kingdom of nations

Chapter 94 The Death of the King (2)

Some people may say that Cesar's guilt is groundless. After all, weren't it Amalric I and the nobles who surrounded him who were so proud and happy that they walked into this trap on their own?
These people have experienced so many wars and are accustomed to the conspiracies in the court, but they are still easily fooled by others because of a little vanity. They are the ones who should be condemned.

But Baldwin was the only person who treated Cesar as an equal since he came into this world. He didn't know if this was due to Baldwin's nature or the inferiority complex brought on by leprosy, but he preferred to believe it was the former. Many people with incurable diseases gave up on themselves and were filled with hatred for the world, especially those who were healthy and beautiful.

They should not be condemned, but they make Baldwin seem particularly valuable, not to mention that he has a status far superior to others.

Cesar looked at Baldwin as an elder brother looks at his younger brother, and as a friend looks at his confidant. In particular, they were in agreement in some areas and had the same ideas and views. In this era and in this place, how precious it was, needless to say.

He had seen Baldwin's charred hands.

Before meeting Cesar, Baldwin, like other boys his age, was neither good at nor keen on taking care of himself. A squire or a knight might wear brightly colored clothes and a hairnet made of gold thread, but that did not stop them from spitting and urinating everywhere - not to mention younger boys, who sometimes even rolled in the mud with pigs.

Baldwin's condition did not progress rapidly in the past few years. Firstly, it was because of the ointment prepared for him by Heraclius and Cesar, and secondly, he strictly abided by the various regulations set by Cesar for him, from dietary requirements, to adjustments in work and rest time, to the extremely frequent and tedious cleaning work. It can be said that even an adult may not be able to comply with them completely.

But Baldwin did it all. He was like a small tree that was infested with insects but still tried its best to stretch its branches and leaves to welcome the sunshine and rain. Cesar watched how the yellow and curled leaves recovered to their lush green color. He knew how difficult and lucky Baldwin's life was.

No matter how heavy the prince's schoolwork was, or how busy his attendants' work was, or even if some people secretly laughed at him for taking care of his hands and face like a woman, he never wavered.

He knew that he was responsible for more than just his own health.

But today, he completely forgot what Cesar and Heraclius had told him. He put his hands directly into the flames. The silk gloves immediately caught fire, igniting the skin inside and spreading all the way to the sleeves and front.

He was the second most seriously injured among all people, after Amalric I. Cesar no longer dared to think about whether there would be a Baldwin who would die after Amalric I if they could still leave the palace.

While repelling another wave of enemies, several other generals, nobles, and knights came hurriedly to check on Amalric I's condition. The king's condition made everyone look desperate, but they had to cheer up.

"Are they crazy?" Bohemond spat on the ground. They had just put out part of the fire with the curtains in the small room, but the poisonous mist continued to pour into the room.

The room had only one window, but they had blocked it by knocking over a cabinet, so that no Saracen—either a eunuch or a soldier—could jump in and try to kill them.

"But what good will it do them?" muttered one of the knights.

Hearing this mutter, Heraclius glanced mockingly at Shawar, who was lying on the ground.

He was no longer in human form. The flames ignited by naphtha were hotter and sharper than those ignited by charcoal or coal. They could penetrate the soldiers' leather armor or robes in an instant, burning through their skin and gnawing at their muscles.

And Chavar used to be such a plump and fat man that it was hard to tell whether what was burning in his body was naphtha or his fat.

But no matter whether they are the noblest or the lowest, the only fair thing they have is probably their life. The noblest will not have one more, and the lowest will not have one less. For these people, this deal is really too good to be true. Even the church records say that the king of Alaska died at the hands of a group of eunuchs.

What's more, they still have faith. He could almost imagine what Shawar said to those who decided to stay in the city and turn themselves and the invading enemies into fuel in the hellfire when he planned this conspiracy?

He would say that no matter how humble their previous status was or what crimes they had committed, as long as they could completely bury the Saracens' most powerful enemy here, they would not only be forgiven by God, but would also be the forerunners of every Saracen. When they reached heaven, the glory and blessings they would receive would be something even the Caliph would envy.

Everyone on earth must pray to them, asking them to protect and bless them, and they will leap from the mud underground to become the moon and sun in the sky.

As for how he knew, hey, if he were Shawar, he would say the same thing.

With such promises, these people will just die with a smile on their faces. They firmly believe that they can get such a reward. Compared with the eternal heaven, what is there to be attached to on earth with only suffering?
The less fortified little room was attacked wave after wave. If the only window had not been blocked and the flames in the hall were not entwined like venomous snakes, they might have been killed by these hidden enemies.

Fortunately, Cesar returned to them despite all odds. The saint's grace seemed boundless, and a holy light spread across the room like a fine silver net, protecting everyone. Besides Bohemond, Duke of Antioch, who still wore a strange, half-smile, even the stubborn Count Raymond of Tripoli was forced to give him a slight nod during the battle.

No one asked him why he left the party just now?

Many people left the banquet, and some have not returned yet. I don’t know if they have been killed or they saw the fire and dared not come closer.

Not only had Cesar returned, he had also provided these distinguished individuals with the support they so desperately needed. They were indeed blessed, but now they were trapped in a small room. Amalric I's fate was uncertain, Prince Baldwin was wounded, and many knights and retainers remained outside, likely in grave danger. They had come to the feast, and out of disdain for Chavarr, though they wore mail under their velvet and satin robes, they had not carried their most skilled weapons, only a dagger for a table knife and a ceremonial longsword. Raymond, however, had a short spear he had seized from a Saracen soldier, perfect for stabbing anyone who tried to force their way in through the doors and windows.

