Chapter 157: Reunion

Black background with a white eagle—when this flag first appeared in the open wasteland near Damascus, no one cared, and even fewer were convinced. People were full of doubts and guesses about it.

They would never have thought that in the next twenty years, the owner of this flag would travel across almost the entire Arabian Peninsula. Whether it was the half of the Seljuk Turks' territory, the descendants of the Zengid dynasty, the terrifying Assassins, the battle-hardened Crusaders, or even the remnants of the Fatimid dynasty, none could shake his throne.

Later people, as long as they saw this flag, couldn't help but feel respect, and even his enemies were no exception—this was not only because the owner of this flag was a devout believer, a wise king, and a brave warrior, but also because he was a benevolent sage. The lives he spared were far more than the lives he took.

Some people even said that if there were no Saladin, there would be no later Holy King.

Although this statement caused a lot of grumbling, they had to admit that the one who first found the gem from the gravel was the King of Jerusalem, Amalric I, but the one who carved this gem, set it on the crown, and held it up to the whole world was Sultan Saladin.

Of course, people at this time, including Saladin himself, did not know what a great miracle the Christian knight they were watching would create.

They just stopped on a hill not far from the battlefield, overlooking the sand that was about to fall into a fierce battle again.

Saladin remained silent, but several of his closer generals around him were already whispering strangely. His nephew couldn't help but ask: "Did he fail to recognize your flag?"

This was indeed a brand-new flag. He looked up and glanced at it. Even in Egypt, Saladin had never unfolded it until they arrived in Damascus. Saladin followed his gaze—if you observe carefully, you can find that the white eagle proudly spreading its wings on this black flag is different from those people used on coats of arms and flags before.

It faces the enemy and friends head-on, with its wings spread very wide, wingtips pointing toward the sky, and claws striking the ground. People familiar with hawks and falcons can easily find that this is the very last moment when this bird of prey is about to seize its prey.

Saladin gently stroked the silver ring on his hand.

His ring also had such an eagle on it. If that child had once pressed his silver ring on paper to print the shape, he would certainly be able to see the origin of this flag at a glance. Would he? With that child's carefulness and caution, he would. Although he would definitely store the ring carefully afterward and burn the paper with the pattern, he would never easily forget it.

And the generals around Saladin had reasons to raise such questions. According to their thoughts, this team was exhausted, hungry, and thirsty, and had already fought with a group of Oghuz Turks who were the most troublesome under Sultan Nur ad-Din—they also saw that those Crusader knights did not hesitate to throw precious silk under their horses' hooves to trample, using greed to hinder the enemy's actions, and hung broken copper mirrors on their bodies, using the sun to turn the enemy's advantage into a disadvantage—these were indeed wonderful ideas worth praising.

But they did this instead of entering the battle directly, which also showed from another aspect that they might be at the end of their tether now. Their leader had to ensure that the physical strength of these knights could be preserved to the greatest extent, and he did indeed do it, but the enemy was not just these—the other batch of Turks who came hunting had a full thousand or more.

They now only had three or four hundred people left, and they were at a disadvantage in every aspect. And now that reinforcements they could rely on had arrived, shouldn't they turn around, run toward them, and pray for protection?

Even if they did this, they might become Saladin's captives, but it was better than losing their lives under the knives of these barbaric Turks.

But to their surprise, this team not only did not approach them, dismount, and kneel to beg for mercy, but instead raised their flag again, and their young leader pulled out his long sword and raised it into the air. The sunlight focused on the bright sword tip, as if a new sun had risen again.

Those knights didn't show any cowardly or timid posture either. They followed him and charged into the dark enemy formation without hesitation.

"Are they crazy?" the previous Saracen general questioned: "They didn't have to do this at all!"

Becoming each other's captives in the war between Saracens and Crusaders could not be said to be a humiliating thing.

Some Crusader generals even took pride in having stayed in Saracen prisons. A king or a duke or count staying in a pagan prison for many years, like Count Joscelin II of Edessa, his son Joscelin III, Prince Bohemond of Antioch, and his stepfather Reynald, had all been prisoners of the Saracens. Reynald had not been able to return to Antioch to this day.

