Chapter 115: Nur ad-Din of Aleppo

Nur ad-Din was indeed waiting.

He was still in his capital, Aleppo, in his palace, surrounded by his ministers, generals, and concubines. He sipped coffee, absorbing the sweet scent of frankincense in the rising mist. He issued decrees, letters, and orders to his governors, brothers, and other Saracens, demanding that they lead their soldiers to gather at the battlefield he designated.

They were to launch a holy war against the Christians, for Allah, for the Prophet, and for their compatriots.

But how many people decided to watch or delay? Nur ad-Din gazed at the hazy scene in front of him—sunlight was shining into the pool from the opening above the courtyard, and the water was sparkling, as if sprinkled with gold—he had indeed done that, throwing gold beads into the water at will, asking his wives and maids to jump into the water to fish them out.

At that time, he was still young and energetic. Every time he threw them, it meant there would be a carnival that lasted all night. But now... he had to admit that he was old. He preferred quiet rather than noise. He indulged in young bodies, absorbing warmth rather than desire. But he did not intend to die painfully and uglily on the sickbed like his father.

"The Christian king can die on the battlefield, and the Saracen Sultan can certainly do so too." But how to do it? Nur ad-Din was not prepared to attack Shirkuh and Saladin in Egypt. Although for some people, rebellion was far more hateful than pagans, if he also thought so, he would not be "Nur ad-Din"—Nur ad-Din was originally an honorable title. In fact, he didn't even like people calling him that.

Similarly, if he wanted to attack Al-Azar—just as Amalric I never forgot Egypt, the Saracens would not forget Al-Azar. That was also their holy land. But Nur ad-Din could not be sure if he could do it—he did not want to be like Amalric I, too impulsive and credulous, so that he gave a victory that was already within reach to Saladin in vain.

Saladin, although when people mentioned him, they would still say, Shirkuh's nephew, but compared to those mediocre people, Nur ad-Din knew and was more familiar with this young man. He once kept Saladin by his side, treating him as his attendant, treating him like his nephew—he wished he could have a son like Saladin. Unfortunately, whether it was his eldest son, second son, or youngest son... they only made him feel disappointed.

They couldn't be said to be bad, just that if they were to be a Vizier (local administrative official) of a big city, or an Emir (military commander), perhaps there would be no problem. But Nur ad-Din's ambition was more than just Syria? And his enemies, his brother, and his subordinates would not allow it—those three stupid children really thought that after he died, they could easily divide Syria.

His second son even said more than once that Zengi had divided his territory between Nur ad-Din and his brother. When hearing this sentence, Nur ad-Din couldn't help laughing. He had been eyeing Mosul, and Saif ad-Din (his brother) had also been eyeing Aleppo.

And not long ago, when his brother passed away, he had the intention to seize Mosul. If it weren't for the fact that Saif ad-Din's ministers firmly resisted his army, he would be the Sultan of Mosul and Aleppo now.

His sons completely failed to see how he and his brother "inherited" Aleppo, Mosul, and Damascus. The current Syria, Egypt, and Seljuk, and even Byzantium, were a hunting ground where beasts gathered. They held a feast of flesh and blood here. Every mouthful of water, every mouthful of food had to be obtained through killing, and the weak—not only could not get prey, but would also become prey.

He once showed his sons the distress letter from Caliph al-Adid. This monarch of the Fatimid dynasty (possibly the last monarch) who was about the same age as his youngest son, how humble he was in the letter, not to mention, he even cut off his concubine's hair, put it in an envelope, and said in the letter: My concubines and I eagerly look forward to your rescue. If there is no army of yours, they will be ravaged and plundered by the Franks.

This letter was greatly mocked by Nur ad-Din's sons, even the youngest son who was only eleven years old was no exception. And what made Nur ad-Din disappointed was that they did not think they would be the next al-Adid. They were complacent, ignorant, and arrogant, thinking that as long as they had a surname, they could annihilate everyone's ambition.

Nur ad-Din closed his eyes wearily. His ears suddenly caught a slight movement outside the door—he seemed to have said, telling people not to disturb him, but after pondering for a moment, he still turned his head slightly. The black eunuch on the side immediately understood the Sultan's meaning, and he hurriedly retreated silently.

