocious was the first to break through the enemy lines, and the mighty ship unleashed thunderous broadsides with its Faustian-made cannons, crippling two dhows as she passed between them. The crews of the Christian fleet erupted into violent cheering, as the smoke cleared to reveal the burning wrecks of the two pirate vessels, their passengers jumping into the ocean screaming in agony, while flames ate their flesh. As the battlelines blurred, the sound of hulls crashing into each other was fierce, the crews of the ships that could not match the firepower of the
Ferocious, engaged in traditional and bloody boarding actions.
Gérard drew his blade and gathered his sergeants and men-at-arms at the prow of the
Divine Wrath. “Hoist the sails! Left full rudder!” shouted the Captain, as a ganja, a large version of the dhow appeared in front of the cog. Its appearance was sudden, as the smoke from the thunderous roars of the cannons had obscured vision. Gérard stood at the head of the clutter of men formed on the ships fore, with Xavier at his right. They held their shields up, as the first arrows screeched through the air. A spearman sergeant was struck in the face, and he fell on the hull, screaming. Two crewmen dragged him back. Gérard’s crossbowmen answered the shots. Three pirates fell in the darkened sea. The cog couldn’t possibly avoid contact with the ganja, and the two hulls collided side by side in deafening sound.
The knight leapt to the deck of the pirate vessel with a furious warcry and Xavier and the other two men-at-arms not far behind. The lightly armoured pirates couldn’t withstand the assault of such well-armoured troops, but they were many more than the Christians. Gérard hacked wildly left and right, his flanks covered by his trusted men-at-arms. The four armoured warriors stood like castles amidst their lighter opponents. Crossbowmen and arquebus-wielding crewmen of the
Divine Wrath poured a devastating volume of fire at point-blank range, others supporting the knight and his men and others killing enemy sharpshooters. Cries of pain and anguish mingled with cheering in a deafening and strange crescendo of sound. “Push!” shouted Gérard with all the strength of his lungs. The warriors pushed at the ailing mass of demoralized pirates, allowing the spear-armed sergeants to board the ganja.
The slaughter commenced.
We break formation. The momentum is definitely on our side, as more and more sergeants pour on the deck. Through the slits of my helm, I see a pirate aiming at me with an arquebus. A crossbow bolt strikes his neck but the weapon discharges, and the bullet goes right through my shield. I feel no pain. My armour may have stopped it. A pirate comes to me, throwing his weapon down and kneeling before me. Is that man trying to surrender? My sword-hand moves instantly and instinctively and my bastard sword cleaves his head. “Die, scum!” Xavier stabs another one next to me, and raises his blooded sword in salute. Beneath my helm, I smile. The old man stands proud and honourable in battle, with nearly a crippled hand. Would that other knights behaved as such. “No prisoners! No mercy! Kill them all! God wills it!” I yell, as I place my foot on the dead pirate’s chest and pull my sword out of his skull. My men cheer in response. The body of the dead man slams into the ground, like a sack of potatoes. The blade is stained by parts of brain and bone. A strange red colour has settled on the edges of my sight.
As I kill and kill, the red is widening and my vision is half-swallowed by it. It’s like I am fighting in a red mist.
Finally, the ganja is ours. There are no living Muslims here, only jubilant Christians. The stench of blood fills my nostrils, making me agitated. Good Lord, it has grown dark! As we turn to return to our ship, I notice a shade that grows larger behind the red mist.
Cannons thundered in the distance, the flashes of their muzzles visible like suns for mere seconds and the sounds of battle were all over the air. It was getting darker, the sun was setting and the smoke from the cannons obscured everything. Horst Rhoichendorch, captain of the
Divine Wrath felt uneasy. He couldn’t see past fifty meters, and he was stuck with an enemy warship, exposed as a worm on the road in a rainless day. That insane knight he was carrying had led a boarding assault, killing everything on board that pirate ganja. As the sergeants were retrieved by the Wrath, a shadow loomed in the horizon.
From the smog, a dhow-type ship appeared, but larger than anything the Captain had seen before. Clouds of arrows fell upon the exposed crewmen and sergeants. Cries of pain and anguish filled the Rhoichendorch’s ears, as crewmembers dragged their fallen comrades on the slippery deck, covered with blood, saltwater and the innards of the less fortunate. A ballista bolt launched from one of the giant dhow’s ballistae almost point blank, skewered two sergeants, their armour and shields worthless against such force. The projectile fell into the sea, taking the two screaming men with it. “Quickly, get back here” he screamed at those still on the ganja’s deck, his voice betraying his panic. Grappling hooks pulled the pirate vessel near the ganja. Almost all men had retreated back to the cog. All but one, who stands like a statue as if no slaughter happens around him. That
insane knight!
