Chapter 126

When later generations talk about this war, it can almost be said that there are ten thousand views—they analyze this war from various channels, various angles, and various positions, using all means and doing their best to find the smallest evidence to prove their arguments.

But one thing is certain and recognized: before this surprise attack hidden in the boundless night occurred, every thing done by both Jerusalem and Nuerding was regular.

Perhaps some people want to mock the greed and short-sightedness of the real power figures of the Crusaders at that time, the Count of Tripoli, Raymond, and the Duke of Antioch, Bohemond, but from their experience, although Jerusalem was empty inside at that time, the situation was stable, and it was the fact that the pilgrimage road became unsafe again that made people worry.

They did not feel that Sultan Nuerding, who was old, lacked stamina, and was still fighting another governor in Syria a few months ago, would suddenly gather a large army to go south to attack Jerusalem.

Perhaps some people want to ask, didn't Amalric I also use his own death to change the war situation? No, it's completely different.

If Amalric I was nearly sixty, he would not dare, nor would he leave Jerusalem. This was irresponsible to him and the Crusaders. He was only in his forties when he left Jerusalem, which was the prime of his life. If it weren't for Shawar, who was known for his cunning and selfishness, using his own life and the whole Fustat to calculate him, his second expedition would have ended in a perfect ending.

As for Nuerding's side, now we can of course understand his unwillingness. He was only Zengi's second son. Although Zengi divided all his own equally between the two sons, it was clear that he lacked more than his brother, and his brother happened to be a mediocre and incompetent person.

You must know that the person he revered most was the Prophet Muhammad, but if there was only one Syria, it was far from enough for him to catch up with this person's footsteps.

And the decades of fighting, competition, and squeezing made him realize more and more clearly—if he wanted to firmly knead the many forces of the Saracens like scattered sand together, there was only one thing—faith, and only faith.

And if he wanted to pick up the power the Prophet dropped on the ground and set off toward his goal again—what should he use to convince everyone?

The Shengcheng.

Jerusalem was once the city of the Canaanites, Isaacites, Romans, and Saracens. It was also the sacred place where their Prophet Muhammad ascended to heaven, but it was taken away by outsiders, and successive Sultans and Caliphs all wanted to retake it.

If Nuerding could do this at the very end of his life, he could kneel at the feet of the Prophet Muhammad when he ascended to heaven and report this proud achievement to him, and his descendants would become the successors of the Prophet's power and ideals, like Abu Bakr, Umar ibn al-Khattab, Uthman ibn Affan, and Ali ibn Abi Talib (the Four Caliphs).

Precisely because of this, after discovering that he was terminally ill, this elder immediately hid this secret firmly. He did not try to extend his life like an ordinary person, whether through quiet recuperation, treatment, or prayer...

Instead, he made a choice immediately—he wanted to die in Jerusalem.

Those foolish Crusaders did indeed think as he thought, although it was more out of his contempt. Even if he had made great achievements, he was already old.

They thought he didn't have such courage. Nuerding proved with practical actions that he had, and it was great courage.

At that time, Jerusalem could almost be said to be an empty city, and the main force of the Crusaders had almost all gone north. Although a part of the knights and soldiers were left behind, this force certainly could not be compared with the tens of thousands of troops Nuerding brought. But at that time, no one expected that the young Baldwin IV had left the Holy City and happened to encounter the Sultan outside Ma Kabu Castle.

This matter can only be said that the goddess of fate seems to like to move the threads on the spindle at such important moments, letting this river full of possibilities flow in another direction.

Sultan Nuerding's army was vast and mighty, moving forward all the way, just like a wanton flood washing away everything in front of them. They might have also discovered those Christian knights. But they didn't care, just like Nuerding's light cavalry, who once discovered a Templar knight walking out of Ma Kabu Castle, but thought he was just one of the ordinary guards.

Nuerding only needed to pay a little attention to find that there were suddenly many more knights, horses, and attendants in Ma Kabu Castle, and with a little association, he could guess that Baldwin IV was in this castle. If so, the story we know now would have to be rewritten entirely.

But he didn't.

