The Crescent and the Cross

By Kurt Scheffler

Denis is a ne’er-do-well that has lived a carefree life of adventure and lust until a fateful day that will change his life and his soul forever.

Stephan and Bassina are the innocent children of a Frankish noble until an enemy raiding party destroys their family and their childhoods.

Ibriham is the pampered son of the great Caliph who seeks to spread his beloved religion in a distant land, but is disillusioned by the dark side of humanity until he finds love in an unexpected place.

Charles the Hammer and Abderrahman are veteran warriors from two different worlds that are about to lead their forces in a battle that will determine the fate of Western civilization for centuries to come.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kurt Scheffler
• Release date: Nov 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311992574

Kurt Scheffler

I graduated from Brigham Young University in 1998. I have a graduate degree in history from Sam Houston State University and a graduate degree in educational leadership from Northwest Nazarene University.I am an educator at Vision Charter School in Caldwell, Idaho and an instructor at the College of Western Idaho and Phoenix University.My hobbies include sports, camping, fishing, and travel.The Crescent and the Cross is my first work. I hope to have many more in the future.

Book preview

Introduction

When Rome fell in 476, Western Europe became mired in the Dark Ages. Falling far from the once lofty standards of the ancient civilizations of Greece and Rome, most learning, trade, and travel grounded to a stop. Instead, the land was filled with war, crime and ignorance. During this dark time, the assorted tribal barbaric bands of Europe battled for supremacy and survival, while the people yearned for the past and the civilization, progress and the order of the fallen empire.

Out of the rubble, the Franks rose above the other barbarian bands. Under the rule of Clovis I in the years following the fall of the Western Roman Empire, he united the tribes of the Franks for the first time, and founded the Merovingian dynasty. Along with a new political order, Clovis also brought Christianity to his pagan brethren and began a struggle to unify once again the lands once were under the banner of Rome and return them to peace and prosperity.

At the dawn of the eighth century, the last of the Merovingian rulers, the boy-king, Thierry IV, assumed the throne under the guidance of the Mayor of the Palace, an awe-inspiring warrior named Charles Martel, the Hammer, upon whom real power in the Frankish kingdom rested. Under the leadership of Charles, the boundaries of the Frankish Kingdom were expanded with victories over many of the competing tribes of Europe including the Frisians, the Bavarians, and the Saxons. Despite his success, keeping the Frankish kingdom together is a constant struggle, resulting in never-ending bloodshed.

As Western Europe struggled to rebuild, the Muslim World is on a meteoric rise. Unlike Europe of the Dark Ages, the people of the Muslim world have begun a golden age full of trade, learning, art, and expansion under the rule of one man, the Caliph, the Dar al-Islam, the leader of the Umayyad Dynasty.

Not yet a hundred years old, the religion of Islam spread by word and the sword from its capital in Damascus throughout much of the known world. In short order, the ancient kingdoms and empires of Arabia, Persia, Syria, Egypt, and the rest of Northern Africa fall to the Muslim armies of the Umayyad dynasty. Only the massive walls of Constantinople and the miraculous invention of Greek fire save the Christian Byzantine Empire from joining the fates of the vanquished empires.

At the beginning of the eight-century, the Umayyad Empire turned its massive armies in Africa north, across the Pillars of Hercules, toward the lands of Western Europe. In 711, the Iberian Peninsula is the first European land to fall to the forces of the Crescent Moon. Soon after, they looked to cross the Pyrenees and plunged into the heart of Western Europe and Christianity.

This is the story of a terrible battle and a major turning point in the struggle waged for more than a millennium between two great creeds and two great cultures. This is the story of the Crescent and the Cross.

Chapter I

Spring, 721

Near Toulouse - Southern Gaul (Modern-day France)

Denis awoke just before the sun appeared over the hills. By the light of the gray-colored dawn, he could see the beautiful woman lying beside him. Reaching out he gently ran his fingers over the soft milky white skin of her bare shoulder, prompting the rise of goose bumps and small tussle from the girl. Denis smiled through a pounding headache as the memories of the night before returned. It had been a good night.

Denis sat up in the old creaking bed. After a few moments of lazily collecting his thoughts, his mind settled on a conversation he had the night before – before the fun started. He thought of how many of his comrades fervently accepted the faith of Christ and had forsaken such pleasures of the flesh. They would have considered what he did last night a grave sin. He shook his head and enjoyed a private laugh as he thought of the excitement, the pleasure, and the beauty of the previous night. He could not believe any man would willingly choose to be with just one woman their entire life or, in the case of those the clergy, no woman at all!

