Temple Sword

Chapter 56 Saint Nicholas
Laszlo bowed in Antal's presence, but the knight just waved and let out a short laugh.

"Please, when are you going to stop doing this, my friend?"

"Once you are no longer the Lily Knight, no longer leading us to victory, and no longer being followed by other powerful troops, I will no longer salute you. If necessary, I can swear."

"Lily Knight, um..." Antal sighed wearily, "Instead of talking about this, why don't you just close the door and come help me!"

Laszlo closed the heavy wooden door behind him, and Antal also untied his belt, threw the blood-stained white cloak on the ground, and waited for his friend to help him take off the chain armor.

"Wear it for another minute, and I'll be drowning in my own sweat," Antal said, the chain mail clattering to the ground, and the wool shirt inside had to be peeled off his body because the sweat almost stuck the clothes to the ground. on the skin.

"Um... what is this?" Laszlo hissed at the sight of the swollen dark purple scar on his friend's back. "Do you need me to call a doctor?"

"No," Antar grunted, "he's already given me a jar of stinky ointment, right here. He says to rub it all over the skin and wipe off the excess, can you put these Something rubbed on me?"

"Of course." Laszlo took the jar from Antal, and after opening it, a terrible stench came out of his nostrils. He frowned and stretched two fingers in, and began to apply it on the knight's terrifyingly large bruise superior.Antar said nothing, but every time Laszlo touched the bruise, a shiver of pain came from his friend's back.

"This sword can't hold it anymore," Antar said through gritted teeth. "Thanks to the chain armor, I was not cut in two, but if the bull cuts me in the back again, I will die." will die there..."

The so-called bull that painted Antal's back purple was a blacksmith from Esztergom, and when Charles' army breached the gates, a horde of ragged defenders immediately fell upon the besiegers.It was an unbelievable scene: lord and pauper standing shoulder to shoulder, fighting like brothers.Gorgeous knightly attire and shabby dirty shirts twisted into a ball, with swords, spears and pitchforks overhead, and the roar of battle and the scream of death filled the air.

Antal was lucky, for before he could touch the blacksmith, an arrow hit the man in the arm, forcing him to drop his sledgehammer and point a blunted agricultural knife at Antar with one hand. Er's back was chopped off.Antar suddenly felt as if he had been struck by lightning, and he almost fainted from the pain. He looked at the big blacksmith in the saddle, and the barn in Buda, that long cursed night long ago, appeared in his mind again. And the giant Goliath who nearly beat him to death.

The next moment, Laszlo pierced him with a spear, the blacksmith let out a roar, the blunt sword in his hand dropped, but still standing, he turned around and sprayed the bloody saliva on Laszlo's face , and grabbed the spear with both hands, trying to ram it headfirst.But with Sarecher's hiss, Antar split the blacksmith's bald head in half like an overripe pumpkin.

"I told you, wear more iron under your cloak," Laszlo reminded, as he finished the can of stinking ointment, "because, as Grandpa Dando used to say, chains ain't enough, If you get hit, you'll still..."

"It hurts like hell." Antal answered, "How is the old man doing now?"

"Death will take him from his students, but all will remember what he taught them with the wooden sword," recalls Laszlo, who himself learned how to use a sword from Genz's master swordsman. .Antar had tried to teach Dubica how to use the sword years ago at his estate, but somehow he never quite mastered the techniques.

After coming to Genz with the King, Master Dando gave him a thorough training in a few weeks, in which Antal's former Saracen sword played a big role: Laszlo received it from his friend This weapon is lighter and smoother than other traditional swords.But even though he knew all about how to wield a sword, he found himself best with the spear and the bow: with the former he could beat anyone, with the latter he could shoot a drop of dew in the grass.

"At least this injury will remind me," the smile faded from Antal's face, "Whenever I raise a weapon, I kill my own people."

"Do you have this idea again?" Laszlo began to pack up the equipment thrown on the ground, "You shouldn't continue to let this idea torture you, you are fighting the enemy, there is no need to think about it."

"All my ancestors fought against the Tartars or the Arabs," Antar said, taking off his last clothes and stepping into the tub in the corner, which had been filled with steaming water just for him. . "And as a member of Barto's family, what am I doing? Killing each other."

Laszlo shook his head. If he had received a gold coin every time he heard this bitter monologue, he would be richer than the king of Hungary by now.

The once mischievous and cheerful Antal began to look more and more like the grumpy William as he approached his 20s.But it wasn't just his character that had changed. Previously he was thought to be younger than he was, and during his time with the king no one thought he was a little boy.In the spring of approaching 20, he looked like he was over thirty.

He grew stronger, chested, and hulking, but his face grew older: he grew a thick black beard, his eyes were sunken, and the troublesome lines never faded from his brow.

"Do you remember when we were kids?" Laszlo wanted to cheer him up.

"No," snapped the knight, and then turned to the most serious subject, "whatever, how many men have we lost today?"

"Nine," said Laszlo, bowing his head, "Anthony, Mihai the blond, Sabox, Christian, Sandor of Villani, and Domenx Barfirigo, all dead. Peter's His left arm was amputated, Ivan lost his eyesight, they are going home tomorrow and Janos may not make it tonight."

There was silence in the room, and Antal leaned forward, dipping his face in the hot water, and Laszlo knew very well that he was just trying to hide his tears.Antar was to his warriors what a proud father is to his sons, training them himself, sweating, and fighting with them.He rejoices when they rejoice, and suffers when grief overtakes them.The core of his hundred soldiers remained the thirty or so with whom he had trained at Genz's castle from the first day of his king's service.He mourned for each soldier who died, but when one of the 36 fell, his heart was broken.

"These people are my comrades who have been with me since the beginning," Antar's voice was getting weaker, "Domenks is just a child! I have to talk to Janos before he closes his eyes and turns to the Lord , I'll go now."

Saying this, he climbed out of the basin and began to put on the clean linen clothes prepared for him.Laszlo rummaged through his packed equipment and clothes, picked out a relatively clean sleeveless cloak and handed it to Antal. He was worried that the knight would forget the appropriate clothes under the influence of sadness, and wore a belt sleeved shirt to bid farewell to his soldiers.

But these people must leave this world holding the hand of the Lily Knight, which is very important to them.Many times, they died not for the king or Christianity, but for the lily knight they admired.Laszlo kept a cool head, making sure that Antal appeared before the dying man in immaculate knightly attire, sword and helm.

"I still have twenty gold pieces in my purse," Antal said. "How many are in the chest?"

"Only one hundred pieces."

"That's enough."

"Enough for what?" Laszlo asked worriedly, although he already guessed the answer.

"I'll give ten to Peter and ten to Ivan," said Antal, his forehead creased again. "Keep five for yourself, and have the rest chopped up and distributed to the poor of Esztergom. Don't let them know who gave it, but give it to them, it's not negotiable. "

"That's a lot of money!"

"Non-negotiable!" Antal looked at him, "I'm a sworn Templar, you know I can't own any property. Charlie will come tomorrow or the day after tomorrow, and he'll make me rich again, the rest The same is true for people, and they will give it to you, don't worry..."

"I'm not worried." Laszlo sighed resignedly, and he had to play St. Nicholas again, which he was required to do by Antares in every occupied city.

"Very good," Antal pushed the door out and stepped into the corridor, "See you tomorrow morning, I'm going to face my conscience now."

(End of this chapter)