1444, Byzantium Resurrects

Chapter 151 Carthaginian War

It was noon, and people were hurrying along the wide streets of Tunis.

This was already the second week of the siege of Tunisia. Not long ago, the Roman Emperor Isaac arrived at the gates of Tunis and demanded that Caliph Yahya of the Hafsid Dynasty surrender the city, but was flatly refused. He then led an army of 30,000 to surround the entire city from three directions and began to attack the city.

At the same time, a Christian fleet flying the double-headed eagle flag and the pirate flag appeared in the Gulf of Tunis in the north, cutting off the last channel of communication between Tunis and the outside world. The capital of the Hafsid dynasty was completely turned into an isolated island.

Caliph Yahya summoned the forces in the city, declared resistance to the end, assembled more than 10,000 remaining soldiers, and engaged in a bloody battle with the siege troops.

On the streets of Tunis, a young man wrapped his body in a wide robe. The thick hood and the scarf around his neck covered most of his face, leaving only a pair of light blue eyes exposed.

He looked around and saw that the once bustling market was now deserted, and the once crowded downtown area now only had a few people left.

The pedestrians looked terrified and were also dressed warmly. Their eyes covered by hoods looked around anxiously. They walked around the patrolling guards and went to several material distribution points arranged by the authorities. They threw down coins, picked up daily necessities, and then immediately walked into the alleys and returned home as quickly as possible. After confirming that there was no one around, they locked the door tightly without saying a word the whole time.

The young man admired the city's buildings and empty streets with great interest, and from time to time he took out a charcoal pencil and a book and wrote and drew on the book.

He would stop from time to time, talk to passers-by with a smile, and pester them with questions, although few people were willing to pay attention to him.

The guards quickly noticed the young man's unusual behavior and stopped him on the road leading to the city wall.

"Show your face and show your ID."

The young man removed his hood, revealing blond hair and a face with distinctly Germanic features, clearly from Europe.

"Um?!"

The guards immediately went on alert.

After Tunisia was besieged, in order to maintain the stability of the city and avoid civil unrest, Yahya, at the advice of his ministers, followed the practice of the Kingdom of France and forcibly isolated the pagans, blocking them in a small, narrow area, arranging soldiers to closely monitor them, and providing only extremely limited supplies.

The guards hesitated for a moment and put their right hands on the hilts of the swords at their waists.

At this time, any Europeans who could move around freely were either spies or had strong backing.

The young man smiled friendly and took out three documents from his pocket. They were an identity certificate issued by the Free City of Frankfurt, a pass signed by Caliph Yahya, and a free movement permit signed by the city defense chief.

"Lake Dremann, a Frankfurt native, a poet and a painter, is allowed to travel freely, and local governors should not hinder him."

The guard held up a pass with the Hafs family crest and read it out.

The signature was from the then Caliph Yahya, and was dated ten years ago.

"poet?"

The guard looked at the captain beside him with a strange look on his face.

"A jester to princes and grandchildren, and a plaything to concubines and noble ladies."

The captain said briefly, not hiding the disdain on his face.

"Ahem, although I also write poetry and paint, I am actually a historian. My ideal is to write a history that can be passed down through the ages."

Lake understood the guards' conversation and still smiled.

"It's up to you, but..."

The captain looked at the young man meaningfully.

Seeing that they had no intention of letting him go, Lake wisely took out a few silver coins and stuffed them into the captain's pocket.

The captain weighed his pocket, waved his hand with satisfaction, and drove Lake away.

Lake pouted and put on his hood.

He was born in the Free City of Frankfurt in the Holy Roman Empire. His family members had served as court clerks for generations, compiling family chronicles for various nobles. They also wrote poems and heroic stories, winning the favor of knights and the hearts of noble ladies.

There was no systematic historical system in Europe at this time. Family members lived off the support of the nobles, so what they wrote was of course highly subjective and often mixed with a lot of personal opinion. They portrayed the families of their sponsors in a glorious light, while doing their utmost to belittle the rival families.

Lake's father was the best in the family and had served as the heraldry officer of the Elector of Brandenburg. He rummaged through the old musty parchment scrolls and finally found the Elector with a moldy paper covered with ancient texts, claiming that his son had the blood of the Duke of Pomerania and deserved the city of Stettin.

