kingdom of nations

Chapter 358 David is back

Saladin, unusually, showed no mercy. He waved his hand, ordering the guards to drag his brother away. Turansha's face was ashen, and his stout body seemed to have all its bones removed, unable to stand up or even support his head. His head drooped deeply, and tears kept falling onto the gray stone surface.

Even the most hard-hearted person would soften at such a scene, but Saladin never uttered a word to persuade him to stay. He could bestow wealth and glory upon his brother and his descendants after conquering Egypt, Syria, and even Arazari, but he could not allow them to betray his expectations.

Turanshah was always very rational. He knew he didn't have Saladin's talent. When they were young, only their father and uncles had a say in the family, but only Saladin could "lead" the other brothers. Later, it was Saladin who went with their uncle Shirku to serve Sultan Nur ad-Din because "Sultan Nur ad-Din would like this child."

As Hilku said, Nur ad-Din was overjoyed with Saladin as soon as he saw him.

Is Turansha possible? Of course not, but Saifuddin was indeed his favorite child, the one on whom he placed the most hope. He even constantly compared Saifuddin to Saladin in his youth, feeling that his son was no less capable. Now he could only cling to a faint hope: as long as Saifuddin performed as strongly as he and Saladin had hoped, even if he ultimately lost Hama and Edessa, even if he was captured, even if he became crippled?

As the elder brother, he knew Saladin's preferences all too well, and at least his son's life could be saved.

“Uncle?” He heard a surprised and hesitant exclamation. Turansha turned his head and saw that it was his nephew, Saladin’s eldest son Efdal. A hope suddenly rose in his heart, but he only hesitated for a moment before closing his mouth tightly, not uttering a single word.

If it were someone else, they might take this opportunity to plead with their nephew to ask the child to intercede with his father.

But Turansha knew that if he did so, he would anger Saladin by two sources instead of one. But looking at Efdal's wavering eyes, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of schadenfreude—his son might have his shortcomings, but Saladin's son wasn't much better.

He concealed his true feelings well in front of Saladin, practicing martial arts diligently, enjoying reading, respecting his teachers, and caring for his brothers and sisters.

But is that really the case?

No one can wear a mask 24 hours a day. He could see very clearly what a person was like in private. Saladin, on the other hand, had the whole Saracen world in his heart and left little for his son.

"Has something happened to Saifuddin? Is there anything I can do to help?"

The eldest prince asked earnestly.

"No, thank you, child. I was just overthinking it. After all, he is my son—no father doesn't worry about his child."

Turansha noticed a slight change in Efdal's expression and smiled. Saladin had too many children, and his love was divided into many pieces. Even if he had more, the children would not feel satisfied—besides, Saladin saw them more as his heirs, future sultans, than as toddlers—it would be very difficult to meet his demands.

With the help of the guards, Turansha straightened up. After all, he was the eldest prince's elder and did not want him to see him in such a disheveled state.

The eldest prince stared at Turanshah, watching his staggering figure as he walked away, and he roughly guessed what had happened—before the expedition, he and his two younger brothers had received a prophetic revelation in the temple, and what made him proud was that the one he had perceived was Suleimana, also known as Solomon by Christians.

While Solomon, as the king of Isaac, later fell into arrogance and extravagance, in the early period, no one could deny that he was a good king worthy of respect.

At the same time, the abilities he displayed were extraordinary; he could even command demons, call their names, and make them work for him.

When he followed this great prophet throughout his life, Efdal was filled with ecstasy.

This was an omen, and there was no doubt that the prophet his father had met was none other than the benevolent Anyub—and the teachings Anyub gave him were reflected in his usual actions and beliefs.

He may have been a competent emir or a vizier, but after becoming sultan, everyone criticized his indecisiveness.

As a son, he couldn't blame his father, but Efdal still felt that if he had such an army and city, he would have done better than his father.

"You've come, child?" Saladin asked as he saw his eldest son approaching. "Have you seen your uncle Turansha?"

Evdal nodded. "Did he come for his son?"

"Yes, it is his eldest son. He wants us to send an army to rescue Saif al-Din. But this is not in my plans. He is in Hama, not even in Edessa. Our navy will be hampered by Byzantium, Cyprus, and Antioch. And if we go by land, we will encounter Gaza, Arrassal, and Tiberias..."

