Chapter 161: The Isaacians

The arrival of these Isaacians came as a surprise to Saladin.

He had long decided that, out of his admiration for Cesar and the knights’ courage and loyalty, he would mercifully pardon these Christian knights—they would be released, allowed to return to Arasal, take their servants and attendants with them, and pay not a single gold coin as ransom.

So when Cesar fainted, he immediately selected two men from among them and ordered them to return to Arasal at once with news.

Damascus lies precisely midway between Arasal and Aleppo, nearly equidistant from both—meaning a knight, riding without rest day and night, could make a round trip between the two cities within a week.

Leaving others aside, from what Saladin observed, the bond between King Baldwin IV of Arasal and Cesar was unquestionable; even when Cesar was merely an unknown squire, Baldwin IV had vouched for him, treating him as his most trusted companion and future vassal.

Now Cesar’s identity has been confirmed. He is the son of Joscelin III, Count of Edessa—an undeniable noble, a blood relative of the King of Arasal. Even if Saladin demanded a ransom of a hundred thousand gold coins for Cesar, the King of Arasal would surely agree, and none of his ministers or lords could reasonably object.

But the King of Arasal’s envoy had not yet arrived, while the Isaacians of Bethlehem had already entered Damascus—and worse, they had already raised a hundred thousand gold coins. Saladin was not particularly concerned; Damascus had its own Isaacians, and merchants had their own means of communication, no slower than an army.

At the time, Kamar had been beside him and even asked whether he should handle this matter himself, or if Shams al-Din should.

Although Saladin is currently only the Grand Vizier of Caliph Adid, everyone can see that soon he may become Sultan of Egypt, and perhaps even ruler of even greater territories. A man of such status should not have excessive contact with those treacherous parasites.

Yet Saladin was deeply interested in everything concerning Cesar. He had seen Cesar in Arasal, when he was still a squire at Baldwin IV’s side—a youth inexperienced in the world, yet already possessing his own thoughts and ideals. He had also seen Cesar outside the palace in Fustat; though not yet a knight, he had already been tempered by blood and steel, a trustworthy warrior—sharp, resolute, and deeply admirable to Saladin.

Of course, more important than either of those qualities was his loyalty, which had never changed.

But in Bethlehem, his identity had taken on another dimension—he was the lord of Bethlehem. Though he held only usage rights over the land, not disposal rights, to the people of Bethlehem—whether Christian, Isaacian, or Saracen—he was a fearsome dragon; a single thought from him could reduce them to ruin or destroy their families.

So how would he act in Bethlehem? Especially toward those who had held power and status before him?

Although Cesar had stayed in Bethlehem only briefly, Saladin believed he could glean from the Isaacians’ accounts some information he had not previously known.

Leading this group was Le Gao.

When he learned that Saladin—the Grand Vizier of Caliph Adid of Egypt—was willing to meet him, he was stunned, then overwhelmed by an uncontrollable dread.

After all, he was an Isaacian; whether among Christians or Saracens, Isaacians were regarded as “slaves” or “heretics,” and if they all died here, no one would care or investigate.

Yet at the same time, a trembling joy rose from his heart. He had heard of Saladin’s name; after all, everyone knew that Amalric I’s second campaign had ended in failure, partly due to this Kurd’s efforts.

The Isaacians had even mocked the King of Arasal for being so easily deceived by the Egyptians, losing two captured cities and letting a former slave (this Kurd) reap the greatest rewards.

Of course, they would never dare say such things outside their rooms.

But regardless, Saladin had become the Grand Vizier of the Caliph, meaning that in the future, Egypt would be his to command—second only to the Caliph, above all others.

And that “second only” might end at any moment.

Wherever the Isaacians went, they always thoroughly investigated the rulers and powerful nobles who might threaten or influence them.

They knew well that Fatimid Caliph Adid might be the dynasty’s final monarch; Saladin and his uncle were two ambitious men who had once served under Nur al-Din, but after Nur al-Din sent them to Egypt, these proud generals openly refused to obey his orders again.

Now that Nur al-Din is dead, his three sons (he did not yet know Nur al-Din had only one son) are all incompetent, and ambitious pretenders to his legacy are not few. Clearly, Syria will not even be able to maintain its current state, let alone attack or annex Egypt.

If so, Saladin’s position is unshakable. If they wish to expand their trade to Cairo or Alexandria, they cannot avoid his gaze.

Conversely, if they win his favor, their business will surely flourish without hindrance. Thinking of this, Le Gao felt no shame or difficulty kneeling before this Kurd—he even crawled forward, hoping to kiss Saladin’s feet, but the lord’s guards shouted him to stop.

“You say you wish to ransom your master—the Knight of Bethlehem, Cesar. Yes, he is indeed here under my care. You need not worry.” Saladin tilted his head slightly. “Stand up.”

Le Gao, trembling with fear, rose from the ground. As Saladin observed him, Le Gao cautiously studied the lord. In appearance, Saladin was not the kind of man easily won over; though his features were noble and his gaze piercing, he gave off the aura not of an official or ruler, but of a penitent ascetic—the very type the Isaacians despised.

