1444, Byzantium Resurrects

Chapter 144: Rushing Westward
On the southern coast of the Mediterranean Sea, west of the Gulf of Gabes, in the city of Sfax.

It was late at night, and lead-black clouds covered the sky, like a thick curtain pressing down on the sleeping city.

On a beach in the east of the city, a few lights flickered on and off.

The young man looked at the rising tide with an anxious look on his face. Sometimes he put his hands on his head and squatted on the ground, and sometimes he cursed under his breath and paced back and forth on the beach.

The gorgeous clothes showed his noble status, but his pale face and sunken eye sockets exposed his body which was hollowed out by alcohol and sex.

Apparently, this is a common Muslim dude.

"Prince Makusum, I think that even if you kick all the rocks in front of you away, it will not help our plan at all."

Next to him, a middle-aged man in plain clothes was holding a torch and speaking in a cold and hard voice.

"Hofen, you are nothing but a lowly and dirty slave trader. How dare you speak to me like that!"

Markusum was already irritable, and when he heard this he instantly got furious, took two quick steps and yelled at Hoffen.

"But I——"

"But what?"

"A member of the Hafs family? A distant cousin of Caliph Yahya? A nephew of Prince Ibn?"

In the face of Markusum's provocation, Hoffen's expression remained indifferent. He uttered cold words sarcastically, forcing Markusum to retreat again and again.

"You don't think that your current identity is something to be proud of, do you?"

"伱......"

Makusum lowered his head like an eggplant hit by frost. The grayness on his face deepened. His lips trembled and he stammered without saying a word.

Ten years ago, this identity would have made him highly regarded throughout the Islamic world.

Under the diligent governance of Makusum's grandfather Abu Aziz and his cousin Yahya, they not only defeated the Zayanid Dynasty that often harassed the border, but also forced small states such as Djerid, Mzab, and Tougurt in the south and the Fezzan Kingdom in the east to submit. The country's trade prospered and its territory expanded.

Looking at the entire Islamic world around the Mediterranean, only the rapidly rising Ottoman family can suppress the Hafs family.

Half a year ago, his identity as a descendant of the Hafs family still allowed him to live a comfortable life. His marginal bloodline meant that he was destined to be out of power, but it also objectively pulled him out of the vortex of political struggle. He lived a life of luxury and debauchery relying on the property left by his father and occasional rewards from his uncle.

In his opinion, his father was born from a side branch and was an insignificant person. He himself was half Christian slave blood. It was a blessing for him to be able to live a life without worries about food and clothing. There was no need to be ambitious and fight to the death like his cousins.

When he was hanging out with his friends, he would take advantage of his drunkenness to brag to them about the legendary story of how the ancestors of the Hafs family defeated King Louis IX of France, and he would smile proudly amid the admiring gazes and exclamations of the drinkers and prostitutes.

Machusum, who could not even remember his own mother's name, could calculate the number of Louis IX's troops to the single digit.

Later, the international situation, which Makusum had never cared about, caused some minor setbacks in his carefree life. The drinkers talked about the war in Constantinople, the rise of the Greek emperor, the severance of trade routes and the Caliph's unsuccessful return in the east with increasingly anxious tones. Even the new prostitutes would wake up from their sleep with fear and tell him tearfully how they were driven out of their homes by the brutal army and came here after wandering around.

Then, the country housekeeper reported to him that many coastal properties had been attacked by pirates. His uncle, trapped by financial difficulties, no longer paid for his extravagant lifestyle. His friends who used to eat and drink with him gradually disappeared, either with their families broken up or moving away.

Makusum was surprised to find that his family status and comfortable living environment, which he was proud of, were being destroyed step by step by an outsider in a rather brutal manner, and he could do nothing about it except cursing.

Therefore, he, who knew nothing, could only drown his sorrows in alcohol and sold his estate and slaves to greedy businessmen in exchange for funds to support his life.

Not long ago, the news of Jihad spread throughout North Africa. The Grand Mufti and the Caliph joined hands, called on the warriors of God, and assembled tens of thousands of troops, determined to drive the invading Christians and the Greek emperor out of their homes!

On the night when his uncle Prince Ibn led his army to war, Makusum was so happy that he couldn't sleep. He gritted his teeth, sold his ancestral sword to a street rat, and exchanged it for a few bottles of good wine, and got drunk.