And when night fell, their army had to rest by the Sea of Galilee (Taibaliehu), which was rich in water and grass, and because the terrain there was too narrow, they were forced to form a long, thin belt shape.

This "belt" was clearly divided because of the composition and status of the personnel, and Philip, the Grand Master of the Knights Templar, who had fought against the Saracens for many years and was experienced, could identify the location of the Sultan's camp at a glance.

After Baldwin IV and Cesar tore open a gap, he immediately directed other knights and squires to break into this gap and expand it, just to separate the Sultan's camp from other camps.

At the same time, the knights, squires, and armed attendants temporarily recruited from other castles and cities were responsible for dispersing the Nubian slave soldiers in the rear, who numbered about twelve thousand. They had four thousand cavalry and about eight thousand infantry. In terms of numbers, they were overwhelmingly superior.

But it was the middle of the night, and these Nubians, who lacked organization and teaching, were unable to see in the dark on one hand, and were panicked and at a loss by firelight, screams, and chaotic figures on the other. They were originally here for money, and there was no faith, law, or anything else to restrain them, so they chose to run away without hesitation.

In fact, if they were willing to stand up, calm down, and take a closer look, they would find that the people galloping, shouting loudly, constantly throwing torches, shooting crossbow arrows, and waving swords among them were only about a thousand. Except for knights and squires, some were residents in nearby cities.

Although they did not live in Jerusalem, they also knew the truth that if the lips are gone, the teeth are cold. If the Saracens took Jerusalem, what awaited them was at least expulsion. Nuerding did not have much tolerance when facing these infidels. Even if he had, those Emirs would not allow him to do so—otherwise, where would they go to slaughter and plunder?

And what Baldwin IV wanted them to do was not difficult, and it couldn't even be called dangerous. They just needed to create a momentum, making these black-skinned infidel bastards think that the main army had arrived suddenly. Sure enough, except for a few unlucky guys who were accidentally injured or fell off their horses, the casualties were not many.

These Nubians would even throw away their only weapons, abandon their horses, and escape regardless of everything. Some even couldn't distinguish the direction in the dark night and jumped into the Sea of Galilee (Taibaliehu). If they couldn't swim, they would soon be drowned. Even if they could, they might mistake the direction because of panic at such a time—this was the lake water at night. If they kept swimming, they would go to the bottom of the lake instead of the surface, and sooner or later they would be drowned.

The most troublesome were of course those Emirs and Fatahs. Unlike the Nubians, they had faith and loyalty. But at this time, a strange thing happened. Several people wearing Saracen robes and headscarves rode into the camp and shouted in a loud voice, "The Sultan is dead!"

"The Sultan is dead!"

"The Sultan is dead...!"

At this time, the danger of the Saracen dynasty being dictated by the Caliph or the Sultan alone came.

If it were in the Crusaders, even if a king like Amalric I died, the expeditionary army could immediately elect a new commander through meetings and discussions, but the Saracens could not.

When the Sultan was alive, everyone here could be said to be his slave, and they would also be the slaves of the Sultan's son in the future. Which slave would dare to take over the command of this army when the Sultan died, unless he could be sure that he would become the second Sultan—otherwise, what awaited him was being annihilated by the Sultan's army on his territory, or walking into the Sultan's palace alone, and then kneeling down and submissively letting his head eunuch hang him.

But even Saladin, who would become the second Sultan, had not dared to appear in front of Nuerding until today.

Suddenly, those tribal leaders of Saracens, Kurds, and Turks were in a mess. Some were eager to rush to the Sultan's tent to find out; some had thoughts of retreating and wanted to return to Damascus or Aleppo as soon as possible; even if there were smart people who guessed that this was the enemy intentionally spreading rumors to shake the morale of the army, how could he convince others in this chaos?

And taking advantage of this gap, the elite led by Baldwin IV had caught up with Nuerding's team. Nuerding had a personal guard of two thousand people by his side, which was also the hardest barrier and the sharpest edge in this battle. But like on every battlefield before, no enemy in front of Baldwin IV and Cesar could confront and entangle them.

They came toward Nuerding.

