kingdom of nations

Chapter 262 Parallel Armies

When the locals lit bonfires, raised torches, and lit candles, the dark earth was instantly illuminated with faint light and twinkling stars, as if it were a mirror reflecting the night sky.

The army that marched to Damascus set out on the feast day of John the Baptist (June 24th), heading north along the Jordan River. This was probably the only route they could take, just as Nour ad-Din's army had passed through here before—unless they were defeated at the Sea of ​​Galilee.

Although the Crusaders often used ships to transport their knights, there were only over 13,000 of them. Even though the Venetians were now practically allies of the Crusaders, they couldn't muster enough ships to transport them north. Besides, the journey from Arrassa to the ports of Jaffa or Acre to board the ships, then crossing Antioch to reach Damascus, would be a complete waste of resources.

After all, such a massive army consumes an astronomical amount of resources every day, not to mention the large number of horses they carry—the consumption of horses is quite staggering.

Cesar gently patted Castor's neck.

Castor can no longer be considered a pony. It needs to consume no less grain than its owner eats every day and drink ten times more water to maintain its energy and agility.

Even if Castor is an exception, the other horses only need half the amount of grain, and the rest can be made up with hay. That is still a considerable expense. Any commander with a little sense would want to reduce this expense by as much as possible, even by half a day.

Castor leaned over and pressed his head against Cesar's chest, as if asking him why he wasn't riding the chainmail since he was already wearing it.

“You can’t ride a horse in the camp…” Cesar gently pushed Castor’s big head away. “This isn’t a war, I’m just going to patrol the camp.”

Since joining Amalric I on his expedition, Cesar learned that, by the pace of ordinary people, the army's advance was still considered slow, even for the knights.

They did not wear armor when marching, but instead removed their armor and placed it on their wagons or had it carried by their servants. Of course, there were some honest knights who were willing to hone their skills and still wore armor, but this was rare and could almost only be seen in the three holy knightly orders—the Temple, the Good Hall, and the Holy Sepulchre.

After all, the weather in June was gradually getting hotter. Helmets pressed tightly against the brow bone, obstructing vision, and the extra weight would tire the horses. If the riders were already struggling, the infantry and laborers who had to follow on foot were even slower and more sluggish.

Moreover, most of them were unable to see in the dark, which meant the group had to stop and set up camp in the afternoon. They needed to take advantage of the daylight to cut down trees to build temporary defensive walls, barricades, and watchtowers to be erected around the camp.

These supplies couldn't possibly be transported all the way from Arrassa to Damascus. The supplies along the way already filled the pockets on the shoulders, necks, and sides of every laborer, as well as the baskets on the carts. Only the heavy and sophisticated siege weapons were treated with the utmost care, like silent knights.

César grabbed a handful of animal feed and threw it into Castor's manger. Castor looked down, snorted at him unhappily, and César could even feel a gust of air hitting his chest. Helpless, he took out a handful of dried mulberries and put them in the manger. As he turned to leave, Castor bit the back of his cloak.

"No, Castor...no..." Despite saying this, Cesar had no choice but to take out a small cloth bag and offer all the rock sugar inside to Castor, temporarily paying the "separation tax" before he was finally able to leave.

The knights by the stables had already witnessed this amusing scene. They either chuckled softly or made faces, but no one accused Cesar of being too extravagant—warhorses were a knight's second life, their friends, their brothers, even closer than their wives—indeed, many knights preferred to go to the stables and sleep with their horses rather than sleep in the same bed with their wives.

Today's patrol team had an unfamiliar face. The young man's eyes lit up when he saw Cesar, and his face turned red; he looked like he was struggling to contain his excitement but had to suppress it.

Cesar's gaze lingered on the other person's face for only a moment before someone stepped forward to introduce him.

This is Gian of Magigga, the nephew of Bishop Andre, son of Count Magigga.

He is also Damara's future husband.

Cesar made a vow to Damara, but there was no romantic relationship between them. He viewed Damara as a little sister he had watched grow up—Damara was not particularly beautiful, but she was very cute, and quite intelligent and decisive.

