Chapter 85: Siege! (5) Thanks for the 12,000 collection bonus chapter!

Baldwin ignored Arthur entirely. Ever since they came here, too many people had been beating around the bush about Cesar and him. He saw at a glance that Arthur intended to recruit Cesar—only then could he estimate that Arthur's background was not ordinary. Ordinary knights didn't have the combat thinking of commanders or generals. He was so attentive just because he saw that Cesar could not only be a knight but also someone who could command others in battle.

Such people either had a family tradition, with fathers and elders by their side teaching them by word and deed—like himself—or they had innate talent and wisdom bestowed by God. The latter was especially rare.

"Alright, Arthur," Blondel read the situation and interrupted at the right time, "we should go back to pray."

Every night before the start of the war, knights and clerics had to pray, and lords, fief-holders, and the King had to attend mass and offer sacrifices. All this was to let God see their piety and effort. Plus, knights always liked to shout and fight, and there were livestock, merchants, and women, so the camp was always shrouded in smoke and noise...

But on the morning the real war began, accompanied by the morning light pouring onto the flat ground between Fustat and the attackers, it was instead shrouded in a rare tranquility.

The defenders in the city seemed to know it was today, too. They held their breath and waited. When the last of the mist dissipated, those towering behemoths—the giant siege engines that had only been assembled today, large catapults, triangular scaling ladders, "turtles" and "mice," and siege towers that reached into the clouds... appeared before people like the fangs of a beast.

The King galloped before his army for the last time. There was no need for more words; everyone here, even every mount and every engine, knew their duty. He raised his hand high and then swung it down forcefully.

Drummers beat their drums, horns blared, and messengers holding flags rushed quickly to various positions.

The infantry were the vanguard. They moved in groups of three or five, separated by a distance, holding wicker shield walls together—the very ones Baldwin and Cesar had seen. They hid their bodies and heads behind the shield walls as much as possible. At first, they ran very fast, but slowed down when they were about to approach the range of the arrows on the city walls—the knights' daily provocations weren't just for show; at least when these people stopped and set up the shield walls in front of the trenches, the losses weren't too great.

Another group of peasant soldiers quickly pushed two-wheeled or single-wheeled carts up, dumping the mud and rubble inside into the trenches.

At this moment, the King's Gate opened rapidly, and a team of Saracen cavalry rushed out. The King had long been prepared, and a team of knights who had been waiting met them, fighting with them.

The trenches were quickly filled—it wasn't that the Saracens were too negligent or slack in such defensive works, but that Amalric I simply didn't care about money or lives. While some of the arrows shot by the defenders on the city walls were indeed stuck in the shield walls, peasant soldiers and infantry were constantly dying. As they fell, the people behind them filled in, endless. Mud and rubble, along with the carts, and even the corpses, were pushed into the trenches.

"Fustat has no moat; this is truly a good thing," Raymond said to the person beside him.

"It's not that easy to gnaw on, either," Brice Gerard said. He was Damara's father, the head of the Gerard family. Damara's attachment to Cesar had always made him worry, but at this moment, he had to put aside his concern for his daughter and focus wholeheartedly on the battlefield.

At this time, a messenger ran in, panting. He had come to convey the King's decree—"Attack!"

This time, it was no longer just neat but sparse infantry lines. Those ferocious beasts lined up in front of the positions moved slowly forward amidst people's shouts. Their bases were equipped with wheels, pushed by dozens or even over a hundred soldiers working together. And in the process of pushing, the order to "fire" was heard incessantly—amidst the terrifying whistling, stone projectiles were thrown, drawing an arc in the air and smashing straight into the city walls.

But these projectiles, while not very powerful, were frequent enough and fast enough. They weren't meant to destroy the city walls, but to suppress the defenders on them. Accompanying these catapults, siege towers, and battering rams were dense masses of infantry. They held long swords and shields, moving steadily and slowly amidst the splashing rubble, dust, and fire.

