Deus Vult

Chapter 4

The blaring trumpets signaled the beginning of the assault on the castle walls. With their swords, axes, and shields raised high, the attackers let out a thunderous battle cry as they raced toward the walls. Rodrigo felt his heart pounding in a mixture of fear, excitement, and pure adrenaline as the assault began.

The knights and warriors in the tournament were divided into two groups, the attackers and the defenders. A section of Count Raymond’s castle was used to conduct the battle. Fifty warriors would assault the wall with ladders, while another fifty would defend the castle walls and protect five flags placed in different areas along the wall. The two most difficult flags were placed in the well-protected flanking towers on either side.

In moments, the attackers had reached the base of the wall. The ladders went up, and metal hooks attached to the top of the ladders came down, biting into the wall. Frantically, the attackers began scrambling up the ladders as others tried to hold them in place to keep them from being pushed off the walls. The clash of steel rang out as axes and swords fell upon those who had reached the top. Their weapons had been blunted, but the dangers they faced were very real. It was not uncommon for men to suffer grave injuries or even be killed in such tournaments.

Rodrigo climbed as fast as he could. One of the grappling hooks on the ladder beside him was pried loose, and the ladder was pushed away from the wall. He watched as several men still hanging onto the ladder fell backward. As the ladder fell back to the ground, some of the men were caught by their fellow warriors below, but others landed hard upon the ground. Reaching the top of the wall, Rodrigo leaped onto the walkway in the midst of the yelling and the chaos. Immediately, he was attacked by two of the defenders, who came at him from both sides. A heavy mace swung downward and was met with Rodrigo’s sword as he parried the blow. An axe came crashing down upon his shield on the other side with such force that his arm went numb from the impact.

Bending low at the knees and wheeling around, Rodrigo swung his sword in an arc at the legs of the warrior on his left. The heavy blow buckled the knees of the warrior, who collapsed on the stone walkway. Rodrigo turned quickly again and raised his shield to defend against the blow he knew was coming from the other side. The mace came crashing down onto his shield, just above his head. Lowering his shield and striking quickly before the warrior could recover from the swing, Rodrigo smashed the pommel of his sword into the warrior’s face. Blood sprayed from the warrior’s shattered nose, knocking him off balance and sending him reeling backward.

Rodrigo hesitated for a moment, staring at the man as he fell to the ground, blood pouring from between the man’s fingers as he held them to his face. Rodrigo’s heart was pounding, and his mind was racing. He did not wish to seriously injure his opponents, but he felt caught in whirlwind of violence and action with no choice but to push forward. He lowered his head and set his jaw as he swung his sword and fought his way toward the flags. I must not let fear and concern cause me to lose sight of my goal!

I must not let fear and concern cause me to lose sight of my goal!* * *

High above, two men watched the action from a tower overlooking the castle wall. One of the men, Bishop Adhemar of Le Puy, watched the violence and chaos unfolding below with a keen interest, his steady gaze following every action. The permanent scowl etched on his stern face was accentuated by his forked beard. A papal legate and representative of the Pope, Adhemar was no ordinary bishop. Aside from his duties in the Church, he commanded troops, including several ranks of cavalrymen, and had been ordered by the Pope to join with Count Raymond’s forces as they prepared to journey to the Holy Land. Upon his arrival at Count Raymond’s castle, it was Adhemar who had organized the tournament and spread the word throughout the lands.

Adhemar pointed to one of the warriors below. “Look, this one shows some promise,” he said, leaning over to Count Raymond, who watched the battle beside him. “He fights as though his very life depends on victory.” Adhemar stared intently as he took a sip of wine from his goblet. I will need to find out who this man is. He may be one that I can use.

I will need to find out who this man is. He may be one that I can use.“He certainly fights like a man who believes in the cause,” Raymond said, looking down at the battle. “We will see how long that lasts as the day goes on. Jerusalem will not fall in a single afternoon. The men who take it must be willing to give everything they have, and more. And that, Bishop Adhemar, will be the final test in a long and difficult campaign, if we make it that far.” His kindly, bearded countenance was now marred with a frown as he turned away from the wall and sat down on a chair next to a table filled with meats, bread, and fine wine. Count Raymond of Toulouse was one of the wealthiest and most pious of the European nobles who had committed to waging a holy war for the Pope and the Catholic Church.

“If we make it that far? Do you have doubts, my lord?” said Adhemar, raising an eyebrow as he turned to Raymond.

