Part IX: Cypriot Folly
Count Daniel Kerne
Do not bring up religion in his presence, you will immediatly be corrected. - Bishop of Penthievre
Count Jermen de Porhoët
He is so terribly loud -- it is a relief to be away from that disagreeable brute. - Count Louis de Rennes
Count Daniel Kerne took a moment to glance back at the Cypriot city behind him. Famagusta had fallen with little resistance and now the Crusader forces were marching inland to the seat of power on the island – Nicosia. Count Daniel and Jermen had succeeded, for the most part, in keeping their soldiers in line. Despite having been cooped up in small trading Cogs for months, his troops had only set fire and looted a few buildings. As a result, seeing the small amount of smoke arise from the city filled the young Count with a sense of success, rather than failure. Daniel felt only slightly disappointed at the ease with which he was to prove his worth.
The largely Greek inhabitants of Eastern Cyprus had shown surprisingly little concern for the arrival of Crusaders in their towns. As the shabby and unwashed Bretons moved further inland, they were often mistaken for Orthodox Greeks and initial cheers gave way to chilling disappointment.
In mid-day, the Breton army slogged towards Nicosia, now only a short distance away. The blue haze of the distant Troödos Mountains had soon lifted, revealing them in their winter splendor. Their beauty was spiteful in the face of the piercing winter winds blowing down from them, but as Daniel’s fixation with the rolling peaks tightened, faint sounds of battle began to enter his ears. Not concerning himself, he became ever more hypnotized. The clamoring cries and clashing steel came like a wave down the Breton column. It was only when Jermen and the Knights turned with alarm that Daniel began to wake from the Mountains’ spell. A thunderous hail of arrows finally wiped away the remaining fog, causing the Count to duck, clutching his horse as if it were a life raft.
“Formations!” Jermen boomed as he darted down the surprised Breton ranks.
With that, a swarm of Saracens poured out of the shrubbery, plowing into the untouched front of the Breton column. Though the thin ranks of the men-at-arms initially wavered, the well equipped Breton Knights soon strengthened the weak-points. Quickly delivering himself and his army a prayer, Daniel unsheathed his sword, which growled with anticipation. Still an arms length from the fighting, the young Count immediatly moved his horse through the ranks. As Daniel began dispatching the poorly armored Saracens, Jermen bellowed-
“The rearguard has collapsed! Come to me!”
Like a massive beast obeying its master, the back ranks began to contract towards the front. Daniel had only moments to glimpse the show before the Saracens began to target him, the only mounted warrior nearby. Straining to fight off enemies on all sides, the young Count swung his sword from side to side, until finally his horse was brought down. Uninjured, Daniel rose with vengeful anger, leaping back into the combat.
After a few minutes, the musical and horrifying sounds of war began to wane, until it suddenly came back with new vigor. A fresh Saracen wave had joined the fray and the Bretons began to be pushed off the road. As they fell back further, parts of the Breton line began to crack. Like a glass slammed against a rock, the army splintered.
“Daniel!” Jermen hollered with a frantic tone, straining to see the young Count in the chaos.
“Daniel you fool!” Jermen continued with obscenities.
Barely able to hear the baritone of Count Jermen above the whirlwind of battle, Daniel waved desperately, unsure whether he could be seen through the thick of the ranks.
Jermen immediatly caught sight of Daniel, returning a gesture of his own. He pointed in the direction of the Breton rout, towards the Troödos Mountains. With that, his massive horse carried him away with the tides of the Crusader retreat.
The Lord has abandoned us this day, Daniel thought. Before long, he too was running for his life.