"Who is that?" Nuerding asked, and the head eunuch beside him vaguely guessed the identities of these two people. The spear and shield of Jerusalem—this beautiful name had long been spread on various battlefields. People like Nuerding, who were so intelligent, immediately thought of it—he had heard that the young Baldwin IV was out on a tour. At that time, he thought it would be the second Count of Edessa (when Zengi was attacking Edessa, the lord of Edessa also happened to be out).

The Sultan showed a smile full of regret, "Ma Kabu," he muttered. They had encountered each other in Ma Kabu. It was just that at that time, the young Baldwin IV saw him, but he didn't find Baldwin IV. He didn't expect that this monarch, who was young enough to be amazing, didn't run away or return to Jerusalem to prepare for a death defense, but chose such an adventurous answer.

What was even more surprising was that he actually succeeded, but so what? This might be destined. Their battlefield was not in Jerusalem, but here. Nuerding's eyes were bright and his blood was boiling, only feeling that everything in front of him was covered with a layer of bright red fine sand—there were still two thousand people here, and how many people could the other side recruit in a hurry? Three hundred? Or five hundred?

Victory still stood by his side, "God..." he wanted to pray, but couldn't hear his own voice. He looked at his hands with some surprise. The long sword fell from his hand. He saw his head eunuch rushing to his side in a panic, his mouth wide open, as if shouting something.

The Sultan's memory ended here. He fell from his horse.

At this point, the war situation was set.

————

The Sultan fell to the ground, and everyone was surprised, except for a "Saracen" who was quietly disappearing into the crowd—he had a smile of pleasure after revenge, and was also in tears.

The things after that need not be described. The Saracens lost all their will to fight and fled in all directions. The Christian knights chased all the way to Damascus before barely stopping—they really didn't have many people, and this undoubted victory made even Cesar a bit dazed, let alone Baldwin.

He would push Cesar awake from time to time—they originally lived in two separate rooms, later Baldwin always wanted to confirm and talk to Cesar, and Cesar was so annoyed that he pulled out the trundle bed under his bed, just like when they were still prince and attendant, temporarily living with him.

"God," Baldwin sat on the bed, his hair messy, "Did we win?"

"Yes."

"We are not in the Saracen prison, but in, in..." He looked up and looked around...

"In Bethlehem, we will return to Jerusalem tomorrow."

"Oh," Baldwin said: "Then that means we won, we defeated Sultan Nuerding and his soldiers."

"Not just that, a full ten thousand."

"Nuerding..."

"He is still alive, but not for many days."

"..."

"Sleep, Baldwin, they are planning to have a triumphal ceremony for you."

"What?"

"It's just painting your face red, letting you stand on a two-wheeled carriage, and then finding a black-skinned Nubian slave to stand by your side and say 'You are also just a mortal'..."

The room was quiet for a while.

"You are mocking me."

"That's right."

——————

The triumphal ceremony was of course not held, but when entering Jerusalem, the sound wave raised by the welcoming crowd could almost lift Baldwin and Cesar up—even the lowest beggar knew what their victory meant, meaning that no one in this city would lose their life because of the Saracens!

Nuerding was placed in a closed carriage. Baldwin had no intention of insulting this old man, but on the first night of arriving in Jerusalem, he still died.

His corpse was properly preserved, and the news of his death was quickly sent back to Aleppo. Regardless of what thoughts his three sons had, they first had to retrieve the remains of their father and the Sultan from the Christians as soon as possible and hold a ceremony for burial. Thus, the negotiation team was gathered almost that night. Besides them, there were some "gifts."

When the black-haired girl was dragged out of the room by the eunuch, her expression was still calm—compared to her companions, the former First Lady looked at them: "You once danced and played music in front of the Sultan. If it weren't for the fact that he was burdened with worries at that time, you would have been his concubines long ago..."

Hearing this, those blonde and brown-haired girls were already paralyzed with fear, and two of them even cried—although Saracens did not have the custom of burying the living with the dead, no wife would like her husband's concubines. Now the First Lady was the only master of the harem. No matter how she treated them, no one would say anything.

"But the master would not want me to do this... but I don't want to see you again either, so," the First Lady stood up, "You follow the envoy to Jerusalem, to serve the Christian King."

(End of chapter)