Chapter 65: The Final Mercy (Part 1) (Extra update for over 1000 monthly tickets!)

Baldwin was still a bit nervous, but Heraclius caught a glimpse of the King's mind. Sure enough, Amalric I just walked over and placed his palm on Cesar's shoulder, not knowing if it was intentional or unintentional, it was also the left shoulder—the place where Walter's cross sword had once been placed. Then he shouted loudly: "Baldwin."

Baldwin ran over immediately. Amalric I grabbed his hand and held it together with Cesar's.

"Child," he said in a tone close to kindness: "I rarely change my mind, but there are always exceptions—will you repay me? Although you are not for yourself, but for a group of poor and lowly people who are strangers to you and will never see again."

"I will." Cesar said.

"Then, leave this repayment to Baldwin," Amalric I let go of his hand, brushed past the two children, and walked out: "Perhaps there will be a day when you will remember that you were once so kind."

——————

Hearing the news that there was no need to attack the castle, everyone from the lowest peasant soldiers to the most brave knights felt happy. The joy of the peasant soldiers came from the fact that they might be able to return home safely, while the knights hoped to have a hearty fight rather than spending all their precious time staring with two eyes at stones hitting the city wall.

Not to mention, if the siege war dragged on for too long, the peasant soldiers would be exhausted, and the knights would have to take off their armor to dig trenches, dig tunnels, push siege vehicles...

The only ones who had slight complaints might be those pilgrims who hoped to get some money from this war. They could not shoot arrows or swing swords, and could only hope to do some work on the fortifications, but when they were dismissed, they were considered to have received a few copper coins, so they grumbled and left.

Even without carrying heavy siege machines, a large number of peasant soldiers, handymen, and all kinds of things that went with them—when the team set out, a full week had passed, and it was still vast and imposing.

Horns blew, knights who had put on armor mounted their horses one after another, and flags gathered around and behind the King. Under each flag, there were three or four knights and more squires, as well as armed attendants. Most of them were also leading a horse used to carry extra weapons and shields. Heavy infantry followed behind them, and surrounding this group were light cavalry, among whom were some converted Turks.

Another more conspicuous group were the Byzantine heavy cavalry. There were about thirty of them, which were Princess Maria's dowry. These soldiers wore small square lamellar armor, and one-third held spears and kite shields—these were lancers.

Two-thirds held small round shields and carried bows and arrows on their backs. These were horse archers, among whom a few cavalrymen also had armor on their horses. They were the best in this team, and horse armor was the sign.

This time Manuel I did not bring infantry as dowry, and surrounding these people were their servants.

After that were the mercenaries. They tried their best to organize their flags, horses, and armor, but they still looked messy. But it didn't matter, every one of them had a happy smile on their face, full of hope for their life afterward.

They might die on the battlefield, but it didn't matter. Their souls would ascend to heaven, and the skin bag that would rot was not worth mentioning.

The King also gave them a certificate. If they unfortunately died in the line of duty, their families could also receive a pension.

Of course, there were peasant soldiers in the team. They were responsible for building fortifications, setting up tents, and other complicated but lowly work after arriving at the battlefield. They walked among the lined-up horse-drawn carriages, which were piled with all kinds of supplies.

By the way, there were clerics and monks. They walked at the front of the team, holding crosses (not the True Cross) and icons. They also prayed before setting out, sprinkled holy water on every knight, and blessed their reliquaries.

Baldwin and Cesar rode horses and followed at the King's side. However, although they were squires of Amalric I in name, on the battlefield, the real squires were others. They were several young and trustworthy members of the Holy Sepulchre Order, who were loyal to the King and had experience on the battlefield.

But the one who could walk beside the King was not them, but William Marshal.

This knight who ran from London to Al-Salu had no defeats in the Biwu Assembly, except for having a long sword cut off by the King before—and having to retire early in the melee fight to rescue his squire.

For Amalric I's cherishing and retention, he refused on the grounds of needing to be loyal to Queen Eleanor and King Henry the Young, but hearing that Amalric I was going to declare war on the Templar Walter de Mesnil, he jumped off the ship and ran back to Al-Salu, wanting to contribute to Amalric I.

The King certainly could not refuse such a knight. For this unexpected joy, he held a welcoming attitude, took William's arm, and introduced him to other knights.

The knights had also heard of William Marshal's name and were not surprised or jealous of the special treatment he received. It might also be because they needed a powerful comrade.

The speed of the army was much slower than the envoy's team. A week later, they arrived at the preset battlefield. Although they did not think the Templars would go back on their word and betray morality, the King still sent light cavalry to scout.

This was an open and flat sandy land. A person standing on a horse could see Tortosa Castle not far away.

On the appointed day, which was the commemoration day of Saint Martin (April 13), the person standing on the horse saw that the defenders on the castle seemed to have changed, and the city gate opened.

The black and white flags of the Templars fluttered in the wind, sand and dust rose, and the knights were wearing white surcoats, on which a red cross could be vaguely seen.

"They are coming!" the man shouted.

Immediately he jumped off the horse and went to report. The King immediately called his generals, Byzantine cavalry, and mercenary leaders. They confirmed the tasks each person had to perform in the tent again, as well as various sudden changes and coping measures that had been predicted before. After a simple few words, they walked out of the tent and scattered.

Messengers shuttled through the gradually dense military formation, drummers took their places, knights checked their equipment and weapons for the last time, and moved to the forefront of the position. And just at this time, the Templars' envoys came again. They walked through the crowd that was eyeing them covetously, walked into the King's tent, saluted, and presented a long sword.

