I Became The King Of Crusaders [EN]: Chapter 153

< 153. King of Jerusalem (3) >

Egypt

Damietta Port

As Saladin entered the city, cheers erupted.

“Salah ad-Din! Salah ad-Din!”

Saladin waved to the crowd, acknowledging their cheers.

Poets recited odes and epics in his honor throughout the streets.

“The great and just helper and victor of God, the special one, the guardian of religion, the pride of Islam, the savior of doctrine, the conqueror of impious mobs and atheists, the commander of the Muslim armies, the sun of virtue, the king and pillar of the faithful…”

Al-Adil approached him and bowed.

“Brother.”

“My dear brother, why do you look so sad?”

Saladin asked as he dismounted his horse.

He patted Al-Adil on the shoulder.

“Anyone would think something terrible has happened.”

“It’s all my fault. If only I had asked for your support sooner…”

“You did nothing wrong. You suppressed the rebellion well. And didn’t you recover all the gold and silver that the apostates tried to steal?”

“But all the Frankish prisoners escaped. In broad daylight, with a fleet…”

“And I drove them away. Without even lifting a finger.”

Saladin smiled.

He pointed to the cheering crowds.

“At least the people of Damietta believe so. That’s all that matters.”

“…”

“Jerusalem has also made quite a move this time. Revealing how many spies they have here in Egypt.”

Saladin said.

“The reason why snakes are scary is because they are always hiding in the bushes. A snake that shows itself can have its head cut off.”

He added.

“We will start the purge soon.”

“I will wipe out the Franks from this land of Egypt.”

“You shouldn’t burn the bushes to catch a snake. If we have the people’s hearts, everything else will follow.”

Saladin shook his head.

He remounted his horse.

“No matter what the Franks do, we can always rise again if we have the people’s support.”

“But we can’t stop the Roman fleet with just the people’s support.”

Al-Adil said, grabbing Saladin’s saddle.

“If young Baldwin becomes king, won’t Constantinople become more active?”

He muttered.

“And new Crusader forces will come from Europe. It’s better to conserve our strength and wait for an opportunity…”

“That’s why we must not stop.”

Saladin said, looking around.

“Neither Imad ad-Din Zengi nor Nur ad-Din succeeded in retaking Al-Quds [Jerusalem]. If I die, it will take decades again.”

He said.

“I have unified Egypt and the Levant [region encompassing modern-day Israel, Palestine, Lebanon, Syria, and Jordan]. Has there ever been a time when Muslims were more advantageous than now?”

“…”

“There is always a gap somewhere.”

Saladin said.

He slowly moved forward.

Petals fell from all directions, covering the road.

“And there is bound to be chaos in the process of transferring the throne. Even if young Baldwin has driven out Gihr, there are still embers left.”

He added.

“Come to my side, Al-Adil. The war will begin soon.”

“But Egypt…”

“Taki ad-Din will take care of Egypt while you’re gone.”

“To carry out the jihad [holy war], we need even one more excellent general. I need you by my side.”

“I only follow the Sultan’s orders.”

Saladin smiled faintly and pulled the reins.

He did not see his brother biting his lip.

* * *

Jerusalem Royal Palace

“To dare sell out our Assassins! Did you really think you could get away with such a thing?!”

Sinan shouted. He gestured wildly, his voice booming.

Crimson rage emanated from his entire being. I reached out to stop Garnier from drawing his sword.

“Then why did you involve our Frankish prisoners in the Egyptian rebellion?”

I asked.

The ones who dragged the Frankish prisoners held in Egypt into the rebellion were the rebels.

In other words, the Assassins.

You’re the ones who caused this mess in the first place.

‘The price was not small either.’

The scale of the intelligence network in Egypt was exposed.

“It was the Nubian blacks who dragged them into the rebellion, not our Assassins.”

Sinan growled.

“But to dare use us as bait for Saladin! Did you think you would get away with it?!”

“You better shut your filthy mouth unless you want your head to be separated from your shoulders, Saracen [a derogatory term for Muslims].”

Garnier said, scowling. His anger was no less than Sinan’s.

Something’s going to happen again.

I walked towards Sinan.

“I think you’re mistaken. I never gave such information to Saladin or Al-Adil in the first place. To steal gold and silver from Cairo, taking advantage of the rebellion…”

I shrugged.

“How could I have known what you didn’t tell me?”

I stared at him. He probably had nothing to say.

The Assassins, that is, Sinan, only used me.

They used the weapons we supported to start a rebellion in Cairo and stole gold and silver in the chaos.

I only inferred it through various circumstances. I already know how the Assassins act.

They prioritize ideology, but they are more opportunistic than anyone else.

I shrugged.

“I only rescued the prisoners by taking advantage of the accidental dispersion of Al-Adil’s forces.”

“…”

“Just as you and the Frankish prisoners are unrelated, I have nothing to do with your men being captured.”

I smiled.

“But if you had told me in advance, I would have sent an escort. Then you wouldn’t have been captured so futilely by the sea bandits.”

But you didn’t.

You tried to monopolize the profits.

“And why did you pass through the eastern desert, not our kingdom’s territory?”

Sinan stared at me, his mouth shut.

“No matter what you say, I will never let this go. The one who can avoid our blades…”

“No one can. I think I’ve heard that before. I said it then too…”

I said with a smile.

“You better stop with the pathetic threats. You’re still breathing in the Levant thanks to me.”

