Chapter 160: The First To Arrive
Caesar’s consciousness awakened before his body.
He had already endured such torment several times before. After overusing or even overdrawing the favor granted by the saint, that pain and emptiness could even drive a person with insufficient willpower insane. He was sealed within this shell, able to only silently endure it, just like every human tormented by illness. He had also considered surrendering to endless darkness to end this torture, but the thought flashed by and vanished.
As a doctor, no one understood the fragility and preciousness of life better than he did. He did not know how those who loved him in another world would face his death, but at least in this world, he had blood-related family and close friends he could not bear to part with.
He knew that many people had treated him, including Christian monks and Saracen scholars.
He knew this so clearly because they sat beside him, held his hands, and prayed to their deities for strength, inevitably reciting scripture aloud. Their gods, even saints and the Prophet, all pointed in fact to one direction.
Sometimes Caesar wanted to smile bitterly in helplessness. They clearly worshiped one God yet treated each other as mortal enemies. It seemed they could not prove their piety to the deity unless they slaughtered the other side completely. But was this truly what the deity wanted to see?
Even after witnessing, feeling, and possessing this transcendent power, thoughts arose in Caesar’s heart that would horrify his teacher and close friends to the extreme. Unless the God now jointly worshiped by Christians and Saracens was a monster who delighted in bloodshed and slaughter, how could He witness His own believers constantly suffering in the city belonging to Him?
He could clearly change all of this.
If at the birth of Christianity, there was indeed irreconcilable conflict with the polytheistic worship of Ancient Rome and Ancient Egypt—this was normal. After all, that existence had already said, you shall worship only Me as God—even when the Ancient Romans generously allowed Christians to place their god’s image in the Pantheon, Christians would inevitably fight them to the death.
This was a scene humans had to face in the struggle for faith.
Human lifespan, resources, and energy are all limited. Even in polytheism, they distinguished according to their needs—couples should worship Juno, generals should worship Mars, monarchs should worship Jupiter… rather than endlessly throwing gold coins and offerings at every god image they saw.
And when one deity received worship, another deity would inevitably be neglected. If this persisted, the deity would similarly fall or be replaced.
But in this era, this place, the purpose of war had thoroughly become a struggle solely for human interests.
Why did the Crusaders travel thousands of miles to this unfamiliar place full of hostility toward them?
Of course because interests drove them, just like a whip driving cattle and horses.
Isaacites once called this the Land of Milk and Honey because the Ayyarasa Road and surrounding areas were once indeed rich and vast hills, woodlands, and plains, lush with water and grass, abundant plants. Scattering seeds on the ground would yield rich returns the next year.
But gradually, as the desert expanded, oases were swallowed one by one. The region’s meaning gained new interpretation. Money as a new crop grew anew from here, like the roots of a great tree, firmly rooted in place, sending endless “milk and honey” to every sultan and caliph, and their nations.
If not for Saracen civilization being born too late, with the Crusaders’ expedition failing from the start under Saracen scimitars, it could be said that Urban II chose the best timing. Before that pile of loose sand coalesced into hard rock, he incited Europe’s kings and lords to march on this rich promised land—his thinking was also simple.
For the Church, for the kings’ and lords’ thirst for wealth, for the bewildered young men under primogeniture, and those “restless” farmers amid years of plague and famine…
“Relics” were also one reason, but ultimately, they too could bring money and power.
Aside from a few fervent believers, they almost all went for land and money. And the Pope’s promised bright prospects were indeed fulfilled in the first few decades. They established their own nations and owned their own territories.
And this narrow strip of land was enough to sustain the Crusaders’ massive expenditures over the years.
For King of Ayyarasa Road Amalric I, the landless knights under him already exceeded three hundred, and he paid their salaries with real gold. Every expedition required covering all expenses for other summoned knights, including food, lodging, travel, martial arts tournaments, rewards, and pensions.
Thus, the conflict between Crusaders and Saracens could only grow sharper.
After all, human nature is greedy.
With interests right before their eyes, why shouldn’t they seize them? Even in negotiations, sharing, and concessions, it should be with their own blood kin, friends, and allies—a bunch of heathens? Ha, has he gone mad?
Not to mention, those knights had almost no way back. If they returned home, they could only serve as stewards, craftsmen for their own nephews or nephews. Having once fought for God, how could they endure the humiliation of such disparity?
But conversely, Saracens would not tolerate these invaders ravaging their land.
Not to mention, they had already slaughtered each other for seventy years. The hatred forged over seventy years had passed to at least three generations. Such deep bloodstains could only be erased with more time—but such peace could not exist at all.
Even if God descended here, it could not be done.
Jesus once fed everyone with two fish and five loaves, but this gift was too meager. Poor commoners might accept it, but what about the nobles above them? Whether Christians or Saracens, nobles’ food, clothes, residences, and horses could only be the finest and most luxurious.
Human pursuit of pleasure is always endless. Even among pious Saracens strictly adhering to doctrine, there were plenty of emirs or viziers wearing silk under their clothes, smoking hookahs, drinking “grape juice,” and seeking pleasure in the arms of Qiyan.
