kingdom of nations

Chapter 288 Broken Wings (6)

As she shouted, Lyra quickly removed her disguise, instantly transforming from a ragged monk into a beautiful woman.

When she burst into the Christian knights' sight with her long, flowing hair and bare arms and legs, the knights did indeed pause for a moment because of her appearance and attire—their first thought was that they were being asked for help by a noblewoman who had been bullied.

But then they saw Lyra's unusually long hair, and they were filled with fear and panic once again.

Cesar had already stepped out from the crowd and bestowed upon them the blessings of the saint. The knights were both moved and somewhat amused; they too were blessed by God, and even if a devil had come, they could send him back to hell!
Only Cesare knew that the woman with snow-white skin and hair was no ordinary person; she was an Assassin assassin. He didn't know why she would be so bold as to appear before the Crusaders, but it was possible that it was a method of assassination.

"Abigail, son of the Grand Prince Antioch, is attacking Saladin's sister's convoy!"

Leila shouted, using Christian language, which immediately caused a stir among the crowd—of course, there were many possibilities, such as this being a lie intended to lure them into a trap, but damn it! Everyone here thought that Abigail could indeed have done this.

“Did they identify themselves? Those Saracens and that lady!” Cesar asked loudly.

"Not yet, I think they will, but even if they do make it clear—are you sure they'll stop?"

Cesar turned to look at the people beside him. The people who had accompanied him on patrol today were Magig Gian, William Marshall, and a dozen or so young knights who had followed him all the way from Cyprus. He thought for a moment and pointed to one of the youngest knights, “You go back to Damascus immediately and tell the King about this.”

Then he turned to Lyra: "Where?"

He has at least twenty knights with him, and unless they are met with an army of a thousand, Cesar can guarantee that they will be brought back to Damascus safely.

When Lyra ordered the knight to return to Damascus, she had already turned her horse around. When he asked for directions, she spurred her horse forward like an arrow.

The Christian knights followed closely behind.

When they arrived, night had fallen and the moon was rising, but beneath that holy light shrouded a crime.

Emina was indeed filled with regret. Before she left Saladin's camp, Saladin had said that in addition to the hundred slave soldiers, he would also send twenty scholars who had received prophetic revelations to accompany her, but Emina refused.

They needed to return to Holmes, where the governor, whose husband was Saladin's enemy, would either be imprisoned or executed once the twenty scholars arrived.

She already knew the predicament her brother was in, that she couldn't help him, and that she would be on his opposite side in the future, so she couldn't take away his only remaining strength now.

Accompanying Emina on her journey were only the scholars who had followed her from Holmes to Cairo. They were originally subordinates of the governor of Holmes, and it was their wish to return to Holmes, but their number was less than twelve.

Most tragically, one of the guides was bitten on the ankle by a venomous snake not long after setting out and died instantly, without even being able to receive treatment from the scholars.

The second one was shot in the chest by a stray arrow when they encountered a group of bandits, and died instantly.

From then on, they could only rely on the scenery and paths in the scholars' memories to move forward. They originally wanted to avoid Damascus, but after passing through several villages, they found themselves helplessly heading towards Damascus. There was nothing they could do about it. They wanted to find a guide, but guides were not so easy to find.

Finally, they decided to take a risk, since they had come to the vicinity of Damascus, which meant that the surrounding roads and villages were familiar to them.

But things always take the turn for the worse. They encountered a crusaders, and what's more, they were from Antioch.

Bohemond, the Grand Prince of Antioch, was a man of questionable character, but worse still, it wasn't the Grand Prince himself who arrived, but his son. Abigail's infamous reputation had already spread to Syria and Egypt. The Saracens, while mocking the Grand Prince for having such a cowardly and incompetent son, also lamented that if all Christians were like him, their recapture of the Holy City would be imminent.

But Emina was not so naive. Her brother was Saladin, the Sultan of Egypt, and her husband was the Governor of Holmes. She had met countless people, and they treated her differently than they treated her husband and brother, sometimes almost like completely different people.

She certainly knew that some people, especially those in high positions but with mediocre talents, were more terrifying than wise scholars or brave warriors—their confidence could not be built in areas that were recognized by the people, so they could only turn to those dark and despicable places.

This is why she didn't immediately reveal her identity when the caravan was besieged; it might not be a protective charm, but rather a death warrant.

But the opposing force numbered over a hundred, including more than twenty knights who had received prophetic revelation (the Saracens also recognized Christian saints, calling them prophets, but there were only twenty-five of them). The servants had been almost entirely killed, the scholars were covered in wounds, and the others were barely holding on. Emina could no longer wait.

Although she knew things might get worse... Emina rode forward, raising one hand majestically.

Abigail lazily cast his gaze upon her. "A witch," he thought to himself, referring to all women past their prime in the same way, including his mother.

But what the other person said immediately piqued his interest in another area.

"You have already signed a peace treaty with Saladin and the governor of Damascus, Lazis. You have agreed not to point swords at each other again, nor to plunder or kill the civilians in the city or the passing caravans, and to maintain peace among the three of you," Emina said slowly in Christian language. "So please stop, gentlemen, by the oath our Sultan swore before Allah, and by the oath your King swore before God. I urge you to stop immediately, lest you blaspheme your gods and bring shame upon your King."

