Chapter 121: First Battle
Being suddenly attacked by the enemy was, of course, not something Grand Master Philip of the Knights Templar wanted to see, but it was also not beyond his expectations.
After all, Makab Castle was originally on the foremost line of Ayyarasa Road, facing the tribes and armies of the Saracens, suffering more or less attacks every month. He calmly commanded his subordinates to quickly gather the few residents outside the castle and the knights out hunting, fortunately there were not many residents around the castle, and the knights on patrol and hunting would not go too far.
With rolling dust, the residents came running either on their own two legs or riding donkeys and mules desperately, and there was also a stranded caravan, they were driving carriages piled full of earthenware pots, not knowing if they contained oil or wine—the knights outside saw this and did not enter the castle first, but stayed vigilant while patrolling on the sides. Fortunately, the attacking enemies did not follow closely, they were also watching from afar.
Philip watched the iron grate fall and the drawbridge rise before turning back into the castle.
That brave knight had already drunk wine and received treatment from the priests; his most serious wound was a through-and-through injury, clearly from the short spear most commonly used by the Saracens. Fortunately, it had not damaged any important blood vessels or organs, and he was a knight who had received a blessing, allowing him to struggle back.
“That’s also because they don’t care about my relationship.” The knight said honestly, “They weren’t the usual small groups of tribal folk and thieves who come to attack us.” This sounded like good news, but his second half made everyone’s faces tense, “It was a large army.” He said with a bitter smile, “At least ten thousand strong, vast and boundless.”
No one present was foolish enough to question the knight’s words. The knight took a deep breath again: “At the time, I was riding to the top of a hill and looking down when I saw dust filling the sky. They were passing right below me, I froze, and only after a good while did I remember to leave, but then a Bedouin cavalryman wandering outside spotted me.
I think he must have immediately reported it to their officer. Soon, a small squad split off from that large army toward me. I fled all the way…” He paused slightly here, looking timidly at the Grand Master of the Knights Templar. He was a young man, not long in the Knights Templar, but he knew that fleeing in battle would bring scorn and punishment in the order.
Fortunately, Philip just waved his hand, “You didn’t stay to fight because you came back to report, that doesn’t prove you’re not brave. Cherishing your life, the information you brought is far more important than a hundred enemy heads.”
The knight showed a trace of gratitude and relief before continuing, “But when I saw the castle, their pursuit slowed down. Before entering the castle, my last glance showed them standing on horseback watching.”
——————
“He is a knight of Makab Castle.” Nur al-Din said: “I know that castle.”
When that officer sent men to pursue that knight, it wasn’t just to simply kill him. After all, on their line of march, such a Christian knight suddenly appeared; they needed to know if it was chance, accident, or premeditated—was he alone here, leading an army, or from a castle.
And the squad of Bedouin cavalry they sent out soon returned to report that the knight had entered Makab Castle.
Makab Castle was also a familiar place to them, a small castle but a tightly embedded nail. After listening to their report, Nur al-Din casually waved his hand, deciding to allocate a thousand-man unit to take it down.
This was not his oversight; after all, no one knew the King of Ayyarasa Road was in that castle. Merchants might know the king’s whereabouts, but intelligence transmission wasn’t as fast as now, usually delayed by three to five days, even a week or a month.
And before deciding on the expedition, Nur al-Din had thoroughly investigated every castle on this defensive line, knowing clearly the height of the castle walls, number of city gates, number of defending knights and soldiers, and how many knights had received blessings.
Makab Castle had about fifty Templar Knights, their escorts and armed attendants about three times that number, perhaps some servants and residents, but only two knights who had received blessings. Nur al-Din didn’t take such a small obstacle to heart. A thousand men, with five Fatah officers who had received the Prophet’s revelation, usually filled by tribal leaders, everyone thought it would be an easy victory.
These thousand men were quickly dispatched, like a stream branching from a great river, winding toward Makab Castle, while the vast army continued forward unaffected, without stopping.
If Baldwin III, who had once fought Nur al-Din, were still here, he would surely sigh that his old nemesis had aged.
If it were twenty, no, ten years ago, Nur al-Din would not have let such a suspicious point go so easily, but age and illness had exhausted him. Yes, he had done something beyond expectations, dragging this body that could ascend to heaven at any moment to launch this long and arduous expedition. The price was that he was burning fiercely like the last candle segment, the bright flame representing not vigorous life, but final unwillingness.
Unlike kings or caliphs centuries later, as commander, Sultan Nur al-Din, once stepping out of the palace, had to stay on horseback. Whether under scorching sun or biting night wind, he had to stand like a flag before everyone.
