kingdom of nations

Chapter 158 White Eagle (Part 1) (Bonus Chapter!)
“Your turn,” Saladin said. Kamal, sitting opposite him, trembled slightly as if he had been jolted awake from a nightmare. He paused for a moment before averting his gaze, which had been wandering aimlessly.

He has been out of trouble for several days, but sometimes he still has delusions that he is still in Apol, huddled in his residence, or in the new Sultan's prison, waiting to be tortured or executed.

He was surrounded by complaints, curses, and insults from relatives, friends, and colleagues. They pointed at him, blaming him for leading them into an irreversible situation, causing them suffering, and making them the first monkeys to warn others of the tyrant's wrath.

He focused his gaze on the chessboard. Although he seemed somewhat distracted before, after a few quick glances, he made a brilliant move.

Saladin, unperturbed, exclaimed in admiration, "I've always heard of your superb chess skills. It's a pity I hadn't had the chance to play against you until today." This was to be expected. When Saladin was still in Apol, he and his uncle didn't get along well with locals like Kamal. Kamal's family had been operating in Apol for many years, while Saladin and his uncle Shirku were complete outsiders, "Kurds of Tikrit." Even counting from when their father became a minister to Zengi, it had only been two generations, not even three.

Moreover, Shirku's ambition had long been exposed. As for Saladin, people say he is a young man who is extremely good at disguising and concealing himself. Kamal saw through his nature at a glance. If Sultan Nur ad-Din could live another fifty years, or if he had a successor worthy of people's loyalty, Saladin would be the most useful person—whether as a general or as a governor. But if not, then he can only apologize.

Saladin was such an arrogant man. According to Kamal, he might not even respect the great scholars in Apollo. He might be devout, but this devotion was only for God. Saladin had little respect for His messengers on earth. As for the viziers, emirs, and Fatahs... even Kamal and those prominent ministers, to this Kurd, they were like fruits on a branch, waiting to be picked.

Kamal gazed at the man he had first underestimated and then become wary of. Saladin was at the peak of his life as a warrior, strong and experienced. He had a pale face, a black beard, and deep-set eyes beneath thick eyebrows. His eyes were a rather gentle dark brown, just like his voice. Now that he thought about it, Saladin never seemed to have ever been furious or irritable.

Kamal had seen this in his master, Sultan Nur ad-Din. Such people seem to know from birth that everything in the world belongs to them. They don't need to be anxious or worried; they just need to wait quietly, and God will give them everything.

But God is also cruel, Kamal thought. He has never favored anyone forever. He takes away authority through old age or death and then hands it over to new people. Did Nur ad-Din ever imagine that his defeat would come so suddenly and desperately? In that sense, it might be a good thing that he died on the battlefield of the Sea of ​​Galilee. If he had seen Apol as he was now, his country, his successor, his ministers and generals... even a heart of steel would have cracked.

Saladin raised his hand, and as he moved the chess piece, a glint of light reflected from the silver ring on his hand—which also featured a white eagle with outstretched wings—blinded Kamal. He turned his head away, and Saladin noticed, turning the ring around so that the less reflective part of the band faced outwards.

“This step is worth recording,” Kamal said, without any flattery. Countless people had fallen to him in Apollo, and he had never cheated or flattered anyone because of their status, even if he was facing a Sultan or someone who was about to become Sultan.

He pondered for a long time this time, and Saladin did not urge him. Instead, he picked up a glass of grape juice and slowly sipped it. He did not have an extremely strong craving for alcohol, only taking a small glass when he needed to relax and think.

Just as the two were both deep in thought (perhaps not about the same issue), someone entered, gently knocked on the door, and Saladin called out, "Come in."

A guard came in and reported to Saladin that the doctors had finished examining the Christian knight and were coming to report the results, asking if Saladin had time to summon them.

Upon hearing this, Kamal was about to get up and leave, but Saladin extended his hand. "There's no need," he said. "This matter is neither military nor political—you staying here will not be of any trouble to you or me."

Since Saladin said so, and Kamal was also eager to know Cesar's current situation—regardless of the circumstances at the time, what promises he made, or what he did, without Cesar, it would not have been easy for him and his wounded, sick, and old ministers to leave Apol unscathed. They might even have died in the desert outside the city from exhaustion, illness, and bandits, without the need for pursuers.

Unlike the Christian world, Saracen medicine, though developing later, rose rapidly, and according to Muhammad's will, any scholar could practice medicine. This limitation arose because some unrevelation-stricken individuals attempted to heal others, and without sufficient knowledge and experience, and without the final guarantee of the prophet's power, they might make erroneous judgments or provide incorrect treatment, worsening the patient's condition or even causing death.

Although scholars can make mistakes, they do have an undeniable advantage over ordinary people.

The leading scholar was Saladin's physician, and to be taken under Saladin's wing, he was certainly no ordinary person.

He was able to heal broken limbs, relieve high fever, and calm convulsions and vomiting. He even cured an infant who had been coughing incessantly since birth and nearly died of suffocation. As a result, he was respected and trusted by many people.

