The Archer's Return: Medieval story in feudal times about knights, Templars, crusaders, Marines, and naval warfare during the Middle Ages in England in the reign of King Richard the lionhearted by Archer Martin

Author:Archer, Martin [Archer, Martin]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2015-01-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

There is much cheering and shouting when the castle gate opens about thirty minutes later and Yoram and his men walk out. Or perhaps stagger out is a better way to put it since some of them seem dazed and confused. We rush forward to greet them as the castle gate closes behind them.

“Are you all right, Yoram? What happened?”

“Water.” … “In the name of God, give us water,” he croaks.

Yoram’s story begins to unfold after we get some water into him from one of the archers’ water skins. Then with Henry and me, holding his arms so he won’t fall, we try to walk him down the hill to get away from the castle. As we walk I press him for the names of everyone involved. The king’s chancellor and the governor of Limassol are high on the list.

We get Yoram about half way down the hill when his eyes roll up into the back of his head and his knees buckle. He can go no farther and he’s not very heavy. So a sweating and puffing Robert picks him up and throws him across his shoulders in a wounded man’s carry.

With Henry and I each holding one of Robert’s elbows to help him keep his balance, Robert carries Yoram on down the cart track to join our wounded men in the shade by the city wall. While we are slowly making our way down to the city gate a couple of my swordsmen run ahead to make sure there will be a shady spot and wine available when we get him there.

The other men in Yoram’s party are in somewhat better shape but not by much – and I am seething. I almost hope the priest didn’t tell the king my terms and the heads and coins and concessions that are required. I told him that we either immediately get the heads of those responsible and the coins and concessions or the king’s head is coming off and so is everyone else’s in the castle. I’m starting to hope it will be all their heads.

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Yoram and our wounded are in the shade being treated by the Nicosia barbers and plied with wine and the pain-deadening flower paste when two hours later the castle gate again opens. Following the priest are a couple of the castle slaves pulling a cart into the open area in front the gate. Lord Alstain’s head is one of the six fresh cut heads on it. And so are sacks and chests of coins.

“Count the coins carefully,” I order Robert and Peter. I don’t trust the bastard.

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By the next afternoon the coins are safely on our galleys, some of our wounded men and prisoners have died, and Yoram and others are as ready to travel as they ever will be. It’s time to return to Limassol and get back to earning coins carrying refugees and taking Moslem galleys. We’ll leave the king’s dead and wounded for him to tend to. And he’d better hurry – it’s hot and they are already beginning to swell up and smell.

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