According to him, the illegitimate daughter of the son of the sister of the Duke of Pomerania Valdislav IV is the mother of the lover of the current Elector of Brandenburg. The son of the Elector and his lover is of course the rightful heir to the Duchy of Pomerania.

This was a remarkable close relative. The Elector of Brandenburg was overjoyed and asked Lake's father to polish the claim, write it into the family's secret history, and reward the Deliman family with a manor in the suburbs of Berlin.

As a result, Lake had sufficient funds to study abroad in Italy and study law at the University of Florence.

Here, with his handsome appearance and brilliant literary and artistic talent, he lingered on the pillows and beds of noble ladies and young girls and received their support.

The somewhat famous Lake began to travel around the world like an ordinary son of an Italian nouveau riche, leaving behind popular poems in various countries.

Later, he was no longer satisfied with writing poetry and prose, and tried to carry forward his family tradition and compile history books.

At that time, Caliph Yahya worked hard to govern the country and invited talents from all walks of life with an open-minded and generous mind, regardless of their background and beliefs.

Lake, who was optimistic by nature, came to Tunis by boat with great enthusiasm to investigate the local customs and wrote several articles praising Yahya and his princesses, and soon won their favor.

Caliph Yahya provided him with a salary, allowed him to move freely in the territory, and required him to survey maps and investigate the local features while engaging in literary and artistic creation.

Lake walked on the dark street, looking at the heavily guarded sentry post, and couldn't help but sigh in his heart.

Looking back ten years ago, Yahya was young and capable. He quickly quelled the chaos around the capital, vigorously developed production, and made the capital city of Tunis prosperous.

At that time, the city of Tunis was like a beacon, shining brightly in the chaotic North African land, and its people were prosperous and stable.

At that time, whenever the glory of the Hafs family was mentioned, even the humblest beggars on the streets of Tunisia would involuntarily straighten their chests.

However, the Roman emperor who came from the east destroyed the prosperous appearance in a very brutal way, revealing the ugly inner world. After suffering a series of failures, Yahya began to become suspicious, irritable, and when Lake tried to meet him with the results of ten years, he was not even allowed to enter the palace.

Lake had no choice but to take his achievements and prepare to find another master.

At the end of the street, Lake knocked on a door. The hostess in the house was delighted to see Lake and pulled him in.

This was the mistress of a merchant from the Marin Dynasty. After the merchant fled, Lake moved in here.

"On July 1455, 7, the co-emperor of the Roman Empire, the holy warrior Isaac, led the Crusaders to a decisive battle with the Hafsid Dynasty coalition forces on the plain west of Tripoli. They won a great victory. Prince Ibn was killed on the spot, and the Hafsid Dynasty army retreated..."

On the luxurious desk left by the businessman, Lake opened the book and began to continue writing his masterpiece.

He used the oldest Latin, which not many people in Europe could speak, so he didn't have to worry about being checked by patrolling guards.

"So far, the Hafsid dynasty's last effort to resist the Crusades has failed, and the demise of the Hafsid dynasty has entered the countdown."

"In the following year, Emperor Isaac conquered the east and the west, destroyed the Djerid Sultanate, established a southern border region, and relocated people to fill it."

"Kairouan was besieged. Ebenezer paid the price for his arrogance. He gained the title of caliph, but lost his home base. His army was like a rootless duckweed, and the will to fight had been lost."

"The benevolent Emperor Isaac was compassionate and did not want to destroy Kairouan. He left some troops behind to monitor the city and headed north to continue to fight against the Hafs rebels who refused to submit to the king..."

The hostess brought bread and drinks, and Lake ate while he wrote.

"According to the vast majority of refugees, Emperor Isaac cares about the country and will not kill innocent people. As for the rumors of massacres and burning cities, they are mostly groundless and have no basis at all..."

"On April 1456, 4, after a fierce battle, the righteous Emperor Isaac finally eliminated the local diehards and entered his loyal port of Sousse. The people were so excited that they paraded and celebrated, but accidentally set the city on fire. Emperor Isaac was unable to put out the fire and could only sigh in despair."

"It is so sad and lamentable that such a big city was destroyed in one day!"

Lake thought about it and continued writing.

