Chapter 137: On the Road to Aleppo (2)

"To hire Christian soldiers, that little bit of food is not enough. You have to be prepared. They are greedy by nature and never satisfied."

The person speaking was the leader of the mission sent from Aleppo to Jerusalem. When he stood in the hall of the Castle of the Holy Cross, gentle and smiling, he was entirely a scholar.

Now? You couldn't say he had changed his appearance, but in terms of perception, he was simply a different person—cold, dangerous, and cruel. This was the true face that a minister who could gain a foothold under Sultan Nur ad-Din should have.

"I, of course, know it's impossible," Shams ad-Din, the governor of Bosra, said. Others might feel fear, but he wouldn't, after all, they were friends for many years. He got up from the soft couch, poured a glass of iced grape juice for the mission leader Kamal, and poured one for himself.

This kind of wine... drink was still best served in a glass that was almost completely transparent. He drank a large mouthful happily and held it in his hand, turning it around, admiring the beautiful light emitted by the deep red wine under the candlelight.

"This... drink... I heard that the people of Jerusalem all call him the 'Little Saint'. Does this mean that he might not be so hard to deal with?"

Kamal sneered, "The first Godfrey was also called a saint by the Christians, but the Saracens he killed were simply as many as the sand I stepped on."

"Then you mean, he is just a liar."

"Liar, no, why would you think so? He is worthy of the name. At least from what I saw, we should all thank him. He did not let Sultan Nur ad-Din's remains fall into the mud, rotting in maggots and stench. He cleansed it, wrapped it in white cotton cloth, trimmed the beard and temples—and at that time, he didn't know his father was in Nur ad-Din's fortress—"

Choosing slave girls from the Sultan's harem to send to the Saracens was handled by the First Lady. The ladies of the harem were isolated from the outside world. If there was anyone who knew the true identity of that slave girl, he couldn't have manipulated the victory or defeat of the Sea of Galilee and the life and death of the Sultan.

"But he is not the kind of person who would be wrapped up by people's praise and recognition," Kamal saw through his classmate's mind at a glance: "He never regarded these knights as his property. On the contrary, it was a gift that had to be returned completely—do you know what he has been doing during the days we came over?"

"Doing what?"

"Cooking for those young guys of the Christians," Kamal said: "The money he spent every day is already enough to buy a pack horse. After all, there are several hundred young guys here."

"Can you imagine? He walks in the camp, ensuring that he takes care of everyone, not just those knights. Even those squires, armed attendants, and servants will receive his concern. Anyone who suffers unfair treatment in the team can find him to appeal. And after he listened to the words of all witnesses and observed all the evidence, he never made an unfair judgment."

"You also know that the three knight orders of the Christians have never been very harmonious. When they set off from Jerusalem, there were often disputes, verbal or physical, but when they reached Nazareth, this sound disappeared."

"He is like a diligent sheepdog, managing the ninety lambs Baldwin IV handed to him securely. If there is no accident, I think he is prepared to bring these people back to Jerusalem without missing one. His King values him, and he returns the same loyalty. What can you take out to make him change his mind?"

"Don't mention gold. Don't say he is a Christian. If someone among us did this, he wouldn't easily abandon the previous hard work for some worldly possessions."

"But I really need a strong team to wipe out the bandits between Damascus and Bosra," Shams ad-Din said distressedly, "You know, originally when Sultan Nur ad-Din passed through here, I filed a complaint to him, begging him to send a team to ensure the safety of the trade route and Bosra."

"But he refused. At that time, he was willful and only wanted to take Jerusalem," Shams ad-Din sat up—although Sultan Nur ad-Din refused him, he still expressed the respect he deserved to this monarch worthy of people's respect.

After Nur ad-Din's great defeat, he also tried to ask Aleppo and Mosul for help. But everyone was waiting for Sultan Nur ad-Din's funeral to end, and then claimed that they were his heirs.

They had long been ready for battle, but not to expel the Christians, nor to wipe out the bandits, but to fight for the power and territory left by Nur ad-Din. They would not waste energy and military strength on such trivial matters. But for the people of Bosra, it was a disaster. Those bandits had become more and more rampant. Not long ago, they even sneaked into the city and robbed some women and property.

"You useless thing!"

Kamal rebuked him mercilessly.

"I am just a mediocre person, not as good as you," Shams ad-Din retorted unwillingly. "But I think my situation is not the worst yet. I have Bosra. Although Bosra is like brass to gold, glass to gem compared to Damascus and Aleppo."

"Although prosperous, it is not prosperous enough to be remembered by people at all times. Instead, it is you..." he looked up and down at his friend, "Do you really intend to return to Aleppo? As one of the ministers Nur ad-Din valued most before his death, they will inevitably try every means to fight for you." He made a grimace, "I just hope that when the time comes, you won't be like that baby in the Solomon case, torn apart by three mothers who love you."

"Shut up, may Allah hear your words and throw you into the fire hell—is there anyone who curses a friend like this?"

Kamal interrupted him, but when it came to Nur ad-Din's three sons, he himself felt that the hope was slim.

He rolled his eyes at Shams ad-Din, but still gave him a way: "You can't persuade Cesar of Bethlehem, but you can persuade those knights. If they think they can easily wipe out those bandits—they will accept this job."

"If they insist," he thought for a while, "Cesar probably won't refuse their request."

"Is this really okay?" Shams ad-Din asked full of doubts: "Wouldn't he feel that these knights are provoking him, or be annoyed because his authority is not valued? You are not taking revenge on me, are you? They might whip me."

"Think whatever you want," Kamal said: "But I have to remind you, we only stay in Bosra for one night, and then we will go to Damascus."

(End of Chapter)