Chapter 149: The Sultan's Funeral (Part 3)

Ma Like felt exhausted.

He had successfully completed the important work entrusted to him by the Grand Vizier and the First Lady, transporting the holy remains of Sultan Nur ad-Din back to Apoler from the distant Amalric I.

Although the weather was not very hot at this time, the cities they passed along the way would provide them with salt and ice—but ensuring that the Sultan's body would not rot and swell was not an easy task. However, he still ensured that the holy remains were not destroyed too much. Although inevitably, blue-black spots had spread to the neck, forehead, and other positions of the corpse, when people opened the coffin, what they saw was still a majestic elder.

Subsequently, the Sultan's three sons wiped their father and monarch's face and body again, changed his clothes, wrapped him in two layers of clean white cotton cloth, and sprinkled spices. This process was not very difficult. They should indeed thank that Christian knight—however, Ma Like guessed they probably didn't have the heart for it. For the sake of arguing over who should do what, the eldest prince and the second prince had several quarrels.

And those standing behind them—each had their own thoughts. The Grand Vizier had already leaned toward the eldest prince, while the second prince had several Emirs and the Second Vizier by his side.

Whenever the night was quiet, Ma Like would be disturbed. They sent various lobbyists, either coaxing or threatening, hoping that he would stand on their master's side before the Sultan was buried.

Once they couldn't get an answer, they would even angrily intimidate: once Nur ad-Din slept underground, a speculative villain could only be strangled by a bowstring in front of the new Sultan.

A speculative villain? Ma Like did not intend to accept such a title. No matter what thoughts he had, he did not intend to kiss the robes of these three incompetent people—including the youngest prince, Salih.

His guardian was the First Lady, and his birth mother also had a father who was a Fatimid, and they were also a force not to be underestimated. But looking at that child, Ma Like knew that he was intentionally raised as a puppet. He had no understanding of his own value and only regarded himself as a noble son of a prominent family. Not to mention having a desire for power, he was very vague about what power was.

And, the lobbyists of the eldest prince and the second prince were full of lies, but one thing they said was not wrong: if Ma Like chose the third prince, he would have to kneel under a woman's skirt in the future, obeying her every command.

But were the eldest prince and the second prince monarchs worth assisting? Regardless of other things, the eldest prince was addicted to alcohol, which was a fatal weakness. Although they would also sip some grape juice at certain times, it was only for refreshment or relaxation.

As for the eldest prince... he thought he was hiding it well. In fact, everyone in the court knew that when he said he needed to meditate and pray, he was hiding in a small room drinking wine until he was dead drunk, again and again. His slaves and servants would drag him out and then use ice and cold water to wake him up.

His mother had once hoped that he would slowly quit this terrible habit, but the eldest prince disappointed her. He not only didn't, but became worse as he grew older. Just the day before the Sultan was buried, Ma Like's informant reported to him that the Second Lady had once rushed to the eldest prince's palace in extreme anger and had a fierce quarrel with the eldest prince.

Then the eldest prince slapped his mother, leaving her face swollen and her teeth knocked out. There was no need to think; it must have been the eldest prince drinking heavily again that day. Other times could be glossed over. But if people saw the eldest prince looking drunk at the funeral of his respectable father and monarch, Sultan Nur ad-Din, who would still be willing to recognize him and kneel to him?

Not to mention, this was not just a hobby. The eldest prince was dead drunk the day before the Sultan was buried and beat his mother, which meant that the current eldest prince had no self-control. If he were allowed to become Sultan, one could imagine what kind of monarch they would welcome in the future who would indulge in pleasure all day long. Under his governance, what would Apoler become? How many dark currents of conspiracy and vortices of riots would be stirred up in secret...

Then, you might also say, there was the second prince. The second prince might be the most like Nur ad-Din in appearance, and he had always tried his best to pretend to be tolerant and open-minded. For example, he had said that after Nur ad-Din passed away, they should follow the example of their fathers (referring to Nur ad-Din and his brothers) and divide the land left by their father equally, and must not fight among themselves or cause internal strife.

But was that really the case? In fact, he had been buying and bribing those Emirs and Fatimids, and with the support of his mother, the Third Lady, he was building his own guard. If he had the ability commensurate with this surging ambition, perhaps this would not be a bad thing. After all, like the Christian King—the Saracens also needed a Sultan who could lead them to conquer everywhere.

