I Became The King Of Crusaders [EN]: Chapter 167

< 167. Interlude (2) >

November 1185

The Levant was alive with the sounds of Islamic soldiers chanting for jihad. The first to notice the shift were the caravans and merchants in each city.

“Wheat, barley, fodder! Bring everything in the warehouse! The Emirs will buy it all anyway!”

“We have to do business to live! Move, move!”

Supplying food and provisions to the army was a booming business. Merchants from far and wide flocked to the encampments, eager to sell their goods.

Blacksmiths and artisans arrived seeking work, repairing worn armor and flags.

“Tell the Frankish [European Christian] bastards to come as much as they want! Almighty Allah will drive them all into the sea and drown them!”

“Allahu Akbar! (Allah is the greatest)”

Muslim poets and scholars joined the fervor, personally transcribing letters written by Saladin and posting and reciting them throughout the streets.

“I beseech Allah, praised and sublime, to ignite the zeal of Muslims to repel those Franks!”

Saladin’s letter began with a provocative appeal.

“Look at those Franks! Observe how they recruit their armies, what goals they pursue, how they gather and distribute wealth to run their kingdom!”

As the recitation continued, passersby stopped to listen.

“The Franks devote their lives and property solely to their passion for faith and pride in their beliefs! But the Muslims of today are the opposite! They have grown weak, lost courage, and become complacent and lazy. We are terrified and have lost our honor!”

The letter concluded:

“By praising Allah, we seek His help! Whether Muslims are far away or near, those with passion for faith, take up your swords! The time for jihad has come!”

Upon hearing the recitation, Muslim men roared their support for jihad.

Even the elderly and young boys, denied official enlistment, secretly joined volunteer groups.

News arrived that thousands of volunteers were coming from the Sultanate of Rum [Anatolian Seljuk Sultanate].

“Muslims! Fight alongside your brothers in the Levant!”

“Let’s show those idolaters who invaded Mecca what we’re made of!”

Observers whispered that more soldiers had gathered than grains of sand on the beach.

All eyes turned to Jerusalem, awaiting its response.

The young king who had achieved the unification of the Eastern and Western Churches through the council.

How would Baldwin react?

Yet, the Kingdom of Jerusalem remained silent. They steadily stockpiled food in preparation for a siege, but there was no sign of a large army mobilizing.

Rumors spread that Baldwin V was terrified, too afraid to resist the overwhelming wave of Islam.

As time passed, the Islamic armies gathered in each city began their march.

The signal towers flickered to life, announcing the start of the war.

The storm was upon them.

* * *

Eastern Jerusalem

Aman

“According to our intelligence, they appear to be crossing the Jordan River and heading towards Jaulan [Golan Heights],” I said, looking at Ayyub. Sand swirled in the wind, stinging my skin.

Messengers and carrier pigeons darted back and forth, relaying news from various locations.

Knights constantly departed, heading towards their assigned destinations.

“We need to instill fear, so they never know when or where we’ll strike.”

The plan was simple.

[Attack the Saracen [Muslim] armies departing from each city before they can unite!]

To achieve this, we needed precise information on the location and size of each enemy force.

‘I’m using the signal towers to get this information.’

Saladin remained unaware that information was leaking from his own signal towers.

We had to exploit this advantage for as long as possible before he caught on.

“Wouldn’t it be more effective to gather our troops and defeat them piecemeal?” Ayyub asked, scratching his head.

“Rather than just harassing them with such a small force…”

“Saladin wants us to concentrate our forces in one place,” I countered, shaking my head.

We couldn’t afford to repeat the Battle of the Horns of Hattin [a devastating Crusader defeat] from history. A direct confrontation with Saladin right now would be suicidal.

“But if we disperse our forces and launch attacks from all directions, Saladin won’t be able to effectively respond either.”

I organized small, highly mobile strike forces composed of knights and horse archers. Their mission was to constantly harass the enemy armies, disrupting their advance.

The key was to avoid direct engagement and focus on inflicting fatigue.

‘The Mongols often used this attrition warfare tactic.’

It was difficult to pin down a highly mobile, small unit. It was like trying to swat a swarm of bees.

I also ordered combs to be attached to the horses’ tails.

The Levant, with its abundance of sand and dust, provided the perfect environment for deception.

Raymond, Balian, and other lords commanded and controlled these units from various eastern strongholds.

Count Joscelin monitored Aleppo from Hama and Homs.

“The goal is to instill fear in the Saracen soldiers – the fear that the enemy could appear anytime, anywhere.”

I stretched.

“If the soldiers’ morale crumbles, the commanders will be powerless.”

We had already won the information war. Now, we just needed to reap the rewards.

“We should thank Saladin for building the signal towers so diligently.”

Ayyub chuckled.

“It’s certainly different from traditional Crusader tactics. It’s more like the way the Saracens fight…”

“If Reynald of Châtillon [Prince of Antioch, known for his aggression] were here, he’d be foaming at the mouth in protest.”

I was glad I’d dealt with those two in advance. The Knights Templar, another hardline group, were now under my command.

Ayyub spoke.

“There have been some grumblings from the Teutonic Knights. They say this isn’t the Lord’s war they were expecting.”