Red! Everything is red! Someone approaches…a human? That’s not a human! Great horns protrude from his hairy head and his eyes have a sinister yellow glow! He raises his rotten blade to strike at me but I parry quickly and strike him down. Abomination! Many more appear, jumping from a hell ship disgorged from the pits of the Devil himself. I raise my sword and charge against the hellspawn! The blood of martyrs is the seed of Christianity.
Xavier watched in horror as his master charged heedlessly into the mass of boarding pirates
. Gérard was brave but he always measured the situation before charging into the fray. Even when he charged at the Thorns, there was no other way, if the civilians were to escape safely. But this time, it was different. The knight charged, howling like a wild animal, into the mass of the pirates. There was only one explanation for this. The men-at-arms breathed deeply. “Rally to me!” he shouted. The tired sergeants as well as the two other men-at-arms answered the call, hastily. “To our lord!” Xavier yelled, and charged at the pirates, his men behind him. The
Divine Wrath’s crew assumed firing positions again, and fired withering fusillades against the foe.
The pirates hoped for an easy victory, but the suicidal assault caught them off-guard. Gérard bashed a man with his shield, and threw him overboard, beneath the dark waves where the sharks held a macabre feast caring not if they devoured Muslim or Christian flesh, while Xavier hacked through another. The sergeants had formed a shieldwall, and pushed their enemies back, stabbing them with their spears. The pirates had lost the initiative and were now routing back to their ship.
Xavier tried to restrain Gérard but took the knight’s elbow in the face, and staggered backwards while the maddened man jumped to the deck of the large pirate ship, hacking and slashing wildly left and right with astonishing speed and precision. He moved faster than any other armoured warrior he had ever seen. Retreat was not an option, now. He would keep his master and friend safe, no matter what. The Christian soldiers climbed on the Muslim ship and formed a wedge behind the knight. Pirates are attacking on both sides and the men are exhausted. Amidst the smoke, a mast darkened the sky, bearing a scorched azure sail with the red cross. The ship’s grappling hooks pulled the Christian vessel side by side with the other three ships, causing several men to fall to the deck, and some to fall overboard. More Christian warriors join the fray, including a figure with a long but tattered crimson cloak and golden trimmed plate armour.
“Die!” I shout as I drive my blade inside another hellspawn. I turn around and look over the hellish vessel, its deck made by gory flesh. As my view pans to the bridge, I see my brother! Henry, malformed and corrupted into a mocking parody of a human being, points his betaloned hand to me. Vengeance and justice! I sprint to the stairs that lead to the bridge, slaughtering the two pitiful creatures that tried to stop me at Henry’s commands. How easily do they fall when faced by steel blessed by our Mother Church! Their leering visages turn into expressions of anguish while the glow fades from their eyes. Another vessel crashes into the ship’s starboard side, but I don’t care. All I want is Henry’s tainted blood. For all his terrible visage, my brother proves weak of heart as I near him. He drops his mace, and kneels, begging me to spare him in a language I don’t recognise. I drop my sword and shield, remove my helmet and bash him in the face with it, causing him to fall back. I grab his head from the hair and drag him to the railings on top of the bridge. I start slamming his head on the iron surface of the railings.
“Lord Robert” said Xavier jubilantly, and bowed before the man who had saved them. The Steward nodded and both made it to the bridge where they found Gérard kneeling, covered in blood, next to a corpse with a crushed head, the grey tissue of the brain dripping slowly into the sea. The knight tried to raise his head, but couldn’t He felt exhausted, his muscles paining and his lungs aching. He was too weak, even to walk. Xavier and one of the men-at-arms held him up and helped him walk back to the
Divine Wrath. The men seated Gérard on a chair, in the cog’s bowels.
“What I felt…” muttered the knight, as a crewmember brought water for him to clean his hands and face, and clean clothes for him to wear. Xavier scratched his chin. “It’s called battle trance. Very few warriors have ever experienced it.” Gérard removed his tattered surcoat and unstrapped the coat of plates beneath it. The bullet had pierced it. The knight removed his vambraces and greaves, and his chainmail armour and found the bullet mangled with several rings. “You are lucky. The shield and the coat of plates slowed the bullet down and it didn’t penetrate the chainmail.” said the man-at-arms, checking the knight’s body for blows. The crewman gathered the weapons and armour parts and started washing them, cleaning them of blood. Xavier helped the knight to dress. “Battle trance you say? I saw daemons, Xavier. It may sound maddening but it isn’t. I saw daemons and my brother leading them.” protested the knight silently. “Indeed. Recounts of those who have entered a battle trance claim that they saw not their true opponents but their fears, and they had this chance to kill them. Your vision was also blurred by red, wasn’t it?” Gérard nodded.