But what made Ma Like only able to smile bitterly was that a recent piece of intelligence said that Joscelin III had died.

Joscelin III had once lived in Apoler Castle for a long time as a special guest. Nur ad-Din had once said that he would treat him like his own son and nephew. But this period was very short, perhaps only a few years. In '59, Joscelin II died in a Turkic prison, Nur ad-Din obtained the whole of Edessa, and Joscelin III was of no use anymore, and his status and treatment dropped rapidly.

In '64, he moved out of Apoler Castle, but was not immediately thrown into prison. Nur ad-Din handed him over to his second son, and Joscelin III and his wife were imprisoned in a castle that belonged to his mother's dowry.

The things that happened in Amalric I, the Christian knight's act of performing "cleansing" for Sultan Nur ad-Din out of great love and benevolence, had long been written by Ma Like to inform everyone in Apoler Castle, and the reply had already promised that this person would be given due compensation—here "everyone" naturally included the second prince.

According to Ma Like's idea, since they had already promised to hand over Joscelin III intact to his son's hands to thank him for everything he had done for their father, shouldn't they have prepared early—at least they should have placed Joscelin III and his wife in their own palace to be properly looked after.

And just today, when he asked about this, the second prince actually replied to him calmly that Joscelin III had died, along with his wife, died of poisoning.

Not to mention how horrified Ma Like was, the second prince didn't care at all—who killed them? Christians, Isaacites, or Arabs? What was the reason? Was it humiliation, betrayal, or revenge? A series of follow-up questions only earned the second prince's impatient expression.

He knew nothing about it and didn't feel it was anything. For them, Joscelin III had long been a worthless thing. In order to show their love and respect for their father and monarch, they didn't mind releasing one or two useless slaves—but, of course, things becoming like this was indeed their negligence, but they could completely thank this Christian in other ways.

"Who doesn't love women and gold?" the second prince said easily. "We can give him all these. Let these Christians go back with the corpse of the Count of Edessa. They were our enemies to begin with. I won't make a big fuss for these two Christians." He stated his attitude and did not want to pursue this matter, for fear of hurting his confidants and close associates.

But was this a matter of pursuing or not pursuing?

Someone killed someone you were guarding in your castle. Do you think the poison won't be put in your wine pot next time?

Ma Like only felt a stabbing pain in his chest, but couldn't say a word. The second prince was still asking about the ninety Christian knights, because he heard that they had accepted the employment of Shams ad-Din, the Viceroy of Bosra.

"Since that's the case, are they willing to accept my employment?"

Ma Like had already forgotten how he replied to him at that time, and even forgot how he stumbled out of Apoler Castle and returned to his residence. He looked at the table for the first time, hoping that a letter with a seal would appear on it, but he found nothing. When he went to bed, he only felt that the night in Apoler was colder than ever before.

He forced himself to sleep. The next morning was the Sultan's funeral ceremony. Sultan Nur ad-Din had long designated that he would sleep forever in the Umayyad Mosque, which was the largest mosque in Apoler, built in the 8th century.

The Sultan's coffin would be escorted by his male relatives, officials, and personal guards, circling the entire Apoler once, letting him take one last look at this land he once loved and defended. Thousands of scholars would follow on foot, praying for him. Emirs, Viziers, and more officials of all sizes could only walk behind the coffin, including Ma Like, who didn't even become one of the pallbearers.

This was the revenge of the princes and their supporters behind them. He had never given an answer, or rather, he had already made a decision, just didn't let them know. He could have fled the day before the Sultan was buried, but he ultimately stayed. Even if this might lead to his decapitation and a miserable end, if he didn't do so, his later life would never find peace.

The vast and numerous procession walked out of the south gate of Apoler Castle and onto the street. The streets were crowded with countless people. They all opened their eyes wide, looking at the great scholar of Apoler. He was wearing a black robe and wrapped in a snow-white turban, standing on a high platform, chanting scriptures with a grave face. Then came the huge coffin carried by sixteen pallbearers together, covered with black and red cloth. The two people at the head were the two princes most familiar to the people of Apoler. The person who could make the two princes carry the coffin could not be anyone else, only Sultan Nur ad-Din.

