Chapter 124

"This letter is from Muhammad, the servant of Allah, hand in hand with his Lord, to the Byzantine monarch Heraclius. May the guide of the path of truth bathe in the light of peace. I sincerely invite you to step into the gate of... faith. Once you convert, safety will accompany you, and God will bestow upon you double blessings. If you refuse, you may mislead your subjects and lead them away from the right path."

After reading this content, Nuerding did not continue reading. He lowered his head silently and slowly placed the wooden box in his hand on his knees.

This should be the letter of invitation to faith sent by the Prophet Muhammad to the monarchs of neighboring countries. Also known as the "Letter to the Eight Kingdoms," in the letter, he persuaded the rulers of Abyssinia, Egypt, Persia, Byzantium, Bahrain, Yamamah, Damascus, and Oman to convert. Regardless of the result, this was indeed one of the most glorious achievements of the Saracens.

But only three of these eight letters now exist in Egypt and Syria, and the others are hard to find. Nuerding gently rubbed the seal on the letter—"Muhammad, the Messenger of God." This seal, whether in size, pattern, or the small missing traces, was exactly the same as the one he was familiar with—the original silver ring of Muhammad was indeed lost, but it could still be seen on the state letters collected in the palace.

The tent was silent, and everyone was staring eagerly at the holy object in his hand. Although they could not be sure yet—but there was no doubt that as they were about to launch a holy war, the arrival of this miracle would inevitably bring them and their soldiers great confidence. This was an auspicious sign, needless to say—excitement flashed in everyone's eyes.

And unlike what these generals were thinking, Nuerding had little joy or excitement in his heart at this moment. No one could question his firmness, piety, and wisdom. Precisely because he had these three things, he dared not believe that there was such a coincidence in the world.

Because their Prophet Muhammad once said that there is only God in the world, and there is no other god besides God. Therefore, his church is not filled with various strange holy objects like the churches of Christians.

At least as far as Nuerding knew, regardless of which sect, Saracens only recognized three holy objects. One is the Abraham Stone—in the legends of the Christians, the patriarch Abraham once sacrificed his only son on it. But for Saracens, this boulder is the proof that their Prophet Muhammad ascended to heaven on a steed under the guidance of an angel.

The second is one of Muhammad's seven swords. It is called Zulfiqar. This sword has long been lost and can only be seen in some records related to Muhammad or on tapestries.

The third is a black meteorite located in Makkah.

The Abraham Stone symbolizes the worship and reverence for God, the Zulfiqar sword represents the bravery and purity of the Prophet Muhammad, and the Black Stone in Makkah is the core of the believers' pilgrimage, symbolizing the threshold of heaven and loyalty to God.

This extremely important letter, if it is Muhammad's original handwriting, then according to Christian standards, it is an out-and-out, incomparably precious holy object—clerics might cut every word on it to worship.

But for Saracens, even if it is real, Nuerding cannot be sure—whether it should be made public—but he looked around and saw those expectant faces, and it was hard for him to say this decision.

He could guess what these people were thinking, even if this holy object was offered to them by an Isaacite merchant. But it did not appear in the past few hundred years, nor did it appear in the next few hundred years, but appeared when they, led by the Light of Faith, Sultan Nuerding, were conquering Arasalu. This in itself was God's recognition and protection for them.

Nuerding looked at the scorched yellow parchment again. It was so thin and brittle that it could not be held by hand and could only be placed in an exquisite wooden box, yet it was so heavy—when he lifted it and traced its sacred handwriting with his eyes, someone even subconsciously stretched out both hands, palms upward, as if ready to catch it at any time.

Nuerding paused. In his father's secret collection, he had indeed seen handwriting and seals identical to this letter. He finally sighed long and held the wooden box high: "Look, this is indeed the original handwriting of the Prophet Muhammad."

A suppressed cheer and praise erupted in the tent.

