kingdom of nations

Chapter 115 Nur ad-Din of Apollo

Nurdin was indeed waiting.

He remained in his capital, Apollo, in his palace, surrounded by his ministers, generals, and concubines. He sipped coffee, inhaling the sweet aroma of frankincense in the rising steam. He issued decrees, letters, and orders to his governors, brothers, and other Saracens, demanding that they lead their soldiers to the battlefields he designated.

They are going to wage a holy war against the Christians, for God, for the Prophet, and for their fellow citizens.

But how many people decided to stand by or delay? Nur admiring the hazy scene before him—sunlight streaming into the pool through the open space above the courtyard, making the water shimmer as if sprinkled with gold—he had indeed done just that, casually tossing gold beads into the water and ordering his wives, concubines, and maids to jump in and retrieve them.

Back then, he was young and full of energy, and every act of debauchery meant an all-night party. But now... he had to admit he was old. He preferred quiet to noise. He indulged in the warmth of youthful bodies rather than desire, but he did not intend to die a painful and ugly death on his sickbed like his father.

“A Christian king can die on the battlefield, and so can a Saracen sultan.” But how? Nur ad-Din did not intend to attack Shirku and Saladin in Egypt. Although for some people rebellion was far more abhorrent than infidelity, if he thought so, he would not be “Nur ad-Din”—Nur ad-Din was originally an honorific title, and in fact he did not even like people calling him that.

Similarly, if it were to attack Arazari—just as Amalric I never forgot Egypt, the Saracens would not forget Arazari, which was also their holy land—Nur ad-Din was not sure if he could do it. He did not want to be as impulsive and gullible as Amalric I, thus handing over a victory that was already within his grasp to Saladin.

Saladin, though people still refer to him as Shirku's nephew, Nur ad-Din knew the young man better than those mediocre people. He had taken Saladin under his wing and made him his servant, treating him like his own son or nephew. He had hoped to have a son like Saladin, but unfortunately, whether it was his eldest son, second son, or youngest son, they all only disappointed him.

They weren't necessarily bad, but if they were to be a wichir (local administrator) of a large city, or an emir (military commander), there might not be any problem. But Nourdin's ambitions extended far beyond Syria. And his enemies, his brother, and his subordinates wouldn't allow it—those three foolish children really thought that once he was dead, they could easily divide up Syria.

His second son even said more than once that Zengi had divided his territory with Nur ad-Din and his brother in the same way. When he heard this, Nur ad-Din couldn’t help but laugh. He had been eyeing Mosul, while Sefodin (his brother) had been eyeing Apol.

Not long ago, when his brother died, he intended to seize Mosul. If it weren't for the resolute resistance of his ministers against his army, he would now be the Sultan of Mosul and Apol.

His sons had no idea how he and his brother had "inherited" Apollo, Mosul, and Damascus. Modern Syria, Egypt, the Seljuks, and even Byzantium were hunting grounds where wild beasts gathered for feasts of flesh and blood. Every drop of water and every bite of food had to be obtained through bloodshed, and the weak not only failed to get the prey but also became the prey.

He once showed his sons Caliph al-Atid's plea for help. Needless to say, this Fatimid monarch (possibly the last monarch) who was about the same age as his youngest son was extremely obsequious in the letter. He even cut off a lock of his wife's hair, put it in the envelope, and wrote in the letter: "My wife and I eagerly await your aid. Without your army, they will be ravaged and plundered by the Franks."

The letter was ridiculed by Nurdin's sons, including his youngest son who was only eleven years old. To Nurdin's disappointment, they did not believe that they would be the next Atid. They were complacent, foolish, and arrogant, thinking that having a surname could extinguish everyone's ambition.

Nur ad-Din wearily closed his eyes, his ears suddenly picking up a faint sound outside the door—he seemed to have said that no one should disturb him, but after a moment's hesitation, he turned his head slightly. The black eunuch beside him immediately understood the Sultan's meaning and hurriedly and silently retreated.

A while later, he came to report that the First Lady wished to have an audience with the Sultan.

