Chapter 158: White Eagle (Part 1) (Extra Chapter!)

"Your turn," Saladin said. Kamal, sitting opposite him, seemed to wake up suddenly from a nightmare, trembled slightly, paused for a moment, and then withdrew his gaze that didn't know where it was looking.

He had been out of trouble for several days, but sometimes he still had delusions, thinking he was still in Aleppo, curled up in his residence, or in the new Sultan's prison, waiting to be tortured or executed.

And around him were filled with complaints, curses, and insults from relatives and colleagues. They pointed at him, blaming him for bringing them to an irredeemable situation, making them suffer, and becoming the first group of monkeys used by a tyrant to warn the public.

He placed his gaze on the chessboard. Although he looked a bit absent-minded before, after glancing at it briefly, he made a brilliant move.

Saladin exclaimed without being offended, "I have always heard that your chess skills are superb. It's a pity that before today, I didn't have the opportunity to play against you." This was of course. When Saladin was still in Aleppo, he and his uncle didn't get along well with locals like Kamal. Kamal's family had been operating in Aleppo for many years, while Saladin and his uncle Shirkuh were out-and-out outsiders, "Kurds from Tikrit," even if counted from their father becoming Zengid's minister, it was only a short two generations, not even three.

And Shirkuh's ambition had long been exposed. As for Saladin, people said he was a young man who knew extremely well how to disguise and hide himself. Kamal saw through his nature at a glance. If Sultan Nur ad-Din could live for another fifty years, or if he had a successor worthy of people's loyalty, Saladin would be the most usable person—whether as a general or as a viceroy. But if not, then he could only say sorry.

What an arrogant person Saladin was. For Kamal to say, he might not even put the great scholars in Aleppo city in his eyes—he might be devout, but this devotion was only to Allah, and to His messenger on earth. Saladin didn't have much respect, and those viziers, emirs, and Fatahs... even Kamal and those prominent ministers, to this Kurd, were just like fruits on a branch, just waiting to see when to pick them.

Kamal stared at this man who was first looked down upon by him and then guarded against by him. Saladin was in his best time as a warrior, strong and experienced. His face was pale, his beard was pitch black, and under his thick eyebrows were deeply sunken eyes. His eyes were a rather gentle dark brown, just like his voice. Now looking back, no matter when, Saladin didn't seem to have been furious or irritable.

Kamal had also seen this point in his master, Sultan Nur ad-Din. This kind of person seemed to know from birth that everything in the world belonged to them. They didn't need to be eager, nor did they need to worry, just quietly wait, and Allah would give them everything.

But Allah is also cruel, Kamal thought. He had never favored anyone forever. He took away the power in the way of aging or death, and then handed it to new hands—had Nur ad-Din thought that his failure would come so suddenly and desperately? Speaking of which, he could die on the battlefield of the Sea of Galilee, perhaps it was still a good thing. If he let him see the current Aleppo, his country, his successor, his ministers, and generals... even a heart made of steel would crack.

Saladin raised his hand. When he moved the chess piece, the silver ring he wore on his hand—the ring face also had a white eagle with raised wings—reflected a point of light that stung Kamal's eyes—he turned his face away. Saladin noticed it, so he turned the ring over and used the ring part that was not easy to reflect light to face the outside.

"This step is worth recording," Kamal said, not flattering. In Aleppo, countless people had become his defeated opponents. He had never faked or flattered because of the other party's identity, even if the person in front of him was the Sultan or the person who was about to become the Sultan.

This time he thought for a long time, and Saladin didn't urge him. Instead, he took the grape juice from the side and sipped it slowly. He didn't have an extremely strong hobby for alcohol, only having a small cup when he needed to relax his body and mind and think about problems.

And just as the two fell into deep thought (perhaps they were not thinking about the same problem), someone walked in and knocked on the door lightly. Saladin said loudly: "Come in."

A guard walked in. He reported to Saladin that the doctors had finished the diagnosis for that Christian knight and were about to report the results, asking if Saladin had time to summon them.

Kamal heard this and was about to get up to avoid it, but Saladin reached out his hand, "No need," he said, "This matter has nothing to do with military and state affairs—you stay here, for you, I won't have any obstacles."

Since Saladin said so, and Kamal also wanted to know Cesar's current condition—no matter what the situation was at that time, what kind of promise he made, and what kind of things he did, without Cesar, it would not be an easy thing for him and those ministers who were injured, sick, and old to walk out of Aleppo intact. Perhaps without pursuers, they would have died in the desert outside the city because of fatigue, illness, and bandits.

Unlike the Christian world, although Saracen medicine developed late, it rose quickly and had Muhammad's will. Any scholar could practice medicine. The reason for this restriction was because some people who had not received revelation had also tried to treat others, and if they didn't have enough knowledge and experience, and didn't have the power given by the prophet as the final guarantee, they might cause the patient's condition to worsen or even die because of making erroneous judgments or giving wrong treatments.

Although scholars would also have times when they missed, compared to ordinary people, they indeed occupied an unquestionable advantage.

The leading scholar was the doctor Saladin brought with him. Being able to be brought by Saladin, he certainly couldn't be a guy who made up the numbers.

He could treat broken limbs, eliminate high fever, calm convulsions and vomiting and diarrhea. He even once cured an infant who had been coughing since birth and was almost suffocated to death, so he was loved and trusted by many people.