And while they were vying to read this precious manuscript, Nuerding had already stood up and walked out of the tent. The chief eunuch had been following him closely, and he was not surprised to hear him ask about the Isaacite who sent this manuscript.

"That... guest was left in my tent, and he will be treated grandly in the next few days," the chief eunuch said. He could see that the arrival of this Isaacite merchant and the holy object he offered did not please the Sultan, but instead troubled him.

If it were normal times, he would have retreated silently and then ordered a servant to hang this Isaacite merchant, but: "That Isaacite merchant said," the chief eunuch lowered his voice, "he has more treasures, but he came alone and could not bring them all with him."

"What else? Gold or jewels?"

"Books," the chief eunuch replied: "They are classics and documents, copies, literature, records, verses, architectural sketches, legal documents, and of course, mostly scriptures and commentaries that the Isaacites have gathered from various places in the few hundred years since they left Arasalu."

"How could he have these things?"

"According to him, he was once a student of a Sage, but because of some conflicts with his people, they expelled him, but he did not give up what should have belonged to him.

He followed his teacher several times secretly before he discovered these—he was a bit disappointed because he wanted to get some money or utensils, not expecting them to be just documents, but they are also precious collections. He offered these to us, hoping..."

"Hoping?"

"Yes, Sultan, his thought is very ridiculous, even worthy of being called a delusion..."

"Speak, what does he want?"

"He wants to become your minister, Sultan. He wants to serve you in your court. Even if he cannot become a governor or a vizier, at least he should be a scribe or something..."

"Is he an ordinary person, or a person who has received the Prophet's revelation?"

"Should be the latter."

Nuerding pondered for a while. He did not like this person who suddenly appeared and disrupted his plan, but he had always valued education very much. In the decades he ruled Syria, he used the national treasury and his own money to build many schools and libraries, and hired teachers to teach children.

If this Isaacite merchant only brought holy objects, or gold, silk, and the like, he might not be moved. But if he said he had many precious classics—in any case, before getting these classics, Nuerding would not kill him.

"This sounds like his appetite is not that small," Nuerding said as if joking, and the chief eunuch immediately bent his waist deeply.

Whether in the Christian palace or the Sultan's court, people who have received blessings or revelations are always more trusted and reused by superiors than ordinary people. After all, they have already proven their piety and specialty. Otherwise, how can they be called "chosen people"? Not only that, just receiving meager blessings—like Witt, who couldn't easily get ahead yet.

Nuerding recalled the Isaacite merchant he saw in the tent not long ago—he insisted on seeing the Sultan before he was willing to offer the treasures in his hands, otherwise he would rather destroy them.

He did not look much like an Isaacite, and there was not much of the vulgarity peculiar to merchants on him. He was pale, with black hair and black eyes, and he was very clean and exquisite, more like a scholar.

Nuerding did not question the other party's intention. After all, since the Isaacites were expelled from Canaan, Rome, and Egypt, they were a group of homeless mice wandering around, without land and roots, destined to be excluded from the entire society. Whether in Christian or Saracen cities, they were discriminated against and hard to get respect, so they developed a two-faced, swaying temperament.

However, some people say that they could even sell their Savior, let alone anything else?

Although this sentence was sharp, it was also very true. If a sharp-nosed Isaacite merchant sensed their determination to win Arasalu and wanted to be the first to seek a foothold for himself, there was nothing strange about it.

"They also once had King David and King Solomon, unfortunately..." Nuerding shook his head, and finally was moved by the ancient scrolls that were said to fill an entire underground cave. Anyway, it was only a matter of a few months, or after the war started, he could order someone to take this Isaacite merchant to retrieve those classics.

"If things are as he said, I can arrange a position as a librarian for him—I hope he will be satisfied," Nuerding said, while showing a cunning smile.

Having received this answer, the chief eunuch was finally relieved. He tried his best to control himself not to touch the small money bag at his waist—it contained a huge ruby, a bribe from the Isaacite merchant. He didn't ask him for anything, just said that perhaps they might become ministers in the court together in the future...

