Young Writers Society

Just a quick overview of the story in general to avoid any confusion during reading. Feel free to skip this.

Chapter 1

'Edward, wake up!' begged the knight urgently as he shook Edward's arm, his voice echoing round the cobblestone room. There was a grunt as the old sergeant awoke from his slumber.
'The main gate has been breached. We must head there now. Come on!' yelled the knight, hastily exiting the room. Edward immediately snatched his sword from the bedside chest and sped through the doorway. As he ran down the large, yet dim hallway, his thoughts were on his only son Godfrey. Godfrey was only nineteen and was training in Germany to become a Templar knight. A stream of memories came back to him; his son's entire childhood flooding his mind in a few short moments. He made a silent prayer that his son would be safe if he died today.

Only moments later he burst out of the wooden doors that led out opposite the main gate. He halted. Lighting the night, the torches that rimmed the walls revealed a bloodbath. Men from both sides lay wounded whilst the fighting raged on around them. Cries for help and shrieks of pain saturated the air. Rushing forwards into the seething mass of men, he swung his sword taking down a Saracen. Suddenly from his right swung a mace, aimed right at him. He tried to block it but to no avail. The weapon slammed into his chest, winding him and knocking him to the floor. Before he could recover, hands gripped his arms and shoulders. As he was dragged off he managed to utter one word before being taken by unconsciousness,
'Godfrey'.

19th July 1204-Mountain route to 'De Sang'

The sweltering heat from the midday sun beat down on Godfrey as he guided his horse up the narrow mountain path towards the distant fort. He had been stationed in the Holy Land for three weeks but had still not become accustomed to the long days in the scorching wasteland. Some of the older Templars seemed unfazed by the heat and their perilous task; but then again it wasn't their first taste of combat against the Saracens. For younger knights and sergeants, such as Godfrey, gazing out over the barren desert was enough to terrify them. This fear was evident in their faces; faces that still resembled a boy's in some cases. But that fear was nothing compared to three days ago when they were given this task. Looking forwards to the road, and what lay ahead, Godfrey swallowed. The feeling was still with him, and now it was stronger than ever.

He had been on guard with another Templar on one of the towers of their outpost. It was early evening at that point and a golden glow melted onto the fort's yellow towers. He had spotted a horseman galloping across the plains towards the gate, the rider was slouched forwards and looked unconscious. Godfrey had raised the alarm to open up the gates then turned to face in the direction that the rider had come. Another Templar fort laid there, hidden deep in the mountains. It had been vastly under manned as was the case throughout the Crusader Kingdom. One more push from the enemy would see the Crusaders loose these lands. Expecting the worse, he felt a sinking feeling as he remembered the name it had been given by the men, 'La tour de sang; 'The Blooded Tower.'

As he rode on, his stream of thought was interrupted by a sergeant handing him a skin filled with water. Godfrey took a gulp of the cool liquid, thanked the sergeant and handed the skin onto another man. Godfrey closed his eyes as he felt the water flood soothingly down his parched throat. He drifted away again to the outpost, this time he stood in the central courtyard. It was cold and the freezing night air gripped Godfrey as he lined up with the other Templars. Torches lining the walls cut through the darkness and illuminated a figure standing in the centre. He was the commander of the outpost. Godfrey could remember the torrent of emotions that flowed through him as soon as he heard the fort's name mentioned. His father had been stationed there a year earlier. In a siege by the Saracens his father and many others were captured. Two weeks later they were dead, beheaded in front of the Templar soldiers attempting to retake the fort. Upon hearing of these events, Godfrey had sworn to come to the Holy Land and avenge his father's death. He had cared little for the Pope's words of 'freeing the Holy Land'. Revenge was his only motive.

At the thought of his father's head being paraded in front of the Templars an even deeper feeling than fear took hold of him. It burnt inside him hotter than the desert’s unbearable heat and was more chilling that the Eastern nights. It was the hate he had for the enemy. It was stronger now than ever before. Standing there he glanced around at the other men, he knew the same hate was in them too; several had lost fathers or brothers as well. Although he took some comfort in the fact that he was not alone, he still wanted vengeance. He wanted to fight and he was as indefatigable in this personal quest as his enemies were in theirs. Clenching his jaw Godfrey barely managed to contain his rage. He would endure the desert for it. He would endure the heat for it. He would endure the savage enemy for it. He would not rest until he had restored his father's honour, murdered in cold blood in the heat of this desert.