Though he favored no particular religion, he always enjoyed hearing of the ancient religion of his people, before Christianity had come to that part of the world. He particularly enjoyed the idea that the next life would be a never-ending cycle of war and drunkenness. He was sure whoring would be included.

Denis rolled over on his side as he shook off the morning stupor, the cool morning breeze penetrating the small cottage window. As his head began to clear, his stomach clenched, and pitch black fear descended on his mind as reality hit him. The feeling was not new, and he had begun drinking and whore chasing the night before in an effort to escape it. His efforts had been successful, but only for a short while.

The feelings of anxiety and panic grew so strong he felt as if his insides would erupt. He turned away from the girl and tried to focus on the outline of the distant hill in a small window. He took in a number of deep breaths, in an attempt to squelch the revulsion he felt.

Damn it! He cursed quietly. The battle was coming, and there was nothing he could do about it. He could run, but he was not a big enough coward to run. He was not even expected to fight. As a representative of the Mayor of the Palace, he was only there to observe the battle. Of course, no one knows how a battle would turn out, and there was still a good chance he would have to defend himself.

He truly hated times like this, when life’s event forced him to face the truth about who he truly was. During early mornings, just before he faced challenges in his life, he became mightily aware he was not cut out to be a warrior which, in his culture, meant he was not cut out to be a man. When he was honest with himself, he had come to realize his lifestyle of excessive drinking and whoring was nothing more than his attempt to cover up his feelings of inadequacy. It was a false mask he enjoyed wearing, but one only covering his true feelings.

He rolled back over on his back, the back of his head resting on his hands. His mind was awash in a deep painful fog, as he thought of the possibility this would be the day he would cease to exist.

He had to stop thinking like this, he needed a distraction.

He turned his face back toward the girl and scanned her face, searching for a name that escaped him. While he searched through the hazy memories of the night before, forcing out the deeper feelings of gloom, the door of the cottage was kicked in with a shudder. Denis! We ride to Toulouse in moments! Leave the wench alone and get your armor on!

The man at the door was Eudes, the Duke of Aquitaine. He was an ugly man, around thirty years of age, medium build, with a large gut, and an untrimmed, black beard. He had a weathered, weasely face beyond his years due to hard living. Repeatedly, he had also proven himself to be a self-server, waffling in his loyalty to Charles and the kingdom. Denis did not like him much.

Damn it man, I’m coming! Get out of my hut you fat oaf! Denis loudly responded.

Make it fast, Eudes left with a grunt, not used to being defied.

Denis put his hand to his head. The sudden disturbance intensified his headache. He knew as the personal representative and friend of Charles, Eudes was forced to tolerate much from him, but he was also expected to behave better than he was. He also knew since Charles had chosen to send him instead some of the other possible candidates revealed Charles also did not care much for Eudes. Just two years ago, Eudes had proven un-loyal to Charles, attempting to form his own kingdom in Aquitaine, a move for which Charles responded swiftly and brutally. Though Eudes had been humbled and had pledged his loyalty, Charles still did not trust him.

Denis was pulled from his thoughts by an arm gently wrapping around his waist, accompanied by a soft, pleasant sigh. Oh, my brave warrior do come back to me alive, the young woman pleaded, whose name he could still not remember.

Denis smiled as he entered into a comfortable element. Oh my darling, how cruel are the gods? I meet the woman of my dreams the night before I go off to a battle from which I will probably never return.

Yes, I know my Lord, you told me last night, the girl blushed as she sheepishly answered. But please don’t stop.

Denis studied the woman for a minute. She was not as attractive in the face as he thought last night, but they never were. She was also quite a bit younger than he had remembered. Despite it all, she was perfectly plump, and her large bosom and soft skin pulled him in. Perhaps he still had a few more moments to burn, he thought as he plotted one final conquest before the battle.

Perhaps for the personal representative of the mayor of the palace, the Duke’s army could wait a little while longer, The girl had read his mind.

The blood surged throughout Denis’ body, his earlier feelings of dread vanishing as quickly as they appeared. No doubt, he agreed as he firmly grabbed the woman and pulled her close.

A few minutes later Denis had bid adieu, dressed in his armor and had ridden to the side of Duke Eudes. That took a little bit longer than necessary, the Duke wryly accused.

