I Became The King Of Crusaders [EN]: Chapter 183

< 183. The Great Escape from Damascus (3) >

“I can’t hold out any longer!”

“Hold on a little longer! Reinforcements are coming from outside the walls!”

Turpin shouted, panting for breath.

He swung his club with a trembling hand.

“They’re running away again!”

For the second time since sunrise, the Saracens, unable to breach the barrier, retreated, supporting their wounded.

Turpin and the knights had been fighting without proper sleep.

Marco approached him as he sat on the barrier, gasping for air.

“Is everything ready to set fire to the warehouse?”

“All the necessary preparations have been made.”

Marco sighed, looking beyond the barrier.

“But if we burn the warehouse, our only means of negotiation will disappear. Shouldn’t we burn just one to buy some time?”

“Once they see the fire, all the Saracens will rush over. Saladin will pour in all his soldiers.”

Turpin shook his head.

“We can’t let even one warehouse fall into their hands.”

“And thousands of Christians will die. Unless His Majesty comes over the walls…”

“Our fate will be decided by the Lord.”

Turpin said, rising to his feet.

The men around him all looked exhausted.

But their will to protect their families still burned fiercely.

“If only we had more weapons…”

There weren’t enough weapons to arm all the men. Most of them were holding long staves made of carved wood.

“They’re coming again!”

“Everyone back to your positions! Prepare for battle!”

Turpin staggered to his feet.

He shouted towards Marco.

“Wait in the warehouse! You must set it on fire as soon as I give the order!”

And then…

What should they do after setting the fire?

Then, a knight’s shout rang out.

“They’re retreating to the sides!”

“What?!”

Turpin looked ahead.

As the knight said, the Saracen soldiers were retreating to the sides, as if clearing a path.

Seeing this, Turpin muttered to himself.

“What on earth…”

* * *

“Saladin kept his promise.”

Aig sighed. A long line of people was emerging from the city gate.

Musslim soldiers stood like walls on either side of them.

A strangely spectacular sight.

“I thought he would change his mind once he secured the warehouse.”

“Saladin probably didn’t want the Christian citizens to be massacred either,” I said.

“But the anger of the masses was like a typhoon. Even a powerful man couldn’t stop it. In this case, Saladin and I were on the same side.” A man was walking at the head of the line.

A familiar face.

I approached him and extended my hand.

“Good work, Sir Turpin. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I’m fine, except for a few scratches from splinters,” he said with a smile.

“I knew His Majesty would come to save us.”

“I’ve prepared separate tents, so go and get some rest,” I said.

The other knights also moved, supported by their comrades.

The refugees were also being guided to one side by the soldiers. Expressions of relief were visible as they left the city.

But there were also many who were tearful or filled with sorrow.

‘They lost their homes overnight.’

Until now, they would have lived in Damascus without much difficulty. They wouldn’t have had to be mobilized into the army, and they wouldn’t have been forced to convert as long as they paid the religious tax [jizya].

Of course, there would have been discrimination from the Muslims, but this was on a different level.

They thanked me and the soldiers, but they kept looking back at Damascus.

“All the property and land they left behind will belong to the Saracens.”

“Isn’t this all happening because they wanted to take other people’s property?” Aig said in an angry tone.

“Losing the war is just an excuse. What the Saracens wanted wasn’t justice, but money.”

“…”

I closed my mouth and looked at the crowd. I saw another familiar face among the people.

“Marco, you stayed in Damascus until the end.”

To be honest, I thought he would run away in the middle. I didn’t expect him to stay until the very end.

I stood in front of Marco.

“Venice must have suffered a great deal from this incident. You lost all the grain stored in the warehouse, didn’t you?”

“Actually, our losses aren’t that great, Your Majesty.” Marco gave an awkward smile.

“We sold all the supplies in the warehouse before the incident happened. Even if Saladin takes it, he’ll have to return it to the Saracen merchants who bought it.”

He shrugged and added, “Genoa, Pisa, and Amalfi probably sold all their supplies in a similar way.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

They already sold everything in the warehouse? They got all the money and even used it for blackmail.

“I can’t keep up with the merchants of the maritime cities.”

Venice wouldn’t just sit back and take a loss. Even if Saladin secures the warehouse, the Saracen merchants will claim ownership.

Then Marco asked with a frightened expression, “Do you really think Saladin will let us go like this?”

“The cavalry of Jerusalem alone can’t stand against us. Saladin knows that too.”

I looked at the Muslim soldiers lined up on both sides. If you simply count the numbers, they were far more numerous, but the cavalry was a different story.

The Jerusalem cavalry were like fighting machines who had trained their entire lives.

Unless they were exhausted from thirst or hunger, facing them in the field in their prime was tantamount to suicide.

I could feel the fear and intimidation in the eyes of the Muslim soldiers looking at us.

“We just need to withdraw before reinforcements arrive from other cities.”

The problem was that part.

It was completely different to advance with only the cavalry and to move with thousands of citizens by your side.

“Aig, has the supply train from Amman not arrived yet?”

“It will probably arrive today. Even if it’s late, it will arrive by tomorrow.”

“I think we’ll need more supplies. Call Valian and Count Raymond to my tent.”

