Chapter 258: Saladin’s Day
When Saladin woke up, it was around three-thirty in the morning, the sky was still cobalt blue, and the crescent moon and stars hanging high on the black velvet-like dome shone like pearls and mother-of-pearl, their light coming from millions of miles away, falling before Saladin’s bed, as if paving a brilliant yet illusory path for this newborn king.
He slowly sat up, gazing at this serene and magnificent scene.
No matter how skilled the craftsman’s handiwork, no matter how clever the scholar’s thoughts, no matter how exquisite man’s creations, they could never surpass the nature granted to them by Allah.
In this instant, his mind was unprecedentedly clear, as if he heard the Prophet’s admonition again; Saladin looked toward the sky, but was disturbed by the shadow projected on the wall.
After Saladin rejected the Assassin’s offer of peace, the atmosphere in Cairo suddenly became tense. Guarding his door and corridors were all those who had once received revelation from the Prophet; they were full of zeal, with firm resolve—even a breeze, if not permitted, would be ruthlessly seized if it tried to pass their lines; and any slight sound, even the breathing of bricks and stones or the trembling of vines, would arouse their utmost vigilance.
The Chief Eunuch walked in.
He knelt three steps away from Saladin, devoutly prostrating at his feet, touching his forehead to the cold stone bricks.
Saladin did not speak to him, but directly got out of bed and walked into the adjacent bathroom. Except for the three coldest months, Saladin never bathed with warm water.
He believed that giving the body some stimulation was instead beneficial for sharpening his mind and strengthening his body. The water flowed down from the top of his hair, from his forehead, jaw, shoulders, chest and back to his bare feet.
He was cleansing himself, but not just cleansing his body; at the same time, he was cleansing his soul. For Saladin, it was more like a trial and torment, also allowing him to stay clear-headed every day.
He had once entered Acre’s castle and stayed in Caliph Al-Adid’s palace; he knew too well the corrosion of unlimited power and human weakness on a once brave warrior and monarch.
He was now the true owner of Egypt, but he was even unwilling to formally use the title of Sultan; in letters and self-reference, he only used the title “Victor”（ subordinate to Sultan）; he minted coins, but did not use his own portrait, instead using the name and portrait of the Abbasid Caliph.
He always insisted that he was merely the Abbasid Caliph’s deputy and commander—no one, of course, would go looking for that so-called Abbasid Caliph.
But every time he referred to himself thus, it was a warning, reminding Saladin—he had not yet fulfilled the oath he made to Allah—any negligence or slackness would cause him to lose his original heart on this long road.
Saladin spread his arms; the Chief Eunuch and two servants dried his hair and skin for him, dressed him in a white round-neck loose robe, then put on a black outer robe—this outer robe was still not silk, but thickly woven cotton, fastened with a belt—a black wide cowhide belt, with only a silver buckle, and hung a scimitar.
Saladin put a small round hat on himself, then wrapped a long cloth strip around the hat; finally, the Chief Eunuch presented a black sleeveless wool cloak—this was perhaps one of the few changes Saladin made after becoming Sultan, but he still refused to wear any gold ornaments; on his hand, he only wore a silver ring.
Throughout this process, Saladin remained silent. Upon returning to the room, the Chief Eunuch lit a brazier for him; he sat cross-legged on the carpet, closed his eyes in meditation, and only after reciting scripture three times did he slowly open his eyes. “Have all the children arrived?”
He asked. The previous visit by Assassin leader Sinan had made him realize that some of his sons perhaps did not possess the courage and boldness that a warrior should have as he thought; he was disappointed in their cowardice, so he ordered all the boys to be gathered by his side for upbringing.
Even those still in swaddling clothes among them.
They lived with Saladin in one palace, no longer surrounded by fragile, fickle, amorous women, but by their father and the most trustworthy, toughest, and strongest warriors.
What Saladin cared about most was of course the eldest son Evdal; he only hoped his previous performance was momentary, unrelated to his essence. “I will dine with Evdal, Usman, and Aziz.”
He was referring to his three eldest sons: the eldest, second, and third.
Then he named a few ministers.
