Chapter 90: Fustat (Part 1)

This time the Grand Vizier did not break his word.

Before the dawn of the second day, Shawar's personal guard suddenly came to the defenders of the King's Gate, ordering them to immediately drop their weapons and walk off the city wall, ostensibly to let them rest and eat—they even brought cart after cart of honey water, bread, and meat.

Many people were deceived, or rather, they were too exhausted to think anymore. They walked off the city wall obediently, and after eating and drinking to their heart's content, they threw themselves into a deep sleep from which they could never wake up—Shawar's personal guard was not large in number, and to be on the safe side, they slit their throats one by one after these people fell asleep.

A few more vigilant guys shouted, but didn't change any results. By the time Shawar's personal guard had completely occupied the city gate and towers, they signaled to the Crusaders. Immediately after, they, together with the Christians in Fustat city, moved away the bricks and stones placed behind the King's Gate that would be poured down once the city gate was broken, and then lifted the heavy door bolt, working together to open the gate.

As if in an instant, Amalric I's knights had already galloped into the King's Gate.

They launched a massacre as soon as they arrived in the city. Whether it was the sleeping enemy or the awake enemy, even some Christians who came to assist them were kicked or trampled by the manic horses.

More Saracens were woken up. Hearing someone shouting that the King's Gate had been broken, they immediately knew that the fall of this giant city was destined. They immediately dressed and held weapons to kill the Christians they knew. There were fierce battles in many places in the city soon.

After Amalric I's army occupied the King's Gate, they immediately rushed to the Victory Gate, echoing with the Templar Order outside the Victory Gate. Soon, when the sky was bright, the Victory Gate was also broken. Those armies that had been hovering outside the city like ant colonies, already hungry, couldn't wait to rush in. Their horse hooves stepped over every street, and the knights and attendants rushed into every residence. They killed men, and also killed women, and even children were hard to escape.

They spared no one. A knight entered a room or a residence, and he became the master there. He would order his attendants and servants to guard the door well, not letting anyone in, or put his shield in front of the door. Generally speaking, other knights would see such a sign and turn to find the next target.

Gold coins, silver utensils, clothes, wine, olive oil, jars filled with wheat and barley... these were all their spoils. Merchants following the army would follow up impatiently. After negotiating the price with the knights, they would be quickly sent to horse-drawn carriages and transported to the port, and then sold in another city.

Of course, in terms of wealth, the families of civilians or merchants could never compare with the royal palace or temples, especially since the Saracens were extremely keen on decorating their temples with gems, gold, and silver—the knights deliberately avoided the Caliph's palace, although one look at that magnificent and tall building told them how much could be plundered inside—but everyone knew it should belong to King Amalric I.

But the gold, silver, gems, and silk plundered from those Saracen temples, and even the large amount of grain, oil, and wine were enough to make them ecstatic. They simply couldn't believe that there would be such a rich place as Fustat. Its temples were simply like the Solomon's Temple described in the Bible.

All the wood exuded fragrance, and the marble walls were inlaid with silver or gold scriptures, while white and purple silk hung in some places. These silks were later taken down by the knights and offered to the clerics, letting them make vestments to be worn when holding mass as soon as possible.

The clerics, of course, accepted them with joy. The knights' destruction of pagan temples could also be viewed as a pious act, which also saved them a lot of effort—after all, these two large temples in Fustat city would have to be converted into churches in the future. Those scriptures engraved on the marble walls, the exquisitely beautiful shrines, the pulpits symbolizing pagan worship, and other iconic items, of course, had to be taken away and destroyed.

Although after stripping away these decorations, traces would inevitably be left on the walls and floors, it would be fine as long as they were covered with silk carpets and curtains.

They raised the large cross they had brought with them and hung it on the cleanest and neatest west wall of the Saracen prayer hall (facing Arasalu), then brought in a heavy oak altar (also brought by them), covered it with white linen, and placed scriptures and sacred vessels on it.

By the time the pious believers sent things like altar paintings, saint statues, small crosses, and candles, although it was still a bit incongruous, it had become a place for the King and nobles to pray.

They were also the first to be cleaned up. Those traces of sword hacking, those corpses, and those bloodstains disappeared without a trace the next day. Patriarch Heraclius led the clerics to hold a grand mass. Amalric I, the Grand Master of the Great Knightly Order, his vassals, and the various nobles participating in the holy war listened to the sermon together, prayed, and received communion, after which their procession walked through the entire Fustat.

