Authors Note:

Revised 4/25/05

Siege at Sarn

When we are children, we have dreams of epic proportions. Some dream of being kings, some dream of being rich, and some dream of being both. Still others dream of leading massive armies into great battles. As Mathias' weary eyes gazed across the sandy field before him, he wished he had been one of those children. Over one thousand armored troops stood waiting for his command to begin marching. Their objective was Sarn, a town a few minutes march away. It was barely fortified. A wall of sand rock encircled the town offering only minimal protection. Rising a few feet over the rest of the houses was a single tower in the center of the hamlet.

Mathias switched his gaze from Sarn to his army. Standing next to them he looked like just another knight in armor. With a helmet that covered his whole head, his only distinctive features were his cape and the cross emblem on his chest armor. Whereas the other knights adorned their armors with a simple cross, Mathias' was different. Encircling his red cross was a long dragon denoting his membership in the Societas draconistarum.

"The men grow anxious, my lord." A nearby knight commented.

Mathias did not answer. His hand reached for the hilt of his sheathed sword. The heads of many soldiers turned and stared expectantly. Slowly his long blade revealed itself to the rays of daylight. The sword glinted as Mathias held it high above his head. Then in one swift motion his arm came down. At that moment the cries of a thousand men called out for blood and death. He sat on his horse and watched as his army marched and rode speedily towards the town. Mathias alternated his stare from his charging army to those poor souls that stood anxiously on the town's walls waiting for the oncoming storm. As soon as a he heard the first pair of swords clash he commanded his horse forward at full gallop.

He and his horse waded through the mass of combatants. Broadsword clashed against scimitar. Christian against Moslem. Warrior against warrior. His sword drew first blood from a surprised foe that in turn was trying to surprise one of his knights. The knight Mathias saved did not even notice. He was far too occupied staying alive in the surrounding chaos. Mathias rode on. Gradually he was making his way towards the central tower. That was where he would find the town head, Haroun. He would honor him by engaging in combat with him, personally. It was then that he noticed something amiss. Although the fighting that was all around impeded his progress, no one intentionally sought to stop him. In fact, he could swear that some of the warriors seemed to avoid him. Mathias stopped his horse for a moment. No one attacked him. It was as if he were invisible. The enemy held back nothing as they attacked his knights yet they ignored him utterly. Mathias lashed out at the nearest Turk. The warrior remained offensive as Mathias swung his sword again and again. At the earliest opportunity the Turk turned his back and sought alternative prey. Mathias nearly screamed in rage.

"Fight me damn you!"

As if in answer to his plea, he saw a figure in the distance. Dressed in the traditional attire of a man in his position, Mathias knew at once that it was Haroun. The town head smiled maliciously before turning and disappearing into a narrow street. Mathias commanded his horse forwarded and it responded with a heavy gallop.

Mathias found the desolate street narrow and winding. He had ridden only a short distance down the road but it was far enough to realize that the town head was nowhere in sight. The man had not been on horseback and could not have gone so far on foot. He was on the verge of turning back when from the corners of both sides of a crossway, men armed with spears dashed towards him. The spears impaled Mathias' horse on the left and right. The horse went limp instantly and Mathias was thrown from his horse and landed several feet from its corpse. He had not had a moment to recover his senses when Mathias felt himself being picked off the ground by two men. Then he felt the blade of a scimitar touch his throat. His eyes met with those of the Haroun.

"I was told you were a renowned tactician, yet you fell so easily into my trap?"

Mathias responded slowly. "One must experience traps…in order to learn how to avoid them in future."

"What does your experience tell you if I slice you head and place it on a pike for your men to see?"

"I must confess to never having lost my head."

The man once again smiled with his devious grin. Mathias felt the blade of the scimitar prick the skin of his flesh. "I will tell you what I predict. I predict it will be a very demoralizing…cut." Haroun drew his arm back and prepared to swing. Mathias looked directly into his eyes. In his mind he told himself not to flinch, out loud he began to recite a prayer, and then he felt something hit his eyes. Against all of his instincts he closed them. He saw nothing but heard a man's scream. Suddenly he felt himself dropped to the ground. No longer did the two warriors restrain him. His hands quickly moved to clean out whatever it was that had struck his eyes. In that same moment he heard the furious clash of blades until finally there was yet another scream followed by another voice cursing. With his eyes finally open, Mathias saw the bodies of the two men accompanying Haroun. Nearby Haroun was lying in a pool of his own blood. One of the spears that had killed his horse was now piercing the dead man's chest. Standing in the center of it all was a single knight. The blood of his two captors was still dripping down the knight's blade as he approached Mathias. The knight extended his hand so that Mathias might stand. Next, he helped remove Mathias' helmet. so that he could breathe fresh air once more. The inside of his helmet had become stuffed with sand mixed with his own perspiration. With his helmet removed Mathias' long black hair was free to hang lengthily down his back.

"How goes the battle?" he asked the knight.

He did not respond with words. The knight only nodded his head slightly. Puzzled, Mathias subdued his urges to return to battle to question the man who had just saved his life. Upon closer inspection, the man's armor was not of the same design as his own or that of his men.

"You are not from my company?"

Again the knight answered with a motion. This time he shook his head but accompanied it with a phrase. Although a foreign dialect not used in these parts, Mathias recognized it to be French.

"I and the others of my company are here in the name of our Duke Gaston De Croix."

Mathias nodded his head and gestured to the battle that stilled raged on down the street. He replaced his helmet and beckoned the French knight to follow him. Together they returned to the conflagration of battle. The two remained close by to one another for the remainder of the conflict. Although neither one asked it, they watched over one another. After several hours the cacophony of swords died away softly. The mass of Turkish warriors had been culled to a small crowd. Beyond a few that refused to surrender, the battle was soon over. Mathias, accompanied by the French knight and several others, climbed the steps to the roof of the central tower. Together the group mounted a makeshift a flagpole. Below, the crowds of knights cheered as they saw the flag with a red cross flutter in the evening wind.