It can be said that if Damara hadn't come to warn them in time, the incident involving Count Étienne might have really turned into a disaster, at the very least the authority of King Amalric I and his successor would have been questioned.

Her journey with her father south to Egypt is often mentioned and praised.

César certainly hoped that Damara's future marriage would be happy enough—under his gaze, the young man was a little awkward, but he still tried to straighten his back and raise his face, though his smile still carried a hint of shyness.

He appeared shorter than Cesare, which was not surprising, as only a few Crusader knights known for their height and strength could rival Cesare's. This young man also appeared more imposing than Cesare, with very broad shoulders and long arms, which was an advantage for knights. After all, whether on horseback or on the ground, in battle, whoever's sword could touch the other's throat first was the winner.

His chest was high and his waist was thick. Although his legs were not long enough to earn him the nickname "long legs," they looked harmonious, and that was enough.

He hadn't grown a beard yet, his face was smooth, and his hair was covered by a hairnet, which in the firelight could vaguely be seen to be light brown. What made it hard for Cesar and the others to look away were his two thick eyebrows, which had almost become the biggest focus of his face, so much so that his bright eyes, broad nose, and full lips were not noticed at first glance.

César reached out his hand to him.

At this point, the knights would shake hands, or take each other's hands, pull each other closer, and give each other a hug, which was all quite normal.

But when the young knight saw Cesar do this, he was so excited that he knelt down. Even though only one knee touched the ground, it still startled Cesar, not to mention that he took Cesar's hand and kissed it.

"Gian, are you swearing?!" someone shouted. The knights laughed so hard they were doubled over, tears streaming down their faces. Cesar grabbed his arm and pulled him up.

Upon hearing the man's words, the knight's face flushed crimson. "I was kissing the hand of someone I admire!" he cried. "How dare you humiliate me and the Knights of Bethlehem like this?" His voice still carried a hint of the sharpness of puberty, and the other knights momentarily stopped smiling and exchanged bewildered glances.

The knight who had spoken out of turn lowered his head, his face filled with shame. He was Gian's friend, and perhaps he had only meant to tease him, but he had forgotten Cesar's identity and the merits he had made. Perhaps it was because Cesar had been living with them all this time, treating them with kindness and occasionally cooking for them that they had lost their sense of propriety due to their closeness.

"I challenge you to a duel!" Gian shouted, and he even put one hand on the leather strap fastening his chainmail glove. Cesar, of course, would not allow such an unexpected situation to occur in the camp, and he reached out and grabbed Gian's wrist.

Gian suddenly felt as if he were shackled by a pair of black iron chains, unable to move. Cesar could feel the pressure coming from his hands, indicating that the young man was indeed angry, and not just making empty threats.

Since that was the case, he couldn't relax any longer. He turned to the knight and said, "Apologize."

The knight has also realized his mistake.

He hurried to Gian and Cesar, first bowing deeply to Gian and promising to compensate for his previous mistake with a horse, and then kneeling before Cesar, indicating his willingness to accept whipping and pay the ransom of a suit of armor to beg for his forgiveness.

Cesar nodded, then turned to Gian, "Do you accept?"

Seeing the knight's actions, Gian knew his earlier words had indeed been unintentional. He admitted his actions had been somewhat impulsive, so he lowered his eyes and said, "I don't need the horse, but you must swear that you will offer a Saracen's hair to the Virgin Mary." This form of atonement was quite common among the Crusaders, and the knight readily agreed.

Cesar didn't mind his recklessness, but he postponed the flogging until after the expedition. "As for the armor, if you can obtain three suits of Saracen armor during the expedition, I will spare you the flogging."

However, during the patrol, this guy wisely lagged behind the group. Cesar's excellent hearing allowed him to hear that another friend was also following behind, constantly tapping his head to make him remember this profound lesson. This was only because Cesar was always tolerant and magnanimous. If it were any other lord, especially those old knights who cared a lot about hierarchy, he would have been whipped or even expelled from the camp.

The young knight, who had been furious and fierce in front of the reckless fellow, appeared quite shy in front of Cesar.