Sinan was uneasy.

The greatest strength of the Assassins is deception, trickery, and reputation.

‘No one can avoid the Assassin’s blade!’

You could call it an extreme mystique concept. All of that was useless to me, who had future knowledge and even a sixth sense.

In my eyes, he was just a third-rate magician. No, maybe he’s first-rate as a hypnotist or brainwasher.

If the opponent is not afraid, fear and mystique are useless.

“You should take this as a lesson.”

I said, getting up.

“If anything happens to me, you won’t be safe either. The annual tribute you pay to the Knights Templar [a powerful Catholic military order] will be resumed immediately.”

The Assassins regarded the Kingdom of Jerusalem as a pawn.

So did I.

We were just playing a game, using each other as pieces. I can’t tolerate you complaining just because you lost.

“…”

He turned and left the room.

I watched his back until the door closed.

“If I may offer my opinion…”

Garnier sighed.

“Those Assassins are a race you can’t trust at all. They’re always plotting another conspiracy within a conspiracy, aren’t they?”

“That’s why they’re easy to predict in some ways.”

I said with a smile.

It’s harder to predict a stupid idiot.

If you know the final goals of each camp, you can predict the intermediate methods as much as you want.

“What happened to the prisoners rescued from Egypt?”

“They landed in Acre a few days ago, so they will arrive in Jerusalem soon.”

Garnier said.

He coughed and looked at me.

“What’s wrong?”

“Father Pierre and Patriarch Heraclius have gathered bards for this repatriation ceremony.”

“What did those two gather?”

I frowned without realizing it.

Those two pious men gathered bards?

I have no idea what their purpose is.

I have a bad feeling.

“Are they going to have the bards sing hymns?”

“They say the bards write songs about the Duke too carelessly, so they are directly guiding them…”

“Stop it.”

“Yes?”

“Stop it right now, no matter what excuse you have to make.”

I sighed. The sigh soon turned into a laugh.

No, I can’t stop those two.

“I have no intention of listening to hymns for more than tens of minutes while standing still.”

“To say that, the Duke has already accomplished too many tasks.”

Garnier tapped his forehead and laughed.

“If you’re a man, shouldn’t you take responsibility for what you’ve done?”

* * *

The next morning

Outside the walls of Jerusalem

“Ah, we’re finally back.”

Turpin pulled the reins and looked at the scene before him.

Jerusalem.

The hometown and city where he spent his entire life.

His other colleagues also looked at the walls with moved expressions.

It had been years since their return.

Family, acquaintances, friends. When was the last time they saw them?

The sound of drums and trumpets echoed from inside the walls.

“Is there a festival going on?”

“Sir Turpin! Come this way quickly!”

At the sound of someone calling him, Turpin hurried towards the gate. Fellow Hospitallers [members of the Order of the Hospital of Saint John of Jerusalem] greeted him.

“What festival is today? I don’t think it’s a feast day.”

“What festival? It’s a festival for you. It would be more appropriate to call it a repatriation ceremony.”

The knight replied with a playful smile.

Turpin tilted his head without realizing it.

“A festival for us?”

“You’ll know when you go inside. Hurry up.”

Turpin and his colleagues passed through the gate without knowing why.

Petals fluttered everywhere.

Turpin walked forward as if possessed. The streets were full of people.

Cheers and applause. People with excited expressions.

A man was seen among them.

In the very center of the street.

Wearing chainmail and a white cloak.

He got off his horse, approached Turpin, and grabbed the saddle.

All the cheering citizens watched the scene with surprised expressions.

Turpin muttered.

“Y, you are…”

Holding the saddle from under the horse is a sign of respect and reverence.

The man smiled and said.

“You may not recognize my face. I am Baldwin. The nephew of His Majesty the King of Jerusalem and…”

“D, Duke.”

Turpin gasped and jumped off the saddle.

He bowed his head and muttered.

“I have committed a great sin by not getting off my horse in front of the Duke.”

“I am the one who has committed the sin. I didn’t even know that you were being held captive all this time.”

He said.

“But it’s fortunate that I can fix it now.”

“…”

Then a poet in silk clothes came out into the street and shouted in a loud voice.

“The protector of Christians and the Church, the protector of the glorious faith by the grace of God, the savior of Constantinople, the rebuilder of Eilat, the deliverer of the Holy Sword Caliburnus [likely a reference to Excalibur], the one who received the orders of King Arthur, the rioters and atheists…”

“Sorry, everyone insisted that those things be included.”

Turpin stared blankly at the smiling Baldwin.

“I won’t say much.”

He said after the reading was over.

“You fought bravely, and although you were taken prisoner, you did not succumb to the Saracens and convert. It is all the kingdom’s fault that you have not been rescued until now.”

He shouted in a loud voice.

His words echoed through the streets.

“Welcome back to Jerusalem. Salaries and compensation will be paid according to the period you were held captive, and…”

Turpin turned to look at his colleagues.

They were all looking around with bewildered expressions.

Something completely unexpected was happening.

“The royal family will directly create a relief fund to provide pensions to wounded soldiers and the bereaved families of the fallen. The Kingdom of Jerusalem, His Majesty the King, and I thank you.”

He said.

“If there is anything else you want, please feel free to tell me.”

The cheers of the citizens echoed.

Turpin was still standing blankly, staring at Baldwin.

It was clear that all of this was not a dream.

Because this was something he couldn’t even imagine in his dreams.