I Became The King Of Crusaders [EN]: Chapter 71

The King of the Crusades – Episode 71

Blood on the Sand (1)

* * *

May 1183

Over a thousand cavalrymen rode out from Cairo.

Sand dust swirled beneath the horses’ hooves.

Their destination: Eilat, a port city south of Jerusalem.

A remote city, far from the heart of the kingdom.

“It’s like picking up fruit that’s already fallen!” one of the riders exclaimed.

Having crossed the desert in a single day, they had penetrated deep into the south.

Every caravan they encountered was detained.
A supervisor was assigned to escort each one back to Cairo.

“W-What are you doing! We’re innocent merchants! How can you do this to fellow Muslims…?”

“You’ll be released once you reach Cairo, rest assured. And you’ll receive ample compensation.”

No one managed to report their invasion.

By the time the outer watchtowers spotted them, it was already too late.

Before long, they arrived at the outskirts of Eilat.

They saw reconstructed pastures and villages.

Orchards stretched out before the city walls.

Citizens who spotted the invaders screamed in alarm.

“Saracens! The Saracens are here!”

They grabbed their children and fled towards the safety of the walls.

“Ring the bells, quickly!”

“Follow the drill! To the armory for weapons! Hurry, hurry!”

“Raise your spears! Archers, to your positions!”

Merchants and pilgrims scrambled to leave the city.

But the citizens remained, preparing to defend their homes.

Fathers and sons exchanged farewells with their families, just in case.

Conscripted soldiers hurried to the walls.

Just before the gate was completely closed, a man mounted a horse.

The commander grabbed the reins and spoke urgently to the rider.

“Don’t stop until you reach the signal tower. You must get this news to Jerusalem. Keep running.”

“Understood.”

“Go quickly. The gate will close soon.”

The man spurred his horse and galloped through the gate.

Moments later, the gate slammed shut and the drawbridge was raised.

Black smoke from the burning orchards billowed into the sky.

The soldiers on the wall stared at the scene with grim expressions.

* * *

“It seems like it will be a while before the regular contact arrives. I should rest until then.”

Trandi put down his axe and gazed out from the signal tower.

Sweat plastered his clothes to his body.

“This weather is disgustingly hot. If I’d known the Levant [historical term for the Eastern Mediterranean region] was such a dump, I wouldn’t have come.”

He sighed and continued.

“In my village, the river froze solid in winter. When you broke the ice and went into the water, your skin would burn.”

“You probably just dipped your toes in and ran away,” Gyarcan scoffed.

He looked at Trandi with a hint of disdain.

“A guy who came to make money is complaining. That’s why I told you to wear a coat over your armor when the sun is strong.”

He added, “The knights here don’t wear coats and cloaks just to look cool. If you just wear armor like that, you’ll cook like a fish on a grill.”

“Alright, alright.”

Trandi muttered, pulling on his coat.

“I just don’t like this damn land. When I first came, I kept having diarrhea and thought I was going to die….”

He continued, “They gave me something to drink at the infirmary. It was salty water or something.”

“Salty? Did they give you seawater?” Gyarcan asked, narrowing his eyes.

A long scar ran across his right eye.

Only his left eye moved when he spoke.

His right eye was white and unseeing.

“Italians drink seawater mixed with wine when they have an upset stomach. The Venetians are the same.”

“It wasn’t seawater.”

Trandi shook his head.

“Anyway, I felt better quickly after drinking that water. You should go to the infirmary and get a few bottles later.”

“Okay, just be careful not to drop the telescope,” Gyarcan said, pointing to the instrument.

“If that breaks or gets lost, both you and I will be fired.”

He added, “Not just fired, but beheaded.”

“Alright, alright. Anyone would think I’m a kid afraid of breaking his doll.”

“….”

“A man should be able to handle this….”

“Shh. Be quiet,” Gyarcan whispered.

He turned his head and looked south.

Trandi followed his gaze.

The two men spotted black smoke rising high into the sky.

“Isn’t that towards Eilat? If they’re having some kind of festival….”

“You can’t get that kind of smoke just from burning some meat. That’s burning a farm, or a city.”

“You know that well.”

“You’re still young, so you wouldn’t know.”

“What?! How much younger am I than you to be….”

“Please shut your mouth. Give me the telescope,” Gyarcan said.

He raised the telescope to his eye.

“Someone is coming towards us. If it’s a Saracen patrol….”

The two men simultaneously grabbed their axes.

Trandi said, adjusting his round shield on his back.

“Are you sure it’s a Saracen?”

“I can’t see well yet.”

Gyarcan said.

He glanced down the tower.

A temporary stable stood next to the signal tower.

Four horses were inside, ready to ride at a moment’s notice.

But the rule was to send a signal first.

He put the telescope to his eye again.

He saw a horse, panting and lathered in sweat.

The rider was….

A white face.

A Frank [Western European, often used to refer to Crusaders].

Gyarcan said, “He’s a bit swarthy, but he’s not a Saracen. He’s not wearing any strange rags on his head either. Let’s go see what’s going on.”

“Hey, wait a minute…!”

Gyarcan scrambled down the ladder.

Now the horse and rider were close enough to see clearly.

Gyarcan shouted at the man, “Hey, what’s going on?!”

“Will Greek work? This frustrating fellow.”

“People around here also speak Greek. You ignorant fool. If you don’t know, keep your mouth shut.”

Gyarcan spat and replied.

The rider nearly fell off his horse.