“I need to have a word with their commander separately.”

Unlike the other knightly orders, the Teutonic Knights were newly formed.

I needed to tighten their discipline from the outset.

“It would be ideal if Saladin simply withdrew and retreated…”

But in the current situation, withdrawal would be tantamount to admitting defeat. Saladin was unlikely to retreat willingly, especially after declaring a jihad.

“Let’s do our best.”

I looked ahead.

Even at that moment, knights and horse archers were moving purposefully. Auxiliary soldiers and merchants carried supplies, preparing for the inevitable battle.

“By the way, there’s something I wanted to ask, Your Majesty…” Ayyub said hesitantly.

“Is the rumor true?”

“What rumor?”

“That the Queen…” Ayyub asked cautiously, “…is pregnant.”

Ayyub waved his arm dismissively at my questioning tone.

“It’s just a rumor circulating among the maids and servants. No one specifically spread it!”

“I guess there are no secrets in the palace.”

I said with a smile. Such rumors spread like wildfire.

“Does that mean…” Ayyub whispered, a smile spreading across his face. “The Queen is really pregnant! Congratulations, Your Majesty!”

“It’s not certain yet.”

I said. The doctors had concluded that Theodora was pregnant, but their methods were, to put it mildly, unreliable.

‘Can you really tell just by looking at the color of urine?’

I wished I had a modern pregnancy test kit.

“I can’t believe a prince or princess is already on the way.”

“I can’t believe it either.”

A sigh escaped my lips. I knew it would happen eventually, but I hadn’t expected it so soon.

‘I need to emphasize the importance of hygiene.’

Maternal mortality during childbirth was tragically common in the Middle Ages. I had to prevent that from happening at all costs.

While I was lost in thought, Balian approached, escorted by his subordinate knights.

“I have to admit it,” he said. “The operation Your Majesty devised is working perfectly.”

“It wouldn’t have been possible without the informants you planted in advance,” I replied, shaking my head. Balian’s groundwork was essential.

“What’s the current situation?”

“Most of the Saracen armies have halted their advance. But the Damascus army, led by Saladin himself, is still pushing forward.”

“Then order all strike forces in that area to retreat. There’s no point in hitting a brick wall.”

As expected, Saladin’s direct command was proving difficult to disrupt. But we still had one card left to play.

“And send the signal to our spies in the signal towers.”

Saladin had built the signal towers mindlessly, just as I had hoped. But unverified information was more dangerous than no information at all.

Even if a single signal tower transmitted false information, the entire network would quickly become contaminated.

What if all Muslim units received the same report?

‘A large Frankish army is directly ahead!’

No one would have the courage to continue marching after hearing that. Tens of thousands of troops would be thrown into panic.

“Let’s initiate the second phase of the plan.”

* * *

Southern Baalbek

“Is this information reliable?” Zawli frowned at the messenger kneeling before him.

“Yes, General. It’s information that came through the signal tower this morning.”

“How could the Frankish army have advanced this far without our knowledge?” Zawli asked, looking at his subordinate officers. He waved his hand and shouted, “Halt the march immediately and dispatch scouts! A report indicates that a large Frankish army is approaching from Banias.”

“But when did the Franks get this close…?”

“It’s clear that Count Raymond’s unit has already broken through! There’s been an information leak somewhere!”

Zawli raised his hand, silencing the officers. Only the snorting of horses could be heard.

“First, order the soldiers to prepare for battle. I will report to the Emir myself.”

He turned his horse and rode to the rear of the procession.

The Emir of Baalbek, Abul Heija, was reclining on a carriage sofa, eating fruit.

“It’s noisy up front. What’s going on, Zawli? Are the Frankish bastards attacking again?”

“It appears the Franks have brought a large army to confront us,” Zawli said, frowning at his superior.

Heija had dismissed the constant attacks by the Frankish cavalry.

Even after receiving reports of fleeing merchants and increasing desertions, he had merely scoffed.

“The Franks brought a large army? Is that really true?!” Heija stood up, his fat body shaking.

“They’re trying to defeat us one by one. Haven’t the Franks always fought like that?”

He muttered.

“Then bypass them! Head deep into Jordan, so the Franks can’t follow!”

“That would add several weeks to our journey to the assembly point. It would be better to break through them here…”

“What if we suffer heavy losses?” Heija asked, biting his lip. Dancers lying on the sofa stroked his body.

“Even if we win the war, my contribution will be diminished. Masud Atabeg [Governor] of Aleppo will not forgive me either.”

He said.

“It’s better to arrive late than that. Do you understand?”

“…I understand.”

Zawli, lowering his head, turned his horse back towards the front, swallowing the curse that rose in his throat.

For days and nights, the Frankish cavalry had been harassing them, and the officers and soldiers were exhausted.

The enemies would approach, fire arrows, and then quickly retreat.

And then there were the fire arrows tipped with ‘black liquid’ [likely naphtha or a similar incendiary substance] shot by the Frankish horse archers, setting the plains ablaze.

Desertions increased daily due to the suffocating black smoke.

Merchants who had followed the unit had fled, disrupting supplies. The initial enthusiasm had vanished.

He pulled on the reins and shouted, “Have the scouts returned?! All officers, gather around me!”