If he showed fatigue, even sitting in a sedan chair or carriage, not to mention the emirs and Fatah under him, even the half-slave half-soldier Nubians would mock him in secret, breeding contempt and laxity; his authority in the army would be greatly shaken.
If he were only attacking an ordinary peaceful small city or even village, it would be fine, but he was attacking the sacred fortress of Ayyarasa Road. No siege warfare was quickly and easily successful; they would face all sorts of obstacles—from armies sallying from city gates, towering city walls, people embracing certain death…
After all, Nur al-Din had once sworn to the Saracens that if one day he entered Ayyarasa Road, he would slaughter all its residents to repay the blood debt Crusader knights owed the Saracens.
He was the pillar, the flag, and the “Light of Faith.” He would leave a will: even if he fell, even if he died, they must carry him into Ayyarasa Road. Amaury I had once traded his death for the Crusaders’ main force to withdraw safely from burning Fustat; he too could use his death to inspire his army to retake this holy city from the Crusaders.
But if he fell before seeing hope, his death would be worthless.
So no matter how tired or weak he was, he had to persist sitting on horseback, marching long distances with the soldiers. Even in the tent discussing matters with the emirs, he would stand straight, his fluffy white hair and beard like a lion’s mane, majestic and solemn as always, making them dare not meet his eyes.
But such persistence came at a cost; human energy is limited. When most of it was used to maintain his posture, less was left for his mind.
He brushed past his victory.
——————
Makab Castle had only fifty Templar Knights and over a hundred soldiers, but since the Grand Master of the Knights Templar was serving the king on patrol outside, there couldn’t be just a scant few with them. So now in this castle, the Templar Knights weren’t just fifty, but one hundred thirty.
The Knights of the Holy Sepulchre who came with the king— the king was originally their Grand Master— also numbered one hundred fifty. Most crucially, at least one-third of these knights had received blessings and were deeply favored by saints, not to mention among them were existences like Baldwin and Caesar, which could hardly be called mere favor, more like saints incarnate.
When it was confirmed that the enemies attacking the castle were only over a thousand, Grand Master Philip of the Knights Templar’s expression immediately eased. It seemed the enemies didn’t know the King of Ayyarasa Road was in this castle. He stopped Baldwin and Caesar: “It’s not that I won’t let you fight.” He said.
Caesar perhaps could, since among them there were knights who could share the saint’s favor to companions, but the king’s Saint George’s Spear was too special. Once it appeared on the battlefield—especially both at the same time—people would immediately associate it with those two knights who shone on the Egyptian battlefield. The king’s secret here would of course be quickly revealed.
The outcome of the battle was beyond doubt. When Makab’s city gate opened wide and knights poured out, that thousand-man unit’s Fatah even felt a moment of confusion. They had thought the knights in Makab Castle would defend to the death, requiring them to spend quite some time here—but this might not be bad, as he could still catch the siege of Ayyarasa Road.
Nur al-Din swore to kill everyone in Ayyarasa Road, meaning they could plunder everything visible without restraint. Nearly a hundred years of accumulation had turned the once desolate Ayyarasa Road back into a city forged of gold, while their tribes were so poor, poor to the point that anything was good, precious, rare.
It could be said that everyone in the Sultan’s army, from emirs to the lowliest slave soldiers, anticipated the gains from this war; these thousand men naturally wouldn’t be interested in desolate little Makab Castle.
But when this Fatah snapped out of his fantasy, he discovered that the knights charging from the city gate far exceeded fifty; even counting their escorts, the number was too much.
He looked to his deputy; the two immediately knelt shoulder to shoulder in prayer, waiting for the Prophet to give them revelation.
And that force, clearly exceeding expectations, suddenly accelerated at this moment, and under their flying surcoats and cloaks, deadly glimmers began flashing one after another. The Fatah’s eyes widened; he could hardly believe it!
The knights charged in lines of twelve, and the weapons and armor of these twelve all shimmered with despair-inducing light.—Compared to it, the light on him and his deputy was like fireflies to the full moon, utterly insignificant.
“Damn swindlers!” He had just roared when a great force sent him flying. The leader fell from on high to the ground; relying on the Prophet’s revelation, he leaped up and drew his scimitar.
But by then a following knight had already lowered his spear, and the spear pierced his shoulder in one thrust, in the exact same spot as that reporting knight.
But he was not as lucky as that knight; the huge kinetic energy carried by the spear itself, plus the might the saint granted this weapon, cleaved him open in one go. His head along with half his shoulder flew into the sky; he could even see his lower half body still blindly and futilely cleaving, and by the time he fell into the dust and was trampled by hooves, his thousand-man unit was in rout.
They had been deceived; that was his final thought.
