kingdom of nations

Chapter 359 Dispute (Part 1)

Although it was said to be a dispute between monarchs, in reality there were only two people who were directly confronting each other. More accurately, they were not directly confronting each other; one side was simply stubbornly sticking to its own opinion, while the other side was trying its best to persuade.

These two men were Frederick I and Cesare.

Earlier in the military conference, the Crusaders had decided to continue north, attacking Holmes, Hama, and all the way to Al-Apol.

Now, the army has been reorganized, and the prisoners and wounded have been sent back to Arrassa or Jaffa. The merchants have also been disposing of their goods and leading their own groups to continue following the army. New supplies are being delivered continuously.

But how the army should proceed became a problem, or rather, for those who were cautious—such as Cesare, Baldwin, and Philip II.

Frederick I and Richard were already impatient—Homs was about 40 far (150 km) from Damascus, and the army's daily speed was about 6 far (24 km). They also had to allow time for unexpected events—mainly Saracen interception and interference—so it might take them seven to nine days to get from Damascus to Homs.

Here we must also mention the obstacles and dangers that the strange terrain of Syria may pose.

Cesar brought out a map, not an ordinary one, but one he had specially drawn, with simple shapes and river courses—he pointed to the rugged mountain range and said, “This is the Lebanese Mountains.”

The Lebanon Mountains, running northwest to southeast and parallel to the coastline, are characterized by narrow plains on the west and valleys and hills on the east. They are long, steep, and towering, with thick snow covering their peaks even in the hottest summer months—hence their name, "White," derived from the Phoenician language.

It acts like a sturdy screen, blocking the moist air currents from the Mediterranean. While the coastal plains benefit from this, the valleys, plains, and mountains to the east become dry and hot.

However, this biased mother wasn't too stingy with Syria either.

There are two rivers here: the Barada River, which nourishes Damascus, and the Asi River, which the Saracens call the Asi River, which nurtured Homs, Hama, and Apol.

As can be clearly seen from the map, the Barada River and the Asi River flow in opposite directions, and there is a gap of about ten fares between their sources. This means that their army does not have to worry about water shortages when it travels along the river, but once it leaves the Barada River, there will be a gap of two to three days.

"Didn't you mark the location of the water source before?" Richard couldn't help but ask, referring to the water source that César had sent to find and mark when he returned from his mission to Apollo.

“We have a total of 30,000 people here,” César said. “One well, one spring, and one stream are simply not enough.”

Moreover, the current governor of Homs is the Grand Eunuch Mitshkin, who, despite being a eunuch, has always followed his master, Sultan Nur ad-Din, who has never left his confidant—whether in his palace or on his battlefield.

Although the Grand Eunuch obtained Holmes through bribery, according to the merchants, he was also a wise, decisive, and resilient general. Nurdin even wanted him to be the governor of a certain region, but he refused.

“If he has even one-tenth of what those businessmen say, the water source I marked could be buried or polluted.”

“It will only take two or three days. If we ask the knights to speed up their pace…” Frederick I insisted.

Cesar rubbed his temples in annoyance. He could understand Frederick I; after all, any expedition would inevitably exceed the time the knights served their lord—forty days wasn't even enough time for them to travel from the Franks to Arrassa.

Every day thereafter, the lord and the king had to provide stipends to the knights, squires, priests, artisans, and even ordinary laborers. Even if this deficit could be offset by taxes collected previously and spoils of war, the consumption of grain, wine, and oil was enough to make the kings dizzy.

From Frederick I's perspective, he naturally hoped that this expenditure would be as minimal as possible, and Richard and Philip II shared the same concern.

"The weather is getting hot," Cesar earnestly advised, which was also the reason why many nobles who traveled thousands of miles from Frankish to the Holy Land often suffered heavy losses outside of war.

The climate in the Apennines, Germany, and Frankish regions isn't too bad, especially along the coast, where it's warm, humid, and rainy. For example, in September, Swabia's temperature is probably only between 16 and 20 degrees Celsius. Paris and London are even lower, around 19 degrees Celsius, while Rome might be slightly warmer, but still around 20 to 26 degrees Celsius.

What about Damascus and Holmes?
There are no usable thermometers available right now. Although Cesar asked the craftsmen to try making one, they haven't produced a usable one yet. But based on his sense of touch, he estimates that the temperature here has already reached 33 degrees Celsius at noon. And this is indoors, not outdoors, where it might be one or two degrees higher.

Even if knights removed their helmets and chainmail, placed their weapons on their carriages, and rode or walked, they still wore soft armor made of linen or felt, which would still be a heavy burden on them.

It's impossible to get them to take off their soft armor. They'll inevitably be attacked by Turks or Saracens from time to time along the way—so they'll have to take off their soft armor. It's better to tell them to surrender immediately.

In such a hot climate, with such heavy loads and a long journey, anyone would need a lot of water. Without water, thirst and heat alone could easily defeat the knights.