Yes, the defenders on the city walls also began to use catapults. They threw stone projectiles wrapped in fire, but the main targets of the damage weren't people, but those siege towers that looked like moving high towers.

If this viscous fire fell on wood or people, it would immediately burn fiercely, but only one or two siege towers were ignited—the siege towers had water and sand prepared for extinguishing fires, and leather bags were hung on the outer walls, also filled with sand and water. The people inside would extinguish the fire, and the soldiers outside would also put it out.

"They are moving!" a knight responsible for scouting and observation shouted loudly. The saint he looked up to had given him extraordinary vision. He could see very far, like a hawk. Even standing in the King's camp, he could see fully armed knights running on the suspension bridge connecting Fustat and Rawda Island.

The King could certainly continue to send cavalry to counter these people, but he only hesitated for a moment before saying to the messenger beside him, "Tell Baldwin to prepare!"

The young people who had long been waiting in the tent were suddenly excited. They murmured prayers and crossed themselves—they were almost all only ten or twenty years old, at their most enthusiastic and pure time, and their friendship with Baldwin was the most sincere. Since they had already reached Baldwin's side, it meant that if they could preserve their honor and lives in this battle, they would inevitably stay in Arasalu in the future and become Baldwin's confidants.

Using the cover of a reed bank, they arrived at a place not far from the bridge. The Saracens had set up an arrow tower at each end of the bridge. The arrow towers were crude but very sturdy. About a person's height from the ground, they were solid mud bricks, possibly filled with rubble inside, and the upper part was mortise-and-tenon wood, with damp leather hung on the wood to guard against fire.

But the platform above the arrow tower was wood.

They watched that group of Saracen cavalry run from the bridge toward the position before rushing out—to avoid meeting the reinforcements head-on.

Baldwin's Pollux ran at the very front of everyone, a bright spear forming in his hand. As soon as the Saracens on the arrow tower saw this scene, they knew this was a knight who had been enlightened by the prophet. They immediately clamored loudly and raised their crossbows, shooting arrows at him, hoping to slow his speed, or better yet, kill him under the arrow tower.

But no matter how powerful their crossbows were or how sharp their arrows, they couldn't harm him in the slightest, because Cesar was following closely behind. His power was even stronger and heavier than it had been on the battlefield at Tortosa, like another layer of scales covering himself and Baldwin, yet without the slightest weight or hindrance.

Baldwin's spear—amidst everyone's shouts (the Saracens out of fear, and Christ's knights out of excitement)—pierced straight into the junction of the arrow tower's wooden structure and mud bricks like an awl piercing flesh, shattering it completely in an instant. Mud and stone fell, wood splintered—Baldwin reined in his horse to turn, while Cesar turned his body and slammed into it fiercely!

This blow completely shook the arrow tower's base. The arrow tower's structure was originally heavy at the bottom, narrow in the middle, and wide at the top. Although the collision of spear and shield wouldn't make it collapse immediately, it made the people above panic. At this time, the young knights rushed forward one after another, shooting ignited long arrows into the platform and gaps. There must have been water stored in the arrow tower to extinguish fires, but the arrows were dense, and some knights shot arrows at the walls and the spire of the platform.

And for some reason, even if the Saracens brought water, it was very difficult to extinguish these flames; instead, they became increasingly rampant. They shouted "Greek fire," using mud and sand to cover and suppress it, but it had little effect. The fire grew larger and larger, finally beginning to burn fiercely. The Saracens inside jumped into the river, and some, unable to control themselves after being burned, jumped directly from the arrow tower onto the bridge.

At this time, a group of Saracen infantry was running from the other end of the bridge. They held round shields and crossbows. Seeing the knights rushing onto the bridge, they immediately shot arrows at them, but these knights were all selected by Baldwin and had received God's blessing. Ordinary arrows couldn't do anything to them. Seeing the leading Saracen shout, they raised their round shields again.