Philip had been closely watching the changes on the battlefield; not only did he have to defeat these Saracens—which was inevitable—he couldn’t let a single enemy escape, lest they return and inform the Sultan. Though Nur al-Din was old and dull, upon hearing that such a small Makab Castle surprisingly had dozens of blessed knights, he would immediately think of the new king of Ayyarasa Road.
He would surely turn around at once to kill or capture Baldwin IV.
Even without the king, Ayyarasa Road’s people would still resist resolutely to the last moment; after all, no one wanted to die under Saracen blades. But if the king were captured or killed before the decisive battle, it would undoubtedly be a major blow to the Christians.
Fortunately, while the knights were directly engaging the Saracens, another force had quietly circled from behind the castle to outside the position, forming a loose but complete encirclement. Every Saracen trying to escape their spears and crossbows would despair—and once they devoured the pieces scattered off the chess board, they would join the earlier striking force in a pincer attack, thoroughly annihilating them.
Moreover, a small team of blessed Crusader knights with exceptionally keen hearing and sight rode out a distance to ensure no fish escaped the net; they were very careful, not alarming Nur al-Din’s army like the previous knight.
“Next we must hurry back to Ayyarasa Road.” Philip said: “I will immediately write to Raymond and Bohemond, hoping they can turn back at once.”
Though he said that, he felt it unlikely—Nur al-Din must have confirmed the Crusaders’ main force had left Ayyarasa Road before daring this opportunistic raid on Ayyarasa Road, plus the time they had been on the road… Even if Raymond and Bohemond immediately led the army back, it would be too late, let alone that Nur al-Din was likely to ally with Mulai—if the Crusaders dared leave their back to Mulai, Mulai probably wouldn’t pass up the opportunity.
He finished and hurriedly left; there was still much to handle.
Baldwin had been silent; Philip’s suggestion was of course correct. Even his father Amalric I would at this time first rush back to Ayyarasa Road and then prepare for defense.
“Do you have a map?” He asked.
“I have it.” Caesar said. Since they were out on patrol inspecting defenses, they of course had a map, and Caesar had prepared early; along the way, seizing this rare opportunity, he had been refining a more accurate and detailed map based on the original data in hand.
Before arriving at Makab Castle, he had already copied and organized this map mostly; when opened, it was not only much larger than the original parchment but also far more precise—this was a modern map to scale, with contour lines and water sources—no superfluous decoration, at first glance even seeming like two maps.
Baldwin easily found their current position, Makab Castle, then looked downward along it; below them was the Sea of Galilee.
The Sea of Galilee was not a sea but a huge freshwater lake; the Jordan River passed through it from north to south, plus underground spring water supplements, so it never dried up. Its west side was Nalessa, the city where Jesus spent his childhood and youth, also a famous holy site.
Below Nalessa were two mountainous areas, Manasseh and Ephraim, and further down was Ayyarasa Road. They had come by this route too, but now to avoid Nur al-Din’s army, they might go west, then along the coastline back to Ayyarasa Road.
“We can of course go back, but… must we only go back?”
If someone else asked this, Baldwin would think he was cowardly, afraid to return to that city surely full of dangers. But if it was Caesar asking, he would only think his close friend was thinking the same as him.
If they hurried back to Ayyarasa Road like this, they would be completely passive, only able to wait—wait for Nur al-Din’s army, wait for Raymond and Bohemond’s possibly unattainable rescue, wait for the worst outcome.
They wouldn’t fantasize that Nur al-Din would willingly give up this long-brewed cup of fine wine. Amalric I’s second attack on Egypt was all-or-nothing; Nur al-Din’s assault on Ayyarasa Road in his final breath was also a desperate gamble.
Back then Amalric I could retreat because he had drained Bilbeis and Fustat; could Nur al-Din now pay the salaries for these tens of thousands? Even the half-slave half-soldier Nubians were fighting for money.
“First we need to convince the Grand Master of the Knights Templar.”
“He might think we’ve gone mad.”
“But we should try.” Baldwin said.
The news from the merchants should be reliable—Nur al-Din launching the expedition now could be said to exploit the gap during the transition of Ayyarasa Road’s king.
But intriguingly, even Baldwin and Caesar, who had seen little, could sense his haste and anxiety—Ayyarasa Road was a fortress more imposing than Fustat; Amalric I prepared three years to attack Fustat.
How long had Nur al-Din prepared? A few months ago he was still fighting another force in Syria.
He couldn’t wait any longer.
And an army led by such a weakened monarch, was it really as invincible as people thought?
Not necessarily.
Baldwin firmed his resolve, nodding slightly to Caesar. Caesar quickly went to the door, called a knight, and asked Grand Master Philip of the Knights Templar to come here, “As soon as possible.” He said.
This “as soon as possible” wasn’t just for the Grand Master of the Knights Templar.
