Chapter 121

A sudden enemy attack was certainly not something Philip, the Grand Master of the Knights Templar, wanted to see, but it did not exceed his expectations either.

After all, Ma Kabu Castle was originally on the very front line of Jerusalem, facing the Saracen tribes and armies, and it suffered from more or less frequent attacks every month. He calmly directed his subordinates to gather the few residents outside the city and the knights hunting or patrolling outside as quickly as possible. Fortunately, there were not many residents around the castle, and the patrolling and hunting knights would not stray too far.

As the dust rolled in, the residents ran over as fast as they could, either on their own two legs or riding donkeys and mules. There was also a straggling caravan; they were driving horse-drawn carts piled high with earthenware jars, though it was unclear whether they contained oil or wine. The knights outside did not enter the castle immediately upon seeing this, but instead patrolled the flanks while remaining on guard. Fortunately, the invading enemy did not follow closely behind; they were also watching from a distance.

Philip watched the iron gate drop and the drawbridge rise before turning to return inside the castle.

That heroic knight had already drunk some wine and undergone treatment by the clerics. The heaviest injury on his body was a piercing wound, clearly from the short spears most commonly used by the Saracens. Fortunately, it had not damaged any vital blood vessels or internal organs. He was also a knight who had received a blessing, which was the only reason he had been able to struggle back.

"That is also because they did not care about me," the knight said honestly. "They were not the usual small groups of tribal people and bandits who come to raid us." This sounded like good news, but the second half of his words made everyone's expression turn grave. "It was a great army," he said with a bitter smile, "an army of at least ten thousand, vast and boundless."

No one present was foolish enough to question what the knight said. The knight took another deep breath: "At the time, I was riding to the top of a hill, and when I looked down, I saw the sky filled with smoke and dust. They were passing right beneath my feet. I was stunned, and it took me a good while to remember to leave, only to be spotted by a Bedouin cavalryman wandering outside."

"I think he must have gone immediately to report this to their commander. Soon, a small detachment split off from that great army and came toward me. I fled all the way..." He paused slightly here, looking at the Grand Master of the Knights Templar with some timidity. He was a young man who had not been in the Knights Templar for long, yet he knew that fleeing in battle was something that would be despised and punished within the Order.

Fortunately, Philip merely waved his hand. "You did not stay to fight because you wanted to return to report the news. This does not prove that you are not brave enough or that you cherish your life; the information you brought is far more important than the heads of a hundred enemies."

The knight showed a look of gratitude and relief before continuing, "But when I saw the castle, the speed at which they were chasing me slowed down. Before I entered the castle, the last thing I saw was them standing their horses and watching."

——————

"He is a knight of Ma Kabu Castle," Nuerding said. "I know that castle."

When that commander sent men to chase the knight, it was not just to simply kill him. One must know that on their march, the sudden appearance of such a Crusader knight meant they had to know whether this was a coincidence, an accident, or premeditated—did he come here alone, was he leading an army, or did he come from a castle?

And the team of Bedouin cavalry they sent out soon returned to say that the knight had entered Ma Kabu Castle.

Ma Kabu Castle was also a familiar place to them; it was a small castle, but a tightly driven nail. After listening to their report, Nuerding waved his hand casually and decided to dispatch a thousand-man unit to take it down.

This was not his negligence; after all, no one knew that the King of Jerusalem was in this castle. Merchants might know the King's whereabouts, but the transmission of intelligence was not as rapid as it is now; it would generally be delayed by three to five days, or even a week, and a month was possible.

And before Nuerding decided on the expedition, he had learned in detail about every castle on this defensive line, from the height of the castle walls and the number of gates to how many knights were defending it and how many soldiers there were, including exactly how many knights had received blessings—all were clear.

There were about fifty Templar knights in Ma Kabu Castle, and their squires and armed attendants were about three times that number. Perhaps there were some servants and residents, but among them, there were only two knights who had received blessings. Nuerding did not take such a small obstacle to heart at all. One thousand men, with five Fatahs (officers, generally filled by tribal leaders) who had received the Prophet's revelation—no matter who it was, they would think this would be a victory within easy reach.

These one thousand men were quickly dispatched, like a stream branching off from a great river, winding toward Ma Kabu Castle, while that vast and mighty army was unaffected and continued to move forward without stopping.

If Baldwin III, who had once fought against Nuerding, were still here, he would surely sigh that his old nemesis was indeed getting old.

If this were twenty years, no, ten years ago, Nuerding would not have let this suspicious point go so easily, but old age and illness had already exhausted him. Yes, he had done something beyond people's expectations, dragging this broken body that could ascend to heaven at any moment to launch this long and arduous expedition. The price was that he was burning fiercely like the last section of a candle; the bright flame did not represent vigorous vitality, but final unwillingness.

Unlike the kings or caliphs of hundreds of years later, as a commander, Sultan Nuerding had to stay on horseback as long as he stepped out of the palace. Whether it was the scorching sun or the biting night wind, he had to stand like a banner in front of everyone.

