LEGEND OF THE BLOOD PACK II

We took the Muslim troops at the port by surprise. Like Marino had forecasted, most of them were still sleeping in their tents, with the rain having chased most of them inside. We rode in with a mighty battle cry.

Ran through their tents, trampling all those within, slashing with our swords any silhouette which resembled a person within and not giving them a chance to mount a viable defence. From the three wings, our pincer formation wreaked havoc on the defending troops. As we completed our first charge, the tents we had trampled through were starting to catch fire from within. What was once a cool night with a fresh salty sea breeze was now tinted with the smoke of burning tents, the smell of burning flesh, and the screams of unlucky Muslim warriors stuck within the burning tents. Their comrades could not run to save them as they had to contend against us. On this first charge, we estimated to have killed about thirty of Sultan Saladin's defending troops.

We turned around for the second charge. My lads were jubilant and motivated having drawn the blood of these Muslim warriors. The remaining Muslim troops at the dock were rushing to assemble a quick defence.

On this charge, we were high with bloodlust and motivated. Entering the midst of tens of Muslim troops who were on foot, with their shields braced for our impact. Threw at them our lances or spears, kicked them with our horses' front metal-studded hooves, and evaded their attacks with our shields, all the while striking them on the head helmets, or any exposed area on their bodies while maximizing the damage from the force of the collision. As we crashed into them, the sound was deafening, shields hitting shields, helmets resounding from the sound of being struck with a hefty lance, clubs, or spears. 

Bringing my horse to a trot from this second charge, looked around and less than half of the Muslim defenders were standing. Somewhat we had decisively tried to even the odds.

This is where our good luck, took an evil turn. Ten Muslim warriors managed to run and jump onto their Arabian war horses even if they had not had time to be fully armored, having climbed on their horses. They combined together to form a squad of ten.

The leader was an aged warrior, short and stout in stature, with a long greying beard reaching his chest, heard him shouting to them in Arabic, and soon they fell in a formation behind him. Later we learned that he was called Amin Anas, from Syria, a distant Kurdish relative of Saladin who had been assigned the command of this elite and the battle-toughened troop of one hundred men.

They rode in a circle around us in the vicinity of the camp knocking down wooden containers. Was focused on fighting the ones in Infront of me that I made the mistake of not taking them as an immediate threat, thinking they were looking for an opening in our formation to launch their counterattack. It turned out to be a terrible mistake on my part.

Soon enough, the ten engaged us. They did not divide up to face our three formations, instead, they choose one formation led by John Conti. Amin and his men were armed with large axes with long wooden handles. On their first charge, they attacked ferociously, making John Conti and the team endure a barrage of powerful, numbing axe attacks, denying them the chance to attack until they were put on the defensive.

Amin and his mounted Muslim warriors tried to encircle them. The din of axes chopping into sturdy iron-plated Knight Templar shields made us realize their plight. Six Knight Templars against ten Muslim battle-hardened warriors was a bad pairing.

Amin and his men chopped, dragged, and later threw two of Conti's men from their horses before trampling them to death. Heard the screams of Manuel, and Rembrant before they died, they broke our hearts. Wanted to run to their aid but it was too late, we were engaged and couldn't turn our backs to these enemies or they could strike us in the back.

With anger and fury, fiercely put my sword to deadly use, hacking from left to right of my horse any Muslim warrior that drew close, while shouting at my lads to spare no one. Moved together in a tight well-rehearsed formation that could not leave any gap for them to exploit. Took down fifteen of them. By now, our hands were weary from all the hacking and stabbing, holding our heavy shields and bracing them for impact continuously. Worn out we were, but we were not resigning ourselves to die at the hands of these unbelievers. For the death of Manuel, Rembrant, Seth, and Bruno, I was going to exterminate all of them with extreme prejudice.

We ran to the aid of John Conti and the others, who by now were surrounded. They were squeezed in, side to side, back-to-back without much maneuvering room. Amin and his Muslim warriors were committed to taking all of them down in their anger and grief over what we had done to their camp and troops.

Shouted to them to hold firm, we were coming to their aid.

As we rode to join them in the center of the camp, where they had been pushed by Amin and his nine Muslim warriors. Five horses under the lads in my formation and Marino Yosef's formation were shot down by the Muslim archers. The arrows were poisoned, and the horses fell and died in agony. There was no time to give them a mercy send-off.

These enemies knew that it was hard fighting and defending against mounted Knight Templars so they were trying to take away this advantage. Making us fight on their terms.

On horseback or not, a Knight Templar warrior still fights fiercely. My lads who had lost their horses continued on foot, while I and the others rode on.