Bishop André had told César that his nephew had already held him in high esteem when he was far away in Magigor, Frankish. After arriving in Allassa and witnessing César's prowess on the battlefield, he could not suppress his admiration. He even wanted to become César's squire, but since he had already been knighted, he could not go back to his former status and thus gave up the idea.

Cesar was somewhat taken aback.

Throughout the journey, he didn't feel that he had done anything remarkable.

"How could you say that? Anything you did before would be a legendary story that any knight in Frankish history could tell from the age of twenty to eighty. He would only need to walk to a castle or palace and shout his name, and the lord and king there would immediately dress up and come to greet him."

Countless people will want to become his students. At communion, at banquets, and on the hunting grounds, your position will be second only to the most honored person in the area. He paused slightly; Cesar probably didn't know that this straightforward Frankish knight was thinking that every lord would want him to marry his daughter, and every lady of a castle would gladly accept his allegiance.

At the martial arts tournament, every noblewoman would go crazy for the garland on his spear, even breaking the previously hidden strict rules—not to mention that his appearance was as perfect as his virtue, even if his face was ugly, like a devil, the scene would not change in the slightest.

Gian had repeatedly relived in his mind the story of Cesare, who disguised himself as a noblewoman and led knights to defeat an entire Saracen army for Damara's sake. He only regretted that he was not Damara's fiancé at that time, and could not go to war with Cesare, nor witness this noble and heroic battle.

However, based on the bard's description, he sketched out a rough outline of the scene. After he married Damara and returned to Magigga, he had it woven into a tapestry and hung it at the top of the hall in his castle, so that every guest who came to the banquet could see it as soon as they looked up.

Damara had volunteered. However, after seeing the handkerchief Damara embroidered, he immediately abandoned the idea. Gian certainly liked his fiancée, but she did have some amusing little flaws.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he almost missed the torch Cesar offered him: "I'm sorry, sir," he apologized immediately.

"It's nothing, just don't get distracted anymore. Patrolling the camp isn't an easy job."

César's vigilance was not without reason—it may be the first record of military discipline that later historians can trace.

The previous army, whether laborers, mercenaries, armed servants, squires, or knights, was completely undisciplined.

Don't assume that indiscriminate burning, killing, and looting are things only mercenaries can do.

Knights are better at this, and they might be able to exert some restraint in territorial wars between lords in Frankish or other parts of Europe.

Even so, it was common for knights to intentionally involve civilians.

Don't assume that knights can't get anything from these poor farmers or craftsmen. In times of scarcity, even a bag of dried beans can be used to feed their horses. There have also been cases of knights who were inherently cruel and allowed their hunting dogs to chase and bite villagers.

They are usually this "free," and even if they move to a different place for a different purpose, they won't change overnight. Moreover, the lords and kings sometimes don't really care.

Sometimes it was because they couldn't pay the knights' wages, so they allowed the knights to do whatever they wanted as a form of compensation, to prevent them from turning their swords against them.

Some people wanted to control them, but it was difficult. In Heraclius's course, the bishop mentioned a trustworthy good man who issued an order forbidding knights from looting at will. The knights responded by killing 136 civilians in just seven days, all of whom died for "crimes," until he withdrew the order.

The first two are more benevolent than the third.

The third type is conscious and organized looting, proceeding methodically and gradually. It's as meticulous as a giant net cast across a lake.

If the villages that were previously plundered by mercenaries and knights are like forests after they have been burned, then in time new seedlings and hope can sprout from them.

The places that have been plundered in the third way are like land that has been saturated with salt; it will take decades or even centuries for them to recover their original vitality.

Cesar and Baldwin were staunch opponents of such atrocities. Their advantage over other lords lay in the fact that these knights could not openly declare that they were there for power and money.

At least nominally, they were fighting for God.

Although the Templars had also achieved the "victory" of purging the entire Arathi Highlands, the current war was not as brutal and bloody as before. Moreover, they passed through Christian cities and villages, and the expulsion and killing of heretics could be forgiven. When the same act was committed against Christians, it was truly a grave sin.

Although some knights didn't care, the king of Arrassa had already issued a decree when they arrived in Arrassa. They could disobey, but they would be expelled from Arrassa and the expeditionary army.