This was almost a conventional rule. Some people said this was to humiliate the enemy and mock them for not having enough weapons, and some people said that presenting a long sword meant that they would use swords to speak later, not negotiations.

In short, the King calmly accepted the long sword, and then solemnly announced that he was representing God this time to punish those who were not pious, because they valued money more than integrity.

The Templar's envoy immediately retorted that they were fulfilling the duties God bestowed upon them. On the contrary, it was the King who privately made peace with the heretic enemy, and he was the shameful traitor. His launching this war would inevitably lead to a painful failure, and so on.

Cesar recognized one of them as the Marshal he had seen, but judging from his eyes and tone, this was more like a necessary procedure.

"Walter de Mesnil did not stuff my envoy into a trebuchet basket and throw him out of the castle, and I will also let his envoy walk out of my military camp safely."

The King said the closing remarks. The Templar's envoy immediately withdrew. After they left, Amalric I walked out of the tent and looked at the sky.

"Almost there," the King said: "If we wait any longer, the sun will shine into our eyes."

The battle lines of both sides had been arranged neatly. A glance from afar told them that although the Templar Mesnil had agreed to come out of the city to meet the battle, he had also hired and conscripted some people, and the troop strength was not much different from Amalric I's.

Knights held their heads high. Amalric I galloped past them on his horse, appealed to God for the humiliation and damage he had suffered, accused the Templar Walter of being unruly and arrogant, and begged his knights to wash away this shame for him—his words were full of sincerity, making every knight feel excited and extremely indignant!

Not only that, he also promised that because this war was started to win back his honor, therefore, except for his own honor, he did not ask for anything. Anything obtained on the battlefield belonged to the knights and their squires.

These few sentences seemed to be better than every speech he had made before. The knights shouted loudly, and the mercenaries behind them, hearing this, also howled loudly, even waving their weapons and dancing.

"The wind is blowing." Baldwin said.

As squires, they stood on one side of the battle line. The King would not go down at the beginning of the war, but no one could determine the direction of the war.

The drummers lined up began to beat the drums with a rumble. Following the rhythmic drumbeats, the knights raised their spears and drove their horses to move forward slowly. The mercenaries and infantry without horses followed them, but as the horses' pace became faster and faster, a long and wide blank area appeared between them and the knights.

But don't worry, because just a few breaths later, the distance between the knights had been pulled to within one hundred feet, the horses entered a charging state, and different shades of light rose on the knights' bodies.

They shouted "God's will!", "God, please grant us victory and life!", "Glory belongs to God!" and the names of various gods and saints, and collided violently.

Cesar had seen knights fight at the Biwu Assembly, but compared to cruelty, that was not even one percent of the current situation.

There were no walls here, no safe zones, no audience. This was a real slaughter. Every spear was aimed at the fragile chest, exposed shoulders, and shadows under the helmet. On the spear tip was wrapped with light that did not know whether it was steel or sacred. The helmet worn on the head and the chainmail worn on the body were also the same.

Every knight was shouting loudly, their eyes flashing with confidence in God and the perceived saints, but confidence and confidence were also different.

A Templar stabbed his enemy. The spear was like a sharp awl, piercing through the opponent's not-so-weak defense in one go, and then the chainmail and chest. That was also a young knight of the Holy Sepulchre Order. He fell from his horse and immediately had no movement.

His companion beside him let out a sorrowful cry. However, his spear also broke on the shoulder of a Templar, and he could only draw his sword and rush forward.

But at this time, the Templar who had only swayed after being hit on the shoulder had already drawn the hammer hanging on his waist and hit the friend who was in pain off his horse with one blow.

He was luckier than the previous knight. The Templar's hammer tore open his surcoat and armor like a beast, but he was still able to jump up from the ground.

The knight trembled, his whole body filled with strong white light, standing in the sand, anxiously searching for the enemy of himself and his friend. But those knights in white surcoats and red crosses had already flown toward the King's battle line.

"Horse!" he shouted, but his squire did not keep up in time. He had already been stabbed through the neck by a sword and shield infantry of a Templar. So this brave knight searched on the battlefield. He saw a Templar sergeant wearing brown clothes and only equipped with a small red cross, fighting with a wandering knight wearing a skull cap and chainmail.

Obviously, this wandering knight who had never received a blessing could not possibly be the sergeant's opponent. Although he had martial arts honed in actual combat, he had no horse and no favor of the saints, and could only deal with him by instinct and agility.

But the sergeant just raised his mace and hit him on the side of the skull. He fell down without a sound, and blood flowed out from under the semi-circular skull cap, not knowing whether he was alive or dead.

The knight of the Holy Sepulchre Order shouted loudly, attracting the sergeant's attention. The sergeant rode his horse and galloped toward him. The knight opened his hands, also fearless, facing the tall horse.

The sergeant clamped his horse's belly and waved his mace, but suddenly, the horse raised its front hooves and stood up. He suddenly lost his balance, the weapon flew out of his hand, and he himself fell from his trusted mount.

The knight glanced at him and did not continue to attack, just grabbed the reins and flew onto the horse.

But this sergeant did not live long. At this time, the King's infantry also arrived. Although most of them were mercenaries and Byzantines, they were even more fierce—they knocked down and overturned all obstacles in front of them, smashed every skull they could see, and cut every throat within reach...

The desires of these beasts could only be curbed by those knights who had the favor of the saints. But at this time, not only had the Templars all rushed to the King's camp, but even those well-trained sword and shield infantry had already crossed the center line. They didn't care at all how those conscripted and hired soldiers would fare, as if these fellows were originally sugar cubes used to lure away ants.

(End of chapter)