kingdom of nations

Chapter 368 One City

"Is that really so?" Saladin asked, putting down the scroll in his hand. Only then did he realize that it was getting dark and the candles that had been lit were no longer as bright. He went over and took a brass bookmark to casually adjust the wick, and the tent was bright again.

The one who came to reply to him was his brother Turanza.

Previously, Saladin was both angry and disappointed because Turanshah's eldest son, Saifuddin, disregarded Saladin's orders and sent troops to Hama on his own. He refused his brother's request to send troops to rescue Saifuddin and only sent an envoy, not to encourage or appease Saifuddin, but to rebuke him.

At the same time, he demanded that Saifuddin immediately lead his army back to Hama to defend his own castle and territory, but Saifuddin did not obey Saladin's orders. Perhaps for this young man, after truly gaining control of power and the army, those great figures he used to revere—whether it was Sultan Nur ad-Din or his uncle—were no longer the saints he looked up to.

Not only that, he was also eager to challenge their authority—Turansha was extremely anxious, but helpless.

He had no way to wake his son, nor could he disobey the Sultan's orders. However, no matter how much he complained in private, he remained quite clear-headed. He would still diligently and honestly complete the tasks assigned to him by the Sultan. To this day, he remains one of the few trustworthy people around the Sultan.

“Mitshkin had his thousand slaves hollow out half a cliff, and then covered the excavated soil on the beams supported by the wooden frame. He drove the Crusaders into his trap like a shepherd herding sheep. Before dawn and while everyone was asleep, he broke the wooden stakes, causing a collapse. A large amount of mud and sand poured down, instantly burying half of the Christian camp.”

Many knights and soldiers suffocated to death under the mud before they could even don their armor or take up their weapons.

At this point, Turansha added with a hint of disdain, "But they ultimately lost in the battles that followed—a bunch of useless wretch, both in bed and on the battlefield—if only he had told you sooner…to join forces with you…"

Cesare had asked the Grand Eunuch whether he had told Saladin about his plot and sought his approval, but it was clear that the Grand Eunuch preferred to forgo Saladin's support rather than stand with him against their enemies.

But it's also possible that he believed Saladin had already made peace with those Christians, betrayed Nur ad-Din and the Egyptian Caliph al-Aid, and rose to power by betraying his own people—if Saladin knew of his scheme, he would have offered him as a gift to the King of Arazarus and the Crusaders.

“Fate shattered us like glass, and we have never been able to put our broken pieces back together,” Saladin lamented. His brother Turansha was also filled with sorrow—when they were in Apollo, their relationship, though not exactly that of close friends, was at least harmonious and joyful.

"But if he told you, would you allow him to use such a scheme?"

Saladin could only shake his head bitterly. On the battlefield, he could use stratagems, but to send innocent people to their deaths... he couldn't do it. Perhaps the Grand Eunuch's decision was right.

When Turanshah arrived near the Sea of ​​Galilee, the corpses of the Saracens and Christians had already begun to swell and deform, especially the heads at the feet of the Grand Eunuch—who was naked and bound to a wooden post inserted into the lake, his feet deliberately submerged in the water, and the heads piled at his feet quickly began to rot and stink in the hot weather.

As darkness fell, countless birds and beasts came to share in this sumptuous feast.

"They all say that he was condemned by God, which is why he was defeated by the Christians in battle, just like his former master Nur ad-Din. He was unable to move or speak, and could only watch helplessly as the heads of his subordinates and allies lay prostrate at his feet, the blood waves pushing them to the bottom of the lake or to the shore."

The heads on the shore quickly became a nest for flies. And the maggots crawled onto his feet the next day.

"...Can't he heal himself?" Saladin asked in surprise.

"That's why it's said to be God's punishment; the Prophet withdrew his favor."

Saladin was also greatly surprised when he heard the news. During their time together, the Grand Eunuch had never revealed a single secret about this matter—Nur ad-Din had actually kept such a person by his side.

“He never… I mean…” Turansha made a gesture.

