kingdom of nations

Chapter 346 Emina (Part 2)
Emina was locked up, but instead of being thrown into prison, she was imprisoned in her former room along with her maids and servants. The door was closed and locked, and guards stood watch outside.

Perhaps it was because she was, after all, Ibn's wife and the mother of his children. Of course, it was more likely that she had a younger brother named Saladin, and Ibn had long been wary of Saladin.

Emina had gone through many hardships to finally return to Holmes, and when Ibn met her, he was still marveling at her loyalty and intelligence—her fierceness and resilience could move anyone—but Ibn's expression quickly changed.

Because he thought of Saladin. They had fought a war, and Emina was his wife and Saladin's sister. She could be considered a hostage on either side, but she still came back. What does that mean?
This means that the sibling bond between Saladin and Emina is almost gone.

He tentatively wrote to Saladin, and if the Emir's return was Saladin's way of extending goodwill, he was not unwilling to accept it—Saladin's reply left him frustrated and angry.

He took his anger out on Emina, whom he considered a truly shallow and reckless woman who was now using the most precious food to gain the gratitude of those rebels.

“You should know the importance of water and food,” Ibn said, and then left.

He punished Emina by cutting off her food and water.

Fortunately, Emina acted quickly upon realizing Ibn's intentions, ordering her maids to search the room for all the food. Luckily, like all noble ladies, she kept candied fruit, nuts, and some "kunafah" (a batter sifted into thin strands and fried until golden brown, served with cheese and syrup), as well as a silver jug ​​of water in her room. They ate the perishable items first, and rewrapped the candied fruit and nuts, which were easier to store, and hid them in places where they were less likely to be found.

They didn't let anything slip by, not even a few dusty dates—they had been under the bed for who knows how long, discolored, shriveled, and tasted sour.

There are also cosmos flowers placed beside the bed for decoration.

“Cosmos flowers are edible,” said Emina’s wet nurse. While everyone else hesitated, she picked them up, put them in her mouth, and then filtered the water from the vase with a cotton cloth before pouring it into a silver pot.

Even so, two maids developed diarrhea after being forced to drink the water.

Speaking of diarrhea, since their doors were never opened, of course no one cleaned up their waste.

So the maids simply took the chamber pots and went to the window to empty them. One of the younger maids even joked that if Ibn happened to walk by the window, she could have accurately poured the excrement on his head.

This made Emina smile, but she also realized that Ibn might not kill her, but he wouldn't show any mercy to those around her.

This is why he locked these maids up with her.

He wanted Emina to choose: either she would eat all the food herself—or she would have to watch her loyal maids starve to death before her eyes.

They could either share the little food they had, but if Emina died, these people still couldn't survive.

Emina held on until noon on the third day. Without further hesitation, she went to the door, maintaining a weak posture, and called to the guards in a low voice, telling them to go and invite Iben.

She has realized her mistake, regrets her disrespect, and hopes to be forgiven by her husband and master.

Ibn's lateness might have been intentional—they waited from sunrise until nightfall. When Ibn entered the room, Emina immediately smelled the alcohol on him; he had been drinking, disobeying the prophet's teachings to the Saracens.

Emina's expression immediately turned cold and stern, but only for a moment. Then she put on a meek face, prostrated herself on the ground, touched Ibn's feet with her forehead, and murmured humble words.

Ibn first laughed intermittently at her submission, then he bent down with suspicion to carefully observe Emina's face. He couldn't find anything on Emina's face, so he pondered and observed the others in the room.

But he was unsure whether he should “forgive” Emina, so Ibn wanted to test her further to see if she had indeed pulled out some of the thorns as she had shown. Emina disappointed him once again—she refused Ibn’s request and wrote to her brother Saladin, asking him to lead an army to support Damascus.

“I’ve exhausted my brother’s and my relationship to get back to you,” Emina said. “He said that if I insisted on coming back to you, we would be enemies.”

"I only need three thousand people."

Ibn stood up in disappointment: "It seems you still haven't learned enough lessons."

"You think you have something to rely on? You are my wife, the mother of my children. In fact, I know you were defiled when you returned to Homs from Egypt, right outside Damascus. Although you asked everyone to keep it a secret, I know you were defiled by a Christian knight." He ignored Emina's swaying body and increasingly dim eyes, and continued, "Although you have hidden this secret well, there are always kind people willing to tell me—I can tell you now, Emina. Although I will not kill you now, when I meet Saladin again on the battlefield one day, I will bury you in a pit, and let him be the first to stone you. You are my shame, and his shame."