"It is said that in view of the large number of refugees, Emperor Isaac could not resist their pleas and allowed them to go to Constantinople and the Morea Peninsula to work. A one-to-one assistance system was adopted, and they were assigned to every Roman citizen household to cultivate the surrounding abandoned land..."

"Soon after, the emperor marched into Ben Arus and demanded that the local officials pledge allegiance to the new Hafs leader, Makusum. This shows that Emperor Isaac's war against Yahya was purely out of necessity and was intended to help justice."

"On May 1456, 5, Emperor Isaac, who had not seen the city of Ben Arus surrender for a long time, fired a salute to celebrate. The defenders in the city were inspired, and that night, the city gates were opened..."

Lake thought about it for a while.

"Due to the stubbornness of the false king Yahya, the city of Tunis was soon surrounded, like a lone boat, wandering in a sea of ​​purple flags..."

"This is the ruling center of the Hafs family. Yahya had a premonition in advance and stockpiled a large amount of food and weapons in order to fight Emperor Isaac to the end."

"According to him, he can protect this city until he dies of old age..."

Lake dipped his brush in ink as he recalled what he had seen on the streets today.

"Supplies in the city are not a problem for now, but compared to the lack of supplies, the loss of people's hearts is more fatal."

"Not long ago, the Zayanid Dynasty occupied several cities in the western border, but refused to send reinforcements to Tunis. This incident greatly damaged the morale of the defenders, and they were truly left alone."

"Compared to the nomadic tribes in the south, the residents of Tunisia rely on farming as their livelihood and are relatively weak. The fanatics who are keen on jihad have already left for the holy city of Kairouan a few days ago, leaving behind a group of citizens and farmers who are content with their lot. Although they do not understand Emperor Isaac's mission and are quite loyal to the Hafs family, their combat effectiveness is poor and I'm afraid they will not be able to defend the city for long."

"I have lived here for many years and have had some interactions with the underground forces in Tunis. They control several secret ports in the Gulf of Tunis. From time to time, wealthy residents would board small boats and flee out of the city to pledge allegiance to Makusum and Emperor Isaac behind him."

"Many dignitaries also bet on both sides and arranged for some of their relatives to go out of the city to pledge allegiance to Makusum so that they could become familiar with her in advance."

"Yahya's control over the city is no longer as strong as before. These things, such as collusion between officials and businessmen, cannot be stopped at all."

“I have to say that the emperor’s move to push Makusum to the forefront was really smart. Sometimes, when people are making difficult choices, they just need a reason to convince their fragile hearts, even if the reason is absurd.”

Lake shook his head, leaving a blank, and turned to the end of the history book.

"I have been investigating for many years and have traveled almost every inch of the Maghreb, and have gained a deeper understanding of these countries built on the ruins of the Almohad dynasty."

"In the final analysis, they don't have a culture that can unite the lower classes, they don't have a sound administrative framework, they don't have a reasonable inheritance system, and they don't even make good use of religion."

"All they have is a unique geographical location, brave nomadic tribes, and wise monarchs who appear from time to time."

"Times are changing. When the straits are no longer an insurmountable barrier, when brave nomadic tribes are defeated by more brave invaders, and when the trade they rely on for survival is cut off, then even the occasional wise rulers can hardly change their doomed decline."

Soldiers were running hurriedly on the street, causing a lot of noise. It must be that some part of the city wall was attacked again.

“Perhaps, soon, this great city will return to the hands of the Roman emperor after several hundred years. By then, the dusty jade will surely shine again.”

"When the time comes, I will submit the Maghreb map I have drawn over the past ten years and the cultural features I have collected, along with this history book, to the great emperor."

"I believe that with his generosity, he will definitely give me the reward I deserve."

Lake closed his history book, quietly picked up the wine glass beside him and took a sip.

He suddenly had an inspiration and wrote a few big words on the title page of this unknown history book.

Carthaginian Wars.

The huge cannons in the distance roared once again, ancient, desolate, distant, and vigorous and uplifting, as if a giant dragon that had been frozen for hundreds of years had awakened from a deep cave, felt the blood refilling its dry body, tried to spread its wings that covered the earth, and let out a long-lost roar towards the sky.

The roar carried the joy of rebirth, the oppression of the villains, and the overwhelming rage against the old enemies, announcing his return to power.

All the beasts were terrified.

(End of this chapter)