Chapter 79

Ever since Cesar became Baldwin's brother, the people around him, he meant Amalric I and Heraclius, as well as those knights, began to like to tease him.

Through his observation, he found that this teasing did not hold malice, but rather like a privilege that only the nephew generation possessed. This was a way for them to show closeness, but this teasing clearly had a different meaning.

A very dangerous meaning.

He did not answer Amalric I's question, and Amalric I did not need him to answer. Cesar lowered his head and silently began to pray. Looking at the other side, Baldwin was also ready.

Others also felt that something was wrong, except for the young man who was still standing in the center of the field, unable to extricate himself from the fantasy of power and status.

The smiles on the faces of those Saracens had disappeared. They looked at Amalric I blankly. The King's blue eyes, like steel burned by fire, were flashing with cruel and playful light.

They seemed to understand everything in an instant. Some collapsed on the spot, and some knelt down to Amalric I. Only one person jumped up, and he accused loudly: "You swore an oath! Amalric I, you swore an oath!"

When Amalric I only answered him with a contemptuous smile, he completely collapsed.

He threw the water cup he had been holding tightly at Amalric I. This heavy silver cup flew through the air and was pushed away by an arm that had been prepared for a long time. Although this arm was slender, it was covered with faint holy light.

"Are you trying to assassinate your monarch?" The King asked coldly. The other party's answer was to draw the dagger beside him.

In this era, in this world, there was no such thing as body searching and confiscating weapons at Christian banquets. Some knights even wore chainmail, either for showing off (gold-plated or silver-plated chainmail), or because they had made oaths, such as the Templars, who had laws that armor could not leave their bodies.

Everyone also carried a dagger by their side. This kind of dagger was used to cut meat at banquets, but it was also equally sharp and could kill people.

The Saracen wore a traditional weapon by his side—a scimitar called a tiger tooth. This scimitar had to be worn on the body at all times after they reached adulthood at thirteen, could not be put down, and was not even allowed to be touched by women.

But even if he gripped the scimitar tightly in his hand, what was the use?

He hadn't been able to rush up yet, and Baldwin's Spear of Saint George had already pierced his chest. The hall was suddenly in chaos, with pleas, entreaties, accusations, and curses, and even two Saracen nobles hurriedly tore off their headscarves and lifted their robes.

They shouted loudly: "We are not Saracens, we are not Saracens! We are Isaacites!"

Amalric I turned his gaze away in disgust, not looking at their dirty organs exposed, and even instructed the two children: "Did you see? If you see it, remember to find a cleric to wash your eyes with holy water."

The knights didn't even need the King's signal to kill these two people on the spot. When the Crusaders entered Jerusalem, they regarded the Isaacites as dogs who had defected to the Saracens, and Amalric I would not keep this beast that could bite its master at any time by his side.

However, Amalric I finally knew why the situation in Bilbeis had become so rotten. Although he had used all the beautiful words to hide his vicious heart before, he was also prepared to storm Bilbeis.

He only understood the Saracens' ideas until just now.

Perhaps it was the illusion given by the previous overly calm withdrawal. They always felt that since Amalric I was the master of the Holy Land and the King of the Saracen road, even if he conquered the cities of Egypt, whether it was Bilbeis or Fustat, he would have to go back.

Since he went back, shouldn't someone sit on this vacant throne?

If you only give this Christian a little money, you can get that supreme position, why not?

When Amalric I turned his gaze to the young man standing in the center of the field, he had already woken up from his beautiful dream. The smell of blood rushed into his nasal cavity, the clanking sound of swords crossing, and the wails before death were endless.

All the colors faded from his face, and he now looked like a portrait that could be called fear and surprise.

He looked at Amalric I, holding a glimmer of lucky hope, "Please don't hurt me, don't kill me, my bloodline comes from Fatima, the daughter of Muhammad. I am the cousin of the Caliph al-Adid! Please keep me and ask him for a ransom. He will give any amount of money!"

Amalric I looked at him with interest. It was also reasonable to think that the Fatima dynasty had always regarded itself as the orthodox sect. The young man who could be pushed to the position of Caliph by these people could not belong to the "traditional sect" where the virtuous reside. Otherwise, wouldn't it shake their own foundation?

But cousin? The Caliph al-Adid's father did not leave him so many troubles. It could only be said that this young man might have a little thin bloodline, but how far it was, only these guys knew.

They just relied on the fact that once he broke through Fustat, he would inevitably kill their Caliph al-Adid and most of the ministers loyal to him. They could just reverse black and white and call a deer a horse.