Perhaps for you, but I for one, like to take my time, enjoy the moment, and make sure I do things right, Denis answered with a smug half smile.

The Duke grunted a response. His mind was too focused on a more important matter than to be bothered by this annoying representative of his lord and rival, Charles.

Denis scanned the field, before them laid an impressive sight. Situated where he was, Denis could see the bulk of the Duke's army, thousands of men, mostly infantry, but for an army of Franks, also a good number of cavalry. Most of the army was arrayed in animal hides, although a few - those who could afford it - wore pieces of chain mail armor. They possessed all manner of weapons, including swords, spears, and, of course, a Frankish warrior’s favorite weapon, the battle axe.

Out of all the great men of the Frankish world, only Charles Martel himself surpassed Eudes’ power, demonstrated by the large army he could raise in such a short time. How many men have you gathered? Denis asked.

Enough, the Duke grunted again in response. Even though the Duke had sworn loyalty to Charles after the sides fought just two years ago, both sides knew they were possible enemies again in the future. Historically, the Franks, like all of the Germanic tribes of Europe, had never been truly centralized under one ruler. Rather, the power of the numerous local chieftains far outweighed the power of the king. It was this fragmentation that had caused much of Europe's problems after the fall of Rome, and it was this fragmentation Charles Martel had hoped to end. For years, ever since Charles had seized the position of Mayor of the Palace, after the death of his father and his defeat of his half-brother, he had waged war against the Frankish chieftains who had refused to accept the authority of the king. As a result, most of the Franks had sworn allegiance to the king and to Charles. Over the years, the power and influence Charles possessed far surpassed the king. Everyone in positions of power knew the Merovingian dynasty was nearing an end and a new dynasty, founded by Charles was fast approaching.

Two years ago, when Eudes had attempted to end his allegiance to the king - and to Charles – he responded furiously, yet while the animosity between Charles and Eudes was strong, the relationship between the two rivals was strengthened when the greater threat appeared. Umayyad armies had already conquered all of Spain and had now crossed over the Pyrenees in an effort to further their conquest. Currently, their massive army was engaged in the siege of Toulouse, one of the principal towns of Aquitaine. Fortunately, the town could hold off the invaders long enough for the Duke to raise his army. If Eudes' army failed to destroy the invaders, Denis was to ride at best possible speed to warn Charles.

If the Empire of the Franks fell to the Umayyad armies, not only would the political landscape of Europe change, but also undoubtedly the religious landscape would be completely altered. Even though the Umayyad Empire had allowed Jews and Christians to practice their faiths in the areas they conquered, the conquered people almost always eventually converted to Islam. Christianity would then suffer the same fate as the Pagan religions it had just replaced a few centuries before.

Denis awoke out of his thoughts with the sounds of yelling and tumult headed toward him and the Duke. A rider, Someone nearby shouted. A messenger from Toulouse!

One of Eude's men rode up to the Duke. My Lord, a man claiming to be a messenger from Toulouse has just arrived at our camp. He wishes to speak with you.

Bring him here, Eudes answered, grabbing his battle-axe with his right hand, always wary of a trap.

Denis also grabbed his sword as the rider approached. My Duke, I have a message from Lothair, the Mayor of Toulouse.

Denis was shocked by the appearance of the man who looked ragged and thin. Denis had never lived through a siege, although he had been part of a sieging army, but few had survived from the towns he had helped to siege, and he had cared little for the fate of those who had managed to survive.

My Lord, it is Hell on Earth, the rider reported. All the old and the young have died. The strong have survived by eating whatever remains, leather, paper, rats, and some have even taken to eating the dead. Three days ago, our well completely ran dry. If you do not come to lift the siege today, the mayor will be forced to surrender the city.

Have the Saracens shown any signs of preparing for battle? Eudes asked.

No, my Lord, they seem to be lulled in a sense of security. During the three months of siege, they have gotten fat on our crops and livestock, while we starved behind the walls.

Good, Eudes knew to defeat the larger army he must have the element of surprise. Could you have been followed?

Very Doubtful, my Lord.

Eudes stared at the man for a moment and then bellowed an order to aides nearby. Show this brave man to a hut. Bring him food and water!

My Lord, I appreciate your graciousness, but I have been ordered by the mayor to ride back and tell him of your plans, the rider meekly protested.

Your mayor will get his answer soon, the Duke confidently assured the rider, Rest and drink. Tonight, you will celebrate with him.

