Pagan's Crusade (Pagan Chronicles)

Name: Pagan's Crusade (Pagan Chronicles)
Price: 6.19 USD
Availability: InStock
ISBN: 9780007153169

ISBN-10: 0007153163

ISBN-13: 9780007153169

Edition: N/A

Authors: Catherine Jinks

List price: $12.40

30 day, 100% satisfaction guarantee!

Marketplace

1 new & used from $6.19

what's this?

Rush Rewards U
Members Receive:

You have reached 400 XP and carrot coins. That is the daily max!

Pursued by some rather unsavoury (and unwashed) characters from the Jerusalem slums, 16-year-old Pagan Kidrouk has a cunning idea to avoid paying his debts - he'll join the order of the Templars. But it's out of the frying pan and into the fire, when he's assigned as squire to Lord Roland.

Book details

List price: $12.40
Publisher: Collins
Pages: 272
Size: 4.37" wide x 6.55" long x 0.61" tall
Weight: 0.418






A big man in brown, sitting behind a table. Big hands. Big chest. Short and broad. Head like a rock, face scarred like a battle axe. He looks up and sees-what's this? A street urchin? Whatever it is, it's trouble. Trouble advances cautiously.


"They said I should report to the Standard-Bearer."


The big man nods.


"You can call me sir," he says. (Voice like gravel rattling in a cast-iron pot.) He pulls out a quill pen. "Name?" he says.


"Pagan."


"Pagan what?"


"Pagan Kidrouk."


"Pagan Kidrouk, sir."


(Hell in a handcart.)


"Pagan Kidrouk, sir."


Scratch, scratch. He writes very slowly.


"Age?"


"Sixteen. Sir."


"Born in?"


"Bethlehem."


Rockhead looks up. The brain peeps out from behind the brawn.


"Don't worry, sir. It didn't happen in a stable."


Clunk. Another jest falls flat on the ground.


"Rule number one, Kidrouk. In the Order of the Temple you speak only when you're spoken to."


"Yes, sir."


"Understand?"


"Yes, sir."


Rockhead smells rich and rare, like a well-matured piece of cheese. No baths for the Templars. Hot water is for girls and porridge and other soft, wet things. If a Templar wants a bath he can go and stand in the rain. That's what God put it there for.


"And where did you come from, Kidrouk?" (The unspoken question: out of a slop bucket?) Rockhead is highly suspicious. You can see what he's thinking. Just look at this runt! Smells like the Infidel, and looks like a Bedouin boy. Skin the color of braised almonds. Built like a horsewhip. Black hair. Black eyes. What in the name of God is this Order coming to? We'll be recruiting stray dogs next.


"I'm a local, sir. I served in the Jerusalem garrison."


"On?"


"The night watch. I patrolled the northern beat. Between the Postern of Lazarus and the Postern of Saint Magdalene."


"You mean the Jewry quarter?"


"That's the one. Sir."


"And why did you leave?"


"Well, sir... it was the jokes."


Pause. Rockhead's brows roll together like gathering thunderclouds. But the storm doesn't break.


"It was the what?"


"It was the jokes, sir. In the guardroom. Not that I object to jokes as such. Some of my best friends are complete jokes. But I don't like leper jokes. Or dysentery jokes. Especially when I'm eating."


Rockhead puts his pen down. Game's over.


Pagan's Crusade by Catherine Jinks. Copyright (c) 2004 by Catherine Jinks. Published by Candlewick Press, Inc., Cambridge, MA.