kingdom of nations

Chapter 149 The Sultan's Funeral (Part 2)
Kamal felt utterly exhausted.

He successfully completed the important task entrusted to him by the Grand Vichir and the First Lady: to transport the sacred body of Sultan Nur ad-Din from the distant Arrasa Road back to Apol.

Although the weather wasn't particularly hot yet, and the cities they passed through provided them with salt and ice, ensuring the Sultan's body didn't decay and swell was no easy task. However, he managed to prevent the sacred body from suffering too much damage. Although, inevitably, bluish-black spots spread to the neck, forehead, and other areas of the corpse, when people opened the coffin, they still saw a dignified elder.

Afterwards, the Sultan's three sons wiped their father's and monarch's face and body again, changed their clothes, wrapped them in two layers of clean white cotton cloth, and sprinkled them with spices. This process was not very difficult, and they did have to thank the Christian knight—although Kamal guessed they probably didn't care. The eldest and second princes argued several times over who should do what.

And those standing behind them—each with their own agenda: the Great Vizier had already sided with the First Prince, while the Second Prince was surrounded by several Emirs and Second Viziers.

When the night was quiet, Kamal would be disturbed by all sorts of lobbyists who would try to persuade or threaten him to side with their master before the Sultan was buried.

If they don't get a reply, they might even angrily threaten that once Nur ad-Din is buried, an opportunistic little man will only be strangled by a bowstring in front of the new Sultan.

Opportunistic villains? Kamal had no intention of accepting such a title, and whatever his thoughts, he had no intention of kissing the robes of those three incompetent men—including the youngest prince, Saleh.

His guardian was the First Lady, and his biological mother also had a father who was a member of Fatah. They were both quite powerful. But as soon as Kamal saw the child, he knew that he was intentionally raised as a puppet. He had no understanding of his own value and only regarded himself as the son of a nobleman. He had no desire for power, and he didn't even have a clear idea of ​​what power was.

Furthermore, the lobbyists for the eldest and second princes were full of lies, but they were right about one thing: if Kamal chose the third prince, he would have to kneel at the feet of a woman and obey her every command.

But are the eldest and second princes worthy of being served as rulers? Putting everything else aside, the eldest prince's fondness for alcohol is a fatal weakness. Although they might occasionally sip a little grape juice, it's only to refresh themselves or relax.

The eldest prince... he thought he was hiding it well. In fact, everyone in the court knew that when he said he needed to meditate and pray, he would hide in a small room and drink wine until he was completely drunk. Time and time again, his slaves and servants would drag him out and then use ice and cold water to sober him up.

His mother had hoped he would gradually break this terrible habit, but the eldest prince disappointed her; not only did he not, but he became even more addicted with age. The day before the Sultan's burial, Kamal's informant reported that the second wife had stormed into the eldest prince's palace in a fit of rage and had a fierce argument with him.

Then the eldest prince slapped his mother, leaving her face swollen and her teeth knocked out. It's obvious he was drunk again that day; he could get away with it at other times. But if people saw him so intoxicated at the funeral of his respected father and monarch, Sultan Nur ad-Din, who would want to acknowledge him or pay him homage?

Needless to say, this is not merely a quirk. The fact that the eldest prince was still drunk the day before the Sultan's burial and beat his mother shows that he has no self-control. If he were to become Sultan, one can imagine what kind of monarch they would have who indulges in debauchery and reckless pleasure. Under his rule, how devastated would Apol become? How many undercurrents of conspiracy and vortexes of rebellion would be stirred up in secret...

Then, you might say, what about the second prince? The second prince is probably the one who looks most like Nurdin, and he has always tried his best to appear tolerant and magnanimous. For example, he once said that after Nurdin's death, they should follow the example of their fathers (referring to Nurdin and his brothers) and divide the land left by their father equally, and not fight among themselves or brothers.

But is that really the case? In fact, he had been bribing and ingratiating the emirs and Fatahs, and with the support of his mother, the Third Lady, he was building his own guard. If he possessed the abilities to match his ambition, perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing; after all, just as Christian kings—the Saracens—needed a sultan to lead them in conquests.