How many people did Fustat have? Eighty thousand, or one hundred thousand.

It was different from Bilbeis. Here, you couldn't see the masses hiding in the alleys, casting angry or indifferent gazes at them. The Saracens here seemed to have disappeared in an instant, as if these people wearing turbans and large robes had never existed. They seemed to be walking in a dead city.

What would happen to this city in the future?

It should be like Arasalu in the past. When Arasalu was first broken, it also suffered massacres regardless of faith, status, men, women, old, and young. Just as Walter said, at that time, as long as they saw pagans, they would let them taste the flavor of swords, even infants were no exception.

But do you want to say there were survivors in this massacre? Yes, as long as they could endure the first period of time, wait until the Christian King Amalric I stepped into the city, re-promulgated the law, or found order, they could come out. Even if they were expelled, not allowed to carry anything—including what they once loved most and those who loved them, the only things they could take away were hatred and their lives.

But so what? A city exists because it has the necessity to exist, either because of military, economy, or like Arasalu, which combines three meanings—military, economy, and religion.

They are golden apples, and also Helen, or the Garden of Eden. No one would be willing to abandon it, stay away from it, and slowly people would gather here again, whether the ruler was a Saracen or a Christian.

On the third day, the soldiers and servants guarding the Caliph Al-Adid in the royal palace were also dealt with by Shawar. This fat traitor paved the floor with silk, and together with other ministers and generals willing to serve the Christian King, knelt on both sides, welcoming Amalric I into his palace.

"I heard Caliph Al-Adid is about the same age as us," Baldwin rode on his horse, leaning over to say to Cesar: "He is also a young boy."

"Will he be killed?"

"I don't know, but if possible, my father won't leave him here. He will be sent to other castles—it is said that the Saracens are very loyal, respect and love him. They say he is the incarnation of a god, capable of making the Nile flood."

"Oh, don't listen to those nonsense."

Cesar turned his head, helplessly discovering that it was their old friend, Geoffrey. "Do the Templars like to eavesdrop on others' conversations so much?"

Geoffrey squeezed between the two children without ceremony. "He is a bit older than you, but can't compare to you. He is just a dandy living among women."

"Women?" Cesar asked. If Caliph Al-Adid was the same age as them, then how old was he when Amalric I first attacked Egypt?

"Have you seen him?" Baldwin asked.

"Just when your father first attacked Fustat—what's strange about women? The court has always been like this, and only here..." Geoffrey answered Baldwin's question first, then answered Cesar's question, and then said leisurely: "Shawar promised that as long as Amalric I could drive away and kill his enemies, he was willing to pay two million gold coins for this."

The Templar said maliciously, "At that time, your father didn't believe it as easily as people thought. He asked me to see Shawar's master, that is, Caliph Al-Adid, asking him if he could guarantee this contract. He also specifically instructed me that I must shake hands with the Caliph and let him take an oath before I could return."

"You did it? You did it," Baldwin said affirmatively.

"It wasn't a difficult thing," Geoffrey said indifferently. "I said, after removing the Caliph's crown and the gorgeous outer clothing of the so-called descendant of Muhammad, he was just the most ordinary boy, even worse than ordinary people. I didn't bow to him, nor did I flatter him. I could even say I ordered him to shake hands with me, and he actually agreed, although this made the slaves around him show indignant expressions."

"You didn't tell us before."

"What's there to say? If their Caliph Al-Adid was a strong warrior, had received the enlightenment of their prophet, could strangle a leopard with his bare hands, cut a battering ram with an axe, gallop on the battlefield, and make his name known to everyone, it would be worth my bragging about.

But him? A guy piled up with brocade, like a woman... Oh," he glanced at Cesar, "I'm not talking about you—anyway, you will see him soon. Once you see him, you will understand what I mean."

Cesar had already seen the Caliph's palace in Bilbeis, but that was just a temporary palace, which couldn't be compared with this huge building complex at all.

Caliph's palace in Fustat was simply like a new city.

They entered from a towering archway on horseback, and didn't know how many buildings, courtyards, and dense forests they passed along the way before finally arriving in front of a city wall inlaid with green and blue mosaics. The gate opened to both sides, but what faced them wasn't a bright courtyard or a luxurious hall, but a dark passage, and there were Saracen guards standing on both sides of the passage.

