Chapter 282: Three Requests
As the Governor of Damascus, Razis’s demands were not excessive, except for a few people—some were fanatical believers who thought that only by sending all the heathens to hell could they complete the task entrusted to them by God; while others enjoyed killing and derived unspeakable pleasure from such cruel acts.
But most people, even the Templar Knights, were no longer as frenzied as they had been when capturing Ayyarasa Road. They whispered to each other for a moment and then looked at the king, which meant they agreed to this first request.
“What about the second request?” Baldwin asked.
“The second request is that after signing the treaty and making the promise, you must all swear an oath on the True Cross, ensuring with your own faith and honor that you will not break the oath, and at the same time, you will restrain your knights.”
This demand immediately sparked murmurs in the tent, and it was Damascus—this city that had troubled countless Christians, which they had never obtained despite it being so close, but what an invaluable fortress it was—just like the Duchess of Aquitaine Eleanor, who had successively been the wife of Louis VII and Henry II—wealthy, beautiful, and possessing unshakable military assets.
If it were any other city, the Crusaders would not care if it were swallowed by a great fire and destroyed, just as they would be happy to see an ugly old Isaacite woman tied to a stake and burned.
Apart from warning himself to be even more cautious in the future when entering conquered cities, even Patriarch Heraclius would have no psychological burden— the deaths of thousands upon thousands of heathens would not move him but would only make him feel relieved.
At that moment, Baldwin made the final decision with a hammer blow: “I agree,” he turned to the people in the tent, “Since we have already agreed to the first request, what does it matter to swear an oath? It’s like going to a pious monk and asking him to kiss the cross and swear to remain chaste for life in service to God—is that putting him in a difficult position?”
“We just…” a Frankish lord said, and then stopped in time.
They just felt a slight humiliation, after all, the Saracens were the defeated side, they were the victors, and for the victors to obey the words of the defeated—was that not putting the cart before the horse?
But Baldwin knew that Razis’s requests were not baseless. Had the Crusaders’ reputation been good before? They had even wantonly plundered in the capital of their ally, the Byzantine Empire, Constantinople—after being lavishly entertained—to the point that the people of Constantinople had to drive out the reinforcements they had invited before they could even resist the external enemy.
And during the campaign to attack the Holy Land, they had not been short on breaking promises, abandoning oaths, or even twisting right and wrong.
Razis demanding they swear on the True Cross was not because he believed their oaths, but because he wanted them to restrain each other, and this was not something that could be casually said in the tent and then reneged on or fabricated afterward.
They would swear in front of everyone to the most sacred object in the world; if they broke the oath, it was hard to say whether an overly pious monk or a knight with ulterior motives would rush out to sternly rebuke them, or even lodge a complaint with the Church.
Since Baldwin had spoken, even though some were still somewhat unwilling, they had no choice but to rationally remain silent.
“Next, state your third request.” Baldwin stared sternly at Razis, hoping he would understand that his ability to stand there was more due to the tolerance of him and the Crusader knights.
If his demands were too harsh, some knights and lords would rather owe the Isaacites and still vent their anger, and at that point, even he might not be able to stop them.
“The third request is…” Razis raised his eyes and subtly glanced at the people around the king—that lion was staring intently at another lion: “We hope that the person we expect can serve as the next Governor of Damascus.”
Hearing this request, Raymond snorted with laughter, while the others’ gazes turned from a hint of admiration to complete mockery and ridicule.
This mockery and ridicule was of course directed at Razis. After he made this request, their first thought was that Razis was planning to betray all of Damascus for his own benefit.
This war was initiated by the King of Ayyarasa Road, just like Bilbeis and Fustat in the past. Once the city’s residents finally submitted or went to hell—this city should belong to the lord who initiated the war; vassals and mercenaries had no right to overstep, and those allies who came from afar would not stay here—ruling this city meant they would have to spend the next few decades in war with the Saracens.
Of course, they would certainly enjoy a share of the victory, which the king would often compensate with spoils of war, promises, or territories elsewhere.
They had also speculated whether the king would hand over the governance of this city to the Knights Templar or the Knights Hospitaller, which was a common practice, just like Bethlehem—originally managed on behalf of the king by Bishop Andrew, the Provost of the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre.
Or perhaps one of his trusted ministers, for unless the king went on an expedition, he hardly ever left Ayyarasa Road; otherwise, the Guardian of the Holy Sepulchre would be an empty title. But Damascus was so important that the person must also be brave and good at fighting to confront the forces surrounding Damascus, whether Saracens, Turks, or Armenians…
Especially the Saracens, who were now only weakened because they were tearing each other apart. Once any one of them became the alpha wolf or gained a bit more strength, they would turn their sights to Damascus.