Regardless, Baldwin is the king and commander-in-chief here. He certainly has the right to decide what his country and army should look like.

Although many people secretly criticized it, those who saw it had to admit that the army was indeed much purer than before.

The establishment of a military disciplinary officer and a troop to oversee the knights and their retinues were also essential. Baldwin had only received the Spear of St. George, not the eyes of an angel to see in all directions. He had countless administrative matters to attend to and a vast number of meetings to preside over while he was in his tent. Therefore, Baldwin could only entrust this matter to the person he trusted most.

Moreover, César was also an advocate of this measure, and he even participated in writing part of the content on military discipline.

Knights would not willingly accept such constraints.

But there is another straightforward and effective way: in the Knights, strength still has to be the deciding factor.

Knights would challenge other knights from time to time, whether for their king, a noblewoman, or even just some provocative words, which could provoke a duel. Only fists and swords, as well as the blessings bestowed by God, could persuade them.

Therefore, when the system of military discipline officers was established, Cesar did not hesitate to bring William Marshall into his camp.

Of course, Marshall was the deputy to the military discipline officer, and Cesar, as the commander, undoubtedly faced more challenges, both in the tournament and in private. Fortunately, few people would make excuses for themselves; a loss was a loss, whether it was losing their armor and horse or losing to the military discipline officer in a duel. They could only abide by the various rules he had set... If they violated them, they would have to pay compensation or be whipped, and they could only accept it dejectedly.

However, during the nightly patrols, the military discipline officer and his knights inevitably suffered collateral damage. Sometimes it wasn't intentional, but rather that in the heat of the moment during fights or conflicts, people would act rashly and disregard everything else.

Previously, a patrolling knight was unfortunately hit on the head.

Moreover, according to the original law, in the event of a fight, no one was allowed to rush forward with a weapon (whether you wanted to help or break up the fight). To avoid causing more harm, they could only carry sticks, and military discipline officers were no exception, but they could wear armor, carry shields, and wear helmets.

Gian, holding the stick, flipped it around somewhat unfamiliarly. "You can be a little rougher," Cesar said. After all, if it was just bruises and broken arms or ribs, there were plenty of priests in the camp who could treat them.

Of course, the injured knight also has to pay for it.

The camp of 13,000 men covered a considerable area, so Cesar had to agree on an area with William Marshall. However, contrary to what people expected, William Marshall was going to face the crusaders of the Holy Land, while Cesar was going to face knights from other places.

This wasn't because they were deliberately making things difficult for themselves. Rather, during the previous tournament, both Cesar and William Marshall had keenly sensed that someone was trying to exploit the conflict between the locals and outsiders to sabotage the expedition. This was certainly a short-sighted act, but selfish people were everywhere, and they didn't need to consider why the other party was doing it; they just needed to be more cautious.

After leaving Cesar's tent, what came into view was a vast expanse of... thatched huts.

Tents could only belong to a few lords and wealthy nobles. Even knights could only temporarily take shelter in huts made of branches and straw mats, or simply use the sky as their blanket and the ground as their mat.

Fortunately, it was already late June, and the weather was no longer very cold.

As night fell, people lit campfires and hung an iron pot on top, cooking their dinner or supper in it. Some knights and squires ate early or simply had some bread, leaving only water in the pot—which was also necessary, as it contained Saracen grass, which could be used to make soup or coffee.

Some people found two wooden stakes and fixed them in place, then strung a rope across them, hanging wet clothes haphazardly on it. But such a sight was not common. Knights mostly did not pay much attention to personal hygiene, especially when they were on campaign. Most of their squires were busy feeding the horses, wiping the armor, sharpening the weapons, or serving their masters.

This was quite a novel experience for Gian. He followed closely behind Cesar, his round eyes wide with curiosity as he surveyed everything around him. He had participated in battles before, but those territorial battles with only a dozen or so knights were nothing compared to such a large army.

Before long, they encountered their first dispute. It turned out that a wild boar had accidentally wandered into a knight's hut, breaking several wooden bowls and tearing open the "walls" woven from grass. As it rushed out, it was spotted by another knight's hunting dog, which broke free of its restraints and ran over to fight the wild boar.