"He came to Sultan Nur ad-Din's side after he came of age." Saladin knew much more about Mitshkin than his brother, after all, he had been one of Nur ad-Din's favorite young men. He and Mitshkin were both servants of the Sultan, but Saladin was a well-rounded man whose ambitions were supported and acknowledged by the people, unlike Mitshkin's twisted ambitions.

“Miteshkin has a beard, which means he was castrated after he became a man—he was originally a nobleman’s groom and a heretic, which wouldn’t have been a problem in itself, but like a poor man who gets a treasure he can’t protect, Miteshkin probably got something he shouldn’t have after he came of age. There aren’t many choices left for people like him.”

Saladin said that although he had been deceived by Mitshkin, he knew how the Saracen nobles treated these people—either they died or they were no longer men. Mitshkin could heal him, but that would be like suffering and he would still die.

And flesh and blood would grow back from the dry bones... When the prophet Isaac (Jesus) told the dead Lazarus to rise and walk out of the tomb, he had only been dead for four days...

“I heard from the fishermen there,” Turansha continued, “that fat fellow could at first make a deep howl, but at some point the howling stopped. Then he persisted for three or four more days without treating himself, even when crows came to peck at his eyes and fish tore at his flesh. He just hung there on that pillar, bleeding profusely, until he bled to death.”

Even so, it was already the sixth day. The squad of knights who had been watching him cut off his head, put it in a box, and returned to their unit to report. They dared not approach the man; his death was truly too gruesome and terrifying.

"I led the soldiers to lower him down, then wrapped him in a white cloth and buried him where we could see Apol. The ceremony was rather simple," he said cautiously. Saladin was closer to Miteshkin when he was with Nur ad-Din; they often sat on the carpet, leaning against the fluffy cushions, smoking hookahs, drinking coffee, and discussing politics or anecdotes. "I left a mark and killed a mare's foal there. I think we can still find the grave, if you feel it necessary... have a scholar go and pray for him..."

“No need,” Saladin interrupted him. “Perhaps hatred has completely twisted him. What he has done will not only disappoint me, but also bring shame to Nur ad-Din.”

“Some people would say that he wanted to avenge Nur ad-Din.”

“Nur ad-Din also had relatives and friends who died in the war with the Franks, and he said he would avenge them and kill every Christian. But his revenge was on the battlefield, face to face, sword to sword. Those prisoners who knelt before him were pardoned by him, let alone the innocent. In Apollo, both Christians and Saracens were treated fairly. In one case, he severely punished the treacherous Saracens and gave the Christians the compensation they deserved.”

I've seen this kind of thing more than once.

Nurdin was my teacher, the one I followed and loved, while Mitshkin… to provoke the Christians, he killed thousands of Christians living in Homs, including the elderly, women and children, not to mention he deceived the people of Homs, forcing ordinary people into a life-or-death struggle.

Perhaps he thinks he's doing the right thing, but since he's determined to go his own way, he shouldn't blame us for doing the same.

In any case, this behavior is not worthy of respect.

"Everyone has someone they love," Saladin stood up. "And the biggest difference between goodwill and malice is that goodwill is a fragile thing that can easily die, while malice has a vigorous life force. If you indulge it, it will grow bigger and bigger and more and more intense."

Ultimately, even the kindest person cannot escape its control.

He said calmly, “Since Nurdin’s death, many people have thought they could take over his mantle, but I don’t think any of them are worthy of it. They only want the prestige, army and territory that Nurdin left behind. They have never tried to understand his heart, or even if they did, they were unwilling to act according to his wishes.”

He wrote to Sultan Saleh of Apollo, sincerely saying that his willingness to be his royal advisor was not empty talk.

Saladin did think so, but now the young man seemed equally disappointing. He bent down, pulled a parchment from the scroll, and burned the letter from Apol on the candle: "Have you examined those corpses?"

"Those dead were indeed those who died from suffocation, pressure, or fighting, and were buried in the Christian way—I even retrieved bodies from the lake, and they were indeed mostly Crusaders."

According to the fishermen, in addition to the corpses that were forced to remain on the shores of Galilee, the Crusaders also took away a large number of the remains of nobles and knights, whose cries and prayers echoed throughout the entire Sea of ​​Galilee.