At the same time, he could not be a fanatical believer or a foolish thug; there would still be sixty-five thousand, or even more, Saracens in Damascus. If they were not prepared to kill them all and let Damascus fall into a vacancy period lasting several years or even a decade—like Ayyarasa Road in the past—they would have to leave someone who could appease them.
So, was Razis using the first request to achieve the third? Although he would inevitably lose all his original power and status, even being a puppet was better than becoming a commoner who could be slaughtered at any time.
“So who do you want to be the governor of this city?” He was certain that Razis would not say this without a candidate.
And this candidate… Baldwin also thought Razis would nominate himself, or push forward some scholar respected by the residents of Damascus. Razis could, but a scholar could not.
Saracen scholars held too important a position in their community; he would not even leave a single scholar in this city. As long as he was there, he could at any time become a minister, a general, or even a leader… He could not take that risk; Baldwin was not that naive.
“We hope that the Knight of Bethlehem, Count of Edessa, Lord of Cyprus Caesar can serve as the Governor of Damascus.”
As soon as these words were spoken, many in the tent thought they had been cursed by the devil and turned deaf, some even blacked out before their eyes, thinking they had also turned blind.
They had never imagined it.
In the final battle, the King of Ayyarasa Road and his knight Caesar were like lions charging into a herd of wild bulls; they roared, they charged, they crushed countless valiant Saracen warriors under their holy light.
And Caesar’s deterrence against these Saracens even surpassed the king’s（the king was also willing to serve as a foil to him）. As the one who laid the foundation for the Christians’ final victory—they thought that even if the Saracens did not hate this young knight, they would at least hope he would disappear from sight as soon as possible. Now they actually wanted Caesar to be their governor—had they gone mad?
Or were they brewing a new conspiracy?
At this moment, whether they loved or hated Caesar, everyone instinctively wanted to reject this demand.
But before the king could refuse, Razis spoke first: “Do you not trust your most valued subject and brother?” Then he continued, “He defeated us fairly and squarely, without using any tricks, and without harming even a single innocent person.
Whether scholars or warriors, dying at his hands would not feel unacceptable, and we have long heard of what he did in Ayyarasa Road, Bethlehem, and Cyprus. He is a benevolent and tolerant ruler. He has already told us what he would do when he obtained a new territory?
Whether to Christians, Isaacites, or Saracens.”
“What about the others?”
“There are still sixty-five thousand Saracens in the city. They can learn from letters and merchants about the conditions in other cities, how their kin have been wantonly bullied and humiliated. We do not mind paying more taxes, but your lords cannot be like our sultans or caliphs…”
He did not continue, but everyone in the tent knew the adjective he wanted to use. Although they did not want to admit it, they had to say that before religious conflicts had intensified, whether in Syria, Asia Minor, or Egypt, whether sultans or caliphs, the local heathen rulers had indeed maintained a tolerant attitude toward Christians.
Just as the Knights Hospitaller were established because a few Christian merchants petitioned the Fatimid Caliph who ruled Ayyarasa Road at the time, hoping to build a hospital on the road to the Holy Land for all pilgrims to rest and receive treatment.
The Caliph granted their request, which led to the hospital and later the birth of the Knights Hospitaller.
Such a situation was unseen in cities and nations occupied by Christians: temples would be demolished; even if not demolished, they would be converted into churches; Saracen “scholars” would be expelled; heathens were not allowed to hold public ceremonies, including the five daily prayers; they were often bullied without reason, defrauded, insulted, and slandered as a matter of course.
Even without conversion, Christian knights could be heavily employed by sultans. Conversely, a Saracen could only forever be a servant and sacrificial lamb in Christian armies, never able to enter the inner circles as the king’s ministers.
The king was still pondering, but Raymond could not wait and stood up—his heart felt as sour and unbearable as if soaked in vinegar.
“But we do not have a position of governor here.”
“Then there is one now.” Razis: “We know that Damascus belongs only to the victor, and as the defeated side, our requests are merely to seek a truly tolerant and benevolent lord… Lord,” he turned to Caesar, “you have stayed in Damascus twice before.
The first night I received you, and I was neglectful toward you many times. I admit it was a test, but you did receive undeserved treatment; that is an indisputable fact.”
He suddenly drew his scimitar, and everyone immediately became alert; some knights even began to pray softly. Caesar also grasped Baldwin’s wrist.
Baldwin did not think Razis would attempt an assassination at this moment—and sure enough, Razis did not point the blade tip at anyone but himself—he turned his wrist and slashed a deep, blood-drenched wound across his face, so deep that even as he struggled to continue speaking, one could see his tongue and teeth inside.