To Camar's dismay, recent intelligence reports indicated that Josephine III had died.

Joseph III was once treated as a special guest, residing for a considerable period at Apol Castle. Nur ad-Din had stated that he would be treated like a son and nephew. However, this period was very short, perhaps only a few years. In 59 AD, Joseph II died in a Turkic prison, and Nur ad-Din gained control of all of Edessa. Joseph III was rendered useless, and his status and treatment rapidly declined.

In 64 he was moved from Apollo Castle, but was not immediately imprisoned. Nur ad-Din handed him over to his second son, Josephine III, and his wife were imprisoned in a castle that belonged to his mother’s dowry.

The events that occurred on Arrasa Road, in which the Christian knight performed the "purification" for Sultan Nur ad-Din out of love and mercy, had already been informed by Kamal in a letter to everyone at Apol Castle, who had promised to reward the man accordingly—and the second prince was, of course, among these "everyone."

In Camar's opinion, since they had already promised to return Joseph III safely to his son in gratitude for everything he had done for their father, shouldn't they have started preparations sooner—at the very least, they should have placed Joseph III and his wife in their palace and taken good care of them?

Today, when he asked about this matter, the second prince calmly replied that Josephine III was dead, along with his wife, who had been poisoned.

Regardless of Kamal's horror, the second prince seemed completely unconcerned—who killed him? A Christian, an Isaac, or an Arab? What was the reason? Was it humiliation, betrayal, or revenge? A barrage of questions only earned the second prince's impatient expression.

He knew nothing of this and didn't think much of it. To them, Joseph III was already worthless, and to show their love and respect for their father and monarch, they wouldn't mind freeing a couple of useless slaves—but, of course, it was their oversight that things had turned out this way, though they could have thanked the Christian in other ways.

"Who doesn't love women and gold?" the second prince said casually. "We can give him all of that. Let these Christians take the Earl of Edessa's body back. They were our enemies to begin with, and I won't make a big fuss over these two Christians." He made it clear that he didn't want to pursue the matter further, lest he hurt his confidants and trusted followers.

But is this a matter of whether or not to pursue the matter?
Someone killed someone under your guardianship in your castle. Do you think the next time they won't put poison in your wine jug?
Kamal felt a sharp pain in his chest but couldn't utter a single word. The second prince, however, continued to press him about the ninety Christian knights, for he had heard that they had been hired by Governor Shamsdin of Busra.

"In that case, would they be willing to be employed by me?" Kamal had forgotten how he had replied back then, and even how he had stumbled away from Apol Castle and returned to his mansion. For the first time, he looked expectantly at the table, hoping to find a stamped letter, but he found nothing. As he lay down to sleep, he felt that the nights in Apol were colder than ever before.

He forced himself to sleep, for the Sultan's burial ceremony was scheduled for the next morning. Sultan Nur ad-Din had long ago designated that he would be laid to rest permanently in the Watmayya Temple, the largest temple in Apol, which was built in the 8th century.

The Sultan's coffin will be escorted by his male relatives, officials, and personal guards, circling the entire city of Apol, allowing him to take one last look at the land he once loved and defended. Thousands of scholars will follow on foot to pray for him. The Emir, the Vizier, and many other officials, large and small, will only walk behind the coffin, including Kamal, who was not even allowed to be one of the pallbearers.

This was the prince and his supporters' revenge against him. He never gave an answer, or rather, he had made his decision but simply didn't let them know. He could have fled the day before the Sultan's burial, but he ultimately stayed, even though it might have resulted in his beheading and a miserable end. If he hadn't done so, he wouldn't have had any peace for the rest of his life.

A grand procession, with a large number of people, emerged from the south gate of Apole Castle and entered the streets. The streets and alleys were crowded with countless people, all staring wide-eyed at Apole's great scholar, who, dressed in a black robe and wrapped in a snow-white turban, stood on a high platform, solemnly reciting scriptures. Then came the huge coffin, carried by sixteen pallbearers, draped with black and red cloth. The two leading pallbearers were the two princes most familiar to the people of Apole. The person who could have two princes carrying the coffin could not be anyone other than Sultan Nur ad-Din.