However, not long after, the army turned back, and the defeated soldiers walked through the streets. The whole city was in mourning and there was wailing everywhere.

The news of Caliph Yahya's defeat and Prince Ibn's death in battle spread quickly in the city of Sfax like a plague, causing chaos.

Then, the lack of military forces led to the loss of several important coastal towns west of Tripoli. The hastily assembled resistance of the local defenders was like a dam in a flood, which was directly washed away by the mighty army.

Zuwara, Medenine, Gabes, the Greek emperor's iron hooves did not stop for a moment, sweeping across the entire coast, heading straight for the city of Sfax.

Prince Ibn's several good sons had no time to grieve as they immediately plunged into the struggle for the inheritance. The Sunni ulema called for jihad but received no response. The wealthy businessmen hurriedly packed up their belongings and prepared to flee, and the people of Sfax were in panic.

Order has completely collapsed, robbery and murder occur frequently, and theft and rape are commonplace.

Makusum woke up from a half-asleep state and looked at the scene on the street, as if he was in hell.

At this time, a slave trader he had met once before reached out to him and took him back to his house even though he had fainted from hunger on the roadside.

This is how the two met.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hofen, I made a mistake."

Makusum bowed deeply, lowered his head, apologized humbly, and carefully glanced at Hoffen's face.

According to Hofen himself, he was originally the largest slave trader in Tripoli. Together with Zakaria of the Merchants' Union, he controlled most of the commercial transactions in this big city and owned countless properties.

Later, when Tripoli was in turmoil, Nasirlan worked hard to capture all the merchants and kill Zakaria's entire family. However, he was working outside and escaped.

Just when Hofen was displaced, an envoy from Emperor Isaac came to him, paid for the reconstruction of his Chamber of Commerce, and ordered him to go to the heartland of the Hafsid Dynasty to collect information while secretly cultivating opposition forces.

Under the emperor's instructions, Hofen obtained great discounts in the slave trade. With his own talents, he quickly defeated his competitors and established a foothold in Sfax, the city closest to the Saint Simon Islands. From this base, he expanded his intelligence network and influence to the surrounding cities.

And Markusum was a tool used by Hofen to seek credit from the emperor.

"Once you're on board, don't say anything until you reach the headquarters of the Order of Saint Simon on Chergui Island." "Have you remembered the three people I asked you to understand?"

Hofen turned his head and asked sternly.

"Conte, Grand Master of the Order of Saint Simon, was recently named Earl. He was once the Commander of the Oak Corps. He is a relative of the Emperor and a trusted minister."

"The president of the Pirate Council, Giovanni Giustitiani, Baron, Genoese noble, hero of the Battle of Constantinople, commander of the Marine Corps, both His Majesty Constantine and His Majesty Isaac are very fond of him."

"He is the commander of the city of Bilinchi, one of the commanders of the Crusaders, Abel of the Butcher family, a baron, a hero in the Battle of Constantinople. He is tall and brave in battle, and is deeply loved by His Majesty. His emblem is a roaring boar."

Makusum recited obediently, and his previous anxiety disappeared without a trace.

Hofen's expression softened a bit and he nodded.

"After meeting the three of them, if they ask about your mother, remember that she is Roman, her ancestral home is Thessalonica, she is an Orthodox Christian, her name is Irene, she was born into a lower-class noble family, and after Thessalonica was conquered by the Ottomans, she became a slave, was bought by your father, and gave birth to you."

Makusum nodded hastily, committing his mother's message to memory.

Although he was dull, he vaguely remembered that his mother was a Circassian slave, a tribesman from the Caucasus Mountains. She did not have a nice name like Irina, and she did not believe in the proper Greek Orthodox Church.

"Do you know the few words of Greek I taught you?"

Makusum hesitated for a long time before uttering a few meaningless words.

"Forget it, that's it."

Hoffen shook his head in disappointment.

"Remember, your fate may change because of this meeting. Even if you can't become rich, at least you can have enough food and clothing to maintain your current life."

"The ship has arrived, we should leave."

Makusum turned his head and looked at the still dark sea.

The sea tide surged, and the outline of a large ship appeared in front of the few people. Three flags were hung high on the sails. The light from the lights made it bright, and it was particularly conspicuous in the dark sky and earth.

