kingdom of nations

Chapter 122 First Battle (3)

"This is the breath of God, the words of God, the mark of God."

When the chief eunuch beside the Sultan suddenly heard his master say this, he simply placed his hands on his chest silently, without echoing or praising him, for he knew that his master, the great Nur ad-Din, did not need it—he was a simple and devout man who always prayed quietly alone at night, while constantly examining the mistakes he had made during the day.

Such prayers became more frequent after leaving Apol. Based on the eunuch's understanding of his master, he could probably guess that this expedition might be the only time in his life that Nur ad-Din did something for himself.

He yearned to offer his last bit of wisdom and strength to God, yet he also feared that he would become a sinner of Saracens for this desire—even though his ministers and generals all said that now was the best time to retake Arazarus.

"Isa (Jesus), son of Mary (the Virgin Mary), once heard God's will here, summoned the apostles, and performed miracles—it was the power God gave him that enabled him to walk on water, calm storms, and feed thousands of people with five loaves of bread and two fish," Nur ad-Din said, pointing to the surface of Lake Tiberias (the Sea of ​​Galilee). Tonight, the moon is bright, and the lake shimmers with silver light, stretching as far as the eye can see, like the Sultan's army.

“I once sought the Prophet’s revelation, hoping that He would come before me as He did forty years ago and show the Saracens the way forward, but He has been slow to respond. My prayers are like pebbles that fall into the water and are never seen again. I can’t help but wonder if all the things I have done for God have met His expectations of me? Have I gone astray and am destined to go to Hellfire?”

“Sultan!” the chief eunuch had to speak. “Why do you think this way? From Mosul to Apol, from Apol to Damascus, from Damascus to Alexandria, from Alexandria to Cairo, who doesn’t know that your justice shines like the sun across the land?”
You have never enacted any laws that are not in accordance with Islamic law, nor have you ever forced anyone to perform any labor that violates the teachings of the Prophet, nor have you ever collected even a single illegal tax. Your reverence for God and the Prophet is known to all, whether they are your own son, your most trusted general, an Isaac, or a Christian.

You are so noble and so incorruptible that every bite of your food, every piece of clothing, every item of your possessions, even your dwelling, horses, and weapons, come from your spoils of war, just like any soldier in your army. If your wife complains, you would rather sell your shop to her than let her take a single coin from the kingdom's treasury.

And your courage is unparalleled; in which battle did you not personally charge into battle? Know that every time you did so, we kneel down and pray for you. Without you, who would lead and protect the Saracens?

“God is with us now, before me and after me,” Nur ad-Din said solemnly. “In Shams, there is only God, and there is no other god but Him. Everyone who walks here, whether he is a Caliph, a Sultan or a Wichir, is merely someone He has chosen to act and speak on His behalf.”

“I misspoke, Sultan.”

Nur ad-Din made a gesture, signaling the prostrate eunuch leader to stand up. He knew the eunuch leader spoke from the heart, but mortals should not overstep their bounds—he turned his gaze back to the lake, “We are all like morning dew, but God is eternal and supreme.”

With indescribable feelings, the master and servant walked silently along the edge of the Sea of ​​Galilee (Lake Tiberias) over the rugged boulders until the bright moon hung high in the sky. The chief eunuch looked up at the position of the stars and said, "You should rest now."

“I know,” Nurdin said. “It’s strange that I’m so tired but I can’t sleep at all—ah, Shams, I understand, it’s because I’m getting old. I’ve seen my father sleepless all night before and I just thought it was strange… But I really should go back. So many eyes are watching us.”

Nur ad-Din was not wrong. His army included tribal chiefs and their soldiers from the Arab peninsula, as well as mercenaries such as Bedouins, Kurds, and Oghuz Turks, and slave soldiers such as Ghulams and Mamluks. Although they shared the same faith, they were completely different in terms of skin color, status, and treatment, and their desires had their own different outlets.

They are here, subservient, only because of the authority Nurdin had built up over the past thirty years and the bait right in front of them—Araza Road.

But after taking only a few steps, Nurdin suddenly frowned. He smelled fresh blood, and then the chief eunuch saw it too. In the reeds not far away, a long, narrow fishing boat was capsized, and on its convex hull lay a naked boy, and beside him was a slightly older girl, but she too had never grown up, and they would never have to grow up.