But the others were in far worse shape, not to mention the smoke and toxic gas that kept them weeping. They tried not to speak as much as possible, as the heat had burned their mouths and tongues, their throats dry, and even every breath felt like a handful of burning charcoal in their lungs. They desperately wanted water, but unfortunately, there were no water bottles in the small room.

If he hadn't still had some rationality, Raymond would have wanted to tear open Chaval's body and drink a few mouthfuls of the blood that hadn't yet coagulated from his veins.

"Be careful!" he suddenly shouted, raising his short spear. Someone was rushing towards them through the flames and smoke, but then a knight suddenly gave a cry of joy. Because the person was not wearing a turban or a robe, but was wearing Christian clothing. When they got closer, the conspicuous red hair made them recognize him immediately.

"It's Arthur of Aquitaine!" Raymond said happily.

Richard cut down all the Saracens who were gathered outside the little room, and then he and others removed the furniture that had been used as an obstacle.

Richard could not hide his joy when he saw the people in the small room. When he rushed over, he also met Stephen of Boulogne, Robert of Flanders, and a team led by Cesar's servant, the wandering knight Longinus. When they saw the fire in the city, they immediately thought, just like Richard, that what the great Victoire Chaval had carefully prepared was probably not a feast, but a trap.

Even so, the long journey still took them a lot of time. Fortunately, they caught up... - Richard's smile froze on his face the next moment. He saw Amalric I lying in the corner of the small room, and Baldwin leaning beside him.

"Oh my God!" He groaned subconsciously, but only once. The fire outside had died down a lot, but this was not a place to stay for long. He immediately ran forward and wanted to pick up the king, but he didn't know how to start.

There was no good part of Amalric I's body, and Richard was afraid that any rough action would cause Amalric I's body to be torn into pieces.

"We need a sedan chair," he said anxiously, and at this time Longinus had already run in with his men. His reaction was more alert than anyone else. As soon as he saw the situation, he immediately rushed out of the palace and found the spear left by the Saracens.

They quickly used cloaks and two spears to make two simple sedan chairs, carried Amalric I and Baldwin on them, and then quickly left this terrible purgatory.

Chavar's plan was successful. He destroyed the commander of the Crusaders, the King of Alazarus, a hero of Christians, at his most glorious moment. For the Crusaders, this was undoubtedly a major blow. However, this plan cannot be said to be completely successful. Not all the important figures of the Crusaders were wiped out as he had expected.

They all had injuries of varying degrees of severity, but after receiving simple treatment from the priests, they hurried back to the city of Fustat and tried to regroup their knights and soldiers.

Some wondered if they could put out the flames, but once they passed through the arch and looked out over the city again, they knew it was impossible.

How much naphtha has this damn pagan piled up?
No one knew, but they just knew that the naphtha had completely burned the city. As they looked, the flames had swept the entire field of vision. The trees were burning, the houses were burning, and the people were burning. They might be wailing, but the sound of burning was louder - the whole city was bright, and this heat and bright red, which was comparable to the scorching sun at noon, engulfed the air above the city, making the dim moonlight even more chaotic.

"We must leave now!" Bohemond shouted, and who wouldn't think so? The city was beyond saving.

When the flames first started, some of the more cautious knights, or those who didn't value money so much, had already withdrawn with their entourage and servants, and even walked out of the city. Others, who thought they could enjoy themselves without restraint, died in the fire because they drank too much or were reluctant to part with the money they had looted.

"We should have killed everyone in this city!" Raymond roared angrily. Bohemond only gave him an irritated look. What was the point of saying such things now? Besides, they hadn't restricted the knights' actions once they entered Fustat. Whether they wanted to massacre, plunder, or even commit violence and arson, they hadn't stopped them.

But this is a city of 100,000 people after all.

Moreover, Shawar was so cunning and treacherous. Who could have imagined that such a profit-seeking, all-powerful villain would have the courage to use the entire city of Fustat to set such a compelling trap, even using himself as bait. They also met the Caliph Atid—some of them had seen the Caliph, and he was indeed... wait?
"Where is Caliph Atid?"

"He may have fled out of the city." At that time, none of them paid attention to this puppet of Shawar. If they still had to deal with Shawar and other people in the Fatimid court, they might have respected and valued the young man on the surface. Now even Fustat is a Christian, and Atid has certainly become an unimportant little character.

"Never mind the Caliph," Raymond said irritably. "Gather the men and get out of here."

He took the lead and walked towards the King's Gate. Along the way, they were worried that some Saracen soldiers would rush out to attack them, but no, it seemed that these Saracens thought that fire was enough to punish these hateful enemies on their behalf. They walked all the way to the King's Gate. The knights jumped off their horses and pushed open the city gate. Bohemond frowned. He did not see the soldiers who should have been guarding here.

There were no torches lit in the gloomy corridor. Richard and Beaumond were walking in front. Suddenly, they stopped. Raymond, who was walking behind to take care of the king and Prince Baldwin, couldn't help but curse - the soldiers carrying the sedan chair almost bumped into him.

The scene that appeared before Richard and Bohemond was not so unpredictable.

On the empty plain in front of the King's Gate, under the cobalt blue sky and silver moonlight, stood a black army that almost merged with the distant mountains.

(End of this chapter)