Previously, Amalric I had also angrily executed twelve Templars. Don't think that those knights who entered the Order and became "warriors of God" could really be devout enough not to fear the threat of death—perhaps most of them were, but there were also some who would shamelessly kneel to the enemy, just seeking a glimmer of survival.

Especially now that joining the Templars had become a good business.

Not to mention that the young man still had a long future. Not long ago, he regained his identity and status. Even if the County of Edessa no longer existed, he was the cousin of the King of Jerusalem. With such a relationship, he could at least become a minister with real power in the future, and he already had his own fief—Bethlehem. Although Bethlehem was small, it was wealthy.

Since this was the case, why did he have to pay a heavy price for a moment of humiliation?

"If he really did this..." a voice answered him, but it was not Saladin. The one who answered him was the weary-looking Kamal, but he didn't continue, leaving the general confused.

They were discovered by Saladin's army earlier than Cesar and the others. At first, they were terrified and desperate, thinking that the ones who discovered them were another army from Aleppo. The other side also felt strange. Looking at their clothing, age, and appearance, they didn't look like farmers or shepherds. Why were they gathered behind a sand dune, waiting blankly—as if waiting for some result.

Fortunately, in this small team, there happened to be someone who had seen Kamal. He called out Kamal's name and learned the identities of the others from the minister's mouth.

He immediately turned back to inform Saladin. Saladin came at this time, half the reason was for Kamal, and for several ministers he had long valued.

From Kamal's mouth, he also learned about the situation in Aleppo now, which made him hesitate.

"How many troops did you bring?" Kamal asked.

"Three thousand," Saladin replied. This number was very subtle, just between self-preservation and advancement.

But after listening to Kamal's suggestion—Saladin finally decided to temporarily abandon the idea of marching into Damascus or even Aleppo.

Syria would soon be in chaos. Everyone was restless. As long as he still had some money and troops in his hands—the First Lady and Sultan Nur ad-Din's youngest son Salih had no possibility of holding Aleppo. They might soon be driven out of the castle.

But this did not mean that the next person to sit on the Sultan's throne would be able to sleep soundly. He would face prying eyes, hatred, and continuous attacks from all directions. Everyone wanted to reach out and pull him down, and then repeat his fate.

"But Saladin, you are different from them. Your uncle and you already have Egypt, although..."

"Shirkuh is dead," Saladin replied calmly: "Perhaps you don't know yet, just before I set off, my uncle Shirkuh died of a sudden illness, ascended to heaven, and went to see Allah. I am now the Grand Vizier of the Fatimid Caliph al-Adid."

"Perhaps I should say congratulations," Kamal said quickly after a brief shock, although this sentence sounded really disrespectful, but he couldn't get rid of his identity as Sultan Nur ad-Din's minister for the time being.

And if viewed from the standpoint of Sultan Nur ad-Din, Saladin was an out-and-out rebel.

However, Saladin was not a person who would haggle over these small things, and he also admitted that what he and his uncle did indeed constituted betrayal. He didn't want to deny this point, and Kamal's analysis of the situation had also convinced him. Although he was already the Grand Vizier of Caliph al-Adid, if he stayed in Syria and participated in this melee, it was hard to say whether al-Adid and the remnants of the Fatimid dynasty around him would have some unpleasant delusions.

Since this was the case, leaving Syria and using the Sultan's throne as bait to let this group of hungry hyenas fight each other to consume their strength might also be a good choice.

They originally wanted to return directly to Damascus, but Kamal did not forget Cesar. Although he didn't know where the battlefield between Cesar and the Turks was, it shouldn't be far from where they were discovered. Saladin's cavalrymen soon found them.

To his answer, Saladin just smiled. Indeed, if that young man really led his subordinates to surrender to him, although he might forgive them and allow them to return to Jerusalem, whether for Sultan Nur ad-Din or himself, he would undoubtedly be disappointed.