These were fishermen from the Sea of ​​Galilee. After stripping them of their outer clothes, it was impossible to determine whether they were Christians or Saracens. But what did it matter? Although Nur ad-Din was a just man, his justice was limited to the law and his own territory. If he were to wage war on enemy land, anything could happen.

The eunuch leader immediately ordered the soldiers following behind to bury them, not out of pity, but because if the bodies rotted in the lake, it would easily cause a plague—it would take them at least two more days to get out of this lake, which was half the length of Lhasa, and before that, many soldiers would be drawing water, fishing, and swimming in it.

After this incident, even though he returned to his tent and lay on the soft low couch, Nurdin still couldn't fall into a deep sleep as he had hoped. It wasn't out of guilt—but out of fear that this would become a bad omen. He knew that this thought was harmful to the current situation, but he couldn't stop it from lingering in his mind.

The next day, when the emirs (commanders) and fatahs (leaders of thousands) came to see him, they found a sultan who was more majestic and awe-inspiring than ever before. They greeted him with utmost respect and prayed that God would bless this most venerable elder. After a long while, they began to report on some of the events that had occurred during the march, as well as the movements of the main Crusader force that they had been closely monitoring.

"They're still heading north; the advance party has already reached Alexandreta and boarded ships. They might disembark in Tarsor, Armenia—"

Upon hearing this, everyone inside the tent smiled.

"And M'lai? Has he kept his oath and sent his army? And Sultan Toglol II? His messenger told me that he would deliver a fatal blow to those arrogant Christian knights? Has his army moved to the appropriate position?"

"That Armenian (Mlai) is indeed ready for battle," indeed, everyone else could shirk responsibility and avoid it, but not Murlai. He was now a mortal enemy of the Christian nation, and if he were to betray his second master, he would find it impossible to move an inch in the Saracen world. Both sides were determined to capture this blasphemer and tear him to pieces: "Sultan Toglol II seems to be waiting..."

Nur ad-Din nodded without anger or displeasure. If he were in Nur ad-Din's shoes, he would have done the same. If he could surround the Arrassa Road before the main Crusader force could react, Sultan Toglör II wouldn't mind taking advantage of the chaos and catching the Christians off guard. But if he failed to achieve his goal, Sultan Toglör II would certainly be happy to see him and the Crusaders fight each other, since the Zengid dynasty was also built on the ruins of the Seljuk dynasty.

Nur ad-Din's father, Zangi, was originally just a Turkic slave of the Seljuk Sultan. However, through his wisdom, loyalty, strength, and the blessings of God and the revelations of the Prophet, he was able to establish his own dynasty. Even so, although people called Nur ad-Din Sultan, his and his brother's titles were still Agbeta (meaning regent and tutor).

The last Bedouin chieftain stepped forward and recounted a small incident: their light cavalry, while scouting ahead, had discovered an Isaac settlement in the wilderness of Kiberquinlan, consisting of three villages with a population of approximately two thousand.

“I’ve heard of them,” Nurdin said. “They belong to the ‘hermit’ group among the Isaacs, and are docile and obedient. They only engage in farming and animal husbandry and never lend money or trade.”

"Then?" "Kill them all." Nur ad-Din gently pronounced the death sentence on the two thousand men. If they were in Apollo or Damascus, he would have allowed them to live or even protected them, but not here. This place was too close to Arrasa Road.

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"Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!"

The sage's mad cries still lingered in his ears, while Haredi's throat, eyes, and ears were filled with blood. He could not see the road ahead, nor hear the cries of anguish. His chest ached as if it were being torn apart, and he did not know whether the pain came from his lungs or his heart.

The protection of a sage can enable a wise person to foresee crises and opportunities, but even if he hears the long wailing of the trumpet of death, how can he deliver the warning to everyone's ears? Especially since it is the dead of night, and there is no sign at all.

Some ignorant people even say that they have lived in the wilderness of Kiber Qunlan for hundreds of years, and apart from tax collectors and soldiers, and some merchants, no one has ever bothered them. They have also paid to buy their right not to serve, and neither the wolf-like Saracens nor the lion-like Crusaders have ever shown their fangs to them, these obedient lambs.