Time in the desert passed so slowly and their journey to the fort seemed like an eternity. Whether it was because of the heat, the hushed anxiety amongst the company, or that they were nearing the place of his father death Godfrey did not know. But as the walls of the fort appeared over the horizon, rising up and merging into the sheer rock face behind the fort, the magnitude of the events of these last few years came back to Godfrey. There was his father leaving their home in England to fight, leaving Godfrey to care for his mother and sisters. There was his mother's death from illness, forcing his sisters to find work in several brothels and for him to be posted to a Templar preceptory in Saxony. There was his arduous journey here in the cramped ship. There was adjusting to the temperatures of the east and the threat of death round ever corner. There was his father's death, still gripping him and biting him like a vicious serpent. It had taken him so long to adjust to it. To accept that there would be no more evenings spent round the fire, laughing heartily at jokes each one told. The disaproving look on his mother's face as his father would tell one she found too offensive now felt like a pleasantry. Nothing. Gone. He still felt the pain now. And then there was his arrival here. The Holy Land. The land of 'milk and honey'.

As they drew nearer and nearer, the image of his father's head appeared in his mind. His breathing grew faster and his head began spinning wildly. The sun's rays continued to assault him in a barrage of heat. Leaning forwards on his horse, his eyes slowly closed and he felt himself falling into unconsciousness.



Godfrey awoke violently. He looked around in confusion. He was in a dimly lit room, about the size of a small hall, with stone beds all around. After a few puzzled moments his journey to the fort came back to him and he realised he must be at 'De sang'. A chill ran up his spine. Its cold stone walls seemed to close in on him, trapping him in the torments of his father. He began to struggle, trying to get out of the bed he lay on. Noticing the commotion, a Templar physician scampered over to him.
'Ah, you're awake sire. No need to panic, your safe here with me. You were unconscious when we got you yesterday. I'm afraid a lot has happened since. You were followed by Saracens and now they have laid siege to us.' The man was small with wiry black hair and a thin voice. Godfrey halted his attempts to escape. He felt strangely at ease with the news. As he laid back down a sergeant ran into the room.
'Sir Godfrey. You're needed on the walls. There's something you should see.' Godfrey recognised the sergeant and went with him.

Following the sergeant, he walked through the drafty hallways to an old wooden door. Neat masonry work surrounded it.
'Just through there sir,' said the sergeant as he held the door open. Godfrey made his way up the staircase and emerged at the top of a tower. It was night now. The full moon shone down, lighting the ground in front of the fort. Godfrey stood gasping at what he saw; Saracens filled the canyon. Troops with ladders were waiting at the front for the order to attack. It came. Gripping the rought stone crenellations, Godfrey thought of his father again. He drew his sword from its scabbard. This had been his father’s sword, sent to him after the fort had been retaken. His fathers face flashed before his eyes, intensifying his anger. With a grim determination for vengeance, he turned towards the stairwell, heading for the walls. The battle had begun.

i love the beginning as i said before. I also like medieval writing.

Hello there.

For younger knights and sergeants such as Godfrey comma gazing out over the barren desert was enough to terrify them.

As he rode on comma his stream of thought was interrupted by a sergeant handing him a skin filled with water.

Upon hearing these news comma Godfrey had sworn to come to the Holy Land and avenge his father's death.

Although he took some comfort in the fact that he was not alone comma he still wanted vengeance.

Whether it was because of the heat, the hushed anxiety amongst the company or that they were nearing the place of his father death comma Godfrey did not know.

There was his father leaving their home in England to fight comma leaving Godfrey to care for his mother and sisters. There was his mother's death from illness comma forcing his sisters to find work in several brothels and for him to be posted to a Templar preceptory in Saxony.