Because the Crusaders were in such a hurry, they were unable to build a grave for every dead person. So they simply stuck crosses into piles of sand and mud, and there was more than one corpse under each cross.

I didn't dig any deeper..."

Turansha hesitated for a moment: "On my way back, I saw a group of knights carrying a red banner—the Earl of Edessa."

“I was just about to tell you,” Saladin said, patting his robe a few times, “that I may be leaving for a while…”

"Sudan!?"

“We cannot let Baldwin IV return to Alaska – if he does, morale on Alaska will rise dramatically – and I will go myself.”

“Go in person? But our most important task is to capture Arazari!” “I know,” Saladin said, “but what does this city mean? I’m telling you this because you are my brother.” He stood up, stepped out of the tent, waved away the servants and guards who followed him, and took his brother’s arm at the top of the hill, where they gazed together at Arazari, which was shrouded in twilight.

They have besieged the sacred city for a full forty-five days. Both the attackers and the defenders are exhausted, but they are persevering. The defenders are hoping for the king's return, while the attackers hope to nip that possibility in the bud.

"A city. What is its essence? It is the earth, the stones, the wood. It is lifeless; all its meaning is given by humankind. Turansha, we must destroy the physical walls, and we must also destroy the walls in people's hearts. I am entrusting the army to you. Just remember, maintain the current siege frequency until I return. I do not expect to see any results in the short term."

You must also reassure them and tell the Fatahs and Emirs that everything I promised will not change, and that God will see all that they have given for Him. They will return to their cities and tribes with glory.

Do not hastily charge at those troops that suddenly rush out of the city gates, nor arbitrarily move soldiers from one place to another. Be cautious enough in the use of scholars and warriors. No victory comes without a price, but I hope that price can be as small as possible.

Turansha felt extremely terrified.

He even wanted to ask Saladin if he wasn't afraid that he would divert some of it to support his eldest son, Saif al-Din.
But he also knew he wouldn't, not only because of Saladin's trust and love for him, but also because he couldn't let those people think that a rift had formed between the two brothers.

Their sister Emina had been Saladin's weakness, and he couldn't allow Saladin to have another place for the enemy to attack.

Although he was still heartbroken when he thought of his eldest son, Saif al-Din, his will became firm again. He had no talent, and the prophet he followed was just a peaceful man. He had only loyalty, and he would keep it to the end.

“I will wait for you to return, Saladin,” but a layer of worry involuntarily covered his eyes again: “Saladin, you just said… that you would give them everything you promised them…”

Yes. Saladin didn't have any special requirements for his personal clothing, food, or shelter. As long as his clothes were warm and his food was enough, he could occasionally smoke hookah or drink some grape juice. But he avoided anything that was too extravagant or might arouse suspicion.

For example, he only ate rock candy once—a gift from merchants—and he only wore a yellow silk robe when facing his prisoners. In ordinary times, even in war, he wore a black robe like all Saracen warriors.

“This matter…” Turansha took a deep breath.

Did those people say something to you again?

“No, no, they did not mean to betray you, Sultan, but the problem is that they think the conditions for those Christians should be too lenient.”

Why do I say that?
We have come here to conquer this holy city, not to plunder its wealth, nor to rape and kill, but simply to fulfill our duty before Allah and to keep our vows… Reclaiming the holy city from our enemies is our priority, but we also hope that it will remain as it was before, not destroyed or ravaged by bloodshed. Hatred accumulates endlessly, and any act of violence will tarnish the honor of Allah.

Moreover, the holy city has tens of thousands of residents and pilgrims; surely their ransom wouldn't satisfy the appetites of the Fatahs and Emirs?

"That's a lot, but as you know, human nature is greedy. Once they have a hundred gold coins, they will naturally want a hundred and one more."

"Since you say that, I'm afraid they will never be satisfied. Even if I demand the confiscation of all the property of the city's residents, take away their last penny, and sell their women and children into slavery, they will continue to grumble."

Turansha pursed his lips anxiously for a while before saying, "Sultan, although I don't want to answer that way, I must tell you—when you attacked Larum and Gashalafa, you allowed the Christians in the cities to leave with their money, which has made them very unhappy, very unhappy."