What to do? Satisfy them all? Impossible.
The only thing that could destroy this thirst was another emotion—fear.
Without the manifestation of power like an angel destroying the entire city of Sodom, humans would forever indulge in immediate pleasures and forget subsequent punishment.
Yes, what a difficult path this is. Caesar heard someone say this beside his ear—no, not entirely beside his ear. This voice seemed to come from all directions, from heaven, earth, and around him. And this voice made him feel inexplicably familiar; he even couldn’t help but shed hot tears, feeling for the first time such urgent desire to seek reliance.
But the other merely stood quietly at a place not far from him, yet hard to approach.
He seemed to gaze at the person He loved most in this world. Then the snow-white and bright environment slowly dimmed. Anxiety rose in Caesar’s heart. He knew He was about to leave, but he still had many questions, many worries, many joys or sorrows he wanted to pour out to Him.
But the other was so resolute.
Just as He had arrived so suddenly, He left just as unexpectedly. In an instant, all light vanished. Caesar fell back into darkness, letting out a loud cry—or so he thought. In fact, those guarding beside him only heard a faint call. He leaned down to hear what this Christian knight was saying—was he calling to their deity? Or begging for something?
But that Christian knight merely called out softly once, then made no more sounds. Yet his breathing remained steady, his complexion ruddy. The servant felt slightly relieved.
This young man was valued by their Grand Vizier Saladin, and he was indeed handsome as if crafted by Allah’s own hand. Even as a Saracen, he could not bear to see such a young sapling wither.
He stood up. Outside the door were two doctors waiting at all times. Hearing his account, the doctors entered, checked Caesar’s condition, and confirmed he was about to wake—a good sign.
“He may be weak for a long time afterward,” one doctor said. “We don’t know if he can receive the Prophet’s revelation again.”
“It should happen. His injuries are healing, and though he suffered great torment, a power has always protected him.” The other doctor spoke very tactfully. He had seen scholars who overused power; they were not so calm. Sometimes they even needed help for the “great purification”（, that is, full-body bathing）, as they might roll in the sand or soil themselves with excretions—these were human physiological reactions that willpower could not prevent.
Yet this young man either had no such severe aftereffects or the Prophet watching him had shielded him from this shame. Either way, it showed he had not been abandoned. He could still become a valiant knight, a troublesome enemy.
They arrived at the sultan’s door but saw a group of Isaacites wearing small caps and black robes leaving. One doctor reflexively stepped back and frowned; he did not like these Isaacites much.
Saracens were also very skilled at business, traveling between east and west continents without falsifying or deceiving.
Moreover, the true faith taught them not to make money from money, but Isaacites excelled at usury and money exchange—and they often cheated in the latter trade.
“I heard the Isaacites in Acre have suffered.”
“Which Isaacites don’t suffer?” his companion replied. “There may be some good persons among them, but too few to shake the authority of their high priests or elders.”
“Even if they wanted to, the sultan, caliph, and Christian kings would not allow it.” One doctor saw clearly.
Why were Isaacites always killed and expelled yet always reappeared in every city? Of course, because while despised, they were the best white gloves or black gloves for these rulers.
When rulers craved money but did not want a reputation for tyranny, Isaacites were their best hunting dogs and falcons. Unleashed, they tore into lowly commoners, merchants, even nobles and officials with some power using claws and fangs—then squeezed gold coins and silver coins from the blood and flesh.
Meanwhile, their hatred poured entirely onto the Isaacites. When things became unmanageable, the rulers would kick out the Isaacites to quell the people’s anger.
“Then they could just not do it.”
“And starve? Unfortunately, their ancestors first betrayed the Egyptians, then the Romans, then Saracens and Christians. They have no way out. And if they truly had such will and character, there might be no Isaacites in the world now.”
The two doctors’ comments might be overly harsh, but it must be said that among other peoples—whether Saracens against Christians, Christians against Saracens or Christians, Saracens against Saracens—there might indeed be a few innately greedy, selfish, vicious individuals willing to be a monarch’s sharp blade, but most people still had their own minds and positions.
Whether for themselves or the people, they would refuse the conditions proposed by the monarchs. Only Isaacites, despite countless precedents, steadfastly walked the most dangerous yet easiest, most convenient path to maximum gain.
Thus, others truly could not defend them.
“But why would Saladin see Isaacites?”
“Perhaps he has something for them to do.”
The doctors guessed wrong.
Unless necessary, Saladin would not deign to meet a group of Isaacites merchants, but their status and request did pique this future sultan’s interest.
“You mean, you want to use a hundred thousand gold coins to ransom your master?” Saladin looked down at the open box at his feet, gold gleaming inside—from the tenth century, Saracens had used “bills of exchange” earlier than Christians and Isaacites, but undoubtedly, gold coins were more persuasive than bills.
“Caesar?” He looked at those trembling Isaacites who had mustered their courage.
“Yes, our master, Knight of Bethlehem.”