The double-headed eagle of the Roman emperor, the Cross of Lorraine of the Knights of St. Simon, and the golden and red skull of the Pirate Council.

……

After the Battle of Tripoli, Hafs' army retreated, and the defeated soldiers poured into towns and villages, venting their accumulated resentment and wielding the butcher's knife against their compatriots.

The brutality of the defeated soldiers disturbed the entire Gabes coast, and the panic caused countless civilians to flee westward. Many of the small towns that Isaac arrived at were already deserted.

This is the advantage of defeating the enemy in a field battle. It can not only destroy the enemy's manpower in a short period of time, but also cause a great blow to the morale of the military and civilians.

In this way, Isaac's army followed the defeated soldiers and quickly swept along the coast of Gabes, capturing several large cities along the coast.

After capturing the city of Gabes, the dry weather and the lengthening of the supply lines forced Isaac to stop and rest temporarily to digest the fruits of the previous war.

Isaac did not attempt to establish an administrative agency in the newly occupied city for the time being. He only put down the chaos and arranged for military commanders to exercise military control, serving as strategic fulcrums to provide food and civilian labor for the army's advance.

According to the original agreement, all the cities between Tunis and Tripoli belonged to Isaac. Even though the jihadists in Western Europe had some ideas, they could only accept it silently because of the heavy losses in their military strength.

The great victory in the Battle of Tripoli gave the big families from Europe a reassurance. They no longer doubted the final victory of the war and invested more chips in the war in North Africa, hoping to get greater benefits in return.

The House of Anjou, which performed poorly in the Battle of Tripoli, quickly wrote a letter to Isaac to apologize, withdrew the original commander back to the country, and sent out a large number of troops.

As for the Barentucelli, Trastamara and the Paleologio family of Monferrato, who already had close relations with Isaac, they provided money and food, hoping that Isaac would advance as soon as possible.

At a military meeting held in Gabes, Isaac divided the Hafsid dynasty and even the Zayanid dynasty into two, with the city of Tunis as the boundary. The east belonged to Isaac, and the west was left as a trophy for all the participants to fight over.

The area west of Tunisia is also densely populated. The conditions in major cities such as Bejaia and Constantine are excellent in all aspects, even surpassing Gabes and Sfax in the east, which is enough to impress their greedy hearts.

Isaac found it funny to see them arguing so hard that their faces turned red and their necks became thick.

Although those places are rich, they are also the areas with the strongest local power of the Hafsid Dynasty. Each prince has a large number of troops, and the local people are brave and good at fighting. In addition, they are adjacent to the Zayanid Dynasty, so they are not so easy to deal with.

However, they still had great confidence in victory in the war, and urged Isaac from time to time to send troops as soon as possible and lead them to victory.

Objectively speaking, this is certainly a good thing. The more famous Isaac is, the more convinced they will be, and the less likely they will go against Isaac in the future.

The summer in the Mediterranean climate is simply a nightmare. Not only is the temperature hot, but it is also extremely dry. Providing water for people and horses and feeding livestock are very problematic, making it unsuitable for large-scale military campaigns.

On September 1455, 9, after nearly a month of rest, Isaac assembled his troops in the city of Gabes and continued his march to the northwest.

The first autumn rain arrived as expected, clearing away the summer heat. The dry grass began to come back to life, providing convenience for the army's march.

Given that it was difficult for the Hafsid dynasty to gather a sizable army, Isaac divided the army into three routes. The western army, led by Duke Ferdinand, attacked the city of Gafsa to the west. The northern army, led by Marquis Mikhail, headed north to the holy city of Kairouan. Isaac personally led the eastern army, bypassing the Gulf of Gabes and advancing eastward toward Sfax.

All three armies carried large quantities of dried meat and livestock, and drove the civilians and vassal troops in the occupied areas to serve as cannon fodder, killing them on the battlefield where they killed their own people, thus draining the last bit of vitality from the local Hafsid dynasty.

On the land of North Africa, the three armies were like three sharp blades, plowing through the soft hinterland of the Hafsid Dynasty, bringing with them bursts of blood.

After the Tripoli Corridor was opened, the army's supply routes were unobstructed. Weapons, food, and soldiers from Sirte and Cyrenaica were continuously sent to the front line, supporting the army all the way forward.

Rushing westward.

(End of this chapter)