kingdom of nations

Chapter 79 The fate of those who seek the skin of a tiger
Ever since Cesar became Baldwin's brother, the people around him, he meant Amalric I and Heraclius, as well as the knights, began to like teasing him.

He observed that the teasing was not malicious, but rather a privilege enjoyed only by children and nephews. It was their way of expressing closeness, but this time the teasing clearly had a different meaning.

Very dangerous meaning.

He did not answer Amalric I's question, and Amalric I did not need his answer. Cesar lowered his head and began to pray silently. Looking at the other side, Baldwin was also ready.

Everyone else also felt that something was wrong, except for the young man who was still standing in the center of the venue, deeply immersed in the fantasy of power and status.

The smiles on the Saracens' faces had disappeared. They looked at Amalric I with some confusion. The king's blue eyes, like steel burned by flames, were flashing with cruel and playful light.
They seemed to understand everything in an instant. Some collapsed to the ground, while others knelt before Amalric I. Only one man jumped up and shouted, "You swore an oath! Amalric I, you swore an oath!"

When Amalric I simply responded with a contemptuous smile, he was completely devastated.

He threw the water cup he had been holding tightly in his hand at Amalric I. The heavy silver cup flew through the air and was deflected by an arm that had been prepared. Although the arm was slender, it was covered with a faint holy light.

"Are you trying to kill your monarch?" the king asked coldly, to which the other party responded by drawing a dagger from his side.

In this era and this world, there was no such thing as body searches and weapon confiscation at Christian banquets. Some knights would even wear chain mail, either for show (gold- or silver-plated chain mail) or because of an oath, such as the Knights Templar, who had a law that they could not take off their armor.

Everyone also carried a dagger, which was used to cut meat at banquets, but it was also sharp enough to kill people.

The Saracen was carrying one of their traditional weapons—a scimitar called a tiger's tooth. From the age of thirteen, they had to wear this scimitar at all times, never letting it go, and even women were not allowed to touch it.

But even if he held the scimitar tightly in his hand, what would be the use?
Before he could rush forward, Baldwin's Spear of St. George had already pierced his chest, and the hall was suddenly in turmoil, with people begging for mercy, pleading, accusing and cursing, and even two Saracen nobles hurriedly tore off their turbans and lifted up their robes.

They cried out: "We are not Saracens, we are not Saracens! We are Isaacs!"

Amalric I turned his eyes away in disgust, not wanting to see their exposed filthy organs. He even warned the two children: "Did you see it? If you did, remember to ask a priest to wash your eyes with holy water."

The knights killed the two men on the spot without even the king's signal. When the Crusaders entered Jerusalem, they regarded the Isaacs as dogs that had defected to the Saracens. Amalric I would not keep this beast that might turn against its master at any time.

However, Amalric I finally understood why the situation in Bilbais had become so corrupt. Although he had used all kinds of fancy words to conceal his evil intentions, he was also prepared to attack Bilbais by force.

It was not until just now that he understood what these Saracens were planning.

Perhaps the previously peaceful evacuation had given them an illusion. They always felt that since Amalric I was the Lord of the Holy Land and King of Alasar, even if he conquered any of the Egyptian cities, whether it was Bilbeis or Fustat, he would have to return.

Now that he's back, shouldn't someone sit on this vacant throne?
If you can obtain that supreme position just by giving this Christian a little money, why not do it?

When Amalric I turned his gaze to the young man standing in the center of the field, he had already woken up from his sweet dream. The smell of blood rushed into his nostrils, the clanging of swords and the wails of the dying were endless in his ears.

All color had drained from his face, and he now looked like what could be described as a portrait of fear and amazement.

He looked at Amalric I, holding on to a glimmer of hope, "Please don't hurt me, don't kill me. My bloodline comes from Fatima, the daughter of Muhammad. I am the cousin of Caliph Atid! Please keep me and ask him for a ransom. He will give me any amount!"

Amalric I looked at him with interest. It made sense. The Fatimid dynasty had always considered itself orthodox. The young man who was pushed to the position of caliph by these people could not be a "traditionalist" who believed that the position was held by the virtuous. Otherwise, it would shake their own foundation.

But cousin? Atid's father didn't leave him with so many troubles. It can only be said that this young man may have a little bit of blood, but how far back, I'm afraid only these guys know.

They simply relied on the fact that once he captured Fustat, he would certainly kill their Caliph Atid and most of his loyal ministers, so they could confuse right and wrong and call a horse a zebra.

