kingdom of nations

Chapter 360 Dispute (Part 2)

After the only strong objection disappeared, the army was finally able to set off again.

This time, the army had many more horse-drawn carriages and camels.

As per César's instructions, everyone was to travel as lightly as possible, carrying only the necessary weapons, armor, and horses, and avoiding any bulky utensils, unnecessary clothing, or cumbersome ornaments.

However, the knights were able to do this because of the centralized buying and selling system he had previously established, which allowed the knights to sell almost all of their spoils.

They didn't even need to carry gold and silver coins with them; instead, they exchanged them for checks.

This business was undertaken by the Knights Templar, who had long ago invented the earliest non-physical payment and lending system—the check—to facilitate the transfer of funds and solve the problem of cross-border financial settlement.

Pilgrims or knights could deposit their property with a local branch of the Knights Templar and then withdraw it in places like Arrassa by presenting a check, without having to carry gold and silver on long journeys.

Similarly, the reverse is also possible. This time, the Knights Templar's checks were also guaranteed by four Christian monarchs and one Byzantine despot.

Their money could be withdrawn not only from Arrassa Road, but also from Paris, London, Swabia, and Rome.

And then there's Cyprus. Cesar even promised that if the knights didn't intend to take all the gold and silver home but wanted to buy some goods, the various shops in Cyprus would give them discounts, which was more attractive than any promise—rock candy sells for double the price in their country.

In addition, César contacted merchants and asked them to exchange goods—especially women—for water. Under normal circumstances, the merchants would certainly not agree, but if water could be sold for the price of oil or even light wine, who would be unwilling?
In any case, water doesn't require much cost when it's used as a commodity. The only thing needed is a means of transport, such as earthenware pots or leather bags, which can all be found.

For the first day or two, not only Frederick I, but even his knights, thought the Cypriot lord was making a mountain out of a molehill. To them, this way of traveling was too strange—their lives had always consisted of only two parts: day and night; they would get up to work during the day and rest at night.

Their time is now divided into four parts: morning prayer (after waking up) to daytime prayer (before noon) walking, morning prayer to afternoon prayer, rest, afternoon prayer to evening prayer, walking, and evening prayer followed by rest.

Some people felt uncomfortable, and the laborers were also complaining. It seemed that after resting for a while, they had to stand up and walk again, and after walking for a while, they were forced to sit down and rest again. The livestock had to be tied up again, the carriages had to be secured again, and the goods had to be inspected and tied up again.

So there are always some less honest fellows who want to test the power of nature—a Sicilian nobleman led his knights on their way when the army gradually came to a halt.

Each knight had five or six water bags strapped to his horse, which they believed would be enough for the next day's journey, after which they would be able to catch up with the vanguard led by Baldwin and Cesar.

Because even ordinary laborers in Baldwin and Cesar's armies could see at night, they undertook the important task of acting as the vanguard for the main army, and were faster than the main army.

The Sicilian nobleman, however, believed that the King of Arrassa and the Cypriot lord were deliberately spreading alarmist rumors in order to steal more credit.

“In the past, whether it was hunting or war, we have marched for long periods under the scorching sun,” the Sicilian nobleman said nonchalantly. “Rome and Sicily are also very hot.”

But he overlooked the fact that neither Rome nor Sicily had a Lebanese mountain separating the inland from the sea. The humid air and fierce sea breeze from the ocean could still brush past their ears and soothe their throats, and the dense foliage of the towering trees could also bring them endless shade.

They were now walking through a perilous desert. Although they could vaguely make out the gray-yellow road, the knights grew increasingly uneasy as they got further and further away from the army.

At first, they could still see some traces: the remains of tents buried in the sand, branches used as walking sticks, tattered pieces of cloth, or broken pottery. But after walking for a day, the sun rose again, and all the knights could see was a strange wasteland with nothing—except for gravel and scattered grass and trees, which were dry and thin, more like rusty wires than plants.

As they set off, the nobles on horseback could still hear their attendants joking and laughing loudly behind them. But when did their voices disappear? The Sicilian nobles looked back and saw only a sea of ​​dejected heads. They had even taken off their helmets and carelessly discarded their chainmail on the carriage.

Not only that, but at some point, they had taken off their soft armor, belts, weapons... everything that might be a burden to them. The nobleman felt a surge of anger, but then he turned his head away guiltily, because he was also left with only a long undergarment, swaying on his horse, his mouth dry.

He also had a water pouch, but he dared not take it out and put it to his mouth, for fear that he would drink it all up the moment he touched the water.

The nobleman opened his eyes and looked ahead. For the first time, he realized that tears could dry up. With each blink, he felt an unbearable pain, as if nails had been thrown into his eyes. He kept trying to lick his lips, but when he stuck out his tongue, it was torn apart by the dry skin on his lips.

"Where are we?" he murmured to himself, but his attendants did not answer him. He had never seen so much sand or so much sunlight. He felt like a duck hanging over a fire, the flames constantly scorching him and draining every drop of moisture from his body.

Just then, he heard a shout, though the sound was like a piece of old leather being suddenly torn apart—neither loud nor clear.