"It's javelins!" Baldwin could understand their language and warned immediately. At this time, the round shields had been lowered, and javelins were thrown at them like a rainstorm. Two knights immediately fell to the ground, horse and rider, and at this time, Baldwin had no time to care about them.

The "Spear of Saint George" in his hand was humming, constantly extending until it reached the length of an ordinary cavalry lance, and Pollux was galloping at full speed. The wind swept past his eyes, but he didn't feel the slightest stinging pain. Even without looking, he knew Cesar was by his side, behind him.

"This is God's will!" he shouted, and then charged toward the Saracen shield formation and the javelins and scimitars flashing behind the shields.

Like a hill being engulfed by a flood, the Saracens facing Baldwin only felt a violent hurricane or a collapsing mountain rushing toward them—in short, a power that humans could not resist. They fell backward, split to both sides, blood splashed, flesh rolled, and some were only found to be dead long after being thrown very far.

And this power was not just one wave, but two. By the time Cesar drove Castor over them, no one had the courage to resist anymore. They either fled back to the fortress or ran toward the other arrow tower.

"Baldwin!" Cesar shouted. When he scouted, he felt that this arrow tower was slightly different from the previous one. He knew now that this arrow tower had an opening at the bottom. This opening was blocked by a few wooden boards painted with mud, facing the fortress, so it wasn't immediately visible at a glance.

Baldwin jumped off his horse and used the "Spear of Saint George" to forcefully stab at this entrance. Arrows were shot down from above, stones were thrown, and even torches, all of which were blocked for him by Cesar.

After about ten breaths, Arthur also arrived. He was angry that he hadn't been able to participate in the real battle—mainly because Baldwin and Cesar's movements were too fast. He saw Baldwin had already rushed in, and he also... he was stuck. This entrance wasn't big, and it was piled with wooden boards and corpses...

Seeing this, Cesar could only drag him out and follow him in. The narrow arrow tower really wasn't suitable for knights to fight in. Baldwin had already drawn his short sword and was fighting the Saracens holding scimitars. Of course, with Cesar there, their battle could almost be said to be unfair.

Baldwin had just killed the last Saracen and pushed him off the arrow tower when he saw Blondel leading a group of people pushing a scaling ladder. This kind of scaling ladder had no support and wasn't high enough, but the bottom had iron spikes that could be driven into the ground, and the top had iron hooks that could hook onto the battlements, which was just right for this kind of low fortress.

Baldwin ran down from the arrow tower and, together with his companions, pushed the scaling ladder under the fortress wall. Some of the reinforcing knights helped them fight the Saracens rushing out of the fortress, while others, led by Arthur, held steel shields and hard cowhide to defend them against the boiling water, fire oil, and hot feces poured down by the defenders.

"You can't take the lead this time!" Arthur shouted loudly, completely ignoring the filthy things splashing onto his face. Baldwin and Cesar remained silent, moving aside to let him be the first to climb the scaling ladder, but then Baldwin pushed Cesar—Cesar understood what he meant—Blondel had already told Baldwin... this Arthur might be a bastard who had just run down from another battlefield.

The person who climbed the scaling ladder first certainly faced the most danger. Before he could show his head from the scaling ladder, he was surrounded by a group of Saracens. They hacked and slashed at him, shouting incessantly, but Arthur didn't care at all. He had prayed before and obtained the favor of Saint Paul. The radiance of the saint could make him feel no pain no matter how heavy the injury he received, nor would he become weak.

But this time his feeling was particularly good. Although it was hard to describe, let's put it this way: if he had been like a sword piercing into grease on the battlefield before, he now felt like he was breaking through silk. He saw people screaming, showing expressions of horror, saw blood splashing, internal organs spilling out, but these all seemed very far away from him, as if they had nothing to do with him—he just went all out, forward, forward, forward!

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 86 =====