“It can be a gift and a curse. You were faster and stronger than usual, but when it left, you had no energy, nothing. Not to mention that crazed assault when the ganja was boarded by the other pirate ship.” said Xavier. He placed a hand upon his friend’s shoulder. “Control it, Gérard. Never let it take you again. Mind over matter, in every fight. Control it!” Gérard smiled weakly. “Did we won?” he asked
“We did. We broke their back and we are sailing to their stronghold to get rid of them, once and for all.”
“Losses?”
“We lost nine sergeants, and the
Divine Wrath lost twenty two crewmembers and marines.”
Gérard sighed. “Many of these losses are my fault.” Xavier intervened “It wasn’t your blade nor your arrow that took their lives. If you want someone to hate, hate the enemy, and not yourself.” Gérard said nothing. “Come on, let’s go and see if there is anything to eat in this dammed vessel.” said Xavier helping the knight stand up.
A full stomach and a good night sleep can work wonders on the human organism, as Gérard discovered the next morning. He felt as light as a feather without the armour, walking on the battered deck of the
Divine Wrath. The ship bore scars from the battle last night, and was woefully undermanned. The knight could feel the crew’s angry and accusing glares. The Captain and the crew honoured their dead or what was left of them offering their bodies in the sea’s embrace. Gérard could understand their hostility, feeling responsible for the loss of many crewmembers. On the other hand, he wasn’t entirely in control of himself. Even though their hostility was plain obvious, the knight didn’t feel threatened. Noone was brave or foolish enough to lay a hand on a noble, and even if someone tried, he would lose that hand. Seamen were known for their traditions and superstitions but not their foolishness.
The coastline appeared at midday. The Northeastern peninsula of Syrianna covered the horizon. Gérard and his men started to prepare for battle.
The armour was battered but gleaming after being cleaned from the blood and the tattered blue surcoat billowed in the wind
. Gérard stood at the prow of the ship, with his fourteen remaining men, sergeants and men-at-arms; all stood battered but defiant behind him in full panoply of war. The fleet approached the coastline and the wooden palisades of the pirate fort were visible already. People ran in the beach terrified at the sight of so many warships. The anchorage was big and complex. The carracks of the Christian fleet took position ahead, and started bombarding the shoreline, while the smaller vessels and troop transports closed in to disgorge the hordes of warriors they carried.
Explosions raked the beach, as the
Divine Wrath closed in. The bombarded faded and Gérard with his men jumped into the shallow waters, weapons at the ready, and advanced to the beach. Corpses and the stench of burned flesh welcomed them, as they moved through the blackened sands. Many Crusader groups had landed but were scattered along the huge coastline. A scream from a dried throat filled the air, and a previously hidden old man started running towards them cradling his staff. A crossbow armed sergeant fired instinctively, the bolt hitting the man squarely in the chest. The scream died in his throat and he fell on his back. Gérard neared the corpse and touched it with his foot to make sure that the man was dead; as the crossbowman reloaded his weapon. “Foolish man” muttered Xavier as he stared at the corpse. Everyone was tense, even though the fort seemed abandoned. Several Crusader groups met up with Gérard and his men, at the gates of the palisade and broke them down with a hastily constructed battering ram. The men entered the fort cautiously. It seemed abandoned.
A shout filled the air and Muslim archers and arquebusiers rose from the wooden roofs and fired their deadly volleys on the surprised Crusaders. “Get back!” Gérard shouted, and many Christians followed him through the gates, outside the walls. Pirates hidden in secret trap doors covered with sand attacked the ailing Crusaders. Many knights had been stricken and laid on the ground, moaning in pain, leaving their troops leaderless. “Form a damned circle!” shouted Gérard amidst the carnage “Xavier, tell them to form a circle!” The man-at-arms yelled orders at the men. Several sergeants heard them and obeyed, forming a large circle, with spearmen and swordsmen on the outer layers and crossbowmen, archers and arquebusiers alongside the wounded on the inner layers.
A lone knight in white and red was struck by a crossbow bolt in the back, as he tried to reach the circle. Gérard broke the circle, ran to the warrior and grabbed the man from the armour’s collar, covered him with his shield and dragged him to the center of the circle as pirate bolts, arrows and bullets screamed past them. “Someone help him!” he cried, and a warrior clad in black surcoat with a white cross knelt at his side and looked at the wound. “Go!” said the dark warrior and Gérard took his place back in the circle, using his shield to bash and push back the pirates. The Crusaders were packed so tightly that he dare not swing his hand-and-a-half sword for fear of striking a fellow Christian. Instead he opted for stabbing blows to the usually unarmoured abdomen of the Muslims
The Christians fought bravely, and were soon joined by other Crusaders from the landing waves that followed and together they routed the pirates. Lighting up torches, the warriors of God entered the city en force and started lighting up the wooden buildings, burning everything in their path, looting and pillaging whatever treasures they would find.