Although this wild boar was not large, perhaps only a little over a year old, it was already like a hedgehog covered in armor. It charged left and right in the camp, causing chaos and cursing wherever it went.

The hunting dog stayed close behind, knocking over more branches and huts.

His master ran behind, panting, shouting encouragement to his hunting dog as he cocked his crossbow.

He shot an arrow through the wild boar's hind leg. The boar was in great pain and lost most of its mobility, unable to escape. It then began to fight with the hunting dogs.

In the short time that followed, the dog's owner and the tent owner arrived. The tent owner drew his sword and stabbed at the wild boar, while the dog's owner, in order to free his dog, also drew his sword and went to meet it. Together they killed the wild boar, but then a dispute arose over the distribution of the spoils.

"It was my hunting dog that spotted it first! And I was the one who shot it in the hind leg, otherwise how could you have caught it so easily?"

"When this wild boar entered the camp, it destroyed my tent and broke my bowls and pots. This wild boar meat should be left to me as compensation. Besides, according to the laws of knights, the one who first stabbed the beast with a sword should be its owner!"

They were arguing fiercely, but somehow the surroundings became quiet and bright. The tent owner looked up and saw Cesar walking towards him with a torch. He immediately and instinctively lowered his head and stopped shouting.

The hound's owner also noticed Cesar's arrival, and he immediately turned around respectfully and bowed.

No one spoke before César did, and their expressions softened, as if they knew that César would surely deliver a fair judgment.

Cesar first questioned the owner of the tent, and then the owner of the hunting dog. From their answers, it was learned that the owner of the tent (which was actually a hut) was mainly lamenting and annoyed by the destroyed utensils, while the owner of the hunting dog wanted to use this opportunity to boast about how brave and skilled his hunting dog was.

So he asked the dog's owner if he was willing to compensate the tent owner for the loss, which was not much—just a few wooden cups and an iron pot.

In return, the tent owner was to give the wild boar to the hound's owner, who readily agreed. The boar was large enough for him and several knights to have a hearty meal. Furthermore, the boar's tusks and hide could be hung on his tent as trophies to boast of his victory.

The two happily accepted César's proposal.

Some might say it's that simple, just ask about each other's needs and then make a decision, right?

In reality, even educated knights at that time might not be able to clearly and systematically understand the origin, process, and impending outcome of an event, let alone determine the needs of both parties and mediate between them, or they might not have believed that it was necessary or that they had the authority to do so.

Gian had never judged right or wrong for the knights, but he had once accompanied his father to the lord's court in the countryside. When the peasants started complaining, they wouldn't listen to you; they would just keep rushing up, chattering about their troubles and accusing others of wrongdoing. At that point, they wouldn't quiet down unless the guards pulled out their clubs and gave them a good beating.

The knights were no better than the peasants; they genuinely dared to challenge the prince and would beat up anyone they looked down upon.
Finally, the tent owner brought out a silver cup, and the hound's owner cut off a pig's leg, wanting to give them to Cesare in return, but Cesare refused both. He knew these knights were either forgetful or indifferent—as military discipline officers and their squads, they and their knights could not accept any gifts, lest anyone suspect that they would favor one side after accepting a bribe.

However, he suggested that the two knights could exchange gifts, and perhaps they could use this opportunity to become friends.

The two knights exchanged a glance, heeded Cesar's advice, and even shook hands. The hound's owner immediately invited the tent owner to his place for a wild boar meat feast. The tent owner, in turn, promised to bring a bottle of wine. This harmonious ending was, of course, what everyone wanted to see.

But what happened next was not so pleasant.

A merchant set up a small market near the camp, selling a wide variety of goods at reasonable prices. Many knights sent their squires to buy what they needed. But when they arrived at the camp, they discovered that only one or two peppercorns were real; the rest were all made of clay.

When they went to look for the merchant, he had already fled or gone into hiding elsewhere.

After listening to the aggrieved man's lament, César immediately brought over a small, shiny-furred dog. It scurried among the goods brought by the merchants, sniffing and sneezing, and even sneezed several times before returning to César's feet and looking up at him.