“I have been in enough wars and campaigns to know that this difficult journey will test the mettle of all the men who go with us to the Holy Land,” Raymond said, staring into his goblet as he swirled its contents.

“Yes, my lord,” Adhemar said, turning his attention back toward the battle taking place below. “All the men shall be tested, and only the strongest, bravest, and most righteous will be there when Jerusalem falls.”

“We shall see, Adhemar, we shall see,” Raymond replied.

The battle for control of the walls raged below them throughout the morning while Count Raymond and Bishop Adhemar continued their conversation in the tower. All the while, Adhemar had kept a watchful eye on the individual actions of those engaged in combat.

“The tournament fighting has been quite fierce, my lord, as was expected,” Adhemar said. Without taking his eyes off of the battle, he motioned for the servant waiting behind them to come and fill his goblet. “There are acts of skill and valor from both sides. I have my eye on a few who have stood out so far.”

“Yes. The fighting has been intense,” Raymond said as he set his empty goblet aside. “It is a shame that some have already given their lives to prove their honor and bravery. I do not wish to see any more good men throw their lives away needlessly for sport. Should that happen, I may consider calling an end to the tournament.”

“What?” Adhemar turned from the battle and stared at Raymond with a frown. “No, my lord, you must not,” he said firmly.

“I must not?” Raymond asked, looking back at Adhemar with raised eyebrows. “Need I remind you, Bishop Adhemar, that you are a guest here? I will do as I see fit in my own castle.”

Adhemar took a sip of wine from his goblet, but his stern gaze did not break from Raymond’s. “And need I remind you, my lord, that no one is above the Pope, and I, as his representative, insist that the tournament continue to its completion. The Pope has requested that five knights be chosen from this tournament for a special purpose. It is my duty to His Holiness to fulfill his request after the tournament has completed. You may do with the rest of the men as you please, but you must allow the tournament to continue to the end.”

after Count Raymond stood up from his chair and walked to the edge of the tower before turning to Adhemar. “Very well, Adhemar. But if any more of these warriors give their lives for this tournament, I will hold you responsible, and you will deliver the last rites yourself.”

As Adhemar turned from Raymond back toward the action below, a faint smile curled upon his lips. “Of course, my lord. It would be my honor.”

* * *

The midday sun beat down upon the attacking force as they huddled in a group below the walls to rest from the fighting and lick their wounds. The fierce battle had raged all morning, and the sun was now high in the sky. The first assault had gone well, and the defenders had yielded two flags. The second assault had been much more difficult, as the defenders had used their experience from the first assault to repel the attackers more effectively and had only yielded one flag. The attackers were preparing for one final assault. The last two flags were in the towers on either side of the wall and would be even more difficult to capture.

Rodrigo wiped beaded sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand as the droplets ran down his face, stinging his eyes. His hair was matted and wet, and he knelt with one knee on the ground and his steel helmet on the other. He looked at the men around him. Most were sitting on the ground, leaning against their shields with their heads hung low. Some were lying flat on their backs, breathing heavily from near exhaustion.

Rodrigo’s mail armor was damaged and torn in some areas from the force of the blows he had received, as was the armor of many others. His hand rested on the hilt of his heavily notched sword, and his shield lay by his side, dented and cracked. A heavy silence hung in the air, a stark change from the mood after the first assault, when the group had been buzzing with energy and ideas on how best to assault the walls and capture the flags.

Rodrigo looked down in thought as he replayed the first two assaults in his mind. What would my uncle do in such a difficult situation? His uncle, Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar, whom he was named after, was a Castilian warlord and a renowned hero and champion to his people. His uncle had faced overwhelming odds many times in battle and overcame them all with strategy, cunning, and bravery. He was not only a great warrior, but also a scholarly, learned man who had studied the great battles of antiquity. Rodrigo remembered sitting wide-eyed and silent as a young boy, fascinated as his uncle recounted these battles and discussed the strategies that had aided the victorious.

What would my uncle do in such a difficult situation? His uncle’s words came floating back to him as he pondered their situation. You see, Rodrigo, all warfare is based on deception. Where we are able to attack, we must appear unable and inactive. We must make the enemy believe we are far away when we are near and strike when they believe we are most vulnerable.

You see, Rodrigo, all warfare is based on deception. Where we are able to attack, we must appear unable and inactive. We must make the enemy believe we are far away when we are near and strike when they believe we are most vulnerable.Rodrigo looked around for a moment, and behind them, he saw the large tent where the wounded men were being treated. His eyes grew large as he stood up and called to the others. “Everyone, listen!” he yelled, waving for his companions to move closer to him. “Come close and listen! I have an idea of how we can capture the flags!”