But the Crusaders had already captured Damascus, the governor of Hama was already their prisoner, and the governor of Homs, Ibn, was nowhere to be found, his fate likely grim.

The only saving grace was that Saladin's sister, Emina, had escaped before the city fell. Although her whereabouts were unknown, Saladin believed she would make the best choice for herself—at least she wouldn't regret it.

Just as she had insisted on returning to Holmes.

Saladin was not as ruthless as he appeared; as a sultan, he could not place personal feelings above the nation and the army. He simply hoped Efdal would consult his aunt and cousins, but Efdal was clearly more concerned with whether he could obtain Holmes's help, given that his two cousins ​​were already confirmed dead…

Saladin was somewhat displeased by Efdar's greed and recklessness, but he didn't show it. "We're about to attack Darum, then Gaza. Do you have anything to say to me?"

His father's question made the eldest prince, Efdal,'s eyes light up. He excitedly began to explain his thoughts. Saladin, though smiling, couldn't help but compare him to another young man who had similarly asked Cesare questions about military matters back in Damascus.

When people mention the Shield of the Holy City, the first word that comes to mind is mercy, as if he has nothing else to offer besides mercy.

But in this chaotic world, kindness alone is like a hornless lamb. Not to mention the menacing wolves, even the strong rams in the pen might trample it to the ground and devour its flesh. A weak person who tries to show kindness will only be seen as ridiculous and foolish, but a strong person who shows kindness will earn people's gratitude and submission.

At the same age as his eldest son, Cesar had already joined Baldwin, the king of Arazarus, in attacking a camp of tens of thousands of Saracens, routing them, and even capturing the then Sultan Nur ad-Din in the chaos.

Although it was later proven that Nur ad-Din unfortunately fell ill on the battlefield, leading to the final defeat, their courage and determination are undeniable.

After that, whether on the battlefield against the Turkic Arslan II or in Cyprus, he proved to people that an incredibly strong shield could also bring blood and fire to the enemy. What was most remarkable was that he was able to control himself and his knights, so that the fire of revenge would not engulf him as well.

Saladin knew all too well how difficult this was, and to this day, only his Mamluks were capable of doing so.

In contrast, his eldest son, though employing many magnificent adjectives, exquisite proverbs and verses, waving his hands, shouting loudly, and staring wide-eyed as if he could already see countless Franks kneeling at his feet, begging for his forgiveness—could not make him feel that chilling intimidation, nor see his determination, nor find a single practical plan or strategy…

He doesn't look like a warrior, but more like a makame performer (makame is a type of Saracen singing performance...).

He looked at his sons, his heart unmoved, as if he were flipping through a very boring book. Then, he comforted himself, saying that nothing in this world is perfect. He had so many sons, so he might be able to find one or two more worthy successors to cultivate.

Saladin listened patiently to the "performance," then calmly patted his son's shoulder to comfort him and tell him to go home and rest early.

Although the eldest prince Efdal was somewhat disappointed, Saladin always treated his children this way, so he could only retreat in a huff.

Saladin lingered on the city wall for a while longer before returning to his room to rest, persuaded by the eunuch. Shortly after returning, the eunuch had to wake him again; a carrier pigeon had delivered the latest intelligence about Damascus. Saladin took the note, unfolded it, and read: "The Count of Tripoli has joined the eastern expedition?"

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The Count of Tripoli mentioned here is no longer the stubborn and elderly Raymond, but his son.

David's decision to personally return his father's coffin to Tripoli certainly caused dissatisfaction among some people, especially Richard. However, Richard could also see that David loved his father very much and that his father's death had dealt him a great blow.

However, Raymond's previous loss of Damascus had already caused discontent among many Crusader knights.

They even said that if it weren't for Raymond's negligence, they might be resting in Holmes or even Apollo by now.

Such words are certainly an exaggeration, but they also reflect people's disappointment in him. But since David's lord, Baldwin, the king of Arathi Basin, had agreed, what could they do?

Their original idea was that after David returned to Tripoli, he would have to go through a lot of negotiation and bargaining with the knights and nobles of Tripoli before he could take the position of Count of Tripoli.

Unexpectedly, after holding a funeral for his father, David swiftly reached a final agreement with the nobles—it's hard to say whether David made any concessions, but he brought with him more than 130 knights and over 1,000 soldiers.

This would be a great help to the current Crusaders.