In the Sultan's harem, the concubines can be basically divided into three types. One type is blood relatives like the First Lady, who is his cousin and shares a common ancestor with him. Therefore, she is also the woman with the highest status in the court. Nur ad-Din's mother had already passed away, and he had no sisters.

His second and third wives were princesses from other tribes and the Khanate. Their marriages to Nur ad-Din could be considered a political contract. Slightly lower in rank were the daughters and sisters of officials.

The third type is slaves—these beautiful girls were scourged and sold here by slave traders from the Caucasus, Greece, Iran, and the Apennines.

In the imaginations of later generations, every Sultan's concubines and maids were given a spacious and luxurious room. In reality, apart from the first, second, and third wives and their more favored concubines, the other women were basically divided into groups of four or five, or even five or six, in a single room, and the rooms lacked proper heating and insulation.

In the summer, it was bearable, but when winter came, countless young women fell ill from the cold. They received almost no treatment or care, and most of them died in the prime of their lives. They were then wrapped up haphazardly and thrown out of the palace by eunuchs and servants like rotten fruit.

The First Lady was about the same age as Nur ad-Din, but apart from those annoying fine lines and a few strands of white hair, she was still a beautiful woman of outstanding grace and extraordinary bearing. She stepped over the eunuchs' procession and knelt down three steps away from the Sultan, prostrating herself on the ground and affectionately pressing her cheek against the hem of his robe.

Nurdin looked at her with the same tenderness and affection—although he knew that his wife was not as docile and kind as she appeared, and that she had used many women behind his back, but that was for her own status and his favor, and besides, there was a connection between them that could never be severed.

He extended his hand for her to kiss, and then allowed her to sit beside him. "Why did you suddenly decide to see me?" Nur ad-Din asked. Generally, in the Sultan's harem, women over thirty were no longer on the list of those to be served in bed—the concubines would also lose the opportunity to meet the Sultan. But the First Lady always had Nur ad-Din's trust. He entrusted the management of this harem to her, and like an official, she would come to report to the Sultan from time to time.

“Yes, my dear master,” the First Lady said gently, “a new batch of girls in the court have reached the age of fifteen. If you wish, I will bring them to you tonight so that you may see them and choose a few to keep you company during this lonely night.”

Nurdin glanced indulgently at his wife. The relationship between him and his cousin had little element of romance; the foundation of respect and trust lay entirely in their shared bloodline. Moreover, the First Lady had no children of her own; Nurdin's three sons were born to his concubines, which further diminished her perceived aggression in his eyes.

Moreover, as she grew older, the First Lady's temperament became more peaceful and tolerant. As for jealousy... she was old enough to be the grandmother of these girls, so when she arranged for Noordin to serve her in bed, she did not feel embarrassed or conflicted—if these girls could make her husband and master feel a little more at ease—even if it was just brushing off some heavy dust, she would be very pleased.

Nurdin didn't want to disappoint his wife over such trivial matters, so he nodded and said, "You arrange it."

After a simple meal of breadcrumbs, cheese, and chickpeas, Nourdin and the First Lady reclined on a large, low couch, surrounded by soft down pillows. Eunuchs led the girls into the room. There were six of them, blonde, brown, and black-haired, one carrying a lute and another carrying a nai—a wind instrument.

When they were purchased, they were probably only nine years old, and no older than fourteen. Even then, they were already showing signs of becoming beauties. But before being favored by the Sultan, they were the lowest-ranking women in the palace, and had countless tasks to do every day. When they grew up, they had to go through several rounds of screening and inspection.

Some girls are exceptionally beautiful in their youth, but grow up to be plain or even vulgar; others exude a repulsive odor; still others experience a change in voice, some becoming deep and hoarse, others sharp and shrill. The former may possess a certain charm, while the latter are simply unbearable. These substandard girls will become mere dregs of the palace, toiling endlessly in the kitchen, washroom, or courtyard, their remaining beauty quickly eroded by the labor, leaving not a trace.