As they drew nearer and nearer comma the image of his father's head appeared in his mind. His breathing grew faster and his head began spinning wildly. The sun's rays continued to assault him in a barrage of heat. Leaning forwards on his horse comma his eyes slowly closed and he felt himself falling into unconsciousness.

Rushing forwards into the seething mass of men comma he swung his sword taking down a Saracen. Suddenly from his right swung a mace comma aimed right at him.

Noticing the commotion comma a Templar physician scampered over to him.

No need to panic comma you're safe here with me.

As he laid back down comma a sergeant ran into the room.

Following the sergeant comma he walked through the draughty hallways to an old wooden door.

I'm not sure what you meant by the word in bold and red.

The full moon shone down comma lighting the ground in front of the fort.

As they inched forwards comma Godfrey thought of his father again. He drew his sword from its scabbard. This had been his father’s sword, sent to him after the fort had been retaken. His fathers face flashed before his eyes comma intensifying his anger. With a grim determination for vengeance comma he turned towards the stairwell, heading for the walls. The battle had begun.

First off, I want to point out that you have a lot of punctuation mistakes. You should read your story out loud, because that is when you catch all the mistakes you've made. Normally, when you talk, you should see where you specifically need a pause, and when you don't. If the sentence seems too rushed, that means you probably missed a comma. that said, I must say that I was impressed by your story. It seems like a good beginning and you don't have any grammatical errors apart from punctuation.

Keep writing this!

-Other One

Okay, I am here for a review! I'll try and be as helpful as possible. Hope it works.

First, I think you should break paragraphs more. These tend to be long, and occasionally confusing as you have multiple things grouped together. For example, break when he's flashing back. It helps to show the reader that you are indeed showing them another time/place, especially with a smooth transition. It simply reads better, as well as preventing the reader from tripping over words (a few times I had to go back and read again, as I jumped a line accidentally).

He had cared little for the Pope's words of 'freeing the Holy Land': Revenge was his only motive.

Small, but more dramatic. Obviously not a necessary change.

Time in the desert passed so slowly and their journey to the fort seemed like an eternity. Whether it was because of the heat, the hushed anxiety amongst the company or that they were nearing the place of his father death Godfrey did not know. But as the walls of the fort, rising up and merging into the sheer rock face behind the fort, appeared over the horizon the magnitude of the events of these last few years came back to Godfrey. There was his father leaving their home in England to fight leaving Godfrey to care for his mother and sisters. There was his mother's death from illness forcing his sisters to find work in several brothels and for him to be posted to a Templar preceptory in Saxony. There was his arduous journey here in the cramped ship. There was adjusting to the temperatures of the east and the threat of death round ever corner. There was his father's death, still gripping him and biting him like a vicious serpent. And then there was his arrival here. As they drew nearer and nearer the image of his father's head appeared in his mind. His breathing grew faster and his head began spinning wildly. The sun's rays continued to assault him in a barrage of heat. Leaning forwards on his horse his eyes slowly closed and he felt himself falling into unconsciousness.

'Edward, wake up!' begged the knight urgently as he shook Edward's arm. There was a grunt as the old sergeant awoke from his slumber.
'The main gate has been breached. We must head there now. Come on!' Edward immediately snatched his sword from the bedside chest and sped through the doorway. As he ran down the hallway his thoughts were on his only son Godfrey. Godfrey was only nineteen and was training in Germany to become a Templar knight. He made a silent prayer that his son would be safe if he died today. Only moments later he burst out of the wooden doors that led out opposite the main gate. He halted suddenly. The scene was a bloodbath. Men from both sides lay wounded while the fighting raged on around them. Rushing forwards into the seething mass of men he swung his sword taking down a Saracen. Suddenly from his right swung a mace aimed right at him. He tried to block it but to no avail. The weapon hit him squarely on the chest, winding him and knocking him to the floor. As he was dragged off he managed to utter one word as he was taken by unconsciousness,
'Godfrey'.

I don't know, but I got confused here. The fact that you have Godfrey pass out, then wake up with his father's point of view, then have Godfrey wake up again in a totally different location is tough to keep up with. It took reading, then rereading, and going back and reading once more for me to understand. I just didn't like the struggle it took to understand what was going on. Then again, maybe its my own exhaustion creating this problem...but figured I'd point it out as it was really one of the only parts that I didn't really like the feel of much.