The knight beside Abigail immediately glanced at him. In this group, Abigail was undoubtedly the highest-ranking person; they all had to obey his orders. But when it came to the so-called alliance and the King of Arazarus—only anger and resentment surged within Abigail. He cared nothing more about the heretical Sultan. "Get out of my way, woman!" he shouted sharply. "Just wait for the merchant to appraise your value!"

He revealed a malicious look, realizing that this woman must have lived a life of luxury and must have been very beautiful in her youth. While most women would have lost their youthful beauty, she still possessed a certain charm, though she probably wouldn't fetch much. On the other hand, her guards were all young and strong, so perhaps he could make a small fortune from them.

“I am Saladin’s sister, Emina, and my husband is the governor of Holmes!”

Emina was forced to reveal her identity, and her words did indeed cause the Antioch knights to pause in surprise and hesitation.

The scholars and warriors, who were already exhausted, immediately retreated to Emina's side. They wanted to protect her, but Emina held their shoulders and stepped forward, no longer under their protection, but instead shielding them behind her. "I am here to accept your captives. Please let your king treat me with the proper respect due to a sultan's sister and a governor's wife."

Emina's demands were not excessive. With the alliance already signed, even if Sultan Saladin were captured, he should be treated like a king.

Of course, if one was captured during a battle, like the unfortunate noblewoman Elena, she would suffer humiliation, torture, and beatings, and might later become a Saracen slave or be sold in the market.

However, if both sides have signed a covenant, then whether they are Christian women or Saracen women, they should be treated well, and in some cases, even enemies should immediately release them and their servants and armies, and even send troops to escort them out of their territory.

But Emina clearly placed her bet in the wrong place.

Her claim caught Abigail's eye, as if a naughty child had discovered a new and interesting toy. With a slight lift of his hand, he raised his crossbow, which was already loaded with bolts, and shot an arrow through the throat of a scholar. The scholar's eyes widened immediately, and he fell to the ground, dead unwillingly.

Almost simultaneously, Abigail spurred his horse forward, grabbed Emina, and dragged her out of the Saracen guard.

The Saracens roared furiously and charged forward, but the equally helpless Antiochian knights had already blocked their way between them and Abigail.

“She is Saladin’s sister,” an older knight said in a low voice.

“Ah,” Abigail cried gleefully, “I have never enjoyed a Saracen woman of such high status, just because she is Saladin’s sister. Never mind me, this is a rare honor!” He laughed heartily and spurred his horse to a patch of overgrown weeds, throwing Emina heavily to the ground.

He then dismounted, mounted Emina, and slapped her viciously several times. He tore off her headscarf and threw it aside. He tilted his head, trying to see in the moonlight whether Emina's face showed the fear and despair he was familiar with.

Unfortunately, he saw nothing. The despicable man spat angrily and reached up to lift his chainmail.

Just then, Abigail's horse suddenly neighed uneasily, raising its front hooves as if to trample on the human. Abigail dodged in panic. Emina, unable to move due to excruciating pain, helplessly watched as her left arm and right chest were trampled, almost fainting from the pain. But what immediately invigorated her was a rainbow light.

It's a Saracen scimitar!

"Lyra!" Cesar called out. Lyra was much faster than them, and only Cesar and his Castor could catch up with her. By the time they saw the nauseating sight, Lyra had already taken flight like a white bird, along with two gleaming scimitars.

Abigail, tumbling and disheveled in the weeds, stared wide-eyed as he saw his mount shattered into pieces, just as the name suggests, while cold blades rained down like moonlight. He raised his arms in terror.

"Help me! Help me!" he cried, no matter who it was! Even Cesar!
He did indeed see the holy light belonging to Cesar, just like the former Count Raymond of Tripoli. How much he hated this holy light and its master, how much he now longed for it. His prayers seemed to have worked, or perhaps the saint of Abigail had given him a rare protection. He was struck, but the scimitar was obviously slowed for a moment, and then Cesar's protection arrived.

But in Abigail's eyes, the barrier erected by Cesar was so fragile and vulnerable—his eyes could not catch Laila's attack at all, nor could he see that she had slashed not once but hundreds of times. Cesar's divine grace was not endless either—before he could even show a joyful smile, he saw his right arm fly high into the air.

In an instant, everything slowed down in his eyes. He could even clearly see that the hand that had detached from the body was still futilely clawing in the air, and he was indeed wildly swinging his shoulders, as if trying to grab the broken limb with his no-longer-existing right hand.

Laila gritted her teeth. She didn't know how many times she had slashed, only that she had been hacking at an indestructible wall. When the wall finally shattered, she was no longer facing Abigail, but Cesar.

Cesar looked up, his eyes flashing with astonishment but not much disbelief. With a clang, Lyra's scimitar broke against Cesar's small shield, but with a casual flick of her wrist, she drew another dagger—this female Assassin could wield a knife with either hand, and there was no difference in lethality or agility.

The Antioch knights had already pulled Abigail out of the fighting range, and the Crusader knights who arrived later, Cesar's attendants, also hurriedly pulled Emina away from the side. The battle between the two was truly terrifying; it was the first time they had ever seen Cesar engaged in such a fierce battle with a Saracen—and a woman at that.

"come!"

Leila shouted, slashing with her scimitar and thrusting with her dagger, each strike carrying a chilling glint.

“Kill her! Kill her!” Abigail wailed, “She cut off my hand! Cesar, kill her, kill this Saracen woman, kill this witch! This devil!”

(End of this chapter)