This meant they could not defeat him with wine, gold, or women.

He might need them to act, but he would never be controlled by them. To him, they were merely tools, readily available and discarded without hesitation once useless.

You might say other kings are the same, but if a man indulges his desires, the Isaacians can always find a moment of hesitation to exploit—yet if a man acts solely for his faith or ideals, every obstacle before him will be crushed to dust, leaving no opening for pleading or temptation.

This man reminded Le Gao of the Knight of Bethlehem, Cesar.

Though Cesar had come and gone quickly, staying only briefly in Bethlehem, Le Gao had noticed many similarities between him and the Saracen before him. The Isaacian hesitated suddenly, unsure whether to carry out his original plan.

But he was already standing before Saladin. Saladin was no Roman prince raised in the purple chamber; his father had been merely an ordinary official, and he had grown up traveling with his uncle through armies and cities, encountering many Isaacians—most of whom had left him with no favorable impression.

Their selfishness and narrow-mindedness made them outcasts everywhere, not merely because of their religious rituals and outdated customs—others could hardly comprehend their thinking or conduct—these people always committed vile, shameless acts, yet believed that if they closed their own eyes, no one else could see their despicable deeds.

Even though, in truth, they shared the same origin as the Saracens—both descendants of Abraham—and even took pride in it, they still possessed few virtues worthy of that sacred bloodline.

But perhaps these Isaacians might be an exception?

Saladin casually asked Le Gao several questions, especially about Cesar. When Le Gao mentioned soap, Saladin realized that from that moment on, Cesar had sensed the great upheaval in Aleppo—that a vortex was drawing ever closer.

This vortex arose because their master, Nur al-Din, had little time left—like a great ship sailing the sea, when the helmsman, aged and worn, collapsed, and no one could replace him, the vessel would surely capsize, drowning all passengers, crew, and living things aboard.

And the merchants of Aleppo—no, the merchants of the entire world—were the most sensitive to signs of unrest. If he had been Cesar at that time, he too would have guessed that Nur al-Din would not content himself with spending his final years on a sickbed.

Saladin inwardly sighed in admiration, then pressed further. But gradually, his smile faded; Le Gao’s stammering, even his silence, told him that the bond between these Isaacians and Cesar was not as deep as he had assumed.

If so, their willingness to pay a king’s ransom for Cesar was highly suspicious. Though according to customary law at the time, this was not unusual—if a knight was captured by another knight or lord, his people would indeed raise funds to ransom him—but these Isaacians had immediately offered a hundred thousand gold coins, which was deeply peculiar.

Kamar also frowned. If Cesar were a cold, arrogant, and unkind lord, these Isaacians would never have appeared here. Their sudden appearance, with this astonishing ransom offer, was more likely intended to use this act of mercy to later coerce Cesar into concessions on certain matters.

Indeed, if Cesar truly yielded to their pressure—after all, in Arasal, people called him the Little Saint, and he had always appeared generous, humble, and simple as a monk—he might merely wish to preserve his image, or perhaps genuinely feel gratitude. Their plan could still succeed.

At first, it might be small demands—a letter of recommendation, a charter, an identity certificate, a travel pass—then perhaps a request for him to side with them in court, or more subtly, to position themselves as Cesar’s trusted confidants, forcing others to make way for them.

Or even further, they might seek to seize control of Cesar’s authority—tax collection, coin minting, or fees for public facilities—do not doubt it; the Isaacians had done such things before in Saracen cities.

Even when Hilal was Governor of Damascus, he nearly fell victim to Isaacian deception. Had Saladin not recognized it in time and warned his uncle, his uncle might have committed an error so grave it would have enraged even the Sultan.

The room had grown dark without anyone noticing; the faint crimson twilight had vanished as silently as Saladin’s earlier joy.

Le Gao stood there, the silence in the room thick as a boulder, crushing him alive. He knew he had made a mistake—he was not facing a mere horseman or warrior. Saladin had become Grand Vizier not merely because he commanded an army.

But now, no matter how much he regretted it, it was too late.

Saladin had indeed considered having these Isaacians hanged on the spot—but then he smiled again. Le Gao saw it, like a lion yawning, and trembled as he prostrated himself, his plea choked in his throat.

“You are ultimately Cesar’s subjects,” Saladin mused, gesturing vaguely into the air: “How to deal with you is his decision. But as for ransom—I have already spoken with him. I will not ask him, nor any of the Christian knights, a single copper coin.”

“You are so merciful… so generous…”

“Only to those worthy,” Saladin said, with a tone bordering on delight. “But for others…” he forced the words out, “I must still wield my power—such as a group of Isaacians who took it upon themselves to enter my city.”

He rose, his shadow engulfing Le Gao: “These hundred thousand gold coins will serve as your ransom. Yes or no?”

Le Gao lifted his head, mouth open, eyes pleading—but then he realized he was mad: bargaining with a man who held his life in his hands!

He immediately threw himself back to the ground. “I accept! I accept! My lord, I accept!”

(End of Chapter)