A knight standing next to Cesar stepped forward.

He was the very knight who had distinguished himself in the Battle of Galilee. He bent down and spoke to the little dog, which immediately shot off like an arrow through the night towards the camp. The knights followed it and easily found the merchant in a caravan. His squire recognized him at a glance and found a considerable amount of counterfeit goods in his baggage.

"A dog's sense of smell is much more sensitive than a human's."

Cesar and Gian explained.

This was already outside the Yalasa Road, where enemies and bandits could appear at any moment. The merchant had just received a large sum of money, and he absolutely dared not stray from the group and wander outside under these circumstances; he had no choice but to hide.

In the darkness, even if the knight had the energy, he couldn't search too far. He could simply wait a few days, change his appearance, and go elsewhere to scam people.

Gian's family also had hunting dogs for hunting. But he never imagined that hunting dogs could be used for this purpose. In fact, Cesar had also considered training hunting dogs not for hunting, but for guarding and searching, but that would take time, so he took a shortcut here.

During the Battle of the Sea of ​​Galilee, a knight used his ability to befriend small animals to bring them news that Sultan Nur ad-Din was indeed nearing the end of his life. He received due reward after the battle, but because this favor could only be used to his advantage in certain situations, he remained an unknown figure among the knights.

Cesar asked Baldwin for the man, and he and his hounds indeed formed another hidden yet powerful line of defense, with no one noticing a dog moving around in the tent.

The merchant's fate was predictable; he was severely punished, first by whipping, then by having all his hair shaved off and being branded on his cheeks as a warning to others not to do business with him.

His screams were extremely agonizing, but he deserved it.

Cesar selected some of his goods that were still worthwhile and gave them to the deceived knights as compensation, returning all his ill-gotten gains.

They continued onward, leaving the merchants' wails behind.

After that, they dealt with a servant who had stolen and drunk someone else's wine. His master had to pay him two silver coins for the wine and swear to Cesare that he would restrain him and that the same thing would not happen again.

Then another follower mistook his master's horse for his own and pulled it into his master's tent.

What displeased Cesar the most was that near the edge of the camp, a knight had deliberately set up a small tent that could only accommodate two or three people—a rather strange act that prompted the disciplinary squad to approach without hesitation. Before they even got close, they could already hear groans coming from inside the tent.

A short while later, the knight came out, his face flushed. He wasn't wearing any armor, not even the lining of the armor; he was only wearing a loose long shirt, which clearly showed that he hadn't done anything good before.

Merchants surrounding the camp engaged in various trades, and women were among them.

However, there was a strict rule in every battle: knights could leave their tents to enjoy themselves, but they could not bring women in. Knights who violated this rule would be severely punished, ranging from having all their gear—horse, armor, and weapons—confiscated to being expelled.

But this wasn't the first time Cesar hesitated. What he found unacceptable was that the woman brought in would be punished by having her nose cut off.

Those around him could only pity the knight—though no one pleaded for him, they said he must have been a good man. No one cared about the prostitute, but for her, having her nose cut off meant not only that she could no longer work as a prostitute, but also that she could no longer serve as a servant or do hard labor. People could tell she was a criminal the moment they saw her face.

For people of that era, a woman who committed a crime was almost synonymous with a witch. Even if she managed to survive somewhere, the people there could label her the source of misfortune at any time, imprisoning or burning her at the stake.

A knight was leading the woman to be tortured, but with a piercing cry, a priest rushed over, quickly pinched her nose, pressed it against the original wound, and began to pray.

“She was just a prostitute,” Gian couldn’t help but say.

“It’s precisely because she’s a courtesan,” Cesar thought to himself. If she were a noblewoman, he wouldn’t have interfered at all, and a noblewoman wouldn’t have suffered such cruel punishment; at most, she would have been ridiculed by others.

Moreover, if a noblewoman appears in a knight's tent, it is mostly voluntary, while a courtesan would not have such courage, or she would be there for money and food.

He had seen those women; they had already lowered their basic needs for survival, but they were still often hungry.