It could be said that if he had stayed in Aleppo or Damascus at the beginning, he could still receive the favor of the Sultan or the viceroy, but they would lock him in the palace and not let him easily contact the outside world. This was the fate that anyone serving those in power would inevitably encounter, and he was unwilling.

And he agreed to serve Saladin precisely because the latter had made a promise that as long as he could come to Saladin's side at any time, Saladin would not interfere with his seeing patients for others, even if it was just a beggar outside the city, or a Christian.

The doctor's expression was not very gentle, and his brows were even furrowed. Seeing him like this, Kamal's heart couldn't help but sink. They witnessed that brilliant battle, but also knew what a heavy price was behind this brilliance—and these prices were all paid by one person.

The revelation obtained by this Christian knight was said to come from Saint Jerome. This Catholic saint could not be regarded as a prophet by the Saracens—they recognized these sages and thought they were ancient "scholars," but didn't think they were qualified to give a mortal revelation, let alone such a transparent and powerful revelation.

They must have made a mistake—Kamal thought so.

Saladin, however, felt something, "He protected everyone under his command, from knights, squires to those poor servants.

And before this, they had already gone through many battles, and every time they fought, those with him could receive long-term and powerful blessings. And this time, he even extended the grace given by the prophet to everyone—how many people did they have?"

"There were 367 people in total, 367 people, none died," the doctor said in a tone that even he felt incredible, "And the most serious injury suffered by these people was only losing an arm, but they killed two or even three times the number of enemies relative to them. All this was brought by that young Christian knight.

Moreover, according to my observation, what he brought to them was not just protection like armor. The revelation he obtained could also allow him to bear part of the pain and injury suffered by these people."

Hearing this, even Saladin's expression became grave, "Are you sure?"

"I am sure," the doctor answered affirmatively. To Saladin, he had nothing to hide: "I also found corresponding injuries on that Christian knight. Although they are much lighter and are healing rapidly, it is clear that these injuries should not appear on him. After all, his helmet and chainmail are intact, and some injuries are only possible if the injured person loses their helmet or the chainmail is damaged."

Saladin lowered his eyes, not knowing what he was thinking, and then opened his mouth to continue asking: "Then how is his situation now?"

"Very bad, my lord. He exhausted everything, whether mentally or physically. I have never seen a person favored by Allah use power so frequently and regardless of everything.

Fortunately, the injuries on his body, even without wiping ointment or taking medicine, are healing visibly to the naked eye, which indicates that the prophet and Allah have not abandoned him. He still possesses their favor, but it is like a deep well that has been quickly drained. To let the clear spring water accumulate again, I am afraid it will take a long time."

"How long?"

"One month or two months."

Saladin shook his head, "I can't stay here for so long. It seems that I can only send them back first." He reached out his hand and pointed to the doctor and the colleagues behind him, "Don't tell anyone about this, okay?" Although he used a tone of consultation and didn't threaten these doctors, no one didn't understand the meaning of his words, and no one would ever defy his will.

After the doctors exited, Kamal opened his mouth: "Are you going to release these Christian knights? Even if you don't kill them, keeping them and letting them become your captives can also get a large ransom."

The corners of Saladin's mouth curled up slightly. This former colleague was really sparing no effort to dig holes for him anytime, anywhere. "If he were willing to submit to me and let his knights become captives, he wouldn't have launched an attack that could almost be called mutual destruction at the last moment."

Although at this time the doctor said that Cesar's recovery only needed time, at that time no one could guess the result. It was like when you throw a piece of porcelain on the ground, you should be prepared for it to be smashed to pieces. If it can still remain intact—perhaps there will be one or two cracks, that is your luck.

Although Crusader generals would never fear becoming Saracen captives, this was based on the premise that they didn't touch the Saracens' bottom line and could be exchanged for a large ransom. It was hard to say for the knights. If he was wealthy, or had a noblewoman or relative willing to pay the ransom for him, he could of course return to Jerusalem and other Christian countries.

But if he didn't, like William Marshal, precisely because his benefactor was unwilling to pay the ransom for him, he stayed in the enemy's prison for several years until another female benefactor, Eleanor of Aquitaine, paid the ransom for him, and he could regain his freedom.

In Cesar's mission, 90 knights were all from the three armed monastic orders, which meant that before entering the Order, they had already abandoned everything in the secular world, perhaps giving up, or donating, or leaving it to their relatives. Anyway, they themselves didn't have any private property.

The Order might be willing to redeem them, but that would definitely be a long negotiation process, as well as their squires and armed attendants. If those were just squires looking for promotion opportunities, it would be fine. They might have been selected, had family support behind them, and might be able to leave the prison with their knight masters.

But what about those who were just slaves and servants? It was hard to say. If it was discovered that they couldn't be redeemed, they would very likely be sold as slaves. They might never be able to return to Jerusalem or their hometowns. This was of course an incomparably cruel thing, but it was also the convention of this time. After all, everything had to be cost-effective. In a world where a knight could also be a consumable, ordinary servants were of course even less worth mentioning.

"They are the people Cesar exhausted his favor and life to keep," Saladin said, "I will forgive them, release them, and allow them to return to Jerusalem. Perhaps some people may have to leave their horses and armor, but they will definitely return to their families intact and physically strong."

"You are really merciful," Kamal couldn't help but stab him again.

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 159 =====