He struggled to turn his neck and look in the direction from which the sound came, only to see a crossbow bolt whistling through the air and striking one of his servants. The servant fell backward, blood gushing out.

But in the eyes of this Sicilian nobleman, it gave rise to a terrible thought—he wanted to lie down on that wound and drink a few mouthfuls of blood.

More whistling arrows pulled him out of his reverie.

"Enemy! Enemy! Saracens! No! Turks!"

The nobles laughed inwardly, thinking, "What's the difference?"
He desperately pulled on the reins, trying to spur his horse to escape, but his mount was sluggish and slow to react due to thirst. With a whistle, a crossbow bolt pierced his thigh.

He let out a scream and immediately tried to jump off his horse to escape, but several crossbow bolts had already struck the mount's neck at the same time. After letting out a mournful cry, it crashed to the ground, pinning the nobleman's leg beneath it.

The nobleman was paralyzed. He saw his entourage still rushing towards him amidst the chaotic flashes of swords, trying to save him, but it was too late. The Turks had already dealt with most of them with a hail of arrows, and the few remaining were no longer a threat. They roared and galloped towards him on horseback, their scimitars gleaming brightly in the sun.

The nobleman closed his eyes, knowing he was doomed. He didn't see any scholars in robes among these Turks, meaning they were likely just mercenaries, or worse—bandits who wouldn't leave anyone alive for ransom, and he was badly wounded.

Should he repent? Or pray? A flurry of strange thoughts flashed through the nobleman's mind, but the last thing he did was grab the leather pouch hanging on the saddle—it was perfectly intact. He punctured it with a large safety pin, then brought his mouth to the tear and drank heartily. The water was no longer fresh, carrying the distinctive fishy smell of leather, but he had never drunk better water.

Even after the Turks slit his throat and cut off his head, holding it in their hands, his face still beamed with an indescribable smile of pleasure, which greatly puzzled the Turks.

The deaths of this small squad were not discovered until the main army set off again.

Frederick I was initially very displeased and decided to give this nobleman a severe punishment he would never forget.

But before they reached the designated spot, they saw bloody corpses lying across the road—human and horse corpses. The people had been beheaded, and the horses had been stripped of their best pieces of meat. All the valuables had been looted. The priests, belatedly trying to salvage the situation, prayed for the dead and performed the Last Sacraments.

But who knows where their souls have gone now?

Frederick I spat, feeling a slight lingering fear. After traveling for three or four days, he had also sensed that Cesare's concerns were not unfounded—at least the army could now maintain sufficient energy to guard against the hyenas patrolling outside. They always roamed some distance from the camp, appearing as small black dots, but once they found an opening, they would immediately drain your blood and devour your flesh.

Just like this reckless group, and the death of this nobleman may have indeed given the Saracens some encouragement, they even tried to attack them when the army set off again, but the knights and squires were well rested, had enough food and water, and were not physically exhausted or mentally fatigued from walking under the scorching sun for a long time.

Those despicable fellows not only failed to gain any advantage over the army, but were instead caught up by the knights and killed one by one. In the backpacks of some of the Turks, some items belonging to that Sicilian nobleman were even found.

Approximately how many people are here?

"Not many, maybe only four or five hundred people."

Henry said that the group they caught up with and wiped out was only a small squad of twenty or thirty men, but based on what they had seen during their patrols and encampments, that number should be correct. In other words, they couldn't have been bandits; they must have been Turks hired by the Saracens.

In the following days, the army encountered more and more harassment.

However, this has little to do with the previously deceased Sicilian nobleman; the more important reason is that they are gradually approaching Holmes.

These Turks were quite cunning. They would not only launch surprise attacks when the knights were tired or careless, but they would also feign defeat. A small squad might intentionally or unintentionally show signs of defeat and then quickly turn their horses around and flee. If the knights could not control their desire to chase after them, the other squads that were already lying in ambush would swarm forward and devour them.

By the time more knights arrived, all that was left for them were the scraps left after the wolves had devoured them.

This tactic was quite effective; even Frederick I almost fell for it. If a knight hadn't rushed forward to stop him, he might have actually fallen into the Turks' trap. Seeing the crowd emerging from below the sand dunes, Frederick I couldn't help but gasp. "What's your name? I should reward you handsomely."

“I am Gian from Magee.”

“I know your father.” Although it was a small territory, Count Magiggao’s reputation for bravery had spread far and wide. “Are you the second son or the youngest?”

The emperor decided to bring him to his side. He had many brave knights around him, but few were as astute and calm as Gian.

Young Henry also looked over with interest. He really hoped that Gian could become his father's knight. To be honest, he was the only one in the group who was desperately pulling the reins, and it was really tiring.

Unfortunately, Gian immediately and decisively replied, "I am the eldest son of Count Magiggao, but I have already transferred my inheritance rights to my younger brother."

I am now serving my master, a member of the Knights of Bethlehem.

"The Knights of Bethlehem?"

“My master is Cesar, the Knight of Bethlehem, the Earl of Edessa, and the Lord of Cyprus.”