Gyarcan shouted at Trandi, “Don’t just stand there blankly, give him some water. Quickly.”

“Alright, alright.”

Trandi handed over a leather bag filled with water.

The man gulped it down and blurted out, “Eilat, Saracens, attack.”

“It’s hard to understand because of his accent. Is it true that the Saracens have invaded Eilat?”

The man nodded repeatedly.

He shouted, “We must quickly inform Jerusalem! Our city is….”

Gyarcan and Trandi exchanged a look.

Burning smoke.

A messenger reporting the attack.

There was no room for doubt now.

“It could be a band of robbers. Then it would be enough to inform the nearby fortresses.”

“It’s not up to us to decide that. It’s Jerusalem.”

Gyarcan said.

He looked at the exhausted man.

“Tell me in detail, without leaving anything out. Approximately how many attackers there were. Which direction they came from, everything.”

He turned his head and looked at the tower.

“We need to send a signal right now.”

* * *

Jerusalem

“They attacked Eilat this morning. Then they must have left Cairo two or three days ago,” Baldwin IV said.

He studied the situation map.

“If they came from the east, they would have been intercepted by our fortresses. The only place from which Eilat can be ambushed is Egypt.”

“I agree with Your Majesty.”

I nodded.

I glanced around the war room.

It wasn’t fully equipped yet, but it had the basic necessities.

In the center was a large situation map.

Priests moved around it, relaying newly arrived reports.

The situation map resembled a giant chessboard.

Wooden figures representing the enemy were placed on the board.

Balian and other nobles stared at the scene, impressed.

This must be the first time they’d seen something so systematic.

There was a constant shortage of paper due to the administrative workload.

Paper brought in from the East.

Papyri from Egypt.

Parchment made of leather.

They were even using styluses on wax tablets.

Some nobles spoke excitedly.

“The Saracens are clearly targeting the south!”

“We must summon the army immediately!”

Baldwin IV raised his hand, and silence fell.

“We cannot be certain yet. Damascus is too quiet for Saladin [Ayyubid Sultan of Egypt and Syria] to be planning an all-out war.”

He said, “He has not yet summoned his vassals. That is what is important. As long as Saladin remains in Damascus, we must not rashly move the main force.”

“According to the reports so far, the enemy only consists of cavalry.”

I nodded and said, “A thousand cavalry is by no means a small number, but….”

A thousand Islamic cavalry are not the same as a thousand Frankish knights.

Most Islamic cavalry were horse archers.

That meant they were vulnerable in head-on battles or close combat.

And without infantry, siege warfare was impossible.

So it was likely that they were probing, rather than trying to occupy the city.

I said, “If we summon the army now and leave Jerusalem, Saladin may take advantage of the gap and attack. He could target Jerusalem itself, or Hama and Homs in the north.”

I approached Balian and asked in a whisper, “Have the spies in Cairo reported anything recently?”

“There is no information related to this attack. It seems they controlled the information until the last moment.”

I nodded.

It was Al-Adil, Saladin’s brother, who was ruling Egypt at the moment.

The man who would later succeed his brother as the ruler of the Ayyubid Sultanate.

Does that mean he is that thorough in his work?

“The cavalry may have arrived first as an advance force. If the main force is following behind….”

Balian said, “We must summon the army and march out immediately. Otherwise, Eilat and the south will fall into their hands.”

“Eilat is a royal demesne [land held directly by the monarch]. And it’s a place that you, Baldwin, personally rebuilt….”

Baldwin IV said, “It is a place worth defending.”

“And it’s the only port connected to the Red Sea.”

I nodded.

There are two main possibilities now.

First.

The southern attack is a feint.

If Jerusalem’s main force leaves for the south, Saladin will attack the undefended city or the northern Levant.

Or second.

The southern attack is a large-scale all-out war with a large army mobilized.

The entire Egyptian army is rushing to Eilat.

If we hesitate, we will lose the south.

Whatever decision we make, there is danger.

Should we wait for more information to come in?

Or….

Then a thought flashed through my mind like lightning.

I approached Balian.

“How many fortresses and troops do we have in the south? I just need to know the knights and cavalry that can march out immediately.”

“Including my territory, Jaffa, Gaza, Beth Gibelin, Petra, Montreal….”

Balian continued, “We can scrape together about a thousand knights, and fifteen hundred other cavalry.”

“All the cities in the south are connected by signal towers, right? We will concentrate the troops from the south to Montreal. Then we won’t have to bring the main force from Jerusalem down here.”

I said.

Montreal is directly above Eilat.

Balian muttered, “But it will take too long to gather the troops. Immediately….”

“No.”

Baldwin IV replied with a strange look in his eyes.

“Thanks to the signal towers, the time required has been greatly reduced. Eilat was attacked today. If we send letters right now, they will arrive before sunset.”

He continued, “Assuming that each fortress departs tomorrow morning, it will take less than two days to gather.”

Two days.

It’s fast indeed.

Is it because it’s a country that has been at war for almost a hundred years?

The response time was no less than that of 21st-century armies.

The signal towers just made the process more efficient.

“Time is the most important thing now. If we hesitate, we will miss the opportunity. Issue a conscription order to the southern cities. And Baldwin.”

Baldwin IV looked at me and said, “Go down with Count Balian. I will entrust the response to this attack to you. I will hold Saladin back.”

“Understood, Your Majesty.”

I looked at the situation map again.

There’s really no time to rest.