Emina, you will receive a fair trial.

Emina trembled, and her wet nurse quickly grabbed her hand and pushed her forward, hoping she would beg Ibn for forgiveness. But Emina stopped, watched the door close in front of her again, and shook her head: "It's no use."

Whether Ibn was using this as an excuse or genuinely believed that her chastity had been compromised and their marriage was over, it was a valid reason.

Emina raised her head, the bloodshot from anger and the white from disappointment gone from her face, replaced by a moonlit serenity. She straightened the headscarf that had fallen off during the scuffle, walked to the box beside her, knelt down, opened the box, and ran her fingers over the exquisite ornaments one by one until she finally found the one she wanted.

Before she could turn around, she heard the maids in the room suddenly scream a few times. Although the screams were faint, they alerted the guards outside the door. They immediately opened the door and rushed in, searching the room but finding nothing.

They viciously seized Emina's wet nurse—Emina was, after all, their master's wife—and dared not touch her easily, even though their master had sworn to divorce her.

“We heard screams,” a guard said coldly, as he casually raised his scimitar slightly, pressing it against the wet nurse’s chest. “Has anyone come in?”

“This is the top of a tower,” the wet nurse replied in a trembling voice. “Who could possibly get in here? A bat, a very large bat, flew in through the window, circled once, and then flew away.”

The guards, somewhat incredulous, tossed the wet nurse aside, letting her fall to the ground, and then searched the entire room, but found nothing except for the panicked maid and the master's wife.

Perhaps it really is a bat.

Emina watched as the guards retreated again, closed the door, and heard the sound of it being locked again. The wet nurse turned pale with anger, then looked at one of the maids, both furious and impressed by the assassin's audacity.

Yes, as Emina turned to retrieve the tokens, a figure suddenly darted through the window—a white-haired Assassin assassin. Emina had spoken of this person to her wet nurse; although a Christian knight ultimately saved her, the original benefactor was this Assassin assassin—a white-haired woman, renowned for her allure—Razis had once been her lover.

She truly flew in, at least that's how it seemed to them, without even touching the grime on the wall outside the window. She descended into the room like a gentle breeze, a fragrance of flowers. While the maids screamed uncontrollably, she calmly picked up a headscarf and draped it over her head, covering her conspicuous white hair and half her face.

Although the guards knew that some maids were locked in the room, they didn't pay much attention to their numbers. They probably didn't realize that one of the maids who was frantically hiding from them was the assassin they were looking for.

This may be a deeply ingrained perception among men; perhaps for them, even if they discover an assassin, as long as she is a woman, they won't take her too seriously.

Emina stared at Lyra, who smiled. "He's a despicable fellow, isn't he?" the assassin asked. "Should I kill him? The necklace around your neck is enough."

Without hesitation, Emina removed the necklace from her neck and handed it to Laila, but her request was not for the Assassin assassin to kill Ibn. Ibn, the governor of Holmes, also had "scholars" who had received prophetic revelations by his side.

Moreover, was Ibn really such a remarkable person?

He was merely a pawn pushed out by those sultans and caliphs; winning was certainly good, but losing wouldn't be considered a loss for them—just like her brother Saladin.

Saladin was criticized by many after the Battle of the Jordan Valley. They believed that he should not have punished those who fought bravely for their defeat, let alone retreated back to Egypt and handed Damascus over to the Christians.

But Emina saw it clearly: she left Saladin not because of the slander against her brother, but out of loyalty as a wife and mother, wanting to return to her husband.

She knew that those people were complaining simply because Saladin had not fought the Christians to a standstill in Damascus as they had hoped, and had been caught off guard by the remnants of the Fatimid dynasty, leaving him a defeated dog once again.

They would rather see the Fatimid dynasty once again ruled by an ignorant and feeble young ruler, barely clinging to life, than see a powerful ruler like Nur ad-Din rise in the Saracen world.

After all, Saladin could be said to have inherited Nur ad-Din's will to unify the entire Saracen world—only then could they fight the Crusaders. But unification meant they could no longer be their governors, empresses, sultans, or even caliphs—even though the current Abbasid caliph was a puppet who still disliked Saladin—how terrifying would it be if the whole world had only one voice!

Moreover, Saladin was originally a Kurd, and the Kurds were originally mercenaries of the Turks and Saracens.

"You can't kill everyone, but you might be able to help me, or rather, help your master, do something."

Leila was slightly surprised. "What is it? Or do you know who my master is?"

“There aren’t many people who can take in an Assassin assassin—your master is Cesar, isn’t he?”

