kingdom of nations

Chapter 95 The Death of the King (3)

"It's Silcu and his nephew Saladin," Bohemond whispered, as if afraid of startling something serious.

Richard's eyes widened in surprise. "Didn't they retreat to Damascus in compliance with the order of their Sultan, Nur ad-Din? Why are they still here?"

It is clear that, whether due to bribes from Shawar or out of their own ambition, the Holdian uncle and nephew did not obey the will of Sultan Roldin and the wishes of Amalric I to abandon Fustat and retreat to Damascus.

The merchants they sent to gather information were either deceived or bribed - the news they spread was false, and the uncle and nephew and their army might have been hiding in Giza or a nearby city.

They waited quietly, like a seasoned and patient hunter, and watched them attack Fustat until the city fell, and then, as if by signal, the fire in Fustat signaled that Shawar's plot had succeeded, and their only task was to stand between the Christians and Bilbais during their disastrous retreat.

"Should we retreat?" Richard asked. Although he had vowed to kill every Saracen he saw, his great-uncle and his uncle were lying on the sedan chair behind him. Once the two sides engaged in battle, not only would they be killed, but the people behind them would not even have a chance to escape.

"Wait a minute, maybe things won't be that bad," Bohemond said.

After a while, they saw an Arab horse running out from the opposite cavalry. Even in the daylight, they could still see that its fur was shiny and its hooves were strong and powerful. The Saracen sitting on it was wearing a black robe and a turban of the same color. Although he was tall, his hair was gray and his beard was as white as frost.

"Hirku." Bohemond reminded, then spurred his horse forward.

In the previous battle (Amalric I's first attack on Egypt), they had met each other on the battlefield, but there was no direct confrontation. At that time, the one fighting against Silku was Amalric I, who was lying in the sedan chair behind.

Shirku glanced at him up and down with his eyes as sharp as a hawk, nodded slightly, but did not salute. This arrogant attitude made Bohemond angry, but he could do nothing about it.

They were clearly at a disadvantage. If the Christians had not had Bilbais, they would have been captured or killed by the Saracens.

"Hirku." The other party simply gave his name. Bohemond hesitated for a moment and said, "Bohemond, Duke of Antioch."

"Where's your king?" Silku asked. The question stirred a knot of thorns in Bohemond's heart. He smiled a malicious smile. "Would you like to see our king? Unfortunately," he said. "Probably not." He gestured slightly backward. "He's as good as dead now."

Shirku was slightly stunned. He knew Shawar's plan - Shawar did not hide his thoughts from him. He wanted to let these hateful Christians walk into the trap themselves. Shirku and Saladin could no longer stay in Fustat.

Of course, Shawar would have preferred to see them both suffer losses. Unfortunately, Shirku and Saladin were never the kind of people whose thinking was so rigid as to border on ignorance. They were loyal to Nur ad-Din of Zengi, but like two strong cheetahs following a ferocious lion, their obedience was limited to the time when Nur ad-Din was still a strong man.

Since their second visit to Fustat, Shawar could be sure that the two Kurds were no longer so wary of Nur ad-Din who was far away in Syria.

Indeed, Nur ad-Din was once a wise ruler with great talent and strategy. Unfortunately, he was too old. He was now in his fifties, almost sixty years old, and was said to have been seriously ill. The most terrifying thing was that he had no successor.

Yes, he had sons, but none of them could compare to him, not even one-tenth of his talent. They never set their sights outside the palace, only craving what their father had. But it's hard to blame them, after all, Nur ad-Din possessed so much: Syria, Damascus, Edessa...

Such a vast territory, let alone three sons, would have been more than enough for Nur ad-Din to divide and enjoy to his heart's content even if he had thirty. Their foolishness and Nur ad-Din's weakness were first discovered by Shirkuh and Saladin. Nur ad-Din seemed unable to keep them at ease, which led to the first and second dispatches.

So if Shawar wanted them to leave the city first to fight the Crusaders whose morale was high, Hillku would not listen to his orders at all. But as long as he saw the fire in the city of Fustat, he knew that this was the time when the expeditionary army was in the most panic and weakest.

However, Amalric I's severe injuries, even near death, had caught Hierku by surprise. He had assumed that even without Cesar, those men would have been able to guarantee their monarch's safety—what a bunch of useless fellows. He wondered if this was just the result of infighting and conspiracy among these Christians.

At least the man in front of him had no respect for their king, almost vicious. He easily told Shilku that the Christian king was dying. Shilku glanced behind him and indeed saw the two simple sedan chairs.

"Two?"

"There is another one belonging to our Prince Baldwin. He is not dead yet, but he is seriously injured. It's ridiculous that they were not injured in the brutal war, but suffered from your murderous hands in the despicable conspiracy," Bohemond said in an overly calm tone. "But if you think you can win without fighting, Saracens, you are wishful thinking," he said firmly.

Although Amalric I had lost the ability to lead his army, they still had Raymond, Bohemond, and other noble military personnel. As they talked, the knights who had emerged from the city gate had already formed their ranks again and raised their flags.

Illuminated by the firelight, they remained as silent as Hirku's own army. Yet, within this silence, there lay an irresistible pressure. Hirku knew these knights must be filled with anger. Although they were the invaders, did they really take the Fustat resistance for granted?

Of course not, they would only be surprised at the stubbornness of the residents here and swear to kill every Saracen they see in the future.