“Understood.”

I sighed involuntarily at the sight of Aig walking away.

I wondered if this was how Liu Bei [a famous historical figure known for his benevolence and leadership] felt when he led tens of thousands of Jingzhou citizens to escape from Cao Cao’s army.

“I feel strangely regretful.”

I muttered.

Jerusalem, England, Zagwe.

The knights gathered here all exuded tremendous fighting spirit. It would have been nice to have a chance to work together.

‘Should we try joint training in turn?’

* * *

“And the wealth seized from the idolaters will be distributed fairly among the tribes!”

“Waaaah!”

Saladin waved to the cheering citizens. The story that he had faced Baldwin directly and made him run away was already spreading through the streets.

Al-Adil approached him.

“It’s fortunate that it ended without bloodshed, brother,” he said.

“Now the citizens of Damascus will trust and follow you without suspicion. No one will remember the failure of the last jihad [holy war] anymore.”

“I think so too. But we have also lost a lot,” Saladin said.

“First of all, our revenue will take a hit. The Christians, who paid the most taxes, have left. It may be profitable right now, but it will be a loss in the long run.”

“But…”

“And Baldwin came here himself and rescued the Christians. He proved that he is the guardian of religion.”

“You have also proven that you are the guardian of the Muslims. Didn’t you safely overcome Baldwin’s trick?”

“Baldwin didn’t plan this. He just responded like me.”

But the distance between Jerusalem and Damascus was not short. Could he have acted so quickly because he had foreseen several moves ahead?

“Even if you had fought Baldwin to the end, you would have won.”

“And half of the citizens of Damascus would have starved to death.”

Saladin grabbed Al-Adil’s arm. He glared at his brother and muttered, “If that had happened, do you think the other emirs would have stood still?”

“I…”

“Even if we win with a crippled army, we will only become prey for the other emirs. If the citizens starved to death, there would be a cause to drive me out. The army that came to support us would have become the enemy in an instant.”

He released his arm and added, “Send messengers to each city and tell them that support is not needed.”

Saladin turned to look at his brother.

“Don’t do anything unnecessary anymore, Al-Adil.”

Al-Adil flinched back at his brother’s fierce gaze.

Saladin added, “I heard that you spoke with the tribal leaders just before this happened.”

“I was just talking about the last jihad. The chiefs also said that the atmosphere in the streets was strange…”

“Yes. Of course, I believe you, Al-Adil,” Saladin sighed and said. He reached out and patted his brother’s shoulder.

“But if this continues to happen, I may have to change my mind someday.”

Al-Adil nodded instead of answering.

* * *

Transjordan region

“A letter has come from Damascus. The army led by the King of Jerusalem has left Damascus.”

Men with swords at their waists sat in a circle in the middle of a camel herd, talking.

“Saladin just let them go? What a coward,” a middle-aged man scoffed and asked.

“He just let all the polytheists (Christians) go…”

“There must have been at least thousands of them.”

“Who in Damascus sent the letter?”

“That’s not important. What’s important is that over thousands of infidels are walking to Jerusalem.”

Al-Harawi rubbed his hands together and said.

He was the leader of the largest tribe among the Bedouins [nomadic Arab people].

“Imagine capturing them all and selling them as slaves. Even if we divide the money among the tribes, we can live comfortably for at least a few years.”

“Thousands. That’s a lot of money.”

The men nodded.

But not everyone agreed with Al-Harawi.

“Have you forgotten what happened to the tribes that attacked Eilat? The King of Jerusalem has a tremendous number of cavalry.”

“Yes, attacking the Jerusalem knights? Are you out of your mind to make such a suggestion?”

Silence fell.

The men all looked at Al-Harawi.

“You’re right. It’s become difficult to attack with those damn signal towers popping up everywhere. And the Jerusalem guys are known to be the best fighters,” Al-Harawi said. The Bedouin tribes led camels and horses and roamed the pastures every season.

But if the situation wasn’t good, attacking caravans or villages was also part of their daily lives.

Long before Muhammad founded Islam, the Arab tribes had lived as warriors.

“But think about it. How well can they fight us when they’re carrying a bunch of old people and women?”

Al-Harawi stood up and asked, “If our warriors swarm them from all sides, they’ll have to divide their forces. Then the civilians will naturally scatter. Won’t they?”

“There’s no easier prey than scared city folks.”

Some of the men nodded.

An old tribal leader rose and asked, “But what if Baldwin retaliates afterwards?”

“That’s why I’m asking all of you for help, old man,” Al-Harawi said.

“If we all step up, Baldwin won’t be able to retaliate easily. Even if he chases us, we can just hide deep in the desert.”

He added, “Do you think Baldwin can chase us while fighting Saladin?”

“…”

The tribal leaders looked at each other. The atmosphere had already changed.

“That’s not wrong. If he overextends himself to strike us, Saladin will benefit that much more. The King of Jerusalem knows that much.”

“This requires the consent of all tribes. It’s useless unless it’s unanimous. Raise your hand if you’re willing to participate in the attack.”

The sound of hands rising echoed from all over. Al-Harawi smiled at the sight.

“Good, then feed the camels well. We’ll strike quickly and only take the slaves. Just remember that.”