Free Archers and Crusaders: Historical fiction: Novel of Medieval Warfare by Marines, Navy sailors, and Templar knights in the Middle Ages during England's ... (The English Archers Saga Book 6) by Martin Archer Page B

my shield to block it and bring my single edged blade down and across his stomach in a great slice – and feel it bite.  He’s screaming as I use my shield to push him back into the mass of Venetians behind him.  They’re sailors, by God.  They don’t know how to fight.  We’ve got a chance.
           “They’re not fighting men,” I hear Jeffrey roar.  “They’re not fighting men at all.” …  “Kill them, lads.  That’s it, Harry, kill them all.”
           Slowly but surely the tide turns as more and more of our Marines reach the deck and the fighting increasingly spills over on to the enemy galleys which have lashed themselves to us and each other.  All our hours of practice and training are paying off.  We’re taking casualties but nothing like they are.
           I’m standing next to the mast bellowing a very unpriestly “kill them” … “kill them” chant with all the other men with my shield up and stabbing towards a man in front of me when suddenly I’m somehow knocked to the ground and everything gets confused. 
           The next thing I remember is trying to struggle to my feet and being unable to do so because someone with a smashed in head and an arrow in his chest is sprawled out on top of me. 
           I don’t know how much time passes before I finally get pulled to my feet and realize that one of our lookouts must have fallen from the mast and landed on me. By the time I get up our deck is covered with dead and wounded men and all the fighting is on the enemy galleys that have lashed themselves to ours. 
           “Come on, lads.” I shout to no one in particularly as everything suddenly clears in my head and I know where I am.  “Grab those pikes and follow me.”
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           When I heard the order to repel boarders I grabbed my shield and sword from under my rowing seat, pulled my bow off the pegs where it was hanging, and rushed to the stairs just as we were trained and practiced almost every day.  It’s the first time I’ve ever done it for real.  It’s very exciting.
           There is a crowd of men at the stairs and Gregory is just ahead of me as we push and jostle our way up on to the deck.  He’s the chosen man in charge of Willy’s squad.  Willy sits on the bench in front of me next to the hull.  He’s my best mate.  We’re both from Liverpool aren’t we?
           Everyone is shouting and pushing.  No one wants to be the last man on deck and make Sergeant Jeffrey unhappy.  It always leads to extra duty and being the last to get shore leave.
          We spread out as we come off the stairs and the noise on the slippery and tossing deck is the loudest I’ve ever heard what with all the screaming and shouting.  It’s a good thing we have to wear our tunics all the time or I wouldn’t know who I’m supposed to go after. 
         Then it happens.  The deck is bouncing up and down from the waves as I move toward man with a strange clothes and a white beard.  He’s carrying a sword and is obviously not one of us.  But then in the confusion and pushing I step on the leg of someone who’s fallen down on the deck – whoever it is moves his leg as I step on it and as I trip and fall there is a tremendous blow on my neck that knocks me all the way down. 
           Somehow I’m on the deck at the very front of our galley beyond where the stairs come up.  I try to get up but I can’t move.  All I can do is watch.  For a while I can see the legs of the men moving around me and sometimes their faces as they shout and scream and use their shields and swords.  But then they just fade away.
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           Thomas is knocked down next to me when our lookout man comes down on top of him.  I’m too busy to help pull him back on his feet what with a swarthy sailor coming at me screaming in Italian and waving a sword about like he’d never used one before.  I instinctively parry the