Stitched Crosses: Crusade

By Josua Rothe

Markus is an English lord and Templar fearing God and hiding from his past. The Hospitaller, Sir Charle, and the woman of Markus’s heart, Lady Mairín, desire to end his ruinous descent into despair. A letter from a slain brother-knight is perceived as the calling for Markus to return to the Land of Christ, and his failures. There he expects to discover whether God will set his conscience free from the weight of his burdens and restore him, or if he must offer his life to attain his absolution... Stitched Crosses: Crusade is a tale of faith in doubt and turmoil.

Set in the waning days of the 12th century, Christendom has embarked to rescue Outremer from Saladin’s Muslim armies. These historical events, combined with exciting medieval action, popular romantic legend, and the sense of the Divine, serve as the canvas to this tale of a knight wrestling with his spirit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Grail Quest Books
• Release date: Oct 31, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310487705

Josua Rothe

Josua Rothe is the literary-simul of Josh Radke. Josh is currently studying for his Bachelor of Divinity via Heythrop College (University of London), as well as for his certification towards ordination via the Residential Diploma Programme at Concordia Lutheran Theological Seminary (Brock University). He loves writing stories of knights in the Arthurian tradition, and hopes his stories will at least earn him pittance for his academic financial needs.

Book preview

STITCHED CROSSES:

Crusade

a tale of Audacit’in Domino in the High Middle Age

Joshua Rothe

PUBLISHER

Josh Radke

EDITORS

Joshua Anderson

Eric Postma

COVER ART

Paul Cox (front illustration)

Kasandra Radke (back illustration)

Published by Grail Quest Books at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 by Joshua Rothe.

Grail Quest Books and GQB logos are trademarks of Grail Quest Books.

All rights reserved.

No portion of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without express written permission of Grail Quest Books.

Names, characters, locations, and events featured in this publication are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events, institutions, or locales, without satiric intent, is coincidental.

STITCHED CROSSES: CRUSADE

PUBLICATION HISTORY

trade paperback / June 2014

digital edition / October 2015

Grail Quest Books can be found online at

http://www.grailquestbooks.com

Table of Contents

Prologue

I: A Man Called

II: Long Understanding

III: Wounded Spirit

IV: Distant Horizons

V: Into Brittany

VI: Sir Honour and the Templars

VII: The Path to Honour

VIII: Again, the Land of Christ

IX: Duel of Wills

X: A Second Duel of Wills

XI: ‘The Curse of Jonah’

XII: The Goal Achieved

XIII: Misericordia Dei

XIV: Upon the Cliff

XV: The Voice in the Wilderness

XVI: The Struggle of Jaffa

XVII: A Third Duel of Wills

Epilogue

Author’s Note, on the word crusade

About the Author

To the poor in spirit,

for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Te ergo quaesumus, tuis famulis subveni:

quos pretioso sanguine redemisti.

Aeterna fac cum sanctis tuis in gloria numerari.

Dignare, Domine, die isto sine peccato nos custodire.

from the Te Deum (‘Hymnus SS. Ambrosii et Augustini’), c. 3rd century

Prologue

By the time the last Roman legion to occupy the Britannia provinces were in Gaul coveting more Empire, a certain number of magistrates and officers were wed to Briton land, either in the flesh or in ambition: these desired to fight native enemies and Saxon invaders rather than the politics of the Caesars. And so the senior officers, under Constantine the Usurper, left the country to these men, that Roman civilisation might yet be immortal in this land of rain and rolling green.

Some fell to the wars of the tribes, or political courts. Others, still burning for Rome, were crushed by the seeds of the Usurper: Uther and his son Arthur, the Pendragons. The defeated desired to be catechised, then Baptised into the death and rising of Christ, in accord with the earliest practices of the Church. They became privileged, some by their descendents, to preserve with great deeds that beautiful Realm Perelous, steeped in Christian enchantment—of which so few tales remain in the light of knowledge or belief.

Remembering the Sacred Grail of our Lord Jesus Christ, which passed from that Realm to dwell behind the veil of the Heavens, the blood of the sons of Old Logres grew staunch and unmoving in the kingdom that came to be Mercia.

More battles and more trials followed upon the land with the domination of the Saxon, but also peace and commerce painted the beauty of God’s nature—for God was preached and believed in, pushing out the pagan shadows. And in the age called ‘dark’, still there was the Light of Heaven on Mercia and strong Christian lords rose to count their wealth of land and heirs to be God’s blessing.