Frederick I immediately lost interest—he could try other lords, but Cesar, who didn't know he treated his knights like his own brothers?

“Alright,” he said listlessly, taking off the dagger from his side and shoving it into Gian’s hand. “Thank you for stopping me.” Frederick I knew he couldn’t offer any more bargaining chips.

"The army should be arriving in Holmes soon."

Henry asked at the opportune moment.

“Perhaps,” Frederick I said.

They were only a day apart in distance.

Meanwhile, Baldwin and Cesar were in a village, riding slowly side by side, observing their surroundings and talking in hushed tones.

This village is located next to the ancient city of Balabek, nestled in a small oasis surrounded by lush olive and fig groves. Traces of livestock, including chickens, ducks, cattle, horses, and camels, can be seen everywhere in the village, but it has now become a complete wasteland.

It is clear that the village has not been abandoned for long, probably less than a month. Although the wells have been filled in, the well walls are still damp, and the moss has not completely dried.

Although the stove was damaged, there were still clumps of grease in the charcoal ash, and bloodstains on the corners of the walls and some parts of the ground. However, the bloodstains were not human, but animal blood, which could be distinguished from the shape and color of the bloodstains.

It is possible that some livestock were killed on the spot because they could not be taken away.

The fig and olive groves, whether or not they had borne fruit, were left with only bare branches, not burned, perhaps because the villagers still held onto a lingering attachment to them.

What is most regrettable and frustrating is that the small oasis has been polluted, and the remains of venomous snakes and lizards have been found in it.

“The people here must have left on their own.” Baldwin said quietly, without much dragging or any other signs of coercion.

In fact, scorched earth is an ancient military tactic—you can see it anywhere, and the scene they saw on their way from Arrasa to Damascus was even more desolate and bleak.

“I don’t know whether it was Ibn’s two sons or the Grand Eunuch who did it. I’d rather it was the former,” Baldwin said. “At least the former wouldn’t be our enemy. How can the dead be their adversaries?”
"I think Frederick I should be thanking God now."

"He should thank himself, because in the end he did follow my advice."

"Fortunately, we had your advice," Baldwin said. "Villages and towns have been almost emptied, and all water sources have been filled in and polluted. I think his army must be nearby, but since we haven't suffered from thirst and heat, they dare not make any rash moves."

Baldwin's words were confirmed. The army regrouped the next day and advanced to a point where Holmes could be seen in the distance. There they found an army of about a thousand men retreating to Holmes in an orderly and swift manner amidst the billowing dust.

Frederick I felt a chill run down his spine just from looking at them from afar. He didn't know where the army was lying in ambush, but wherever they were, they were definitely waiting for the Crusader knights to collapse from thirst and exhaustion.

If it weren't for César's insistence, and his eventual persuasion by his son, he might now be a prisoner of the Saracens, or even their spoils of war. He thought of the Sicilian nobleman, whose head was nowhere to be found, perhaps used as a bargaining chip for a bounty, or perhaps simply tossed into the desert.

The Grand Eunuch also gazed at the Crusader army from afar, feeling a pang of regret—but not entirely unexpected. If only Cesar had come, he wouldn't have employed this tactic, nor would he have laid any ambush. After all, he knew this young man was always very cautious and valued the lives of knights and laborers highly. A forced march in unfamiliar places under the scorching sun was definitely not something he would do.

However, there were four kings in the Crusader coalition, and even if they all submitted to Baldwin, the King of Arathi Basin, as their commander, they would not necessarily obey his orders—if he managed to persuade the King of Arathi Basin, or acted on his own, he would find a way to break through.

Unfortunately, he couldn't find it—his general came to report to him that they had indeed set up an ambush and had been patiently waiting.

The villagers had been driven away, and no livestock, fruit, or wheat remained. The wells had been filled in, and poisonous snakes had been thrown into the water sources. Whenever a water shortage crisis occurred in the army, thirst would force these people to blindly rush forward—even if it cost them more energy. They always hoped that the next village, the next one, would bring water.

They would keep rushing to the next water source, only to be met with disappointment. Their energy expenditure would be irreparable, and their bodies would rapidly deteriorate.

By then, he wouldn't even need to use a single soldier to force them to surrender.

But his plan failed. The army's advance was slow but steady—not only did they carry enough water when they set out, but merchants also continuously sent them water from Tripoli and Antioch.

Once they reached the vicinity of Balabek, water was no longer a problem.

"That's fine too," the Grand Eunuch thought to himself. Although he was a eunuch, not a real man, he still had his own pride.

As his master Nurdin said, intrigue is always a worthless tactic. “Let’s fight,” he whispered.

Even if he were to die here today, it would be an honor. After all, who can fight against four Christian monarchs and one Byzantine despot at the same time?
“If you can see me in heaven, my master Nur ad-Din,” he spread his arms on the city wall towards the blood-red sunset, “please bless me, please bless me. I may not achieve victory, but please let me accomplish my goal. To defend the honor behind you, to defend your ancestors and your descendants, please bless me, let that secret, which should have been hidden long ago, completely vanish into the yellow sand…”

(End of this chapter)