Doctor Who and the Crusaders Read Online Free

murmured de Marun.
    ‘Aye, and eat us for his dinner,’ added de Tornebu, who had returned to work on the clasp again. Des Preaux glanced at the three men and rather surprised them by not replying to their jokes in a similar vein.
    ‘I have heard sounds in these woods, Sire,’ he said seriously, walking over to the King. ‘You are too far from Jaffa and the Saracens too near.’
    The King shrugged, stooped down and picked up a skin of water and a silver goblet from a little pile of refreshments laid out by the servant. He poured himself a long drink of clear water and drank deeply.
    ‘Have you seen any Saracens?’ asked de Tornebu, and des Preaux shook his head.
    ‘No, but I sense them about us. This wood might have been designed for ambush. We have none of Nature’s warning voices on our side.’ He looked at the three men, one after another, significantly. ‘There is not one bird in a tree.’
    ‘Put up your sword,’ murmured the King. ‘My hawk has frightened away the birds. Come, come, des Preaux, you sound like an old woman surrounded by shadows.’ He spread himself on the ground, rummaged among the provisions and found a bunch of grapes and began to eat them. Des Preaux looked at him anxiously.
    ‘I have put Alun and Luke de L’Etable with the horses, Sire. All is ready for the return to Jaffa.’
    King Richard’s eyes moved from his contemplation of the bunch of grapes and stared into those of the man with the sword coldly, the lazy air of relaxation dropping away from his reclining body and changing to a stiff tension. Des Preaux shifted uncomfortably, conscious that he had presumed to make a decision before referring it. But he held the King’s gaze because of his genuine concern, and his belief that danger was everywhere around the man he had sworn to serve.
    Richard said: ‘We will stay here.’
    There was a moment’s pause as the two men stared at each other, the one completely certain of his right to decide, the other afraid to give way. Finally, des Preaux reddened and dropped his eyes. Immediately a change came over the King and he smiled. Not because he had won a battle of wills or because he had achieved his own purpose. Richard, although impulsive, was not the man to feel any triumph in succeeding when he had no chance to lose. The reason men followed him, fought and died for him, was that his fairness and judgement of character were acute.
    ‘Yes, we will all stay here,’ he continued, ‘until, William the Wary, you recover your composure. And, I hope, your sense of humour.’
    As the King and his three friends gathered around the refreshments and ate and drank, a man with a vivid scar running down the right side of his face, parted some bushes about a hundred yards away and peered at them. He watched the four men intently for a moment, let the bushes close together again and sank down under cover, beckoning slightly with one hand, each finger of which was holding a jewelled ring. His dark eyes glittered and there was an air of suppressed excitement written all over his swarthy face. TheSaracen soldier he had commanded crept up to him, and lay beside him patiently.
    ‘One of these four men is the English King, Malec Ric,’ the man with the scar whispered. ‘We will come at them at close quarters. They are dressed too much alike for me to tell which is the King and which are servants or friends. But one will declare himself as they fight for their lives. He who takes command is the King and he must be taken alive.’
    He looked at the soldier beside him, their faces close together.
    ‘Alive, do you understand?’ he muttered viciously. The soldier licked his lips and nodded.
    ‘Then get my men placed well, and when I move tell them they are all to show themselves. Now go!’
    The man with the scar pushed at the soldier roughly, watched him squirm back the way he had come then turned his attentions to the unsuspecting men in the little forest clearing.
    In another part of the wood,