One such lord was Markus, second so-named after his forefather of five removed generations, who was descended from one of the lesser officers of Rome to stay and chance his lot with the Britons with whom he mixed. Markus held close council with Offa of Thingfrith, supporting his cause against Beornred, who took Mercia for himself after the murder of his king—the faithless Æthelbald (who once defied even Boniface, the Blessed Apostle of Germania).

When the war was ended and Offa the Mighty upon the Mercian throne, Markus, now also called ‘the Fearless’, was given a lordship in the north of the kingdom, to act as sentinel upon Northumbria. Wielding his storied blade, Audacit’in-Domino, this lordship he and his descendents defended against the Saxons of Wessex and Odin’s sons from across the North Sea.

Later, Offred, the Lord of Audaciter-Deus in the age when several peoples coveted the lands of Britain, was counted amongst the alliance of men that routed the Norse invaders for the last time. But their victory was ill-timed for one named William, of the House of Normandy, was arrived to forever shift the course of the great island of the Britons.

The Normans took the lands of many lords and made war on those few remaining who did not bow before their Norman overseers—of which those of Saxon origin were chief. Before an alliance could be forged among those resisting their overlords, the Church hoped to stop the warring afflicting all Western Christendom by turning the focus to giving an answer to those waging war in the name of Allah: the Moors who came to occupy Iberia and nearly all of the Kingdom of the Franks (if not for the heroic deeds of the grandfather of Charlemagne), and the Saracens who would usurp the whole land where Christ had walked, died, arisen and ascended. To prevent this end many sons of nobles came to join the Order of the Poor Knights of the Temple; those who had no great claim or heraldry, and yet would be knightly warriors for Christendom, came to the Order of the Hospital of Saint John the Baptist. By way of service to these Orders, the Church did hope to end the long years of bloodshed and raise up new nobilities where rivalries were cold and lords would remember Whom they owed their service.

And there was a Saxon lord by name of Edelstan, four generations from Offred, who did sire a daughter named Dawnlyn, because Lord Edelstan thought of her as a rising hope to her people. Also he had a son whom he gave the name Markus, in honour of the great fathers of Audaciter-Deus, for he did intend that his son would preserve the lineage in the faith with noble service to the House.

Alas, Lord Edelstan and his Lady were slain in a secret raid, of which the origin was never determined; this was in the waning summer, two years after granting a begrudging blessing to their son to go to Templecombe for his training to be a Knight Templar. The young lord did hope that his being dedicated to the Holy Order would provide leverage against further molestation of his Saxon House if the oppressors truly be of Christian heart.

With the death of the Lord and his wife, and Markus away to make war upon the enemies of the Church, Dawnlyn became Lady of Audaciter-Deus. She was tall in stature and wise in her councils, and all were thwarted in their secret efforts to overthrow the Saxon House of that land. Thus Audaciter-Deus gave courage to the Saxon nobles and it was oft used as a place of secret meetings and plannings—although the Lady was increasingly known to discourage rebellion and support the rule of the House of Plantagenet in order to best preserve the Saxon lines.

For long years there were no tidings of the Son of Edelstan to Audaciter-Deus Hall so that it seemed to Lady Dawnlyn that she were the last of her long line. Yet she courted hope with each sunrise for she could not despair a death that was not yet revealed; and her faith in God was strong and fruitful.

One moon-filled night, a knock stirred the hall. A Christian knight of the House of Ibelin, accompanied by a woman of simple beauty (whom the Lady did recognise from her childhood) stood in the arch; behind them was a litter bearing the limp—but alive—form of the young Lord of Audaciter-Deus.

When Markus was laid in his bed and inspected by his sister a furrow of confusion did cross her face. Turning to the Knight: His wounds are not grave and indeed well tended, sir Knight. Why then does he appear as one upon the threshold of death?

The Knight looked upon Dawnlyn with foreknowledge of the question. The grave wound is beyond the skill of a physician, milady, for the injury is in the mind and not upon the body. If you would have his recovery then patient love and fervent prayer are the best medicines.

Of those remedies there are plenty within these borders. The Lady turned back to her brother. "Thus, he shall return to us whole." And she thanked the Knight for his kindness and skill, giving him food and quarter for as long as he dwelled in Audaciter-Deus.

I : A Man Called

The Holy City of God belonged to the banners of Allah. Early in the eighty-seventh autumn of the second century and millennial after the Blessed Incarnation of God as Jesus the Christ, Jerusalem bowed its great head to the Saracen champion and Sultan of Egypt, Salah ad-Din Yusuf Ibn Ayyub: Saladin.