"I... I am very rich, very rich. I can pay my own ransom. If you need me to recognize your status and legitimacy, my master, I am willing to kneel beside your robe, kiss your feet, lead your horse, and be your slave..."

Amalric I just shook his head. He pushed Cesar aside and walked up to the young man: "Since you are a descendant of Fatima..."

A glimmer of hope shone in the young man's eyes.

But Amalric I's next step was to swing his sword and cut off his head. As his head flew out, he still had a smile of relief on his face.

"Unfortunately, if you go by what you say, I am also a traditionalist." The king said this before the young man's body fell to the ground with a loud bang.

Amalric I no longer looked at him. He walked out with his two children. The palace was located at the highest point in the entire city and was divided into three floors. Each floor was separated by a strict wall. The bottom floor was a temple and some ancillary buildings. The second floor was where ministers and relatives lived. The top floor was the residence of the Caliph and his concubines.

As they looked down at the city from their high vantage point, they could see that one-third of the city was ablaze with flames belonging to the nobles and some wealthy merchants, like the two Isaacs who were pretending to be Saracen nobles and mingling with the guests.

"Are you wondering what will happen to the Saracen civilians?"

Amalric I suddenly said.

“That’s the question I wanted to ask as well.”

Baldwin spoke before Cesar could, and Amalric I gave him a meaningful look. "I said, as long as they don't become our enemies—and need to swear an oath—I will allow them to redeem themselves."

This may be a more pleasant and gentle approach than direct looting. When a city is captured and the occupier does not pay too heavy a price, he will indeed allow the nobles and common people in the city to buy back themselves and their families by paying ransom.

Of course, Amalric I did not intend to use this favor on the nobles of Bilbais. He had seen through it long ago. Ever since he accepted the request for help from Grand Vizier Shawar a few years ago and then received a letter from another Grand Vizier asking him to send troops, he knew that the empire had completely rotted and there was no way back.

Even if they were oppressing each other in the court and fighting each other to the point of death, they should not ask for help from their true enemy - or naively think that as long as they paid a little money, they would give up their beliefs and honor, and after achieving great results, they would still obediently retreat to their own territory.

But they just believe it. Perhaps in their world, there is nothing that money can't do.

"But in that case, the nobles and officials of Fustat..." Baldwin asked worriedly.

"No matter what I do, even if I claim to return Bilbais to his people, they won't believe me. Fustat is the capital of the Fatimid Empire and their last refuge. If they lose Fustat, they will lose everything. They will inevitably resist with all their might. Get ready, children.

Then comes the real war.”

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The massacre of the upper and middle classes of Bilbais began at evening prayers and ended at morning prayers the next day. As the Saracen nobles and Isaac merchants drank wine with Amalric I, they probably didn't realize that their families had already fallen to the ground, their blood flowing as red and sweet as wine.

They lit torches and candles in the palace, illuminating the entire hall as bright as day, and probably didn't expect that their own residences were also on fire.

These flames rose and fell, like their lives, and when the bright morning light once again shone upon those magnificent dwellings, it revealed only charred ashes, which had long since cooled, became loose and volatile, and were blown everywhere by the wind.

They are a group of foxes living in the dense forest. They think they are smart, but they cannot see the situation in front of them clearly.

Why was Amalric I so tolerant of them? That was because Amalric I found it impossible to continue attacking Fustat during the flood season.

But would he give up his ambitions? Of course not. Before he even left Bilbais, he had already prepared to plan his next expedition.

That was why he had left Bilbais, this weak city, behind. Why should he slaughter everyone there? Kill these people who were just empty names, cowards and greedy, and replace them with another group of Saracens who were full of hatred and fear for him?
Amalric I thought he was not that stupid, so he left. Even though he was ridiculed for leading a large expedition but gaining nothing, he did not care at all.

This is the day he has been waiting for.

He no longer needed Bilbais, or rather, he no longer needed these pigs and sheep whose ambitions he had nurtured.

He could not see the Saracen spirit and courage in them, but only hollow bodies that had been corrupted by Isaac's merchants.

They were like a tumbleweed swaying in the wind, swaying from side to side, sometimes leaning towards the Fatimid Grand Vizier, sometimes towards Nur ad-Din of the Zengid dynasty, sometimes towards Amalric I of the Christian state.

Ultimately, though, it wasn't their fault. After all, the Fatimid Empire itself was already shaky and vulnerable.

They may know that they are inviting a wolf into the house, but they have the malicious intention of seeking benefits and power for themselves even at the cost of betraying their country and beliefs.