After a while, he came back to report that the First Lady wanted to see the Sultan.

In the Sultan's harem, concubines could basically be divided into three types. One was a blood relative like the First Lady. She was his cousin and had a common ancestor with him, so she was also the woman with the highest status in this palace—Nur ad-Din's mother had long passed away, and he had no sisters.

His second and third wives were princesses of other tribes and khanates. Their marriage to Nur ad-Din could also be called a political contract. And those slightly lower than them were the daughters and sisters of officials.

The third type was slaves—these beautiful girls were searched and sold to here by slave merchants from the Caucasus, Greece, Iran, and the Apennines.

In the fantasies of later generations, every concubine and palace maid of the Sultan could get a spacious and beautiful room. In fact, except for the First Lady, the second wife, the third wife, and the more favored concubines, other women basically lived in rooms of four or five, five or six people, and there were no good heating and thermal insulation measures in the room.

It was bearable in summer, but when winter came, because of the cold, countless young women got sick, and they almost couldn't get treatment and care. Most of them would die when they were in their prime, and then they were wrapped up casually and thrown out of the palace by eunuchs and servants like rotten fruit.

The First Lady was about the same age as Nur ad-Din, but except for those annoying fine lines and a few strands of white hair, she was still a beautiful woman with excellent bearing and extraordinary temperament. She crossed the line of eunuchs, knelt down three steps away from the Sultan, prostrated herself on the ground, and affectionately pressed her cheek against the corner of his clothes.

Nur ad-Din also looked at her gently and affectionately—although he knew that this wife of his was not as gentle and kind as she appeared, she had played many tricks on women behind his back, but that was also for her own status and his favor. Not to mention that there was a connection between them that could never be severed.

He reached out his hand, let her kiss it, and then allowed her to sit beside him. "Why did you suddenly think of seeing me?" Nur ad-Din asked. Generally speaking, in the Sultan's harem, women over thirty would no longer be included in the list of serving the bed—concubines would also lose the opportunity to meet the Sultan, but the First Lady always had Nur ad-Din's trust. He handed this harem to her to manage, just like an official, she also had to report to the Sultan from time to time.

"It's like this, my dear master," the First Lady said gently, "There is another batch of girls in the palace who have reached fifteen. If you are willing, I will lead them to you tonight. Please take a look at them and choose a few to accompany you through this lonely night."

Nur ad-Din looked at his wife indulgently. The relationship between him and his cousin did not have much of a man-woman component. The foundation of respect and trust was all built on the blood they shared. And the First Lady still had no children of her own. Nur ad-Din's three sons were all born to his concubines, which also reduced a lot of aggressiveness in Nur ad-Din's eyes.

And with the growth of age, the First Lady's temperament became more and more peaceful and tolerant. To say jealousy or something... she was old enough to be the grandmother of these girls, so when she arranged candidates for Nur ad-Din to serve the bed, she didn't feel awkward or tangled—if these girls could make her husband and master slightly lighter—even if it was just to wipe away some heavy dust, she would be very gratified.

Nur ad-Din did not want to disappoint his wife in these trivial matters, so he nodded, "You arrange it."

After eating some simple bread crumbs, cheese, and chickpeas, Nur ad-Din and the First Lady leaned on the wide low couch, surrounded by soft goose-down pillows. The eunuchs led the girls into the room. There were six of them in total, blonde, brown-haired, and black-haired. One was holding a pipa, and one was holding a ney—a wind instrument.

When they were purchased, they might only be nine years old, and the oldest was no more than fourteen. At that time, they could already be seen as beauties—but before being favored by the Sultan, their level was the lowest in this palace. Every day there were countless chores to do—when they grew up, they had to go through several rounds of screening and inspection.

Some girls were very beautiful when they were young, but they would look mediocre or vulgar when they grew up; some girls would emit disgusting odors; some girls' voices changed, some became low and hoarse, some became sharp and harsh. The former might still have a commendable charm, but the latter was unbearable.

These unqualified products would completely become the dregs in the palace, working all day in the kitchen, water room, or courtyard, and the remaining color would be quickly swept away by hard work, leaving not a trace.