Thank you, my Lord. God bless you and your army of the Cross! the rider added before he was led away.

Eudes turned to his aides and officers. It is time to move. We march as a body until we reach the end of the valley. The cavalry will then ride at full gallop and hopefully catch the enemy by surprise.

The men received their orders with shouts of confidence as they moved into place.

Eudes turned to Denis, smiling broadly. Are you ready to meet your maker?

My parents are dead. If I wanted to see them, I would go to their graves and not off to battle, Denis answered sarcastically.

Not a believer, eh? Eudes asked.

I don't disbelieve, Denis answered as he shrugged his shoulders. I just see it as a wager. I am betting all the believers are wrong, and when we die all of you will be upset when you realize you missed out on years of good whoring and boozing, while I will go to the grave with a large, satisfied grin on my face.

And what if they are right and you are wrong? Eudes asked, with a large grin.

I shall have some great memories to think on as I roast in Hell, Denis shrugged again.

And your lord Charles, is he a believer? Eudes asked.

Denis tilted his head back and grinned from ear to ear, The Hammer used to be the greatest whore chaser and drunkard in all of Europe, but then he found Christ, and now he gets drunk a lot less and for a time he would only bed his wife.

For a time? The question piqued Eude’s interest.

Denis studied Eudes’ face for a moment and wondered if he were telling Charles’ former enemy a little too much, but continued anyway. Charles had stayed loyal to his wife until he met a Bavarian Princess on one of our expeditions to that land. Princess Suanachilde, the most beautiful woman I have ever met, Denis answered with a far off look in his eyes as he imagined the beautiful woman.

An impressive woman, her beauty and her size combine in a way that whenever she enters a room, she immediately commands it, which makes her a perfect match for Charles. Long, blond hair, massive breasts, ample rear, she’s taller than me, but her greatest quality is the eyes. Her eyes are her most stunning feature, a deep blue, like a virgin sea. Any man that could have her would, I cannot blame Charles for taking her, married or not.

Eudes got lost in thought trying to imagine the woman. I will have to meet this girl sometime. I am starting to gain extra respect for your Lord.

Honestly, the Princess is his one remaining vice, Denis contested hoping he had not revealed too much.

Too bad, your Lord sounds like he used to an enjoyable fellow. We might have gotten along better if I had met him back during his drinking and whoring days, Eudes concluded with a half-smile. You see, like you, Denis, I am a bit of a gambler myself.

Denis leaned in toward the Duke and smiled. Well, come now my fellow heathen, let’s ride into battle and face the devil together.

Chapter II

Toulouse

Inside the walls of Toulouse the Mayor, Lothair, ducked his head at the distant sound of another missile launched from the catapults of the Umayyad army. This time the projectile landed somewhere in the Northeast corner of the town, the sound of crumbling buildings signaling it had hit a target.

They are starting early this morning, his faithful aide, Peter, commented as they slowly moved through Toulouse’s narrow streets.

Lothair simply nodded in reply. When the siege began, he had hardly known his aide, despite his years of service, but the months of hardship had brought the two much closer together.

When the enemy army first arrived, over three months ago, they had shelled the city and its walls almost continuously for over two days. Once they realized the people inside of the town and the walls themselves were not prone to fall easily the enemy had dug in for a siege. Now the salvos came intermittently throughout the day, every day, except for the Muslim Sabbath. To create terror in the city, a different section of the town was targeted every time, with no discernible pattern. Often, instead of using conventional projectiles, the Saracens would fling diseased carcasses into the city, in order to spread sickness among the people.

At first, the enemy strategy worked, the people of the city were in constant fear of the next attack. It was a wicked cycle of terror to which they eventually had grown callous. Unfortunately, the hunger, disease and thirst were much harder to get accustomed to.

As the Mayor walked through the town, he looked at the faces of his once strong people. They faithfully rationed themselves, so a month’s supply of food lasted almost three months. The water supply lasted almost a week longer. Still the help Duke Eudes had promised had not yet arrived. The city might survive a while longer with no food. The town’s rats, insects, and leather supply would keep a grown, healthy person alive for some time, but water was a different story. If the town did not receive rain today or good news from Eudes, the mayor would surrender the city at dusk. He looked toward the sky. He received little hope from the heavens.

The Mayor felt his emotions bubbling within his heart, threatening to erupt in a torrent of tears. He took in a deep breath and gave up all hope. While he knew the Saracens would probably not spare his life he prayed they would show mercy to the remaining townspeople.