Gérard restrained his men and searched for surviving pirates amidst the smoke. Inside a house that hadn’t caught fire yet, he found one holding his woman and child in his embrace, crying, his scimitar left on the floor. The woman knelt before the knight, wailing and begging in a strange language and the child, barely three years old, cried. He noticed that the Muslim was injured blood pouring from his ribs, staining the floor.
How might they view me? A daemonic warrior, a soldier from hell. His visage was surely terrifying, being taller and broader than the average Vashta, armoured from head to toe with the greathelm covering his head, the faceplate hiding any human feature, rendering him a man of steel, not of flesh.
To them, I am Death. Xavier burst into the house, with two spear-armed sergeants. One of the sergeants made a move towards the Muslims “No!” said the knight, and the spearman stopped. The pirate had stopped breathing. “Let’s go.” said the knight, and left the house, with his men behind him. As he left, he saw the woman cradling the child running from the house, as the first tongues of fire licked its wooden surface.
The Christians slaughtered and burned everything in the fort. The pirate threat was neutralized, and the few that survived would not plague the Kingdom of Heaven again for many decades. The exhausted but jubilant warriors returned to the beach by midnight, the entire fort blazing like a pagan pyre illuminating the dark sky. Gérard had lost three more men, two in the initial pirate ambush, and one later in that battle.
A camp was hastily erased, and the many wounded were slowly carried to the vessels, by small boats, while the healthy rested, cleaned their weapons and armour or stood guard. Gérard accompanied by his small band of men, moved through the campfires. He found Lord Robert in a large cluster of men, above a litter. Upon it, laid the knight he had saved in the morning. “Is he going to be alright?” he asked Lord Robert. “Ah, Lord Châtillon! Good fights, both in the naval battle and today. My compliments. Yes, lord Guillaume will most probably be fine.” Gérard made to leave. “You!” he heard a voice, calling out to him. The black-clad warrior that had taken care of lord Guillaume’s wound approached Gérard. Only now did the knight realize that this man was a warrior of the Order Hospitaller of St John. “You are a very brave man.” said the warrior-monk “I am brother-knight George Oshford.” he said as he offered his hand. Gérard shook it. “I am Gérard Châtillon” he replied. Brother Oshford turned to Lord Agerton and pointed at Gérard. “This man here ordered the circle to be created and dragged lord Guillaume de Nablus back to the center of it when he was struck, heedless of the risk to his own life. For that, he has earned my respect and the respect of my order.” he said. Lord Robert nodded and spoke to Gérard. “Walk with me.” The two men walked away, and started speaking in a low voice.
“You truly try to make a name for yourself, don’t you?” said Lord Agerton, smiling. “What are you talking about, my lord?” asked Gérard, dumfounded. “The man you saved. He is one of the most important lords of the realm, commanding a hundred knights, four hundred and fifty men-at-arms and thirteen hundred sergeants as well as being a personal friend to the Grandmaster himself. He also rules over the powerful castle of Kerak.” Gérard stared at the elder man. “Whoever he was, I would have done the same. I didn’t know anything at that time. Why there was noone to protect him?” he answered firmly. “I knew you would. The man had brought very few men with him, with Kerak being so close to the border with the Barka Sultanate. We are at peace with them, but you can never be sure.” Gérard nodded. “Listen, Gérard. When we return to Bae-Acre, the Grandmaster will surely summon me to Bae-Eden to report and plan ahead, along with several lords. I want you to come with me.” Gérard opened his mouth to protest. “No protests. You have earned it. You have turned the Trident into a thriving community, you have risked your life in the Thorns to protect civilians and you were among the first to assault the pirate fort here, not to mention your performance in the naval battle. Witnesses claim you killed two enemy crews almost single-handed.”
“They exaggerate.”
“That may be, but fact is, you are either very good or very lucky. Perhaps both. In any case we need you. Not to mention that the Grandmaster has his eye on you, and he is an even better judge of characters than I am. You will come with me.” argued Lord Agerton, in a voice that brooked no denial.
Gérard bowed. “As you will, my lord.”
In Memory of Blackomur
Re: Sanguinary Guardian's NEW FF: Sojourn
Primicerius
Originally Posted by The Holy Pilgrim
Very nice work here, Guardian!
Senator
Citizen
. And now I have to take my two year old son food shopping.....lord help us all
.
Semisalis
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