But if they could become the Sultan's concubines, they would immediately change from slaves to masters. They would at least have a room—separate, comfortable. In winter, there was charcoal fire, in summer, there was ice, and they could spend the whole day in the steam bath, enjoying scented oil, milk, and rouge.

Therefore, fighting and conspiracies among the girls were not uncommon, but they usually did it very carefully—once discovered, both the victim and the perpetrator would be punished. And when the ladies chose girls for the Sultan, they would never choose these restless guys.

The girls who could be favored by the First Lady were of course the most outstanding. Each was in the most wonderful period of a woman, like a young beast, agile, lively, with shiny fur, clear eyes, and a sweet smile on her lips.

They had all bathed, and their hair and skin were rubbed with fragrant oil. Gold, silk, and jewelry wrapped and embellished them. The girls holding musical instruments sat on the carpet laid by the eunuchs and began to play, and their companions began to dance.

"How cute."

The First Lady sighed. After passing the age of fighting for favor, she could appreciate these young and fresh lives as calmly as her husband and master. These girls all had commendable points, but one was particularly steady and beautiful. She pointed it out to Nur ad-Din, "What do you think of that girl? The one with black hair."

Nur ad-Din looked over, and after a moment, he nodded.

The First Lady immediately raised her hand, and the girls stopped their movements, whether they were playing music or dancing. Upon discovering that the one chosen was not herself, but the black-haired girl, they immediately showed uncontrollable jealousy. However, there was not much joy on the girl's face.

This made the First Lady a little unhappy. She looked at Nur ad-Din and found that the Sultan was not angry or annoyed, so she said: "Come forward."

The black-haired girl walked forward slowly, still holding the exquisite pipa. Nur ad-Din looked at her carefully for a while, but the look was not like a man looking at a woman, nor like a master looking at a slave, and it could even be said to be quite gentle.

"I saw some familiar places on your face, which reminded me of an old friend, perhaps your father, or mother," he turned to the First Lady: "Is there a record of her background in the roster?"

The slave merchant would certainly have detailed records, and the slave's background was directly related to his or her selling price, "Her father was a Christian knight, and her mother was an Armenian noblewoman."

The First Lady had of course read the information of these girls once. During this period, the marriage of Crusader knights and Armenian noblewomen was not a rare thing. Although Armenians belonged to the East, the time they converted to Christianity was even as early as 301 AD. The most interesting thing was that although they were neighbors with Byzantium, their relationship with Byzantium was not good, but rather closer to the Crusaders who came from afar.

And the Crusaders were surprised to find that these Armenian Christians had many similarities with them, whether it was the direction of crossing themselves, or using unleavened bread to make the Eucharist.

They lived in fortresses and castles, liked falconry, hunting, and banquets, and in banquets, they would also have clowns and prostitutes to help with the fun. When Crusader knights were invited into Armenian castles to attend banquets, it was just like returning to their hometown.

And in the process of the Eastern Expedition, the Armenians gave the Crusaders great help. They were not only guides, logistics, but also quite reliable allies—in 1122, Count Joscelin of Edessa and his nephew were captured by the Turks and imprisoned in the Harput Castle.

Baldwin II took people to rescue them, failed, and was also caught by the Turks, also becoming a prisoner.

Later, a dozen Armenians spontaneously organized a rescue. They disguised themselves as monks to sneak into the castle, killed the guards, and rescued the Count and the King...

Because the territory of the Count of Edessa was adjacent to Armenia, he married Armenian princesses for three consecutive generations.

The black-haired girl opened her lips slightly, as if wanting to say something, but couldn't help shedding tears.

"Thank you for your kindness, my master, but... but I don't remember anymore, great Sultan. When I was still a toddler, I was forced to leave my father and mother. I don't remember their names and faces."

"Are they all dead?"

"Perhaps," the girl said: "We were raised by servants. However, when I was nine years old, they entrusted us to someone they thought was trustworthy."

Afterwards, she showed a miserable smile.

Everyone present could understand this smile—if this person was really trustworthy, she would not appear here.

"You said 'we', who else?"

"And my younger brother," the girl said in a low voice: "But he might also be dead."

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 116 =====