Lyra had never heard of any Assassins defecting before. Perhaps there were some, but because no one would take them in, they were secretly disposed of by the Assassins and thus remained unknown. After all, Assassin assassins could even change their beliefs to complete their missions, so who knew if what they said was true?
She had heard of Sinan's name and knew that he was trying his best to maintain the presence and importance of the Assassins in Syria—her husband had even hired the Assassins—but to her, the Assassins were like a knife stained with blood that could not be washed away.

But as the blood stains the blade, dulling its edge and making it difficult for the mercenaries to control, the Assassins are destined for destruction.

She had wanted to thank Leila, but failed because she couldn't find her. However, she later heard from some people that Leila had apparently betrayed the Assassins and gone to serve the Cypriot lord.

Lyra's white hair was very noticeable.

"Yes, I am working for him."

"Then your presence here isn't without reason."

“My master sent me to investigate the situation inside Damascus. Although the real war won’t change because of the intelligence provided by two or three spies, he at least needs to know the current situation inside the city and those Christians who are imprisoned…”

“Ibn disappointed me, but what disappointed me most was not how he treated me,” Emina calmly told Leila a crucial piece of information: “Ibn wanted to kill all the Christians.”

"Everyone?" Lyra's eyes sharpened.

"Everyone, the moment you begin your assault, he may hang them and hang their bodies on the city walls, or he may cut off their heads and throw their bodies out of the city with catapults, to intimidate and mock those Christians."

Leila's face went blank for a moment.

But upon closer examination, it's clear that the headstrong Ibn would indeed do such a thing.

Initially, the battles between the Crusaders and the Saracens were never merciless. Situations like those described by Emina occurred frequently, but as the Crusaders established themselves here, they also became part of the many principalities of the Arab peninsula.

Gradually, the relationship between the two sides became less tense. Although they claimed to be of faith, in reality, most of the wars were driven by self-interest. Whether they were Saracen warriors, sultans, or Christian knights and lords, as long as they were not killed on the battlefield or died from their wounds, most of the imprisoned people were able to be released after paying a ransom.

Because of disagreements over ransom or other reasons, hostages can be imprisoned for extended periods. For example, the unfortunate Baldwin II was once captured by a Sultan. The Crusaders had captured a princess whom the Sultan admired, and they used the princess as leverage in their bargaining. The Sultan offered either Baldwin II or a sum of gold to ransom the princess—but Baldwin II's allies, after some deliberation, decided that gold was more important than Baldwin II and thus demanded the gold first.

Baldwin suffered for several more years as a result, but even so, he was not killed.

Ibn was either acting out of momentary anger, or he thought that only by using this to break the morale of the Christians, defeat them, and march on Arazari could he possibly gain more.

“He wants honor more than money, but he should know that if he does, and you fail,” Lyra said with a smile, finding herself quite comfortable using the word “you,” “would the Christians massacre the city even with my master in charge?”

Emina was silent for a moment, then a slow smile appeared on her face. "He must have planned this all along." Her husband was very experienced in escaping.

"So you want me to..."

"There should be a few more people like you, but not enough to rescue those people from prison. Besides, Ibn has already moved them to another location, not the one you know, just in case. And by the time you return to deliver the message, the Crusaders will likely find it difficult to send troops to rescue them before the city falls."

But I have a small squad here that I can command.

"Were they the slave soldiers who escorted you back?" Leila asked.

Emina simply shook her head. She had dismissed them before entering the city; otherwise, Holmes would have surely killed the boys and hung their heads on spears to rot after being refused when he tried to recruit them.

She walked to the window, looked down, turned around, and handed Leila a key-like token, along with an address. "My brother Saladin was once the governor of Damascus, and his wife is the beloved daughter of the previous governor. She knows the city very well."

Although Saladin later left Damascus for Egypt due to Nur ad-Din's suspicion, he still left behind some of his spies there. For some unknown reason, Saladin still showed his sister a final bit of pity and told Emina about the token and the existence of the secret agents.

He believed that although Emina was very loyal to her husband, she wouldn't be foolish enough to hand over her last trump card. And Emina did indeed keep the matter a secret, just as he had expected, which was why she was able to maintain her composure throughout.

She had originally intended to take the risk of having the lightest maid descend the rope they had woven from torn curtains and sheets to search for these people in the city, but now that she had Lyra, there was no need for that risk.

“Your men, along with my men, should be able to leave Damascus without alerting Ibn.”