Among those you released were not only ordinary residents, artisans, farmers, and merchants, but also the castle owners and Christian priests. They not only took their money, but also looted all the valuables in the church.

It is said that the goods they carried on their backs, on the backs of mules, or on camels were worth at least 200,000 gold coins.

These things could have been theirs. They hope you will grant them their request: that you forgive the Christians' lives and not sell their children into slavery, but at the very least, that they leave the road to Arazars barehanded, just as the Christians treated our own people.

Saladin fell silent, knowing that his carelessness regarding money had not affected his ministers and generals: "It's not time yet," he finally said, "Let's wait until we conquer Arazarus, or until I bring back the King of Arazarus. Perhaps the King of Arazarus will be willing to pay this money for his people."

Turansha sighed: "If that's the case, then it couldn't be better."

Saladin smiled at him, reached out and patted his brother's shoulder. "You can call me Saladin sometimes."

Turansha shook his head.

“I know how those people see us,” Saladin said dismissively. “Zangi was once a slave. While he was alive, people treated him with great respect. After he died, some people began to humiliate him because of his origins.”

"That's why I need to show you even more respect, so that those petty people won't think they can take advantage of me."

Saladin smiled slightly. "So, who can deny that he was burdened by his fame in his later years? If he and his descendants could have frankly admitted that he was indeed just a slave, and not been bothered by those empty titles, the Zengid dynasty might not have declined so quickly."

He gazed at his brother, feeling a sudden surge of emotion in his heart.

He thought of Zengi, of Nur ad-Din, of Nur ad-Din's three sons, and even more so of his own children. Some say that you can tell whether a baby will be cowardly or brave when he is still in swaddling clothes. Saladin had scoffed at this, but he had to admit that none of his children, whether grown up or not, seemed to have shown any talents that would make him proud.

And among his brother's sons, Saif al-Din was indeed the most outstanding.

He hesitated for a moment: "Turanshah. I brought five thousand Mamluks with me this time. I will take two thousand with me, leave two thousand behind, and send the remaining one thousand to Hama in secret. They will not help Saif al-Din defend the city, but if things really come to a head, they will rescue him and send him back to Edessa."

Turansha opened his eyes wide. He never expected to hear Saladin say such a thing at the last moment. He felt a moment of disorientation, thinking he was still dreaming. He even looked around until Saladin's hand on his shoulder gently squeezed it, which brought him back to his senses. He immediately knelt down.

Saladin pulled him back forcefully, saying, "There's no need for that."

Although Saifuddin's actions crossed Saladin's bottom line and went against his wishes, he at least demonstrated his ambition and fearlessness. Saifuddin is still a child after all, and with more guidance, his future may not be too disappointing.

Even Saladin was taught by his father, the monarch Nur ad-Din, and his uncle Shirku before he was able to grow into who he is today. He should not compare those geniuses with his son and nephew. The sun shines so brightly that it can outshine the light of other stars, precisely because there is only one sun.

Being too greedy is not a good thing.

------

“Baldwin, Richard once told me something.”

"whats the matter?"

"His arrival was met with much opposition. People believed that since he had just become King of England, he should stay in the country to appease the people, intimidate the feudal lords, and tour the world to announce that the current King of England is Richard I."

Moreover, Henry II had fought so many wars before, not only against King Louis VII of France, but also against his sons and those powerful lords who would occasionally incite rebellions—the domestic economic situation was not very optimistic. The tithes collected by Richard I for the Holy War had exhausted the people and left them in dire straits, and the people desperately needed a respite.

And how did Richard answer them?

César smiled. “He said I would give everything for God, including my life, not to mention a little money. What does it matter if I have no money? He has palaces and castles that he can mortgage. If all else fails, he can even mortgage the whole of London or even England to merchants, as long as they can afford his expedition.”

“That’s exactly what Richard would say,” Baldwin couldn’t help but say, then he looked at Cesar and slowly his smile faded. “What do you want to do?”

"Now I must say, if it were for the sake of Arrasaro, and for you, I would also be willing to mortgage everything I have, including Cyprus."

(End of this chapter)