Nur ad-Din was dead. This fact was only now placed firmly in front of them. It was unknown who made the first cry, and then the crying spread like a plague, rising and falling like a tide between the layered walls and mansions of Aleppo.

Ma Like was also crying. He felt deeply sad for his monarch. He had created such a brilliant foundation, yet there was no trustworthy heir behind him.

Dust flew, and the air was scorching. He heard complaints, so he frowned and looked at the place where the sound came from. It was an official who followed behind the procession with him. He was scolding in a low voice because the overly excited crowd even bumped into him, knocking him into the procession, and then affecting Ma Like.

He apologized to Ma Like, but Ma Like's mind was no longer on him. He took a deep breath and found that at some point, the funeral procession began to become thin, with excited people on both sides, moving forward like crawling.

"Quick, call someone!" Ma Like grabbed someone and shouted in a low voice, "Go to the front and tell the eldest prince and the second prince! Tell them to call more guards immediately!"

But that person just looked at him, not knowing if he couldn't hear, couldn't understand, or didn't want to disturb the two princes at this time. No matter who would become the new Sultan in the future—if he caused dissatisfaction because of this, what he would lose would not just be power and status, but possibly his own life.

Ma Like was extremely anxious. He didn't care about the two princes' resentment toward him and immediately rushed forward. But at this time, a Fatimid blocked him. He was a follower of the second prince and had also heard that Ma Like had rejected the second prince. He pushed Ma Like into the crowd behind him. Ma Like fell into the dust, looking extremely embarrassed. He heard a few sneers, not knowing who they came from.

He screamed in despair, but the change had already happened.

Falling seemed to be a signal. Suddenly, someone rushed out. He put his hands tightly on Nur ad-Din's coffin and shouted ecstatically, "I touched it! I touched his coffin! I received a blessing!" His shouting was like a horn of war. Everyone became excited. They desperately rushed forward, crazily scrambling to put their hands on Nur ad-Din's coffin.

Even if the guarding cavalry had already drawn their swords and raised their crossbows, they could not stop them from rushing into the procession regardless of everything.

A pallbearer was pushed down. He was Nur ad-Din's Grand Vizier. He also realized that things were not good. He immediately looked at the princes, but these two noble princes actually didn't make any timely response—they only cared about escaping from the heavy coffin, trying their best to reach out and let the slaves pull them out, fleeing from this place.

More people swarmed in. They trampled on the bodies of the pallbearers, completely forgetting that they were all noble big figures, whom they wouldn't even dare to look at on weekdays. They first tore off the cloth covering the coffin, and then lifted the coffin lid. Nur ad-Din's body was exposed to the daylight, and thousands of hands reached out, all wanting to touch it.

Although the Sultan's personal guards wanted to kill these people who dared to desecrate the Sultan's remains, they had already covered the entire coffin. If they slashed and killed, the blood of these lowly people would pollute Nur ad-Din's holy remains—they only hesitated for a moment before being swallowed by the crowd.

People started by just touching, but how could touching be enough? It seemed that in an instant, the two layers of shrouds covering Nur ad-Din were also pulled open. They were snatched and torn into countless pieces in the air, and some were even just a few fibers. They were tightly pinched in the hands of the people of Apoler and taken home to be worshipped as holy relics.

Ma Like was going crazy, watching as Nur ad-Din's body was hard to preserve. He knelt on the ground with difficulty, starting to pray for the protection of Allah and the Prophet. Light radiated from his body, and several scholars also reacted.

Some scholars lifted the coffin, others set up invisible shields and walls, and other scholars let out roars like thunder. And the most noble and powerful great scholar of Apoler raised his hands and sent out thunder. These thunders pierced through the bodies of those reckless people, letting them fall group after group.

In the blink of an eye, the chaos subsided, and silence returned to the street, followed by people's reason. They looked at each other, not knowing how they could have made such crazy moves.

The great scholar's face was very ugly, but he had nothing to say. The people of Apoler were doing this precisely because they loved Nur ad-Din too much—not because they harbored malice to desecrate the body of this great monarch, although the result was about the same.

He could only ask the scholars to quickly collect Nur ad-Din's coffin and remains, "Back to Apoler Castle first," he said wearily, "re-hold the funeral ceremony tomorrow."

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 150 =====