What gave her even more confidence was that Ibn was clearly drunk. A drunk person, after satisfying himself with a display of power, would inevitably go back to seek pleasure or fall into a deep sleep. Either way, they would have at least five hours to operate, which was why Emina did not advise Leila to go back and report to Cesar before making a decision.

Opportunities are fleeting.

Laila did not refuse. She accepted the token, tore off her headscarf, and leaped out of the window. The maids rushed to the window to watch. They saw her, like a large gray-white bird, instantly pass through the moonlit area. As her limbs spread out, her robes unfolded like the membrane of a bat. The air currents carried her, allowing her to flow into the shadows of the tower like mercury spilling onto the ground.

Throughout the entire process, not only the guards standing at the highest point, or by the window and in the square, but even the maid who had been keeping a close eye on her almost lost sight of her.

After landing, Leila had time to wave to them before slipping into a narrow alley and disappearing in an instant.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The situation in Ramoun, Tripoli is very bad.

David held his father in his arms with worry. Their place of imprisonment had been changed several times. Clearly, as the most valuable goods in Damascus, the governor of Holmes valued them highly.

He also knew that David was a brave and skilled knight, and he even considered cutting off one of David's hands or one of his feet, but he was dissuaded by those around him. After all, if that were the case, the Christians probably wouldn't have paid such a large ransom to redeem this man. However, he and his father suffered the humiliation of being whipped and paraded through the streets. David and Raymond were both blessed men, but the executioners were also warriors who had been taught by the prophets.

After they were injured, no one came to treat them. They didn't even get enough food and water, and they were shackled with heavy black iron chains.

Even when they were transferred, they were carried on wagons and arrived at another place in a completely enclosed environment. Their new prison was an abandoned chapel—the place where Saracens performed major and minor ablutions before prayer. Therefore, the ground and walls were paved with stone, and there were solid walls. Only at the highest point was there a small hole to provide light. Unless one was a monkey, even a blessed knight would have a hard time climbing up.

Besides, they had handcuffed David and his father together—even if they hadn't, David couldn't have abandoned his father. But it was damp and cold here, with no blankets or straw mats, so David could only place Raymond on his body, feeling his body gradually warming up, his heart burning with anxiety.

“David…David…”

He heard his father muttering in his sleep, still calling his son's name. Just as David was about to be moved to tears, he suddenly felt a twitch in his body, and Raymond called out in that indistinct voice, "Long live the King... Long live the King."

David felt a bitter taste in his mouth. He wasn't naive enough to think that the king his father was referring to was either the former Amalric I or the current Baldwin IV. It was only after his father fell ill and uncontrollably uttered many rebellious words that he realized his father had always intended for him, or even himself, to inherit the throne of Arazarus.

But he still remembered that when he was young, his father was a loyal and cautious subject, especially loyal to Amalric I, and he adhered to the morals and laws that knights and subjects had to follow.

He was originally a good man. When did he undergo such an irredeemable change? Was it when Amalric I died, or when Cesar became Baldwin's squire, or even earlier—from the moment Baldwin contracted leprosy?
Although David was somewhat clumsy and slow-witted, he knew that once he had such ambitions, it meant that his father's mind was almost impossible to change.

The father's actions after arriving in Damascus were also intended to prove the king wrong—yes, he was not hostile to Cesar, but to Baldwin; he wanted to prove that Baldwin was not qualified to be the king of Arrassal.

Therefore, even though David repeatedly warned him, and he knew that some of the measures would help to appease the city's residents, he did it anyway, and the result was what he faced.

Instead of proving Baldwin's incompetence and cowardice, his father pushed them into an abyss of no return.

Yes, David already knew that Ibn no longer intended to demand a ransom, but had decided to execute them; otherwise, they wouldn't have left Raymond, who was suffering from a high fever, unattended.

He heard a rustling sound. The Christian knight looked up and saw that the only light source was blocked for a moment. A small head appeared at the entrance of the cave—even from a distance, it was still clear that it was not an adult's head, but a child's head.

The child looked around the cave entrance for a while, then threw something down, which hit David squarely in the face. David felt a sharp pain in his cheekbone and reached out to grab the object.

Then he looked up again and saw the child's face frantically leaving the hole. Another face appeared; it was a little bigger than the first child, but still a child.

This time, he swung a small package, but deliberately threw it a little far from David, but far enough for him to crawl over and get it. David waved his hands frantically, hoping they would stop throwing things down, but they did anyway. The package landed on the ground. David grabbed the thing that had been thrown down with one hand, shuffled over with difficulty, and quickly grabbed the package and hid it under him and Raymond.