Also, make sure if you have even the slightest doubt on the meaning of a word, you look it up. I do it all the time, just to be on the safe side. Other than the above mentioned one (I assume maybe you meant drafty?), I don't think I caught any, but just thought I'd throw that tip in there. My comp teacher says it all the time, and I find it helpful! The only other thing is what the above person mentioned about commas. Otherwise, this is a great start and I think it has some real potential! Can't wait for more.

Yeah I can see the punctuation mistakes now. I've had a look at the second chatper and, hopefully, made the changed correctly. Fingers crossed.

The flashback bit wasn't really meant to be a flashback from Godfrey's view. It was just showing what his father went through to make the impact of the fort much greater. If I hadn't of been writing this for school, I would have probably have written that part as a new chapter, just for clarity.

But thanks for the reviews and I'll keep the work up.

Very nice start to a promising storyline. Most of it looks pretty good overall, a few minor issues but nothing that really disrupts the flow of the story. Fix what few errors there are and you should be good to go. Right then. On to chapter two. Keep up the good work.

Hello, there! I'm here to review as requested.

Sadly, I was a little reluctant to read this at first. I haven't read much books during the crusades, and the books I have read weren't very good. But A Son's Crusade is not like the books I have read. Your book is great.

When I first read the name "Godfrey" I had to look it up to see what it means. It's such a unique name and it is perfect for the time era. Love it.

I looked up the crusades on Wikipedia (because I don't know a lot about them and I became curious after reading this) and according to the year Godfrey's story is going on during the Fourth Crusade. Right? So far - and from what I know - you have all your historical facts right, so great job.

Godfrey's feelings for vengence of his father's death is understandable, but I would like to know how Godfrey and his father spent time together when Godfrey was younger. I think it would give more sympathy to Godfrey from the reader if you shared moments of their time together. But that's only a suggestion.

Overall, I can't quite find anything that I want to critque you about. A Son's Crusade is an intruiging, historical, and so far great story.

I hope this was at least a teensy bit useful to you. This story has a lot of potential.

Keep Writing!
~DeadEnds

PS I will get to the next chapters soon, if not today. (:

Hello my friend! I just saw your post on my wall, so forgive my tardiness.

Seeing as you already had the grammar reviewed, I'll talk about the content.

First of all- some rearranging might be needed. It would make much more sense to put to part set in 1203 first, so this has a sense of chronological order.

Secondly- I'm guilty of this too- we could use some description. 'Stone' can be any number of colors and textures, so relating what kind of stone would be very helpful. Also, how big is the room Godfrey finds himself in?

Hope this is helpful. I also hope to see a true work of historical fiction, without the magic. Thanks for a wonderful read.

Hello medieval!

I came as soon as I read the summons. Anyway, I see that this chapter has already been critiqued quite well, so I won't hit any of your bruises again. Okay. So. I don't usually go in for the historical thing, but I've always had this quiet respect for the Templars and the Crusades. It was one of the most futile wars in history, but it's fascinating all the same. Also, I'm more of a fantasy type of gal. It's my niche. As to your style and all, I think it's good. You can improve in some areas, such as grammar and using "quotes", but other than that, I think you manage to convey the scenes of battle and the desert very well.

My favorite part of this was

At the thought of his father's head being paraded in front of the Templars an even deeper feeling than fear took hold of him. It burnt inside him hotter than the desert’s unbearable heat and was more chilling that the Eastern nights. It was the hate he had for the enemy. It was stronger now than ever before.

I liked the sparse imagery that it called up. It conveyed the depth of the hate in the terms of the setting. It's always great when you can describe the setting and use it to show something about how the character is feeling in one swift stroke. Two birds with one stone, hmm?

Usually, this is the part of the review where I terrify people with grammar nitpicks, but quite frankly, I saw that the others had already touched on the subject, and I have the disinclination to mess with grammar tonight. I must be in a weird mood. Anyway, this seems like a good start. I'm going to read the next few bits later. Keep up the good work.

Happy Writing!
Baywolf