They walked silently through shacks and tents, the ground muddy and the air damp amidst rising campfires and swirling smoke. Even so, César caught two men urinating and defecating indiscriminately.

Here Cesare must complain that since the barbarians ultimately defeated the Western Roman Empire and seized all their lands and crowns, why didn't they inherit more of the ancient Roman culture?
He knew that when the ancient Romans marched, they would set up makeshift toilets in their camps, which looked like trenches, at least nine feet deep, covered with stone slabs and wooden planks. If the stay exceeded a month, they would also have to draw water from the river for flushing.

This approach undoubtedly reduced the occurrence of epidemics in the military, and also better controlled the movement of soldiers and prevented the infiltration of spies.

Unfortunately, the current so-called successors completely disregard the piles of excrement in their palaces and cities, and the fact that their military camps are filled with people indulging in their natural instincts.

Getting the knights to behave themselves and go to the toilet properly is also a problem. Even if a trench has been dug, wouldn't it be simpler and more convenient for them to just urinate outside the tent and release their pent-up energy?
The two knights were each fined one silver coin, and the two servants received five copper coins. Their job was to dig up the knight's excrement and dirt, carry it to the trench, and throw it away.

“I have indeed heard that when Count Raymond of Tripoli and Grand Duke Bohemond of Antioch attacked Mly, their army was struck by dysentery due to the curse of those heretics,” a knight said to himself.

“Isn’t that right?” Cesar had already learned to express himself in this way, so he naturally continued, “They could have avoided this disaster.”

If they are willing to remain clean as God requires.”

"Did God make such a request?"

"Of course there is. Otherwise, why would people put newborn children in the baptismal pool? This is the initial purification—keeping one's body and soul clean. The purity of the soul is important, but if the body is not clean enough, the devil's curse can seep into your body through those filthy things."

Gian was visibly startled. "Really? But those ascetics..."

Do you have their piety?

"No……"

Cesar smiled. The young man was indeed very endearing—although he himself was not much older than Gian, he did give off the feeling of an elder looking at a younger generation.

The other knights found this unsurprising. At that time, people generally believed that those of noble birth received more divine favor, and that they would be more handsome, intelligent, and young.

A three-year-old king will inevitably be wiser than a sixty-year-old peasant—if the latter lives to that age.

Gian is still just the son of an earl, and in the Crusades, he is a young knight just starting out. But Cesar has already been on many campaigns, and because of King Baldwin's tireless promotion and care for him, he stands beside the king, in a position second only to the king.

Although he was with his knights, when he stood in court, he was indeed with their father or uncles.

Just as the knights were thinking this, a royal attendant rushed to find Cesar. When he arrived at the king's tent, he saw a group of high-ranking officials marveling at a map that was as large as an adult male's outstretched arms.

This map was made from the hide of a whole bull calf, and what it depicts is none other than a map of the road from Arrassa to Damascus.

César's mission to Apole at that time was also for this reason.

From then on, the Crusaders would likely have had little chance of passing through these cities under the guidance of the Saracens.

Although the Saracens were under surveillance and could not freely explore or record, César's sensitivity to numbers and three-dimensional objects was unmatched by people of his time. Every day after returning to his room, he would dip his brush in wine and draw maps on his sheets, memorize them, and then burn them.

Even though he fell into a coma in Damascus due to exhaustion on his return journey, he still managed to redraw the maps after returning to Fort Sainte-Croix.

As he entered the tent, a lord was praising him effusively. “Look, this is a born general, gentlemen,” he said, turning to Baldwin. “Tell us quickly. You said it was a treasure offered to you by a knight, and that he drew the map himself. Tell us, but please don’t tell us it was a priest.”

“So what if he’s a priest?” another count replied rudely. “Go to the church and tell them that this priest is going to leave the priesthood, and I can pay his ransom.”

"Go to hell! I can give him that money, but he has to come back to Maggiga with me."

"Stay in that tiny place? Can your territory even fill a quarter of a map?"

"..."