If it were the Holy Land's army, Cesar might have advised them to advance at night and rest during the day. But now, apart from the knights around him and Baldwin, most of the squires and armed servants couldn't see very well at night, especially those brought by Frederick I and Philip II. The squires didn't always get enough animal offal, let alone the ordinary servants and laborers. As soon as the light went out, they became a swarm of headless flies, with no idea where to go.

Richard, however, inquired about night vision when he was on his expedition to Egypt as "Arthur of Aquitaine," and upon returning to England, he gave his knights and soldiers special treatment.

The reason why the camp is prone to howling, trampling, and chaos at night is precisely because of this. Cesar could only suggest slowing down the army's march—not that they should walk slower, but that they should set off at dawn, stop to rest when the sun is high in the sky, and then resume their journey after the hottest period, continuing until there is no light.

Undoubtedly, this method would greatly slow down the army's march, and Frederick I expressed strong dissatisfaction.

He believed that everything César said was speculation and imagination, and no one knew what was actually happening. "Do you have a knight who can see a thousand miles away, or a squire who can hear everything?" he said with a loud laugh.

Frederick I also had his own ideas. He believed that if they spent more time walking, Holmes would be better prepared.

If they could quickly reach the walls of Homs by marching, they might be able to catch them off guard and take it more easily.

Henry and Richard exchanged a glance.

Richard had initially sided with Frederick I, but after hearing César's explanation, he also felt that in such sweltering heat, and without certainty of finding sufficient water, a hasty march would be quite dangerous.

The next day, young Henry invited his father to go hunting outside Damascus.

Although the area was not so dry and hot due to the nourishment of the Barada River, by noon Frederick I was already panting. He not only took off his helmet but also his tunic and even the wool felt armor underneath, leaving him only in a silk shirt and a long undergarment.

Even so, he was still sweating profusely and kept asking for water.

“It’s all gone, Father,” said young Henry. They were a bit far from the river, and Frederick I had already drunk all the water they had brought.

Frederick I was no fool. He glared at his son, knowing he was trying to convince him that they were only hunting, not fighting, and yet the consumption was so great. He imagined they would inevitably have to exchange swords with the Saracens along the way, and without water, it would be truly terrible.

Even young Henry hadn't anticipated that activities in hot and cold weather were completely different. In the cold, marching and fighting actually warmed the body up faster. But in the heat, sweating and panting seemed like physical labor, and even just sitting on horseback required more bread and beef than usual.

As sweat poured down their bodies, their strength rapidly dwindled. When Henry brought Frederick I back to the riverbank, Frederick I jumped into the water without hesitation and plunged headfirst into the icy water.

Young Henry was startled and rushed forward with his attendants to try to lift his father up, but Frederick I was a large, strong, and burly man, and they had lost their strength due to thirst, so he couldn't lift his father up in time.

By this time, Frederick I had drunk his fill of water and was trying to get up, but he felt his knees go weak. His hands, pressed against the smooth stones and sand, felt like they were pressing against soft fur, offering no support. The force of the water made him slip and slide.

The attendants surrounding them were at a loss for what to do—some of them desperately tried to pull Frederick I by one foot or one hand, which only made him lose his balance, infuriating Frederick I to the point of cursing inwardly. Young Henry braced his body under his father's shoulder and tried several times to find the right angle.

Fortunately, a Saracen fisherman was working nearby. When he saw the situation, he immediately took a tattered fishing net from his boat, told his men to spread it out, and draped the net over Frederick I, covering him completely. Then, together with the others, they pulled him out of the water.

Frederick I scrambled to his feet, looking disheveled. Young Henry frantically removed the fishing net from him. "You saved an emperor," Frederick I said, spitting a few times. "I should thank you. What do you want? Gold, silk, or a house?"

“Uh…” The Saracen fisherman just looked him up and down a few times. “I don’t need anything. Consider this a token of my gratitude for your son saving my daughter.”

Frederick I looked puzzled. He took a cloak from a servant and roughly wiped his face, especially his beard, where he even found a small, wriggling fish. Normally, he would have thought it was amusing, perhaps even laughing and then eating it, but now his mind was entirely on his unruly son. "What have you done?"

Young Henry looked up at the sky, then at the ground, and finally at his father's beard. He cautiously took two steps back. "I...I helped Richard a little."

Frederick I understood immediately. Baldwin and Cesare had both served as captains of surveillance squads. Richard was too lazy to bother with such trivial matters, so he led his knights to fight bandits outside Damascus. These bandits were not necessarily Franks, Saracens, or Turks. In any case, no matter where they came from, they were a bunch of inhuman beasts.

War is a good thing for them; they are like vultures and jackals, watching from the sidelines, ready to devour the remaining flesh and blood at any moment.

Clearly, the fisherman's daughter was also one of their targets.

Remarkably, Frederick I did not reprimand his son, even though he considered such behavior bizarre and superfluous. He was indeed able to be saved thanks to Henry the Younger.

"Alright. Whatever you young people want to do, this time it's up to you." Frederick finally nodded.

Cesar also breathed a sigh of relief.

In any case, what the Holy Roman Emperor wanted to do was simply beyond the control of a mere Cypriot lord. If he persisted in his course of action, the Crusaders might truly fall into a Saracen trap.

(End of this chapter)