No matter what noble reason the other party had, for the final peace of his parents, or for the safety of his subordinates, these reasons could not convince Saladin.

Perhaps it was precisely because he rarely had such high expectations for a person, and a Christian at that, that he hoped Cesar could always be as pure, firm, and flawless as when they first met. Although he knew this was also a harsh demand, he firmly believed that he would give a corresponding reward.

Compared to Christians, in the Saracen court, there was never a lack of figures from other races. Even if they still had to insist on their own faith, they could still become officials or generals. The Sultan would even allow them to have their own priests and churches in the city. From this point of view, the Saracen Sultan and Caliph were much more tolerant than the Christian King.

The questioning general already understood Kamal's meaning, and he couldn't help but take a deep breath.

Since he could come to Saladin's side, it meant that he had already been valued by Saladin—and the meaning in Kamal's words first made him feel jealous, and then his heart beat wildly—thinking of the price that the Christian knight had to pay for this value, he couldn't help but shudder. This was not asking a person at all, he muttered to himself, and his companions had already exclaimed in a low voice.

They thought they would see a group of warriors fighting like trapped beasts, injured or even dying because of a moment of anger. But they only saw a thunderbolt—this thunderbolt seemed to be galloping on the pitch-black sea, and it seemed to be piercing through the dense jungle. The sharp blade galloped in the Turkish team, and wherever it went, the heads and limbs of the Turks were like fish leaping and fruits falling.

The one leading this thunderbolt was the young man valued by Saladin, and the knights following him miraculously did not fall behind. Although the distance was too far to see their faces clearly, Saladin and the others seemed to have seen the clenched teeth, wide eyes, and tense muscles. Even if they were just watching from the side, many warriors clenched their fists tightly. They almost wanted to stand up from their horses and leap into the battlefield swallowed by that vortex of death.

The scene that the previous Turkish soldiers didn't see repeated itself. Their usual tactics were completely ineffective at this time. Their horses couldn't run faster than the Christian knights blessed by Cesar. Losing the advantage of speed, the Turks who only had lamellar or leather armor couldn't withstand the knights' destruction. They wailed and fell down unwillingly.

Even if they tried their best to organize a counterattack, the leading Christian knight was so alert and sharp that as long as they gathered, he would immediately fall with his snow-white Arabian horse, scattering and trampling them.

This was not a huge or important battle, but it made the onlookers so nervous that they couldn't even breathe. How did they do it? The same question arose in everyone's hearts. A small group of people who were at a disadvantage in numbers, strength, and supplies turned around and devoured a large group of pursuers, and it was even obvious that in the later stages of the battle, these Turks had completely lost their fighting spirit and wanted to run away, but were still involuntarily involved and strangled again and again.

The whole battle lasted for more than an hour. When the battle finally came to an end, everyone found that their bodies were so stiff that they could hardly move, their hands and feet began to go numb, and the breath that was deeply pressed in their chests could finally be exhaled.

Saladin also couldn't help but feel a relaxation after a moment of tension. His smile deepened, and on the messy battlefield, Cesar was looking up. He did indeed recognize the white eagle on the black flag, which was different from any eagle pattern he had ever seen. He also guessed that the person who came was Saladin. After all, with Sultan Nur ad-Din dead, heroes looking around, and waiting for the right time, how could someone like Saladin, who had both ambition and foresight, wait in Cairo, Egypt?

Even to understand the situation after Nur ad-Din's death, he would inevitably come in person. Moreover, Kamal asked them to take these ministers out of Aleppo, but didn't explicitly say where they were going. This might be a precaution, but Cesar felt it was more likely because he already had an agreement with someone, and who else could the person he agreed with be?

If Kamal could really tolerate idiots, he wouldn't have fled Aleppo in such a sorry state.

Saladin rode down the hill and reined in his horse just a few hundred feet from the battlefield. Cesar waved to refuse Geoffrey's following and also ran toward Saladin alone.

Saladin saw the young knight bow slightly to him on the horse. He reached out his hand, but only saw the other party's body suddenly tilt forward, and he fell off the horse.

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 158 =====