The Templar Knight by Jan Guillou

Author:Jan Guillou [Guillou, Jan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Fiction, Historical, Action & Adventure, Romance, General
ISBN: 9780007351671
Google: oTTJ7uBt5x4C
Amazon: 0750532300
Publisher: HarperCollins UK
Published: 2009-11-11T16:00:00+00:00

As springtime approached, the infirmatorium in Gaza’s fortress was gradually emptied until only two knights remained. One of them would be lame for the rest of his life, and Arn gave him a position with the weapons master as a smith.

A couple of weeks earlier Siegfried de Turenne had returned to his fortress, Castel Arnald, completely recovered, as evidenced by his latest practice ride and rounds with the sword in Gaza.

Spring was a time to make preparations before a more hectic period began, since trade by sea was always cut back in the wintertime, because of possible danger to the ships from storms.

Arn divided his time between bookkeeping for the customs master, Koran studies conducted with the Arabian doctors, riding practice, and taking care of his horses. Since Siegfried had left, Arn spent the most time with his beloved Arabian horse Khamsiin. Other brothers probably thought that he was overdoing things in that respect, because he talked to his horse in Arabic, using intonation and gestures as if the horse could understand his every word.

The unusual thing was not the expression of love for a good horse; every Templar knight could understand that. But horses were the most susceptible to the enemy’s arrows, and yet the fortress master’s steed had managed to survive as long as it had. That was with the horse he rode closest to the enemy’s archers, when he led the Templars’ light cavalry, the Turcopoles, against the enemy mounted archers. He rode the Frankish stallion Ardent, for whom he clearly did not feel the same personal affection, in the heavy armored attacks.

With the arrival of spring more ships came to Gaza, now and then with a load of newly recruited riders and sergeants. It was always the same pitiable scene when the pale men hobbled ashore, their legs wobbly after their many weeks at sea. These loads of troops usually came all the way from Marseille or Montpellier.

Arn and his weapons master took turns holding welcome ceremonies for sergeants and brand-new knights, for now almost any newcomer could be dubbed a knight over in the preceptories of France without any preceding probationary year as a sergeant. This meant that they received a number of tenderfeet, who were allowed to wear the white mantle and then had to be treated as fully accepted brothers. This required a good deal of conciliatory mediation, for the tenderfeet often had an exaggerated notion of themselves, their courage and ability. Even worse, their idea of what these more or less imaginary characteristics could be used for seldom corresponded to reality.

Easier to handle in this regard were the new sergeants, who were often older and rawer types with greater experience in war, but lacking the nobility required to become a knight.

In the first shipload of seasick sergeants, who had clearly had an especially nasty last week at sea, there were two men who during the formation for the welcome ceremony in the courtyard of the fortress showed not the slightest sign that the journey had done them any harm.

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