"I... I, am very rich, very rich, I can pay the ransom for myself. If you need, need me to acknowledge your status, acknowledge your legitimacy. My master, I am willing to kneel by your robe, kiss your feet, lead the horse for you, I can be your slave..."

Amalric I just shook his head. He pushed Cesar away and walked to the young man: "Since you are a descendant of Fatima..."

Hopeful light burst out in the young man's eyes.

But Amalric I's next step was to swing his sword and cut off his head. When his head flew out, it still carried a lucky smile.

"It's a pity that if according to your statement, I am also a traditionalist." After the King finished speaking, the young man's body fell to the ground with a bang.

Amalric I no longer looked at him. He took the two children and walked out. This palace is located at the highest place in the whole city and is divided into three floors. Each floor has strict walls to isolate communication. The bottom floor is a temple and some affiliated buildings. The second floor is where ministers and relatives live. The highest floor is the residence of the Caliph and his concubines.

When they looked down at the city from a high position, they could see that one-third of the city had ignited fire. They belonged to those nobles and some wealthy merchants, just like the Isaacites who pretended to be Saracen nobles and mixed among the guests.

"Are you trying to ask what will happen to those Saracen commoners?"

Amalric I said suddenly.

"This is also the question I want to ask."

Baldwin said this before Cesar. Amalric I looked at him meaningfully, "I said, as long as they don't become our enemies—they need to take an oath—I allow them to redeem themselves."

This might be a more pleasant and gentler approach than direct looting. When a city is captured and the occupier has not paid too heavy a price, he will indeed allow the nobles and commoners in the city to buy back themselves and their families by paying a ransom.

Of course, Amalric I did not intend to use this favor on the nobles of Bilbeis. He had seen through it—since he accepted the help of the Grand Vizier Shawar a few years ago and immediately received a letter from another Grand Vizier hoping for him to send troops, he knew that this empire had completely rotted and could not go back.

Even if they oppressed each other in the court and fought to the death, they should not ask for help from a real dead enemy—or naively think that as long as they paid a little money, they could make him abandon his faith and honor, and after achieving huge results, still obediently retreat to his territory.

But they just believed it. Perhaps in their world, there is nothing that money cannot do.

"But if so, those nobles and officials in Fustat..." Baldwin asked worriedly.

"No matter what I do, even if I claim to return Bilbeis to its people, they will not believe it. Fustat is the capital of the Fatima dynasty and their last habitat. Losing Fustat means they lose everything. They will inevitably resist with all their strength. Get ready, children."

"The real war is after this."

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This slaughter against the middle and upper classes in Bilbeis began at the time of evening prayer and did not end until the morning prayer of the next day.

When those Saracen nobles and Isaacite merchants drank wine with Amalric I, they probably didn't expect that their families had already fallen to the ground, flowing with blood as bright red and sweet as wine.

They lit torches and candles in the palace, illuminating the whole hall like daylight, and probably didn't expect that their mansions had also ignited flames.

These lights rose and extinguished, just like their lives. When the bright morning light shone on those magnificent residences again, it only illuminated the charred ashes. They had long cooled down, loose and vain. When the wind blew, they were raised everywhere.

They were a group of foxes living in the dense forest, thinking they were smart, but they couldn't see the situation in front of them.

Why was Amalric I so tolerant of them at the beginning? That was because Amalric I at that time found that it had become an impossible thing to continue to attack Fustat during the flood season.

But would he give up his ambition just like that? Of course not. He had not yet withdrawn from Bilbeis, and he was already prepared to plan the next expedition.

That's why he left Bilbeis, left this weak city. Why did he have to slaughter this place? Kill these people who have only empty names, cowardly and greedy, and replace them with another group of Saracens who are full of hatred and fear of him?

Amalric I thought he was not that stupid, so he left. Even if it brought him the notoriety of a large-scale expedition but still achieved nothing, and was ridiculed, he didn't care at all.

What he was waiting for was today.

He no longer needed Bilbeis, or rather, he no longer needed this group of pigs and sheep whose ambitions had been nourished by him.

In them, he could not see the backbone and blood of the Saracens, only the hollow bodies that had been corroded by the Isaacite merchants.

They were like a group of tumbleweeds drifting everywhere in the wind, swaying left and right. For a while, they leaned toward the Grand Vizier of Fatima. For a while, they leaned toward Nur ad-Din of the Zengi dynasty, and for a while, they leaned toward the Christian Amalric I.

Although in the final analysis, this was not their fault. After all, the Fatima dynasty itself was already crumbling and vulnerable.

They might know that they were inviting wolves into the house, just holding the vicious thought of seeking benefits and power for themselves even if they betrayed the country and faith.

