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Twenty feet away… I shrieked, “No…”
I reached her at a cross angle just as the Tafur swung his ax. I swept Aimée to the ground and covered her, expecting at any moment to feel the blade of the ax buried in my back. But no blow came.
The Tafur galloped by, then reversed. He stood for a moment, tightening his reins, surveying the rout of his fellows.
I knew his mind; I had seen it many times in the Crusade. It was the time of the battle when one knows all is lost; the only thing left is to fight whatever comes into your path and cause as much death and mayhem as possible until you too are taken down.
I pushed Aimée out of the square and raised myself to my feet. I stood there facing the attacker, nothing to defend myself with but my wooden staff.
I didn’t want to die here. But I would not run.
The raider reared his giant horse and galloped into a charge. I stood my ground as the thundering shape barreled toward me.
I braced myself and raised the staff.
Chapter 95
AS THE CHARGING HORSEMAN raised his ax, I darted to the side opposite his weapon. I swung my staff as hard as I could at his mount’s legs. The animal neighed in pain, buckled, then threw its rider. The Tafur hit the earth with a mighty crash and rolled over several times until he came to a stop ten feet from where I stood.
His giant war ax had fallen to the side. I ran to grab the weapon. In the time it took to arm myself, the Tafur had managed to right himself and draw his sword.
“Deus adjuvat,” he taunted me in Latin-God aid me, “as I send this little rat tail back to his maker.”
“By all means, God, look on,” I replied in kind.
He charged at me with a ferocious roar.
I could see him go high with his blade and met his blow, our weapons colliding with a loud clang. We stood there eye to eye, each trying to drive his blade into the other’s neck, muscles straining to the limit. All of a sudden the Tafur jerked his knee into my groin. The air rushed out of me. I gasped and bent in two. In the same instant, he swept his sword toward my knees, and I summoned every sliver of strength to counter with the ax.
Again we faced each other, eyes blazing. He tried to headbutt me with the crown of his helmet, but I threw myself back. [287] I stumbled, and the Tafur leaped at me, swinging his blade back and forth with a maniacal fury.
The Tafur saw that I was slowed. He laughed. “Come here, fairy. You look like you might want to feel a set of real balls.”
I crouched back warily. His sword was too quick. In this form of fighting, I was no match for him. The ax was clumsy and heavy in my weakened grasp.
“Come…” He blew me a kiss.
I looked him in the eye, panting heavily. I knew I would not be able to ward off the blows much longer. I felt my legs wobble; I was out of strength. I searched my mind for any form of skill or trickery I had seen in the wars. Then one clicked in. It was crazy, desperate, not a soldier’s but a jester’s trick.
“Why wait?” I said, lowering the ax, pretending to be beaten, out of fight. “What’s wrong with now?”
I turned my back to him. I hoped I wasn’t insane.
I bent into a deep crouch, flipped up my tunic, and let him see my rear. “C’mon …” I said. “I’d wait for a real man, but you’re the only one here.” I tossed the ax about four feet ahead of me.
In my crouch, I saw him raise his sword and come. Just as he was set to run me through, I sprang into a forward flip. The Tafur sliced at the air where suddenly there was no person. His sword stuck in the soggy earth.
I landed on my feet and in the same movement pivoted and grabbed the handle of the ax. I sprang back around as the surprised Tafur struggled to free his sword.
A look of panic spread over his face. This time it was I who laughed and blew him a kiss.
I swung with all my might and sent the Tafur’s head hurtling like a kicked ball.
I sank to my knees, out of breath. Every muscle in my body felt as if it were about to explode. I dropped the ax, sucking precious air into my lungs.
[288] Then I rose and picked up my staff. As I did so, a snickering voice intoned, “Well done, i
I turned. There was another Tafur. He had a black cross painted on his helmet, but his visor was up, revealing a cold, scarred face that I thought I had seen before.
But it was not the face I was focused on.
The bastard was holding Emilie.
Chapter 96
“LET HER GO,” I told him. “This isn’t her fight.”
The Tafur was large and strong, and he twisted Emilie roughly by the hair with his sword edged into her neck. His dark hair was long and greasy and fell over his scarred face. A cross was burned into his neck.
“Let her go?” He laughed. The Tafur twisted Emilie harder. “But she is so pretty and sweet. What a treat she’ll make for me.” He inhaled her hair. “Like you, I am not used to sifting my pole through such highborn trash.”
I took a step toward him. “What is it you want from me?”
“I think you know, i
I focused on his hard, laughing eyes. Suddenly the past rocketed through me. The church in Antioch.
He was the bastard who had killed the Turk.
“You are the one doing these terrible deeds?” The Tafur gri
“ ‘You are free’… i
“Tell me what you want!” I shouted. “You’ve already taken everything I have.”
[290] “Not all, i
“Where is what?” I screamed, I looked at Emilie, so helpless there. Anger flared in my blood.
“Do not toy with me, Red.” The Tafur glared. “You were there in Antioch, the church. I saw you. You were no more praying than I was. Quick now, or I will ram my blade through her pretty skull.”
I was there … Suddenly it came clear to me. The cross. The gold cross I had stolen from the church. That is what this was all about. Why so many people had died. “It is buried on the hill,” I said. “Let her go. It is yours.”
“I will not barter with you.” The Tafur’s face began to twitch with rage. “Hand me what I want, or she will be pig slop, and you next.”
“Then take it. I stole it from the church. It was just a trinket to me. I don’t even know what it is, what it signifies. Just let her go and I will bring the gold cross to you. Just let her go.”
“Cross…?” I could not tell if it was confusion or rage that shook his lips. He dug the blade into Emilie and spat, “I do not want your fucking cross, not if you took it from Saint Peter’s ass. You know very well what prize you hold.”
“I don’t know!” My head was spi
“You must.” He jerked Emilie’s head back.
“No!” I cried. What else could it be? I looked at this monster. Black Cross. He had killed Sophie. He had tossed my son into the flames. He had taken from me everything I loved. And now he would do it again. For what? For a thing I did not have!
“Whatever it is, is it worth following me all the way back from the Holy Land? Slaughtering i
“It is!” His eyes lit up. “Those souls are meaningless compared to it, and a thousand more like your wife and seed. Now, [291] i