With his occupation of the city, many Christians no longer heard the Voice of God in Outremer—the kingdom of Christian states in the Holy Land of the Lord. A myriad thought fondly once again of the great shores of the West, and longed to return; a portion of those were a great many Knights, including a some of the Blessed Orders of the Temple and Saint John the Baptist. These were indeed few, as it burned in the hearts of these bearers of the Red and White Crosses—stitched with fidelity upon their breasts—to retake the Sacred City where Christ poured forth his lifeblood for the salvation of the world.

And so, like the bear in hibernation, these Knights of the Cross waited for the sweet smell of reprisal’s spring.

It can only be guessed that those of the Blessed Orders that did lay eyes again on the shores and horizons of Western Christendom did so for only the most personal of intent and shortest of time; at the least to return to the kingdom without its Crowning Jewel with some measure of renewed strength, to wage what most piously believed to be a righteous war on behalf of the Ecclesia Militans—a war begun by the Muslim when they marched into Damascus, then Jerusalem some six centuries prior; when North Africa and Iberia were overrun, and nearly all the West if Charles, called ‘the Hammer’, had not stopped Abderame at Tours; when Sicily was occupied, then Benevento; when the Status Pontificius was sacked and Basilica Sancti Petri looted like a common chest. All well before the first millennium Anno Domini had set upon the horizon.

But these politics and rivalries were not presently on the mind of the Hospitaller Knight as he made his way upon a forested road in that part of Norman Britain called —shire. Not many of England’s sons had taken up the Cross, for many were needed to keep the balance of Anglo-Saxon and Scot against the Norman. Indeed the lords of these Houses at first applauded the news of the warrior pilgrimages to the East as they looked to accomplish sword-work against the more local Norman infidel. But the idea to glorify Holy God, by freeing the East from the rule of the Saracen, was too strong a wine from which to yield for the promising young princes of Ivanhoe, Dunkeld, and Audaciter-Deus.

A wind blew through the bare trees, forcing a violent shiver. The Knight was used to the hot breath of the desert. It had been years since the kiss of a Christian winter last touched his beardless face.

Ahead the Hospitaller saw a form close to passing him on the road. Hallo, yonder Christian! he called forth in the harsh accent of Eastphalia.

And God be with’ye, came a gruff, yet amicable, voice.

When the Hospitaller reached the spot where the traveller tarried he said, If you would be so kind as to help a knight of Christ.

Would be but a blessing, sir Knight. How may I be of service?

The Hospitaller nodded. I seek the property of the Lady of this region. Is this the road?

Aye, this very one, sir Knight. But the Lady of Audaciter-Deus is not available for audience, as I hear it. Her brother is about if it pleases you.

The traveller’s countenance shifted to one like pity and he rubbed his chin. His voice was noticeably lower.

Is there more, friend?

You would have more speed getting one of these lonely trees to talk than the lord of this shire, I’m afraid. Keep your sword close; he is a brooding type and much more given to acceptin’ a strange face as Norman, be he in truth or not

The Hospitaller nodded again. Thanks to you, good sir. A blessing for your helpful conversation, and good counsel. The Knight wasted no time moving his horse forward.

You’ll find him returning from the smithy soon, the Knight heard the peasant call after him through the frigid breeze.

The Hospitaller soon learned the peasant could not have been more correct. For just as his mount crested the hill, he could discern a distant figure making his way along a footpath from a building belching black smoke from its chimney.

A small cottage beckoned not half a stone’s throw from where the mounted Knight now stood dismounted. A servant girl came out to meet the Hospitaller. She motioned to take his horse and he nodded in gratitude.

When the steed had been tied to a stall and given some straw, the young girl led the Hospitaller across the way to the cottage. Inside the homely structure, she silently served him a draught of water and a plate with bread and a bone stick of fowl. Then she bowed and made her departure saying only, My master will join your supper in his time.

The Hospitaller did not know how long he would be waiting, but judging by the similar plate of food on a small table near the fire it would not be long. The Knight took his fare to that table and surveyed the structure. It was one room; a cot located in the corner was heaped with fabrics and a few empty baskets, so the Hospitaller concluded that the cottage was used mostly for refreshment and receiving unsolicited guests. Close to the gate, it was the ideal place for the Knight to transact his short business.

The Hospitaller knew little of the one who would soon be his host. The hard-won facts at his disposal confirmed the lord of this shire as being in Outremer before Saladin’s occupation. His business, and the length of his stay, remained a mystery. Despite