Saladin’s breakfast was always very light; since the Prophet forbade them drinking, Saladin mostly drank milk, spring water, or a mixture of both, adding sugar and salt to the water.
A merchant offered him the latest commodity from Cyprus: a crystal-clear sugar about the size of a finger, more like some kind of mineral than a seasoning.
This sugar was very popular with women and children. But after inquiring about its price, Saladin did not, as the merchant hoped, include this special sugar in the purchase list.
But not long after, the merchant came again, this time offering a price so low it was astonishing.
Saladin thought the merchant wanted some privileges or hoped to obtain protection in his domain; he asked the other party and decided that if the merchant was not too greedy, he would grant his request.
But unexpectedly, the merchant said it was because someone who had once received his favor instructed him to do so, and that for Saladin’s past generosity, it was not worth mentioning.
In his more than a decade of military career, Saladin did not know how many nobles, Turks, Christians, even Saracens he had captured.
But could he not know who this person was?
Who did not know the landless Count Caesar by the side of the King of Ayyarasa Road, who not only gained a marriage alliance with a princess by saving the life of Byzantine Empire Emperor Manuel I—although this princess had become illegitimate due to the annulment of her mother’s and father’s marriage—but also came with a considerable dowry—Cyprus.
And what was now the most famous from Cyprus, rapidly popular throughout the Mediterranean region and quickly spreading inland, if not rock sugar?
Saladin was silent for a while, then generously accepted this return. Some might say this return was truly meager compared to Saladin’s past generous acts, but Saladin knew very well that Caesar did not equate this simple gift with repayment—because Saladin was that kind of person; once he acknowledged someone, he would favor him in many matters and be willing to share good things with him.
Kamal saw Saladin’s finger hovering over that stack of rock sugar for a good while and guessed that the Sultan must have remembered that young Christian knight. If things went as they expected, perhaps in one or two months, they would meet on the battlefield.
By then, that young knight would surely fight the Saracens for his king and God; would Saladin forgive him? As before—but if this young man refused, or fell directly on the battlefield, what then?
“What are you thinking?” Saladin suddenly asked. Kamal hesitated only a moment before saying, “I was thinking of that young man.”
Saladin smiled; without asking, he could guess what Kamal was thinking. “If he does not fight fiercely, I would look down on him.
We fight for our respective faith, territory, and glory, just like tigers and lions tearing at each other in the wilderness; the victor can consume the loser’s flesh to survive, while the loser becomes a pile of white bones in the wilderness.
We are no different from them, with no room to retreat or cower. I admire him, value him; if he is willing to come to me, I will gladly accept him, even if he is unwilling to convert; it is no big issue.
But if he comes to the battlefield, stands opposite me, yet hopes to steal or beg victory with past sentiments, that I would find intolerable.
It is simply a blasphemy.
Do you understand? Kamal, I would regretfully watch him, as if seeing a crooked tree branch. The only thing I might do is swing my sword to sever it.”
“I believe he is not that kind of person; I just feel some regret,” Kamal said.
“Father, who is the person you are talking about?” his eldest son asked curiously.
Although Saladin had been disappointed in them before, he had not shown it. In front of the children, he could be a kind father; apart from strict requirements in prayer, study, and martial training, he was very tolerant with the children in clothing, food, housing, and travel—just like now, the three children were wearing blue, yellow, and green clothes, edged with silk and adorned with a little embroidery.
If they were already adults, they would surely be reprimanded by Saladin, but now they could still receive their father’s indulgence.
“He is older than you,” Saladin said, “younger than me, yet already a praiseworthy young man; at least in my view, no one could be more loyal, steadfast, and pure than him; his inner self fully matches his body. And the revelation of the Prophet he received was so thorough and perfect.
He could once shelter more than a hundred knights, letting them charge repeatedly in a camp of tens of thousands, without a single one suffering heavy injury or death.”
“Wow!” The children, upon hearing this, could not help exclaiming; admiration shone in their eyes like bright stars. “Can you summon him? Let us meet that person, have him be our teacher.”
Saladin chuckled softly. “I would very much like to, but unfortunately it is unlikely, children; he is a Christian.
