Blades of Valor by Sigmund Brouwer

Author:Sigmund Brouwer [Brouwer, Sigmund]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-60142-625-3
Publisher: The Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2014-01-21T05:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Eight

It did not seem real, the stillness of the morning air and the pastel contrasts of crowded and ancient stone buildings against olive-green and brown mountains, all framed by a pale-blue sky. It did not seem real, the background babble of the streets beneath the gentle warmth of the sun. And it did not seem real, to be walking—slowly and calmly—among the people on the streets while soldiers hunted this quarter of Jerusalem from house to house, soldiers determined to capture and crucify them.

Thomas wondered briefly if the pounding of his heart might give him and the two others away.

Crucifixion.

Could any death be more horrible for them? A wooden pole would first be placed into the ground, and a crosspiece fixed near the top to form a cross. Then, if they were fortunate, their arms would be roped to the crosspiece, not nailed. Thomas knew—should the Mameluke soldiers in pursuit choose to be merciful—that he and the two others with him would then quickly die of suffocation, because the weight of their bodies would shut off their air passages. But should it be deemed that their agony be prolonged upon the crosses, the soldiers would nail their arms and feet into the wood, thus providing support for the body and making suffocation impossible. Death would occur agonizingly slowly, from shock or dehydration or exhaustion.

Shouts of soldiers broke above the murmur of the streets as they swept from house to house. How far behind the soldiers? And how far ahead the gates?

Thomas dared not lift his head to estimate their progress. His gray-blue eyes and fair skin would be too obvious to any onlookers, for it had been over a hundred years since Crusader knights had held the Holy City. Now Mameluke conquerors ruled, and Thomas needed to keep his face hidden by the cloth that was draped over his head and neck as protection against the sun.

The other two, Katherine and Sir William, walked in wide separation and far in front. To remain in a group of three would instantly give their presence away to any sharp-eyed soldier.

More shouts and angry arguments as new houses were searched.

For a moment, Thomas let his mind wander as he imagined what a rabbit might feel, crouched and barely hidden among the grass with a hawk circling overhead. Any sudden movement would draw the hawk’s attention, just as surely as anything but a pretended calm now would draw soldiers. Yet Thomas could understand why a rabbit might bolt under the strain of waiting beneath a hawk, even knowing that to bolt meant certain death. It took great effort to force himself to walk when every nerve shrieked at him to run.

The stakes were enormous.

A terrible death through crucifixion mattered little in comparison to the scrolled map Katherine held in her travel pouch. He and the knight were to fight to the death should they be discovered. And she was to escape while they fought. For without the scroll, a much greater battle—thousands of miles away—would be lost with cold certainty.

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