The argument raged on, except for Raymond and Bohemond. Raymond practically rolled his eyes, while Bohemond wore a smile that seemed frozen on his lips. Of course, they knew who had drawn the map…

When the people inside the tent saw Baldwin enter with a beaming smile, arm in arm with Cesar, they immediately let out a sigh of regret and a wail—who didn't know the loyalty of the Knights of Bethlehem?
They've even lost the will to try.

"Did Joseph II possess such talent?"

"He lost Edessa and was captured by the Saracens, what do you think?"

These people weren't just vying for a painter; without sufficient combat experience, a keen sense of warfare, and an innate talent for combat, it would be impossible to draw such a map...

On the map were several gold coins. Cesar immediately recognized that the coins engraved with Baldwin's image represented the Crusaders, while the others were Saladin's coins—representing the Saracen army.

“They are walking alongside us,” Raymond remarked.

Indeed! When they decided to attack Damascus, their greatest hope was that no one would respond to the governor of Damascus's plea for help, so that they could easily take over this wealthy and crucial city.

Saladin responded and indeed mobilized a large army, which meant they had to fight Saladin to the death in order to continue their attack on Damascus. Otherwise, if Saladin launched an offensive from the rear while they were besieging the city, and the Damascusians seized the opportunity to counterattack, they would be trapped.

But to be honest, no one present was certain that they could defeat Saladin with half or less of their forces, but the die was cast and no one could afford the humiliation and loss.

"Have you found Saladin yet?"

“His army should have set off a month earlier than ours, but initially it probably only had two thousand men. After that, he kept replenishing his forces with the tribes and city-states around Damascus—our plan became an opportunity for him,” Bohemond said somberly.

Damascus does not refer to the city of Damascus alone. In fact, it encompasses many surrounding city-states and tribes. These chieftains have not yet submitted to Saladin. They are either waiting for a better offer, hoping for a new master who can give them more, or they are dissatisfied with Saladin's betrayal of Nur ad-Din.

Saladin had originally intended to remove these obstacles one by one to open the road to Apollo, and now Damascus's plea for help gave him an even better excuse...

Bribery, persuasion, coercion, coercion, enticement... Saladin was always very good at using all kinds of conditions that were in his favor. Now, if those "fatahs" (tribal leaders) wanted to refuse him, they would have to come up with a good reason.

But what could be the reason?

—Am I a coward?

Do you know how many people there are?

"In the end, there may be 20,000 people."

Indeed, this land originally belonged to the Saracens. Although some Crusaders joined along the way, they certainly couldn't compare to Saladin.

Should we investigate or cause trouble?

"Investigation may be feasible, but when it comes to harassment, how many people should we send?"
The Saracen tribes and city-states had a high proportion of warriors; stepping into them would be like entering the enemy's lair, and besides, the Jordan River separated us, requiring a ferry.

Do we have a ferry?

"No."

Even if they did, getting the knights and horses onto the ship together and safely delivering them to the other side would not be an easy task.

"It seems we have no choice but to... have a real head-on confrontation here."

“If we could face each other head-on, I think that would be a good thing.” Baldwin pressed his hand on the map and looked around. “Are you all afraid of that?”

"No, how could that be?"

"I can't ask for it!"

“I can now fulfill the vow I made to God.”

"I can beat these Saracens to a pulp!"

Voices of varying pitches but all resolute rang out from inside the tent. Indeed, those who remained in this tent, even Bohemond and Raymond, would not fear a battle against the heretics.

After the crowd dispersed, Baldwin and Cesar should have rested, but now neither of them felt tired. "Would you like to see Saladin's army?" Baldwin asked.

Cesar, of course, did not refuse, and the two young men climbed to the top together as if they were not tired at all.

The Jordan River originates in Syria and flows south until it empties into the Dead Sea, with valleys carved out by the river on both sides.

If one had to describe it, this region resembled a person's spine, with arched back muscles on both sides and a concave spine in the middle. The army of Arazari advanced along the left side of the spine, while Saladin's army advanced along the right side. From a high vantage point, one could see the flames stretching for miles.

"I wonder if they're watching us too," Baldwin remarked.

“Perhaps.” Cesar suddenly turned to Baldwin. “I have a request, and I hope you can grant it.”

(End of this chapter)