A few moments later the Mayor arrived at the death pit, once again, it had grown during the night. It appeared to have almost doubled. With no room to bury the corpses inside the walls, and with the priests insisting they not be burned, a morbid, wretched pile of death had been created in the poor section of the town. The stench of the area was so strong it seemed to be a fog filling the air. Early in the siege, the mayor would hold posies to his nose to cover the smell. Now anything with a pleasant smell had been long dead or eaten, and the people were forced to live with no relief from the horrid smell.

As the Mayor said a silent prayer for the new dead, a man approached the pile with a limp body in his arms. After throwing the body on the pile, the man crossed himself and then collapsed to the ground, his body heaving as he sobbed. The mayor moved in closer until he finally recognized the man. When the siege began, he was a hardworking blacksmith who had created a comfortable life for his wife and four children. During the siege, one by one his children succumbed to disease and hunger, and now his wife joined them. Lothair reached down and embraced the sobbing blacksmith. You will be with them again, my brother. And you will have your revenge, if not in this life, then in the next.

The man's cries grew stronger until he stood in a violent spasm. I'm so sorry, my lord! I can't do it anymore, He exclaimed. May sweet Jesus have mercy on my soul!

The man took the knife he had hid under his shirt and violently thrust it through his stomach.

Peter rushed to the man as he collapsed to the ground. Lothair knew nothing could be done to help him. Stumbling backward, he became lost in a silent shock. As he gathered his senses, he crossed himself and offered a silent prayer. Despite being a religious man throughout his life, Lothair had offered more prayers in the last three months than he had his entire life. As the man’s life slipped away, Peter clumsily picked up the body and gently placed the body next to his wife’s. Lothair knew the Church took a hard stand against those who took their own lives, but he hoped the Lord would find mercy for this poor soul.

The Mayor numbly turned away from the pile of death and walked toward to the wall at the front of the town and listlessly climbed its steps to the top. As he arrived at the top, the Muslim call to prayer was sounding, and the tens of thousands of men he saw before him stopped whatever activity they were engaged in and began their prayer rituals. Lothair could not help but wonder if this was the way his children and grandchildren would be praying in the future.

Has this all been in vain? He asked Peter who had been silently standing next to him. All this pain and death and our city still is lost.

As was his way, Peter did not answer. Instead he stood stoically watching, his silence effectively communicating his emotions.

There were several painful moments of silence while Lothair pondered whether or not waiting until the evening to surrender was even worth the extra day of pain and suffering, or if he should just surrender the city now. He just had one last glimmer of hope. Have we heard from our messenger yet? He forlornly asked Peter, not expecting a positive answer.

Several moments passed and he received no answer from his aide whose attention seemed to be focused far off in the distance. Peter…

My lord, I am sorry, but look! He pointed to the mouth of the valley. Following the finger of his friend the Mayor spotted a large pile of dust in the far valley that seemed to be moving in the direction of the city. As it got closer to the body of the Umayyad army, his heart jumped at the possibility of what was kicking up the dust.

Could this be Eudes? he asked.

I don't know, but who else it could be, my Lord? Peter enthusiastically answered as the dust cloud rapidly grew larger.

As the Mayor watched, the clouds of dust quickly formed into an army. Soon after, fast moving horsemen of the relieving army slammed into the side of the bewildered besieging army that had just begun their morning prayers. Many broke off from their ritual, running for their weapons while others refused to finish early and hurriedly finished their prayers.

Eudes had known exactly when to strike. The force of horsemen dove deep into the Umayyad army, their battle axes swinging wildly, finding the surprised enemy easy prey. Behind the horsemen, an endless wave of infantry appeared joining in the work of death.

Lothair decided he needed to help, in any way he could. Awaken all of our bowmen. Tell them to use up the rest of their arrows, on whatever of the enemy they can still hit, he ordered Peter.

Maybe the sacrifices were not in vain after all. Lothair thought as the image of the dying blacksmith still burned in his mind.

Chapter III

A band of around twenty horsemen had formed around Denis and Eudes as they rode at the back of the Duke’s army. After the army rode for several miles, the exit of the valley appeared, and a great yell arose from the front of the army. The time for battle had arrived. The thought sent a shiver down his back and created a nest of knots in his gut.