It was precisely because he saw through this point that Amalric I did not keep these people.

For the abuse of those stray dogs, he didn't take it to heart at all—saying that he betrayed his oath, killed allies, and would inevitably be punished... or as Baldwin worried, whether it would cause a violent reaction in Fustat...

He never thought from the beginning that he could make the Caliph and Grand Vizier Shawar of Fustat completely submit like he tricked Bilbeis.

If so, he didn't need to gather so many people at all. Everyone knew that they had retreated to the edge of the cliff. Even the most cowardly sheep would lower their heads, raise their horns, and fight you to the death. Since there was no such scruple, what was strange about him dealing with these restless factors in Bilbeis?

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The next day, Baldwin and Cesar became busy. They, like those knights loyal to Amalric I, formed small teams to patrol everywhere.

According to the content discussed in this agreement—everything in the city belonged to Amalric I (the result of the King's right of interpretation). Of course, Amalric I would not be so stingy. Every knight who followed him here could get a generous reward. After all, there was still a tragic siege battle to be fought later.

This meant that he would not allow wanton slaughter, looting, and rape. This would trigger the resistance of all the people in the city, causing loss of personnel and materials. Creating complications was the thing Amalric I least needed now.

Christians, Saracens, and Isaacites were quickly distinguished. Although it was said that they were asked to pay their own ransom, in fact, they were almost not allowed to retain all their things, from clothes, sheep, cattle, and horses to houses, land, furniture, and all valuable things.

These small teams were completely necessary. There were many guys who caused conflicts because of personal desire.

Those knights who were far away from their homeland didn't bother to put on a mask of disguise. They either took a fancy to an important object that the commoners in the city intended to keep, or they took a fancy to their sons or daughters. They would shamelessly take these children into their own pockets in the name of purifying infidels.

Some endured silently, while others raised their swords without hesitation. If they killed or injured a knight or squire, the whole family would not escape death.

But if they luckily met Cesar's team—even if Cesar just stood on the side and watched quietly, the knights' means and desires would converge a lot.

They had heard of him—although those saved by Cesar might not know that he had once come to the Templar Walter alone, persuading him to fight Amalric I openly, instead of using the lives of ordinary people inside and outside the castle to bet on whether the King would retreat; and used this merit to exchange with Amalric I for the lives of those servants, laborers, and craftsmen, as well as the survivors of the battlefield...

But the knights knew it. This story had long been widely spread along with how he did forty-five days of penance in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and how he shared the gifts of this penance with the whole city; as well as the deeds of killing a crazy mother bear with Prince Baldwin at the ceremony of welcoming the Byzantine princess; and the most recent one, dressing up as a noblewoman and destroying a group of cunning Saracen butchers with the knights.

People said he was the mortal closest to a saint.

Anyone who still had a little conscience in their heart would feel that they were full of filth and had nowhere to hide under the gaze of those green eyes. The fire in their hearts went out, and their desires became less intense.

Moreover, if what they wanted was a gold ring or a copper bracelet, Cesar wouldn't care.

But if what they wanted was the residents' children, wives, or sisters, Cesar would intervene—the people here were all slaves belonging to Amalric I. If they wanted them, they could, take money to exchange after registration.

"But what if they had already redeemed themselves before?" a knight said indignantly. He was the kind of thing without a heart, not caring about the King's amnesty at all—he took a fancy to the little daughter of this family. The seven or eight-year-old girl had a pair of apricot-like big eyes, milk-like skin, and curly brown hair, a bit like Damara.

"You can appeal to the King, it doesn't matter," Cesar said politely, but did not give in at all. The knight looked at Prince Baldwin, who was standing behind Cesar, hugging his arms and smiling without saying a word, and could only walk away sullenly.

"You go," Cesar said, and the Saracen family looked at Cesar with a complex expression. They didn't know whether they should say thank you. He was also a robber, taking away all their property and assets, but he left the most precious—

Cesar didn't need their thanks either. He wasn't that shameless yet.

Would these knights complain to Amalric I?

No. Everyone knew that they were nominally saying they wanted to redeem these poor souls, but they just wanted to enjoy those fresh bodies. They could kill these infidels, but they absolutely could not be controlled by evil desires.

If they said it, this knight would only be subjected to ruthless ridicule, his master would lose trust in him, and his companions would stay away from him.

"But they will definitely be very dissatisfied with you," Baldwin said.

"Dissatisfied, let them be dissatisfied. There are many people who don't like me," Cesar said without caring.

Just then, they heard a noisy sound not far away.

(End of chapter)