His action was timely, for a guard soon came in to check: "Pig!" he cursed loudly, for David and Raymond now stank, since they had no chamber pots here and no one would help them clean themselves.

David only loosened his grip on the other person's hand after a while; inside was a rather plump date.

He then bit open the package with his teeth. Inside were several dry, hard flatbreads, things David wouldn't have even glanced at before. But he knew that in Damascus, this food was worth its equivalent in gold, and the people who had followed him and secretly given him food were not Christians—the Christians were all imprisoned—but Damascusians.

People might be surprised, but David didn't expect this when he stood before those knights who had been indulged by their fathers.

Yes, they still remember his kindness. Even though it takes a great risk and they have to save their meager food, they still relentlessly throw things to him whenever they have a spare moment.

Some were discovered and were whipped or banished. Some children were taken away—David knew they would become slaves, but he could only feel anxious and helpless; he was powerless to stop them.

How many people did he save? He doesn't know, but the reward he has received now may already be enough to overflow the cup he once held, and besides, it was his fault in the first place.

He cried as he stuffed dates into his father's mouth and swallowed all the dry biscuits. Without water, he pressed his tongue against the cold stone floor so that his throat wouldn't hurt so much.

He had to do it because he didn't know when he and his father would be moved again, and these things couldn't be hidden.

At that moment, the door opened again. David clutched the few remaining biscuits, too afraid to move. To his surprise, the first person to walk in was a white-haired woman.

He certainly knew Laila; after all, Abigail had been shouting to kill the white-haired witch and knew she might already be working for Cesar.

He was in a daze, unsure if this was a hallucination, but the other person had already approached him, accompanied by a nimble Saracen. He quickly approached David, checked the shackles on David and Raymond, and then, without him knowing how, clicked open the tightly locked shackles.

The others hurriedly removed David's shackles and helped him and Raymond into a carriage that was already waiting at the door. As David glanced back, he noticed several corpses piled up in the corner of the alley.

A woman sat in the carriage, accompanied by several maids. David recognized her; he had accompanied Baldwin to apologize to the victim of high status, Saladin's sister, Emina.

Emina nodded calmly to him, and his maidservants brought wine and date cakes. David took them without thinking and began to eat and drink heartily. "Give me armor, a horse, and weapons," he said hastily.

A man dressed as a scholar—and he truly was a scholar—nimbly leaped onto the carriage at the next corner to treat Raymond and David. David was now full, his wounds were under control, and the pain was less intense. The horse, armor, and clothing he had requested were also brought to him, but not as Christians, but as Saracens.

David then alighted from the wagon, where four or five Saracen warriors were already following him. He took a javelin, attached his scimitar, and stood ready for battle.

He thought they would face a fierce battle, but they didn't. The carriage traveled along the main street of Damascus, and the guards patrolling the road either pretended not to see them or didn't show up at all. The only thing to worry about were the mercenaries wandering the streets.

Some of them, bewildered, wanted to come up and investigate, while others wanted to shout and call for their companions to share the unexpected prey. But whether they remained silent or shouted, there was only one result: they were killed on the spot, either by slitting their throats, destroying their skulls, or being hanged. They lived silently and were ignored, and they died the same way.

However, there were dozens more corpses in the shadows beneath the wall.

They arrived at a secluded section of the city wall. There should have been guards here, but they had all been eliminated. Only one torch remained, barely enough to illuminate a small corner of the wall below.

A rope was lowered from the city wall. Emina quickly jumped onto Laila, who grabbed the rope and climbed up like an ape, easily sending Saladin's sister up the wall. There were others on the wall to help her down—then she was lowered down from the other side, as were the maids.

David then tied Raymond to his body—although he had suffered a lot of torture before, after receiving treatment and having enough food and water, his strength had been mostly restored, so this was certainly not a problem for him.

At the foot of the city walls, strong horses, food, and water were also prepared for them.

When they said goodbye at a fork in the road, he was still a little dazed. Had they really walked out of Damascus like this?
He believed that he and his father were doomed to die this time, and he was prepared to accept the punishment.

But now, he saw the sunlight again, breathed the fresh air, and felt the morning breeze. He turned to Emina, his chapped lips moving as if to express his gratitude. But Emina stopped him with a stern look. "I rescued you not for your thanks, Christian."

I don't know how many people will remain in Damascus under my husband's rule, but at least for your sake, show some mercy to those unfortunate ones.

She then turned and left without looking back, quickly disappearing into the vast sandstorm.

(End of this chapter)