If he showed signs of fatigue, or even had to sit in a palanquin or carriage, not to mention the Emirs and Fatahs under his command, even those half-slave, half-soldier Nubians would mock him in secret, giving rise to contempt and slackness, and his authority in the army would be greatly shaken.

If what he was going to attack was just an ordinary and peaceful small town, or even a village, that would be one thing, but he was going to attack the holy fortress of Jerusalem. No siege battle was won quickly and easily; they would encounter all kinds of obstacles—armies rushing out from the city gates, towering walls, and the people who held the determination to die...

After all, Nur ad-Din had once sworn to the Muslims that if one day he broke into Jerusalem, he would inevitably slaughter all the residents there to repay the blood debt the Crusader knights owed the Muslims.

He was the pillar, the banner, and the "Light of Faith." He would leave a will; even if he fell, even if he died, they would have to carry him into Jerusalem. Amalric I had once used his own death to exchange for the safe withdrawal of the Crusader main force from the burning Fustat, and he could also use his own death to inspire his army to retake this holy city from the Crusaders.

But if he fell before seeing hope, his death would be worthless.

So no matter how tired or weak he was, he had to insist on sitting on his horse and traveling long distances with the soldiers. Even when discussing matters with the Emirs in the tent, he would stand straight, with his white hair and beard fluffed up like a lion's mane, as majestic and solemn as ever, making them afraid to look him in the eye.

But such persistence required a price; human energy is limited. When he used most of it to maintain his posture, he had less for his mind.

He brushed past his victory.

——————

Ma Kabu Castle only had fifty Templar knights and over a hundred soldiers, but since the Grand Master of the Knights Templar was serving the King on a tour, it was impossible for them to have only those few people by their side. So in this castle now, there were not just fifty Templar knights, but one hundred and thirty.

There were also one hundred and fifty knights of the Order of the Holy Sepulchre who came with the King—the King was their Grand Master after all. Most crucially, at least one-third of these knights had received blessings and were deeply favored by the saints, not to mention that among them were people like Baldwin and Cesar, whose existence could hardly be called favor, but rather incarnations of saints.

When it was confirmed that the enemy coming to attack the castle was only over a thousand, the expression of Philip, the Grand Master of the Knights Templar, immediately softened. It seemed the enemy did not know that the King of Jerusalem was in this castle. He stopped Baldwin and Cesar: "It is not that I will not let you fight," he said.

Cesar perhaps could, as there were knights among them who could distribute the saints' favor to their companions, but the King's Spear of Saint George was too special. Once it appeared on the battlefield—especially when both appeared at the same time—people would immediately associate them with the two knights who had shone brilliantly on the battlefield in Egypt, and the secret of the King being here would, of course, be leaked immediately.

The result of the battle was beyond doubt. When the gates of Ma Kabu opened wide and the knights swarmed out, the commander of that thousand-man unit even felt a moment of confusion. They had thought the knights in Ma Kabu Castle would defend the castle to the death, which would require them to spend a good amount of time here—but this might not be a bad thing, as he could still catch up to the siege of Jerusalem.

Nur ad-Din had sworn to kill everyone in Jerusalem, which meant they could plunder everything they saw without restraint. Nearly a hundred years of accumulation had long since made the once empty Jerusalem a city cast in gold again, and their tribes were so barren, so barren that whatever it was, it was good, precious, and rare.

It could be said that everyone in the Sultan's army, from the Emirs to the lowest slave soldiers, was looking forward to the gains this war would bring. Of course, these one thousand people would not be interested in the desolate little castle of Ma Kabu.

But when this Fatah broke free from his fantasy, he discovered that the number of knights rushing out from the city gate far exceeded fifty. Even adding their squires, this number was simply too high.

He looked at his deputy beside him, and the two immediately pressed their shoulders to pray, waiting for the Prophet to give them revelation.

And that team, whose numbers clearly exceeded expectations, suddenly accelerated at this moment. Under their fluttering surcoats and cloaks, deadly faint lights flashed one after another. The Fatah opened his eyes wide; he could hardly believe it!

The knights charged in columns of twelve, and the weapons and armor of these twelve people all shone with a despairing light. — Compared to the light on him and his deputy, it was like fireflies against a full moon, completely unremarkable.

"Damned liars!" He had only just roared when he was knocked flying by a great force. The leader landed on the ground from a height, and relying on the Prophet's revelation, he leaped up and drew his scimitar.

But at this moment, a knight who arrived afterward had already lowered his spear. The spear pierced his shoulder in just one strike, in the exact same position as the knight who had reported the news.

But he was not as lucky as that knight. The huge kinetic energy carried by the spear itself, as well as the power the saint had bestowed upon this weapon, split him open in one go. His head, along with half his shoulder, flew high into the air. He could even see his own lower torso still blindly and futilely hacking away, and by the time he fell into the dust and was trampled by horse hooves, his thousand-man unit was already collapsing.

They had been deceived; this was his last thought.