But if they could become the Sultan's concubines, they would immediately transform from slaves into masters, and they would at least have a room—a private and comfortable one. In winter there would be charcoal fires, in summer ice blocks, and they could spend an entire day in a steam room, enjoying fragrant oils, milk, and rouge.

Therefore, rivalries and intrigues among the girls were not uncommon, though they were usually very careful—if discovered, both the victim and the perpetrator would be punished. And when the ladies chose girls for the Sultan, they would absolutely not select these restless individuals.

The girls who are chosen by the First Lady are of course the most outstanding. Each of them is in the most beautiful period of a woman's life, as clever and lively as a young animal, with shiny fur, clear eyes, and a sweet smile on their lips.

They had all bathed, their hair and skin smeared with fragrant oils, and they were adorned with gold, silk, and jewels. Girls holding musical instruments sat on carpets laid out by the eunuchs and began to play, while their companions began to dance.

"How adorable!"

The First Lady remarked that, having passed the age of jealousy and rivalry, she could now appreciate these young, vibrant lives with the same ease as her husband and master. Each girl had something to offer, but one stood out for her composure and beauty. She pointed her out to Noordin, “What do you think of that girl? The one with the black hair.”

Nurdin looked over, and after a moment, he nodded.

The First Lady immediately raised her hand, and the girls stopped what they were doing, whether they were playing music or dancing. When they realized that the girl with dark hair had been chosen instead of themselves, they immediately showed uncontrollable jealousy, although the girl herself did not show much joy.

This displeased the First Lady. She looked at Noordin and, seeing that the Sultan was neither angry nor annoyed, said, "Come forward."

The black-haired girl slowly stepped forward, still holding the exquisite pipa. Nurdin carefully examined her for a while, but his gaze was neither like that of a man looking at a woman, nor like that of a master looking at a slave; it was even somewhat gentle.

“I see something familiar in your face that reminds me of someone I know, perhaps your father or mother,” he turned to the First Lady. “Is her origin recorded in the register?”

Slave traders would certainly have detailed records, and the slave's origins were directly related to his or her price. "Her father was a Christian knight, and her mother was a noblewoman from Armenia."

The First Lady had, of course, already read through the information on these girls. During this period, it was not uncommon for Crusader knights to marry Armenian noblewomen. Although the Armenians were from the East, their conversion to Christianity dates back to 301 AD. Most interestingly, despite being neighbors with Byzantium, their relationship with Byzantium was poor; instead, they were closer to the Crusaders who had come from afar.

The Crusaders were surprised to find that these Armenian Christians were similar to them in many ways, whether it was the direction in which they made the sign of the cross or the use of unleavened bread for communion.

They lived in fortresses and castles, enjoying falconry, hunting, and feasting, where clowns and courtesans would entertain them. When the Crusader knights were invited to a banquet in an Armenian castle, it felt like returning home.

Moreover, the Armenians provided the Crusaders with tremendous assistance during the crusades. They served not only as guides and logistical support but also as reliable allies. In 1122, Count Josephine of Edessa and his nephew were captured by the Turks and imprisoned in Haput Castle.

Baldwin II led a group to the rescue, but failed and was also captured by the Turks and taken prisoner.

Later, a dozen or so Armenians spontaneously organized a rescue operation. They disguised themselves as monks, infiltrated the castle, killed the guards, and rescued the count and the king...

Because his territory bordered Armenia, the Counts of Edessa married Armenian princesses three times in a row.

The black-haired girl slightly parted her lips, as if she wanted to say something, but tears involuntarily streamed down her face.

“Thank you for your kindness, my master, but… but I don’t remember, great Sultan. I was forced to leave my father and mother when I was just a toddler. I don’t remember their names or faces.”

Are they all dead?

“Perhaps,” the girl said, “we were raised by servants, but when I was nine, they entrusted us to someone they thought was trustworthy.”

Then, she gave a sorrowful smile.

Everyone present could understand that smile—if this person were truly trustworthy, she wouldn't be here.

You said "we," but who else is there?

“And my brother,” the girl whispered, “but he may be dead too.”

(End of this chapter)