The fact that Nur ad-Din was dead was only now truly presented to them. No one knows who uttered the first cry of anguish, but the cries spread like a plague, rising and falling like a tide among the layered walls and mansions of Aleppo.

Kamal was also weeping, deeply grieving for his monarch. He had built such a glorious empire, yet left behind no trustworthy successor.

Dust swirled, and the air was scorching. He heard complaints and frowned, looking toward the source of the noise. It was an official who had been following behind him in the procession, muttering curses as the overly agitated crowd bumped into him, shoving him into the line and then onto Kamal.

He apologized to Kalmar, but Kalmar's mind was no longer on him. He took a deep breath and realized that, without him noticing, the funeral procession had become long and thin, with emotional crowds on both sides, wriggling along with the procession.

"Quickly, summon some men!" Kamal grabbed someone and whispered, "Go to the front and tell the eldest and second princes! Tell them to immediately send more guards!"

The man simply stared at him, whether he couldn't hear, couldn't understand, or didn't want to disturb the two princes at this moment, regardless of who would become the new Sultan—if they developed resentment towards him because of this, he would lose not only power and status, but also his life.

Kamal was extremely anxious. Ignoring the two princes' dislike of him, he rushed forward. But at that moment, a Fatah stopped him. He was a follower of the second prince and had also heard that Kamal had rejected the second prince. He pushed Kamal into the crowd behind him, and Kamal fell to the ground in a disheveled state. He heard a few sneers, but he didn't know who they came from.

He screamed in despair, but the devastation had already occurred.

The fall seemed to be a signal; suddenly, a man rushed out, placing his hands tightly on the neck of Nurdin's coffin, shouting ecstatically, "I touched it! I touched his coffin! I am blessed!" His cry was like a battle horn. Everyone became excited, rushing forward and frantically vying to place their hands on Nurdin's coffin.

Even though the guarding cavalry had drawn their swords and raised their bows and crossbows, they could not stop them from charging into the ranks recklessly.

One of the pallbearers was pushed over; he was Nur ad-Din's Grand Vizier, and he too had realized something was wrong. He immediately looked at the princes, but even these two noble princes failed to take any timely action—they were only concerned with escaping from under the heavy coffin, desperately reaching out to have the slaves pull them out and flee the place.

More and more people surged forward, trampling over the bodies of the coffin bearers, completely forgetting how noble and important they were, people they wouldn't normally dare to even glance at. They first tore off the cloth covering the coffin, and then lifted the lid, exposing Nurdin's body to the light of day. Thousands of hands reached out, all wanting to touch it.

The Sultan's guards wanted to kill those who dared to desecrate his body, but they had already covered the entire coffin. If they were to strike, the blood of these lowly people would taint Nur ad-Din's holy body—they hesitated for only a moment before being swallowed up by the crowd.

People started by touching, but how could touching be enough? In what seemed like an instant, the two shrouds covering Nurdin were also pulled off. They were torn into countless pieces, even just a few fibers, in mid-air. The people of Apol held them tightly in their hands and took them home to be worshipped as sacred objects.

Kamal was nearly driven mad, watching as even Nur ad-Din's body was in grave danger. He knelt on the ground with great difficulty and began to pray for the protection of Allah and the Prophet. His body radiated light, and several scholars also realized what was happening.

Some scholars lifted the coffin, while others erected invisible shields and walls. Still others roared like thunder, and Apollo, the most esteemed and powerful scholar, raised his hands and unleashed thunderbolts that pierced the bodies of the reckless, causing them to fall one after another.

In the blink of an eye, the chaos subsided, and silence returned to the streets. Along with it came people's rationality; they looked at each other, wondering how they could have done something so insane.

The scholar looked very unwell, but he had nothing to say. The people of Apollo acted this way because they loved Nur ad-Din too much—not because they were maliciously desecrating the body of this great monarch, although the result was almost the same.

He could only instruct the scholars to quickly collect Nurdin's coffin and remains, and to return to Apol Castle first. "We'll hold a new burial ceremony tomorrow," he said wearily.

(End of this chapter)