Philip had been closely watching the changes on the battlefield. He not only had to defeat these Muslims—this was inevitable—but he also could not let any enemy escape, lest they return to inform the Sultan. Although Nur ad-Din was old and dull, once he heard that there were dozens of blessed knights in such a small Ma Kabu Castle, he would immediately think of the new King of Jerusalem.

He would definitely turn around immediately to kill or capture Baldwin IV.

Although without the King, the people of Jerusalem would still firmly resist until the last moment, after all, no one wanted to die under the Muslims' blades. But the King being captured or killed before the decisive battle would undoubtedly be a major blow to the Christians.

Fortunately, while the knights were engaging the Saracens head-on, another team had already quietly circled from the rear of the castle to outside the position, forming a loose but complete encirclement. Every Saracen who wanted to escape from their spears and crossbows would be in despair—and once they had eaten the pieces scattered off the chessboard, they would attack from both sides with the team that had attacked earlier, completely annihilating them.

Not only that, a small team of Crusader knights who had received blessings and had exceptionally keen hearing and vision also rode out a distance to ensure there were no fish that slipped through the net. They did this very carefully, without alarming Nuerding's main army like the previous knight.

"Next, we must return to Jerusalem as soon as possible," Philip said. "I will immediately write to Raymond and Bohemond, hoping they can turn back immediately."

Although he said so, he felt it was unlikely—Nur ad-Din must have confirmed that the main Crusader force had left Jerusalem before daring to take the opportunity to sneak an attack on Jerusalem. Plus, the time they had spent on the road... even if Raymond and Bohemond led the main army back immediately, it would be too late. Moreover, Nur ad-Din had a high probability of joining forces with Mleh—if the Crusaders dared to leave their backs to Mleh, Mleh would likely not give up this opportunity.

He left in a hurry after speaking; there were still many things to deal with.

Baldwin remained silent. Philip's suggestion was certainly correct; even his father, Amalric I, would only rush back to Jerusalem at this time and then begin preparing for the defense of the city.

"Do you have the map?" he asked.

"I have it," Cesar said. Since they were out on a tour to inspect the defenses, it was impossible not to carry a map. Moreover, Cesar had long been prepared. Along the way, he had taken this rare and good opportunity to constantly draw a more accurate and detailed map based on the original data in his hands.

Before arriving at Ma Kabu Castle, he had already traced and organized seven or eight-tenths of this map. After opening it, not only was it much larger than the original parchment, but it was also much more precise—this was a modern map with equal proportions, contour lines, and water sources—without extra decoration. At first glance, some might even think these were two maps.

Baldwin easily found their current location, which was Ma Kabu Castle, and then looked down along its position. Below them was the Sea of Galilee.

The Sea of Galilee was not a sea, but a huge freshwater lake. The Jordan River flowed through it from north to south, and there was also the replenishment of underground springs, so it had never dried up. On its west side was Nazareth, the city where Jesus spent his childhood and youth, and also a famous holy site.

Below Nazareth were two mountainous areas, Manasseh and Ephraim, and further down was Jerusalem. They had also taken this route when they came, but now, in order to avoid Nur ad-Din's main army, they might have to go west and then return to Jerusalem along the coastline.

"We can certainly go back, but... can we only go back?"

If someone else had asked this question, Baldwin would have thought he was feeling timid and afraid to return to that city that was bound to be full of crises. But if it was asked by Cesar, he would only think that his best friend was thinking the same thing as him.

If they returned to Jerusalem in such a hurry, it could only be said that they were completely in a passive position. They could only wait—wait for Nur ad-Din's main army, wait for the rescue that Raymond and Bohemond might not be able to achieve, and wait for the worst result.

They would not fantasize that Nur ad-Din would be willing to give up this fine wine that had been brewing for a long time. Amalric I's second attack on Egypt was a desperate gamble, and Nur ad-Din's attack on Jerusalem in the last breath of his life was also a gamble.

Amalric I was willing and able to retreat because he had already squeezed Bilbeis and Fustat dry. Could Nuerding afford the salary of these tens of thousands of people now? Even the half-slave, half-soldier Nubians were only fighting for money.

"In this way, we must first convince the Grand Master of the Knights Templar."

"He might think we are crazy."

"But we should try," Baldwin said.

The news brought back by the merchants should not be wrong—Nur ad-Din launching an expedition at this time could be said to have targeted the gap during the transition between the old and new Kings of Jerusalem.

But what was intriguing was that even Baldwin and Cesar, who had seen little, could feel his haste and anxiety—Jerusalem was a fortress more majestic than Fustat. Amalric I had prepared for three years before deciding to attack Fustat.

How long had Nuerding prepared? A few months ago, he was still fighting another force in Syria.

He could not continue to wait.

And could an army led by such a weak monarch really be as impregnable as people thought?

Not necessarily.

Baldwin firmed up his thoughts. He nodded slightly to Cesar. Cesar walked quickly to the door, called for a knight, and asked Philip, the Grand Master of the Order of the Holy Sepulchre, to come here, "As soon as possible," he said.

This "as soon as possible" was not just for the Grand Master of the Knights Templar.

(End of chapter)