It was because he saw through this that Amalric I did not keep these people.

He didn't take the insults of those stray dogs to heart at all - saying that he had betrayed his oath, killed his allies, and would be punished... or as Baldwin worried, whether it would cause a violent reaction from Forstat...

From the beginning, he never thought that he could make the Caliph of Fustat and Grand Vizier Shawar surrender completely as he had done with Bilbais.

If that were the case, he wouldn't need to gather so many people. Everyone would know that they had retreated to the edge of the cliff. Even the most cowardly sheep would lower their heads, raise their horns, and fight you to the death. Since he no longer had this concern, what was so strange about him dealing with these restless factors in the city of Bilbais?

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The next day, Baldwin and Cesar were busy. Like the knights loyal to Amalric I, they formed a small group to patrol the area.

According to the terms of the meeting, everything in the city belonged to Amalric I (the king had the final say). Of course, Amalric I wasn't so stingy, and every knight who followed him here would receive a generous reward, after all, there was still a brutal siege to be fought.

This means that he will not allow indiscriminate killing, looting and rape, which will trigger resistance from the entire city and cause loss of life and material. Complications are the last thing Amalric I needs now.

The Christians, Saracens, and Isaacs were quickly separated, and although they were told to pay their own ransom, in reality they were not allowed to keep almost anything they owned, from clothes, sheep, cattle, and horses to houses, lands, furniture, and everything of value.

These teams are completely necessary, as most of them are caused by personal selfish desires.

Those knights who had left their homeland did not bother to wear masks of disguise. They either took a fancy to an important item that the civilians in the city had intentionally preserved, or they took a fancy to their sons or daughters. They would shamelessly seize these children in the name of purifying the pagans.

Some endured it silently, while others raised their swords without hesitation. If they killed or injured a knight or a squire, the whole family would be doomed.

But if they were lucky enough to meet Cesar's team - even if Cesar just stood aside and watched quietly, the knights' methods and desires would be restrained a lot.

They had heard of him—though those saved by Cesar might not have known that he had once come alone before the Templar Walter and persuaded him to fight Amalric I in an open and aboveboard manner, rather than gambling the lives of ordinary people inside and outside the castle on whether the king would withdraw his troops; and that he had used this merit to exchange the lives of Amalric I's servants, errand boys, artisans, and the survivors of the battlefield...

But the knights knew that this story had long been widely circulated, along with how he performed forty-five days of penance in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and distributed the gifts of this penance to the people of the entire city; how he and Prince Baldwin killed a mad female bear together at the ceremony to welcome the Byzantine princess; and most recently, how he disguised himself as a noble lady and worked with the knights to wipe out a group of cunning Saracen butchers.

People say that he is the mortal who is closest to a saint.

Anyone who still has a little conscience in their heart will feel that they are filthy and have nowhere to hide under the gaze of those green eyes. The fire in their hearts will be extinguished and their desire will become less intense.

And if they wanted a gold ring or a copper bracelet, Cesar didn't care.

But if they wanted the residents' children, wives or sisters, Cesar would intervene - the people here were all slaves belonging to Amalric I, and if they wanted them, they could, after being registered, exchange them for money.

"But what if they had redeemed themselves before?" a knight said indignantly to himself. He was a heartless man and did not care about the king's pardon at all. He had taken a fancy to the family's little daughter, a girl of only seven or eight years old with a pair of big apricot eyes, milky skin and curly brown hair, a bit like Damara.

"You can appeal to the king, it's okay." Cesar said politely, but did not give in at all. The knight glanced at Prince Baldwin, who was standing behind Cesar with his arms folded and smiling silently, and could only walk away angrily.

"You can go now," Cesar said. The Saracens looked at Cesar with a complicated expression. They didn't know whether they should say thank you. He was also a robber. He took away all their property and assets, but he left behind the most precious thing -

Cesar didn't need their thanks, he wasn't that shameless.

Will these knights complain to Amalric I?

No, everyone knows that they claim to redeem these poor souls, but they just want to enjoy those fresh bodies. They can kill these pagans, but they must never be controlled by evil desires.

If the knight speaks out, he will only be mercilessly ridiculed, his master will lose his trust in him, and his companions will stay away from him.

"But they're going to be very upset with you," Baldwin said.

"Just be dissatisfied. There are many people who don't like me." Cesar said without any concern.

Just then, they heard a loud noise not far away.

(End of this chapter)