Like a great wave, movement reached backward through the army, until the infantry in front of him bellowed and moved forward at a run. Denis and the rest of the reserve Cavalry moved forward at a gallop just to keep pace.

After leaving the mouth of the valley, Eudes ordered the small band of cavalry to stop. Wait for my orders, before we move.

Denis watched the work of destruction in silent reverence. After several minutes, he gained new respect for Eudes as a military mind as the attack seemed to be unfolding just as he had planned it. He soon began to wonder why Eudes was holding back this last group of cavalry. Could it be the Duke was something of a coward? It was not uncommon for the leader of an army to stay back away from the fighting for the sake of an easy retreat, but to keep such a force of able horsemen for protection seemed imprudent and reeked of cowardice.

Still, he could not be upset at Eudes. Having the horsemen near them also made him feel a little safer. As the moments passed away, and the battle seemed to be over, Denis finally relaxed. Perhaps he was not going to find himself in the middle of the danger after all. He cursed himself for not being braver. He knew if Charles was here he would have taken control of the men surrounding them and led them headlong into the heart of the enemy. Today, with so many thousands losing their lives, he was thankful he was with a man like Euedes.

The Duke interrupted Denis’s daze with a violent flurry of activity. There! Al-Samh ibn Malik al-Khawlani! Eudes pointed his sword toward a place on the battlefield.

Prepare yourselves, men, Eudes ordered. We are going to get the Devil bastard!

Denis had guessed wrong. Eudes was not acting cowardly, but had held this small force back for a specific reason. His blood ran cold. He would have to fight today.

After a few more tense moments, Eudes shouted, Now! Follow me! He took off at a gallop, heading for a point at the edge of the fray. As the group drew closer to the battle, Denis realized what they were headed for - a small group of enemy horsemen had formed at the heart of the enemy’s army, and instead of heading into the battle, it was headed away at full gallop. Realizing the battle was lost, the Emir must have decided to flee with his escort, but Eudes had other plans. He had indeed impressed Denis today.

The Emir's small group made it to the edge of the fray just before Eudes's cavalry was able to block it. The Emir and his band had darted away from the battle and along the banks of the Garrones River, heading for the bridge a few hundred yards away.

Eudes’ much larger force rode the fastest horses the Franks possessed and soon began to close the gap on the slower of the Muslim riders. At about fifteen yards distance, the fastest Frankish rider reared up and skillfully hurled his axe at the rear enemy rider hitting him square in the back, throwing him from the horse and killing him instantly. Moments later, another battle axe was hurled, and another Arab rider met the same fate, this time the axe splitting the back of his head almost in half.

After several more of the Muslim horsemen had lost their lives in a similar manner, the Emir yelled something in Arabic to the horsemen surrounding him, at which time all but the Emir and two others turned and drove right into the oncoming Christian enemy behind them. The men charged toward their certain death, screaming something in Arabic Denis could not understand, but still sent a chill down his back. The small group was able to take a small number of Eudes’ horsemen with them before they were overwhelmed by the superior numbers. Denis was quite impressed with their loyalty to their Emir, even though they could not stop the chasing enemy, they could slow it down for a few moments, which was the exact reason they had laid down their lives.

Denis had stayed near the back of the cavalry group when the enemy cavalry had made their suicidal attack, in an attempt to avoid the logjam. Focusing on his prize, Eudes rallied a small number of the men around him, including Denis, ordering them to accompany him around the melee.

The smaller group now took up the chase. The Emir and his bodyguards had made good use of the stall tactic and had ridden far ahead, nearly crossing the bridge before Eudes’ band could resume the chase. Despite the lead, Eudes pressed on, knowing the Emir had no place to hide. The mountains and the forests were behind them. For countless miles in front, the vegetation was light, and the ground was nearly flat and there was no way they would find natives who would be willing to protect them, even if they somehow did escape their pursuers.

Within a few minutes, the fastest of the Frankish horsemen had considerably cut the distance between the two groups. A few moments later, the Emir barked a few words in Arabic to the guards and then stopped his horse, followed instantly by his bodyguards, and all three of them then turned their horses toward Eudes’ small group. After quickly gathering himself, he grabbed his Saracen sword, spurred his horse and led his bodyguards against his pursuers.

As soon as

Reviews for The Crescent and the Cross

[Emmitt Scheffler · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The characters were colorful and larger than l8fe. The final battle was breathtaking. Scheffler does a great job shedding light on this important battle that few have ever heard of in an entertaining way.