It can be said that if he had stayed in Apollo or Samarsk, he would still have been favored by the Sultan or the Governor, but they would have kept him confined to the palace and prevented him from easily contacting the outside world. This is the fate that anyone serving in power will inevitably face, and he was unwilling to accept it.

He agreed to serve Saladin because the latter had promised that Saladin would not interfere with him treating others, even if he was just a beggar outside the city or a Christian, as long as he could come to Saladin's side at any time.

The doctor's expression was not gentle; in fact, his brows were furrowed. Seeing him like this, Kamal's heart sank. They had witnessed that glorious battle, but they also knew what a heavy price was behind that glory—and that price was paid by one person alone.

The revelation that this Christian knight received is said to have come from Saint Jerome, a Catholic saint who was not regarded as a prophet by the Saracens—they recognized these wise men as ancient "scholars," but did not believe they were qualified to give revelation to a mortal, let alone such a clear and powerful revelation.

They must be mistaken—that's what Kamal thought. Saladin, however, seemed to sense something, "He sheltered everyone under his command, from knights and squires to the poor servants."

Before this, they had fought many battles, and in each battle, those who were with him received a prolonged and powerful blessing. This time, he extended the blessings bestowed upon him by the prophet to everyone—how many of them were there?

“There were 367 people in total, 367 people, and not one of them died,” the doctor said in a tone that even he found unbelievable. “And the most serious injury these people suffered was the loss of an arm, but they killed two or even three times as many enemies as they did, all thanks to that young Christian knight.”

Moreover, from my observation, what he brought them was not merely armor-like protection; the insights he gained also enabled him to bear some of the pain and harm these people suffered.

Hearing this, even Saladin's expression turned serious. "Are you sure?"

“I’m sure,” the doctor replied confidently. He had nothing to hide from Saladin: “I also found corresponding injuries on that Christian knight, though much minor and healing rapidly. But it’s clear these injuries shouldn’t have been on him, since his helmet and chainmail were intact. Some injuries only occur when the injured person loses their helmet or their chainmail is damaged.”

Saladin lowered his eyes, seemingly lost in thought, before continuing to ask, "So, how is he now?"

“Very bad, sir. He has exhausted all his strength, both mentally and physically. I have never seen a man favored by God use his power so frequently and recklessly.”

Fortunately, his injuries, even without ointment or medicine, were visibly healing, indicating that the Prophet and God had not abandoned him and that he still enjoyed their favor. However, like a deep well that had been rapidly drained, it would likely take a long time for clear water to accumulate again.

"how long?"

"One or two months, I guess."

Saladin shook his head. “I can’t stay here any longer. It seems I’ll have to send them back first.” He held out his hand and pointed to the doctor and his colleagues behind him. “Don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” Although he spoke in a consultative tone and did not threaten the doctors, no one failed to understand his meaning, and no one would disobey his orders.

After the doctors had left, Kamal spoke up: "Do you want to release these Christian knights? Even if you don't kill them, keeping them as your prisoners will bring you a large ransom."

Saladin's lips curled slightly upward. This former comrade was truly relentless, always ready to dig a pit for him. "If he had willingly submitted to me and taken his knights prisoner, he wouldn't have launched such a suicidal attack at the last moment."

Although the doctor said that Cesar's recovery would just take time, no one could have guessed what the outcome would be. It's like when you throw a piece of porcelain on the ground, you should be prepared for it to shatter into pieces. If it can remain intact—perhaps with one or two cracks—that's your good fortune.

While Crusader generals were never afraid of becoming Saracen prisoners, this was contingent on them not crossing Saracen lines and receiving a large ransom. For knights, the situation was less certain. If he was wealthy, or had a noblewoman or relative willing to pay his ransom, he could certainly return to Arathi Basin or other Christian countries.

But if he hadn't, like William Marshall before him, he would have spent years in the enemy's prison because his benefactor refused to pay his ransom, until another female benefactor, Eleanor of Aquitaine, paid his ransom and he was freed.

In Cesar's delegation, all ninety knights came from the three major armed friars-like knightly orders. This meant that before joining the knightly orders, they had already given up everything in the secular world, perhaps by abandoning it, donating it, or leaving it to their relatives. In any case, they had no private property.

The Knights might be willing to ransom them, but that would certainly be a long negotiation process, along with their squires and armed attendants. If they were just squires seeking promotion, that would be fine; they might have already been chosen, have family backing, and perhaps be able to leave the prison with their knight masters.

But what about those servants who are merely slaves and servants? That's hard to say. If it's discovered that they can't be redeemed, they are very likely to be sold into slavery. They may never be able to return to Arrasa or their homeland. This is, of course, an incredibly cruel thing, but it's the convention at the time. After all, everything has to be cost-effective. In a world where even knights can be expendable, ordinary servants are even less worth mentioning.

“They are the people that Cesare spared, even at the cost of his life,” Saladin said. “I will forgive them, release them, and allow them to return to the road of Arazar. Perhaps some may have to leave behind their horses and armor, but they will surely return to their families intact and strong.”

“You’re so merciful,” Kamal couldn’t help but tease him again.

(End of this chapter)