Reaching the center of the camp, where John Conti and the knights under his command were bitterly fighting for their lives. The Muslim troops lighted a fire across the perimeter of the camp. It looked like the earlier wooden containers they knocked down, contained oil which they now set ablaze with a torch. Huge Flames lit up in the ditch, forming a circle around the camp, and entrapping us inside.

Seeing the raging flames from all sides. Our horses became agitated, prancing up and down, and could not obey the commands of their knight riders. They tried to run away from the fire, but with nowhere to run, the flames were on all sides. Thick acrid smoke came from the burning oils. The smoke irritated our nostrils, eyes, and throats and caused us a slightly nauseous feeling. Some knight Templars were affected badly, and Pierre Jean vomited in his helmet.

These Muslim warriors under Amin despite our swift and surprise attack reacted admirably and outplayed us, first drawing us into the center of the camp as we sought to rescue John Conti and his men, killing off some of our horses with arrows, and lastly setting off an oil fire around the camp that wholesomely made our horses unusable for mounted battle. As you very well know, all horses are born with a natural fear of fire in their genes, and our Knight Templar never trained our horses to fight in a fire environment, but even if we did. This acrid smoke was harmful to both man and animal, it could be fighting under really unfair circumstances.

Amin and his men had been reduced to a handful, and this was their last trump card. Trap us in and fight with us to the death.

My lads jumped off their horses and approached the remaining Muslim troops under Amin. From his initial one hundred strong men, could see only twenty-two men standing by my estimate. It was a fightable number but how many of my lads could remain alive?

Seeing that these were cornered warriors, cornered warriors always want to drag someone down with them. So that their death is not in vain. 

Recently, there was bitter fighting going on over a span of several days, with a lot of causalities. This generated a lot of enmity from both sides, none of us was in the mood to take any prisoners. Even if we wanted, there was no food to feed them.

Merged my lads into one group on foot and we attacked Amin and his Muslim warriors. Against one of us or a few knights, they could have put up a bitter fight, but against over ten well-trained and experienced knights. It was a disaster for them.

Fought as one team, one brother attacks while the next brother shields. Despite the tiredness, the effect of the acrid burning oil smell assailed our noses, eyes, and throats. We worked harmoniously as a team.

Started with some of Amin's men on the sides who wanted to run off, killing them off before they ran for reinforcements. Amin the Muslim commander, true to his caliber as a warrior valiantly fought on with his battle-ax, prying off our attacks while delivering lethal blows to any knight who came within his killing space.

Amin took down two of my lads until we fought him from all sides, the twelve of us Knight Templars against one Muslim commander. Some men attacked with spears, others with their maces, and the remaining with swords. Stabbed him several times in his thighs, others hacked the axe from his bloody fingers, and another Knight cleaved through his head helmet until his wounded cheekbone was exposed. 

Myself, I went for the killing blow, cutting through the exposed neck area where his helmet could not cover; cutting through his neck vein, a geyser of warm blood sprayed on me and the lads nearby. Instantly, he raised his hands to stem the blood flow from his neck as he went down to his knees. Commanded my lads to stop attacking.

Looked into Amin's eyes as he knelt on his knees, bleeding to death as his formerly elegant robes were soaked in his blood and a few of the blood of my men. In his eyes was the look of a man at peace, and content to have fought the good fight till the end even if he lost.

He tried to speak something to me but instead ended up coughing blood from his mouth and nose.

Acknowledged him as a worthy warrior, removed my helmet, and nodded to him. Telling him he fought bravely even if he lost out in the end. He surprised me by also struggling to nod his head twice, removing his bloody fingers from the throat, striking his chest several times feebly in a salute of a warrior despite our different faith beliefs before he lost consciousness and fell on his back, eyes staring bleakly in the moony night sky.

So, Knight Yosef Gideon. That's how we secured Jaffa dock and port for the Knight Templars and earned our infamous nickname the 'Blood Pack.'

From a squad of initially 20 men, we were reduced to a 12 men's squad.

Marshal Enock wanted to replace the men we lost, but I refused, having gone through the shadows of death and back with these lads, can't trust our lives with any other knight who hasn't been bonded with us in blood. We are like family.

It is said that when Sultan Saladin finally received the body of Amin for the final rights before the Muslim burial. He cursed the team which killed his cousin and commander in such a brutal manner.

That we are to meet a very miserable end, one by one until none is left to glorify over killing commander Amin and his one hundred men. But, I believe all that is bullshit. As warriors we are born to battle and are most likely to die in battle, such things as curses don't scare us.

After what happened in Acre, most of the Templar Knights believed these rumors that we are jinxed by Saladin. So, they won't volunteer to join us. Not that we care.

The rest, as they say, is history." Commander Gallo Francis finished his tale.