Read Archers and Crusaders: Historical fiction: Novel of Medieval Warfare by Marines, Navy sailors, and Templar knights in the Middle Ages during England's ... (The English Archers Saga Book 6) for Free Online Page A

needed to be in more dependable hands - because it is our first and most important barrier against any hostile forces and clergy coming against Cornwall by land. 
           Martin is honest and loyal but he’s slow; truth be told, we were concerned that Martin would dither and sit on his hands instead of holding the Tamar River ford or he’d fall for some ruse and be gulled into letting an enemy into Launceston Castle.  
           William and I know the castle is vulnerable and the ford important because we gulled our way into Launceston ourselves and our archers fought and killed Cornell at the ford when he came against us.  The ford’s also where the Bishop of Cornwall and Devon crossed into Cornwall to help Henry FitzCount seize and torture us at Launceston - and instead got himself gutted and killed for his trouble when FitzCount and his men thought we were unarmed because they couldn’t see the wrist knives under our tunics. 
           It is truly surprising that the nobles, and the bishops who are usually some noble’s younger son, are so stupid as to think someone born a serf would only use the weapons the nobles know to use and only fight as the nobles know to fight.  It bodes well for young George and my students.
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            Martin, Jeffrey, and I walk to our Lisbon depot as soon as I finish settling with the harbormaster for a small dockage fee and the modest bribe Martin takes me aside and suggests as appropriate. 
           Our depot is fairly well located as it is an area of metal workers and somewhat close to both the harbor and Lisbon’s great market.  It consists of a very small and very muddy walled courtyard without a single tree and a house with one room downstairs which was once used as a workshop and a second room upstairs where our treasure chests are kept and Martin sleeps.  He reaches it by climbing a ladder that can be pulled up at night and in times of danger. 
           The downstairs room is where our Marines sleep and visitors meet with Martin and his scribe to arrange for passages and money orders and the shipment of cargos and messages.  Martin’s scribe has a quiet tented place in one of the downstairs corners.  I don’t remember his name.
           We get quite a shock when we open the gate and walk in, at least Jeffery and I do – for waiting for us inside the compound are a number of heavily armed Templars, more than a dozen of them. 
           The Templars are standing on one side of the compound.  On the other side, under the shade of our only tree and watching them rather warily, are four of the Marines who are stationed here permanently and a couple of elderly men who look like merchants waiting to do business with Martin.  One of our Marines is standing with the Templars talking to them as we open the gate and walk in. 
           Everyone looks up quickly as we enter – and the Marine talking to the Templars gets a look of guilt on his face when he sees us.  Uh oh.  What going on here?
           “Martin, did you let them in?”  I ask quietly as we smile and raise our hands in a friendly greeting and the Templars raise theirs and smile in response.
           “Of course, they’re Templars aren’t they?” 
           “Yes they are. Of course.  And they’re our friends so you did the right thing.”  But why are so many of them here? We’re badly outnumbered.  They could take us right now if they have a mind to do it.
           “Ah, Bishop Thomas of Cornwall, you’ve arrived. We’ve been waiting for you,” an older Templar with a grey beard says with somewhat of a smile on his face as he walks over and takes my hand and kisses my ring. 
           His face smiles but there is no smile in his eyes.  Why? And how does he know I just bought myself a bishop’s miter if I’m only wearing the simple tunic of the Poor Landless Sailors with the six stripes of a Marine