Though they were exhausted from battle, the men gathered around Rodrigo to hear what his sudden enthusiasm was all about. When he had finished laying out his plans, they quickly dispersed and took their up their positions on the ground, gathering the ladders and their weapons in preparation.

* * *

The trumpets blared from the castle, signaling the final assault. A battle cry went up from the attackers as the entire group rushed toward the tower on the far right of the wall. They did not divide their forces as was expected, but instead chose to concentrate their assault on a single target, raising several ladders up against the tower walls. Seeing what was happening, the defenders quickly moved their forces off of the wall and into the tower to repel the assault. The attackers scaled the ladders quickly with shields held high, fending off the terrible blows from axe and sword aimed at sending them down to the ground below.

Rodrigo watched the movement on the walls closely from behind the tent flap while he and others waited in the tents of the wounded. He gave a quick glance behind him at the men inside the tent, then yelled, “Now!” Throwing back the tent flap, he began running, carrying the front of the ladder in one hand and his shield in the other. Four men rushed out of the tent toward the wall, each pair carrying a ladder.

One pair broke off from the small group and headed toward the middle of the wall with their ladder, while Rodrigo and his companion moved closer to the tower on the far left. The ladders went up quickly, and the four men began scrambling to the top as some of the defenders finally noticed what was happening. A cry of alarm went up among the defenders as several left the battle and began moving quickly to the opposite tower. The two knights ascending the ladder in the middle of the wall had just reached the top when they were engaged by the defenders.

Rodrigo reached the top of the ladder unopposed and leaped over the battlement onto the walkway. He glanced at the men in the middle of the wall, holding off the defenders. The walkway was narrow, and the two could hold them back for a time, but not for long.

“Go and help them!” Rodrigo yelled as the man behind him stepped over the battlement onto the walkway. “I will go for the flag!”

The two split up as Rodrigo turned and ran toward the tower, drawing his sword. As he entered the tower, he skidded to a sudden halt. He lowered his sword, and his gaze traveled upward from a pair of large leather boots to the top of a spired helm. A gigantic Norman warrior stood before him, holding an axe in one hand and a sword in the other.

“Ha! Your little ruse may have worked, but did you really believe the flag would be left undefended?” the Norman warrior scoffed as he looked down at Rodrigo. The two stared at each other for a moment, but then the bearded giant roared like a lion and charged at Rodrigo. The fearsome warrior swung his axe as he charged, smashing Rodrigo’s shield as it connected. The force of the blow split his damaged shield and spun Rodrigo around, and he landed on the floor. Rodrigo quickly scrambled away, throwing away the useless shield and narrowly avoiding the swing of the warrior’s sword, which sent sparks flying as the metal struck the stone floor.

“Get up and face me!” the giant yelled as he pressed his relentless attack.

Rodrigo stood up and desperately swung his sword with both hands to parry the next blow from the warrior’s axe. The metallic ring was deafening, and his sword snapped in half, unable to withstand the blow. Rodrigo’s eyes went wide. Not knowing what else to do, he rushed the giant warrior as he recovered from the swing and lunged for his legs. The unexpected move caught the Norman off guard, causing him to teeter off balance for a moment before falling to the floor, yelling and cursing as he went.

Rodrigo sprang to his feet and, picking up the hilt of his broken blade, he ran to the base of the flag flying above the tower and struck with all his might. The metal bit into the wooden pole, but it did not break. Prying the broken blade loose, he struck again, but the heavy shaft held firm. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the giant warrior swinging his sword from behind. Rodrigo ducked, and the sword glanced off the top of his helmet, sending it flying from his head to clatter across the tower floor. A sudden dizziness assailed him, and Rodrigo felt his legs go weak as he crumpled to the floor.

Flashes of light filled his vision, and he turned and looked up just as something fell across his face. Pulling it off, he realized it was the flag. The warrior’s sword had glanced off his helmet and into the shaft of the flag, finally bringing it down. Enraged, the giant warrior recovered from his errant swing and roared as he lifted his sword above his head. Rodrigo sat helplessly, knowing there was nothing he could do.

Suddenly, a trumpet blast sounded in the distance, and cheering could be heard from the crowds all around. With a look of anger and defeat, the warrior lowered his weapons. The tournament was over, and the attackers had won.