Amid everyone’s stunned astonishment, he said in a voice no longer so clear, “I should cut out my tongue to apologize to you, but you will need me afterward—I will tell them that I have brought them a good person worthy of respect. But after everything is settled, I will leave here, leave Damascus, and exile myself to the boundless desert.”
“Treat his wound.” Baldwin said calmly, then turned to Razis, “Since you have a repentant heart,” he said somewhat unwillingly, “then you should not defile this sacred meeting with your blood. As for what happens to you in the future, it depends on Caesar’s judgment. If you act on your own again, it will show that your arrogance and pride still remain in your heart, and you should not be forgiven.”
A monk hurried over to treat Razis; this wound looked ferocious but was actually not as serious as being hit by an arrow; it healed quickly. Caesar handed him a handkerchief to wipe away the remaining bloodstains.
“And my second visit to Damascus… I came with a favor and received a favor.”
Razis nodded dejectedly; Caesar had acutely refused his kidnapping scheme. He had brought out ministers led by Kamal from Acre; this was the favor he gave to the Saracens—Kamal was even Razis’s friend.
At that time, he led only over a hundred knights in battle against more than a thousand pursuers and even achieved victory. Even though he collapsed from exhaustion in the end, that could not be called a humiliation but rather an undoubted glory.
To this day, minstrels still sing this story in various castles.
And that Saladin and his generals could be moved by such a feat also meant that the Saracens would not see it as a failure.
The favor that followed was not given by him, nor by the people of Damascus, but by Saladin. In any case, Caesar had indeed recuperated in Damascus for a long time.
“Damascus once cared for you, like a mother caring for her child. Even if they were only following Saladin’s orders, I still hope those days can be exchanged for a bit of your mercy…”
“Is there really only one Caesar in the Crusades who can be remembered?”
An indignant voice rang out; people looked over and, not surprisingly, found it was Raymond.
Bohemond lowered his head and smiled; he knew that in the entire tent, the one most likely to be indignant about this was Raymond. In the Crusades, or rather in Frankish Roman law and customary law, there was almost no concept of a governor.
Because, just as Francia today was still composed of the greatest lord—the king—and his vassals, there was no dictator concentrating all power in Christian kingdoms.
The king was not a sultan or a caliph; he had no right to arbitrarily summon a subject and then strangle him, nor did a position like governor exist that could be stripped away at any time.
And when the king acquired a new territory, what did he do? Generally speaking, one could refer to the practices of previous kings of Ayyarasa Road.
The first Godfrey was unwilling to accept this crown; he always called himself the Guardian of the Holy Sepulchre, so after his death, his kingdom was handed to his brother, Baldwin I.
But Baldwin I was then the ruler of the County of Edessa; he did not merge Edessa with Ayyarasa Road but gave Edessa to his cousin Baldwin II.
And Baldwin I had no heirs, so Baldwin II also became the king of Ayyarasa Road, and he then handed Edessa to another male relative—Jocelin I, Caesar’s great-grandfather.
Therefore, if the new territory was vast enough, the original king might go there to become king and leave his territory to his male heir—if he had a son, it would be the son; if not, then other male relatives.
The problem was that the current owner of Damascus, Baldwin, had no son, so the most likely people to become lord of Damascus were only two: David and Caesar. Do not forget, they both had inheritance rights to Ayyarasa Road and all of Baldwin’s territories; they both had indisputable blood relations to King Baldwin.
But whether by blood, reason, or emotion, Caesar was the one closer to Baldwin; David could not even compare—in Baldwin’s eyes, only Caesar could stand shoulder to shoulder with him.
Even though David already had Mersin, how could that isolated enclave compare to prosperous Damascus? Moreover, even not standing from a father’s perspective but purely from a general’s, David was an invaluable candidate. Those so-called bad habits that Raymond had criticized countless times had now become bargaining chips for contending for this position.
Was his David not upright? Not benevolent? Not brave, fearless, humble, and pious?
Moreover, the distance between Damascus and Tripoli was closer than to Ayyarasa Road or Bethlehem, and Cyprus… not to mention.
Then father and son could fully support each other; even if David were attacked by Saracens, he could completely send reinforcements.
Even in the future, they could connect Damascus and Tripoli into one piece. The first Count of Tripoli—Raymond IV of Toulouse—had been forced to fight desperately for Tripoli because he missed the crown of Ayyarasa Road, in order to gain a foothold in the Holy Land.
Every subsequent Count of Tripoli had thirsted for greater territory; this was simply a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
But that Saracen just stepped back: “I know David of Tripoli; he is also an admirable enemy.
But we only want Caesar.
Besides him, we will not trust any Christian, not even you—that is why we are putting this forward as a condition here. Otherwise, rather than lingering in prolonged torment, we would prefer a mad and heroic death.”