The knights behind Amalric I subconsciously straightened their waists, forgetting that this place had long been occupied by the King's army. These Saracens were still wearing scimitars, but the scabbards were empty, just like the current Fustat.

Sure enough, when the King dismounted and walked toward the passage, these guards wearing turbans all knelt down respectfully, without any rude behavior. They walked a long way together. This road didn't know why it was deliberately built to be exceptionally cold and long—"When those Viziers and Emirs (local administrative officials and military leaders) walked through here, they must have been exceptionally nervous and worried," Baldwin said to Cesar.

"A hundred years ago, perhaps," Cesar said bluntly. The Fatimid dynasty and the Kingdom of Arasalu were completely different political systems. In the former's court, the monarch had the power to decide life and death in a word, while in the latter's court, the King was more like a head of a family. He possessed more power than other members, but this didn't mean he could do whatever he wanted.

But possessing everything wasn't necessarily a good thing, just like the deaths of this Caliph Al-Adid's grandfather, father, and brother had nothing to do with being normal, and he himself was also in danger.

And at the end of the passage, it was actually a huge lake. People needed to cross a white marble bridge to reach the building on the opposite side, and on both sides of the lake, amidst the drooping green branches, came the moving singing and the chirping of birds.

When they stepped into the Caliph's palace, dozens of eunuchs were still serving the young Caliph diligently. He was indeed as Geoffrey said, a frail young boy, wrapped in a huge turban, with a gold feather inlaid with gems inserted in the turban, wearing a deep purple silk robe. His lips were pale, and he didn't know if it was because of his physical condition or his unpredictable fate.

When Shawar looked at him, there wasn't much contempt, but instead some pity. He still knelt on the ground incomparably humbly, kowtowed three times, kissed Caliph Al-Adid's feet, and helped him, leading him to Amalric I: "Please have mercy on him," Shawar said. "He was also a monarch like you, and he is as old as your son."

Al-Adid bowed to Amalric I under Shawar's signal and kissed his hand.

"I forgive you," Amalric I said, "as long as you don't do stupid things."

Shawar breathed a sigh of relief. He let go of his hand, and several knights took Caliph Al-Adid away.

"I have prepared a grand banquet for you," Shawar said. "Your Majesty, you are the new master of this palace, this city, and this country. You should entertain your guests here, so they know your authority and generosity—I have also prepared gifts for you to give them—not within those one million gold coins."

Amalric I glanced at Shawar with a half-smile, but Shawar just lowered his head: "I am very useful, Your Majesty. You will find that I am very useful."

I don't know what excuse Shawar used at the beginning. No matter who looked at it, this banquet could be called beautiful and flawless. He successfully blended the entertainment and delicacies that Saracens and Christians were most keen on and best at. Large amounts of steaming meat, sweet wine and refreshing beer, soup and fruits sprinkled with precious spices, and stacks of honey-drenched, golden-glistening candied fruits and pastries...

Poets sang stories of Charlemagne, Aeneas (the founder of Rome), and King Arthur. Saracen musicians also played their music. The eunuchs around Shawar also brought several beautiful female slaves to dance. They might not be able to compare with Princess Sibylla, but they also had a unique beauty. At least a few nobles were whispering, asking if there were slave merchants selling young Saracen women.

Because of Baldwin, Cesar also received treatment like a prince. This treatment was like warm bathwater that could make people feel soft and forget everything. He wasn't very interested, especially when the smell in the hall became more and more mixed and heavy, he wanted to leave even more—he whispered a few words to Baldwin and got up alone to walk outside.

Saying outside the door wasn't quite accurate, because they were holding a banquet in a multi-column hall facing the lake. From the seat, one could overlook the sparkling lake. On both sides were terraces unfolding like swan wings, with lush flowers and plants, bright moonlight, and the air was even more refreshing like a handful of ice water.

"Who?!"

Cesar had only been alone for a while when he saw a shadow slowly appear beside him. He didn't shout loudly, because the person had already revealed his figure—a slender young boy. As soon as he saw him, he immediately knelt on the ground.

He was even younger than Cesar, with milky white skin and short brown hair, and a pair of blue eyes. Cesar was slightly startled, immediately feeling a sense of discomfort. That person... was a eunuch.

"Please don't shout loudly, my lord," he begged. "I was entrusted by someone to deliver a message to you."

"Who gave me the message?" Cesar didn't think anyone here needed to send him a message.

"He said, he had mercy on the cow that walked past him. What about you?"

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 91 =====