They can leave, of course, but what about the furniture? What about the houses? Wild animals will soon take over and ravage this place, along with their grapevines, wheat, olive trees…

Even if they went to other settlements, and the Isaacs there were willing to accept them, how would they rent houses, furnish them, and buy food when they had nothing but the clothes on their backs? Would they go against the doctrine that has been upheld to this day and live by deception like the other Isaacs?

Arguing with these fools was pointless, especially with Haredi, who had survived the Fustat catastrophe and knew that disaster struck like a thunderbolt, sudden and penetrating to the bone. Any hesitation or indecision at this moment would lead to the most tragic end. Without hesitation, he immediately took his wife, daughter, and others who were willing to go with him and ran out of the village.

But how can human feet compare to a horse's four hooves?
Moreover, they were pursued by the most swift and agile light cavalry in the Saracen army. They wore wide cloaks and robes, covered their heads with black hairbands and their faces with black gauze, revealing only their gleaming eyes and blades. Those crescent-shaped scimitars, as they sped past, were like an invitation from the Grim Reaper, and not a single strike missed.

Even more terrifying than these Bedouins were the Nubian slave soldiers, also known as Berbers, who wore sleeveless, light-colored, belted robes and wide-legged trousers. They had long hair tied up in braids and stood upright on their heads. In the darkness, they resembled headless demons, emitting chilling cries. Each of them rode a horse and had two or three spare horses with them.

They don't even need to dismount and change horses; they can simply jump from one horse to a new one.

These abominable hyenas were the ones relentlessly pursuing Haredi. Haredi reacted faster than anyone else; he and the wise man mounted a camel, then tied his wife and daughter to another camel, giving the other mounts to his neighbors—in the face of the slaughterers sweeping in like a storm, escape was their only resistance—there were no warriors among them.

They were even proud of it...

Haredi lay on the camel's back, using his body as a shield for the wise man. A strange "whooshing" sound swept past his ears, and a chilling vibration came from his body, the saddle, and even the camel itself. He didn't know if he was injured, only that from a certain moment, one side of his body suddenly lost its strength. Fortunately, the wise man held on tightly, preventing him from falling off the camel.

They didn't know how long they had been fleeing in the desert, until the sun rose and the earth was bathed in golden light. His camel let out a mournful cry and collapsed, and he and the wise man fell heavily into the sand.

For a long time, they remained motionless. Haredi awoke from the darkness, tears streaming down his face from the sunlight. He struggled to his feet and went to check on the wise man. The wise man was an old man with white hair and beard, and after the torment of the night, he was on the verge of death. Although he was still breathing, his breath was so weak that it was almost imperceptible.

Haredi turned around and saw a gruesome wound on his thigh. It didn't look like a long knife, but more like the gruesome mark left after being hit by a javelin and torn apart by the jolting. He was a blessed man—that's why he had lasted until now, otherwise he would have died from blood loss long ago.

He also saw the motionless camel, which had gone from being warm and soft to cold and hard. He remembered that he had tied the reins of another camel to its saddle, but he did not find the one his wife and daughter were riding. He did not know when, but the rope had broken.

Haredi put aside his worries about his wife and children and returned to the wise man, who leaned against his camel, his face ashen, his eyes filled with regret and hatred: "It was the Saracen army," he said. "Alas, my child, how foolish I was."

I was like an ant churning in the sand, watching two giants fight, and actually thinking it was just their business—little did I know that for us lowly beings, even the slightest change could be catastrophic.

“I’m going to hell, my child,” he said, taking Harry’s hand. “But you’re alive, which is probably the best thing. Go there with this terrible news. I know you don’t want to, and you’re worried about their prejudice against you, but it’s okay. Take the treasures I pointed out to you, give them to them, and they will forgive you…”

His breathing quickened: "Haredi, this isn't just for you, it's for the most precious things... don't let them be destroyed in the flames of war... don't let them fall into the hands of infidels... Haredi!"

He called out Harry's name one last time, straightened his body, and died.

Haredi prayed for him, pushed the camel's carcass over him as a makeshift grave, and after doing all this, he was exhausted and had to lie down to rest for a while. Then he removed the water bag and food bag from the camel and staggered forward. Not far away, he saw another camel lying behind a sand dune.

Before he could feel joy and hope, he saw his wife lying face down on top of their daughter, with two javelins stuck in her back. He turned her over, picked up his daughter, who was unharmed but already cold and stiff. She may have died from the cold or from shock.

In short, she died too.

(End of this chapter)