Not only that, he also brought a great deal of food, water, and supplies, especially three hundred tall and strong camels. It is said that these camels were originally bought from Karak by a Gentile merchant who intended to sell them in Constantinople, but David intercepted them at a high price.

The three hundred camels played a vital role in this expedition. Even the most discerning Frederick I softened his expression. When Henry the Younger returned and reported that King Baldwin of Arrassa had gone to the city gate to greet him, His Majesty shook his head, hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. "Alright, bring me a cloak. I'll go greet him too."

Here, he was not greeting a count as an emperor, but as a crusader knight.

When they arrived, King Philip II of France and King Richard of England had already arrived. Richard was stroking his chin. He used to have a beard, but after arriving in the Holy City, he found that César and the knights around him rarely had beards. While this was certainly a lack of masculinity, in the hot climate, not having a beard could indeed make one cooler and easier to treat injuries.

So he shaved his face clean.

Young Henry was eager to try, but unfortunately, if he dared to do so, his father Frederick I would whip him.

"How can a man not have a beard! How can a man not grow a beard!"

He could almost picture his father's roar.

As the procession carrying the Tripoli flag drew closer, people subconsciously searched for the new Count of Tripoli. At first, some didn't even recognize him. David seemed to have aged ten years in an instant, transforming from a spirited and energetic young man into a composed middle-aged man.

He dismounted far from Baldwin and walked two or three hundred feet, where more dust covered his robes, chainmail, and disheveled hair.

When he dismounted, Baldwin had already dismounted as well, and Cesar followed suit.

David quickened his pace, and finally he almost ran to Baldwin. His lips trembled, and without saying a word, he knelt down.

Baldwin's silver mask stung his eyes. He knew, of course, that lepers were most vulnerable to stimulation, and that fluctuating emotions could worsen their condition.

Did his father also bear some responsibility for the festering and swelling hidden behind the mask? He didn't know, but he did know that Baldwin initially held his father in the same filial devotion as a nephew. He trusted them, and he still did so after the initial betrayal. Otherwise, he would not have entrusted Damascus to David.

He betrayed Baldwin and Cesar's trust. Not only did he fail to offer Cesar any help when he was executed, but he also lost Damascus, which Cesar had conquered. Filled with remorse and pain, he desperately took Baldwin's hand and removed the chainmail gloves from his hands...

Baldwin couldn't help but twitch slightly.

God knows!
Fortunately, David only removed his chainmail gloves but didn't have time to take off his silk gloves (which he intended to do!). Baldwin clenched his fist in time, preventing him from succeeding. Otherwise, people would have seen that the back of his hands were smooth, like those of a healthy person, and didn't look like those of a leper at all.

David thought Baldwin had decided to distance himself from him, and he was overcome with grief. He pressed his lips to the clenched hand and sobbed painfully.

Baldwin was both annoyed and amused, but also somewhat helpless. Cesar walked over and took David's other arm to help him up.

"Are you now the Earl of Tripoli?" Baldwin asked.

David nodded.

"So, are you willing to continue serving me and remaining loyal to me?"

David nodded again, tears streaming down his face like a punctured water bladder.

With the help of his attendants, Baldwin put his chainmail gloves back on and gave David a heavy pat on the shoulder.

"Then you are my knight again."

"Yes, I am your knight, and that has never changed."

The next scene is quite interesting; it should be a beautiful scene worthy of being sung by bards and embroidered on banners or tapestries by nuns. Unfortunately, David keeps crying, as if the tears he has accumulated before are finally being released today.

He wept all the way to Damascus, and upon seeing familiar sights, he was overcome with grief once more. Even at the banquet, his eyes were still red and swollen.

“Good heavens,” Richard couldn’t help but say, “if my knights did this to me, I would kill them.”

“That’s why you don’t have a knight like that by your side.” Without hesitation, the knight Stephen beside him gave his master a verbal jab.

To be honest, they felt the atmosphere between the master and servants in the Holy Land was really good. Cesar and Baldwin were both good masters worthy of their loyalty. If it weren't for the frequent wars here and the Saracens and Turks eyeing them covetously, they would have been very willing to stay here.

The arrival of Count David of Tripoli can be described as a welcome and joyful event.

The harmonious atmosphere lasted only one day, and the kings started arguing again at the military conference the next day.

(End of this chapter)