The deaths of Amalric I and his successor Baldwin were not entirely good news, even for the Saracens. These knights must have been filled with indignation, wanting only to avenge their monarchs who had been schemed against. If a war broke out, they might gain the upper hand, but they would also inevitably suffer heavy losses.

Besides, there were still some Crusaders left in Bilbais. Not to mention that their original purpose was not to kill these Christians.

"Negotiate, then?" Bohemond asked. After a long pause, he saw Shirku nod coldly: "Negotiate."

Then he turned his horse and galloped back to his army in the rolling dust.

Bohemond saw him exchange a few words with a younger Saracen (presumably his nephew Saladin), who, after a moment's pause, nodded in agreement. He heaved a sigh of relief, feeling dizzy. His previous gesture had been deliberate.

Bohemond knew very well that the continuous sieges, the killing and feasting after entering the city, and the fear and terror brought by the fire had made most of the knights lose the courage to fight.

He admitted that there were some strong-willed and courageous young men among them, but he also had to admit that there were more fools who even he found annoying. He was not sure that if they really faced Shirku and Saladin head-on, they would not be defeated immediately.

Moreover, war with pagans was entirely different from war with Christians; he might be captured, made a prisoner, and then, as his stepfather Raynald of Châtillon had suffered, and as he himself had suffered, spent a decade or more in a Saracen prison.

It is also possible that he was not so lucky and was killed directly by the Saracens on the battlefield, or fell under the hooves of the horses and was trampled to death.

It was more likely that in order to appease the people of Fustat, he would be brought out and beheaded in front of their eyes, and this kind of thing had happened before.

Richard watched Bohemond galloping back, and although he would not fear any war with the pagans, at this time he also hoped to negotiate.

Needless to say, even Raymond felt mixed emotions when he got this result. In the morning, he was still looking down at the city with joy, and even had an arrogant thought of wanting to stay in Bilebais.

Fustat certainly belonged to Amalric I, there was no doubt about that, but he did not think that Bohemond, the weakest and most cowardly among them, was capable of taking on the responsibility of Bilbais.

But fate's tricks always come so quickly. In just one day and one night, their honor, city and spoils were all burned down. He couldn't be sure how many knights had escaped from Fustat, nor did he know how to tell the story to other generals - this was certainly the work of the cunning Saracens, but it was also true that they were too careless and negligent.

With an uneasy mood, he looked at Amalric I, who was still lying unconscious in the sedan chair, and finally his eyes fell on Baldwin. The prince had been looking at his father with concern.

Although he had decided to negotiate with the Saracens, Raymond was not sure what the outcome would be, not to mention that he was not the king. When Bohemond looked over, Raymond turned his head away. He did not want Bohemond to see his expression at the moment.

Because he remembered that Bohemond once said that if Amalric I died and Baldwin died, then he would be the one closest to the throne.

"Father!" Baldwin suddenly cried, and they found that Amalric I had woken up.

Although he had been treated by the priests, the fire poison still penetrated into the king's skin, muscles and even bones. When he woke up, he felt so much pain that he wanted to faint immediately. But when he saw the corridor illuminated by the knights' torches, he knew what had happened.

He knew this place. When he rode past it, he had looked at it carefully and attentively, just as he did every time he entered the Jaffa Gate.

He wanted to speak, but his voice was so hoarse that no one could hear what he was saying. They could only watch his lips moving.

Fortunately, Heraclius had already jumped off his horse and walked over quickly. He shook Amalric I's hand - careful not to touch the wounds that were still bleeding, and then whispered to him the general situation - they had escaped from the palace, Baldwin and others had some injuries, but their lives were not in danger.

The knights, squires, servants, and other Christians who survived the fire were heading towards the King's Gate. As it stood, at least one-third of the knights had managed to escape. This was not good news, but it was much better than a complete annihilation.

Amalric I forced a hideous smile, his eyes turned slightly, and he saw Baldwin approaching. His hands were wrapped in snow-white bandages, which immediately stung Amalric I's eyes.

The king remembered what his son had done—when only Baldwin had rushed forward, heedless of the flames, intent on separating him from Shawar—and he wanted to comfort the child, but he had more pressing matters to attend to.

Amalric I raised his finger, and Heraclius followed his movement and saw the ring of authority on that finger, which had the seal of the King of Alasar. He placed his finger on the ring, and seeing that Amalric I had no objection, he took the ring off and held it in his own hand.

"Me and..." Heraclius looked around and whispered, "Raymond?"

Amalric I shook his head, and Heraclius understood what he meant: "Bohemond."

The king nodded unhappily. He did not like Bohemond, but at this time only these two men could be trusted. They also understood the Saracens better than anyone else, especially Silcu and Saladin.

The Saracens and Christians quickly set up a large tent in front of the king's gate, which would serve as the place for negotiations, while Amalric I and Baldwin were temporarily moved to another tent not far from the negotiation location.

Before the negotiations, Heraclius performed the last sacraments on Amalric I and even anointed him with oil, so that Amalric I would not die suddenly during the subsequent negotiations because he could not persist.

For those who lived at that time, dying without receiving the last sacraments was the most horrific form of "bad death." Not only would Amalric I go to hell, but all the priests present, including Heraclius, would be held accountable by the church.

In the worst case, they could be stripped of their priesthood and excommunicated for failing to fulfill their duties and leaving a dying person alone.

Heraclius walked out of the tent. The king stared at the lowered tent door for a moment and suddenly called out, "Cesar!"

(End of this chapter)