The chief eunuch knew the Sultan's physical condition very well, and Nuerding would not hide it from him. He had told the chief eunuch that once he fell, he would hand over his eleven-year-old young son, Salih, to him, making him the fosterer and regent of Salih. The chief eunuch was of course very grateful for the Sultan's arrangement, but he also knew that the few viziers and Fatahs he colluded with probably could not compete with the two older brothers of this child.

At such a time, any force that could potentially be drawn to his side was of considerable importance. Especially since this Jewish merchant said he originally resided within the city of Jerusalem—if the Sultan were unable to return to Apoler, he could just as well bring his young master here from Apoler as quickly as possible. When that time came, occupying Jerusalem, he would still be able to contend with the two older princes.

And at this time, if there was a person who knew Arasalu very well, that would be the best.

——————

The chief eunuch's tent was not large, but it could accommodate ten or so people. The layout was simple but comfortable. But the two people in the tent—the merchant disguised by Haridi and the merchant's servant—this servant was one of the squires of the Grand Master of the Knights Templar. Even though he was prepared to die, he could not help but feel like sitting on pins and needles.

Philip did not trust Haridi much, even though Haridi did not lead the Saracens—he asked Haridi to bring a Christian. This matter was fine before Cesar was not so famous. Now most people know that the new King Baldwin IV has a black-haired, green-eyed attendant by his side—his appearance is so prominent that it cannot be covered, so he can only let his squire go.

Haridi indeed needed a servant. The letter written by Muhammad himself was true, and precisely because it was true, it was already very fragile when it was taken out, as if it would turn into powder with a little force. Therefore, it was hidden in a thin and large wooden box and protected quite cautiously.

And to prove what he said, he took away a part of the literature written from the 6th to 7th century AD. People like Nuerding who love reading and learning only need to compare them up and down to immediately draw a conclusion. What Haridi said was true—there was indeed such an entire underground cave of ancient scrolls waiting for him to excavate.

Precisely because of this point, their identities were not exposed.

But not being exposed did not mean they were safe. Who knew what Nuerding was thinking? Perhaps he still thought Isaacites were untrustworthy, and even felt that Muhammad's holy object was blasphemy and defilement in his hands—but now they had penetrated deep into the Saracen camp. Even if they received God's blessing, they could not cross the swords and arrows of tens of thousands of people.

As long as the Sultan's mind moved, they would definitely die.

This kind of waiting was undoubtedly hard and tormenting. They might have waited for several hours until someone came in. They did not bring unsheathed swords or tough bowstrings, but brought some food and water.

Haridi and the squire could not help but breathe a sigh of relief together. This at least could represent that Nuerding would not kill them at this time.

And he had already seen the Sultan through the previous audience. As soon as Haridi saw him, he knew that as they guessed, Sultan Nuerding was indeed running out of time. At that moment, Haridi even had the thought of wanting to assassinate him immediately, but in the end, he controlled himself.

Not to mention whether it could succeed, compared to an abrupt but quick death, he would rather see this aging beast show a painful look after discovering that his long-cherished wish could never be achieved.

They were of course still strictly supervised and would move with the army later, but this squire had received the saint's favor, and the ability he received was very interesting—he could summon some small animals and make them temporarily obey his orders.

He crushed the dry cake and soon summoned a few round sand rats.

The squire used the dye he carried with him to dye the foreheads of the sand rats red. This was their agreed secret signal. He would release these furry little guys, urging them to cross the Saracen camp and reach the hill on one side. After the waiting knights caught them, they would see the result.

He released several, after all, the Saracen camp was very wide. After a distance, no one knew whether the sand rats would continue to obey his orders. They might run back to their nests or hide. Fortunately, even if they were discovered, no one would pay attention to the forehead of a sand rat.

After doing these things, the squire and Haridi exchanged a short look—next, they had to wait again.

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 125 =====