Chapter 123: First Battle
The Grand Master of the Knights Templar Philip mercilessly strangled Baldwin and Caesar’s idea.
This was also something unavoidable. After all, they were now only fifteen or sixteen years old, and in the Knights Templar, the majority were elders in their thirties or forties. Once they entered knight orders like the Templars or the Knights Hospitaller, which were of the martial monk type, they had to sever all ties to the mortal world.
If they had not fulfilled their duties as a son, husband, father, and subject beforehand, they could not serve God, unless like the first Godfrey, willing to entrust everything to another male heir—people revere him precisely because he truly abandoned a vast fortune that would move even a king, rather than like most Crusaders, who had no inheritance rights or title and thus had no choice but to leave their homeland and journey far to the Holy Land.
Philip was already forty-seven years old. He had already seen his son marry and have an heir. For an elder like him, how could you expect him to obey a young man as if obeying God?
Although Philip did feel a brief moment of temptation—he had always been a reserved and mediocre man, unable to rise above past experience and the current situation to make a judgment that seemed perverse but was actually decisive—something the latter is often called “genius” or “madman.”
“I heard you like risky moves when playing chess.” He gave Caesar a reproachful glance. Although the words were directed at Baldwin, who could help it that Caesar was by Baldwin’s side? Even if Caesar had not instigated the king, failing to dissuade him was a sin, not to mention that Caesar’s attitude clearly supported Baldwin.
“I thought you were a steady good child.” The Grand Master of the Knights Templar said somewhat angrily. He had just made a rough estimate of Sultan Nur al-Din’s army with several other Knight Commanders. This expedition could be called Sultan Nur al-Din’s final battle. He brought nearly twenty thousand soldiers, half of whom were cavalry. They also brought large amounts of supplies, weapons, and siege engines, and merchants continuously transported fodder and various provisions for them.
Nur al-Din was far wealthier than Amalric I. After all, Amalric I only controlled Ayyarasa Road, while Nur al-Din controlled all of Syria. Relatively speaking, how many men did they have now? Although in the previous clash with that thousand-man unit, they had caught them off guard and their losses were not great, even if they joined with Nalessa and a few nearby cities, they could muster at most two or three hundred knights and two or three thousand infantry.
With such a disparity in numbers, Philip had never considered direct battle with the enemy. Moreover, they needed to keep their movements secret, especially not letting Nur al-Din know that Baldwin IV was here. They should return to Ayyarasa Road as quickly as possible and then hold the city, waiting for the main force to come to their aid.
But Philip had little confidence in his heart—siege warfare could take a long or short time; some might need one or two years, but short ones could break the city defenses in just a week. When the Crusaders took Ayyarasa Road initially, it took a month and a half. When they attacked Fustat, it took about two months.
What worried him was Nur al-Din, who might commit all his forces from the start, heedless of losses or casualties. This would not only put great pressure on the people in the city, but if he truly spotted a weak point, Ayyarasa Road might fall before the main force could return…
“Moreover, you cannot prove that Sultan Nur al-Din is already at the end of his strength. At least the knights saw him still riding on horseback, not lying in a sedan chair or sitting in a carriage.
He decided to campaign, perhaps indeed somewhat hastily, but there was a reason.” At this point, Philip involuntarily showed a troubled expression: “Yes, we made a mistake, and he seized this opportunity, but that does not mean you can take risks, Your Majesty.”
He half-knelt solemnly before Baldwin and said earnestly, “Your father Amalric I was a brave warrior. He did not fail the duties and status entrusted to him by his brother, nor did he betray the expectations of the Christians. Although the two expeditions to Egypt both failed, we can all see he was blameless, merely cruelly toyed with by the devil.
You are his only son. Even though you contracted leprosy, facing the Church’s harsh criticism, the people’s questioning, and the ministers’ admonitions, he never thought of abandoning you. In the last moments of his life, he exerted all his strength and arranged everything, so no one can question your legitimacy and legality.
Not to mention the Count of Tripoli and the Duke of Antioch—their greatest role is not to check you, but to support you through these most difficult days.
What’s more, even though you are afflicted with illness, God still blessed you and granted you Saint George’s Spear—please do not so lightly disregard your own life. Perhaps one day this terrible curse will leave you, and you will gain long life and endless glory. Perhaps many years from now, looking back on today, you will only smile.
Your Majesty,” he sighed and then said: “I can swear, as long as you are willing to endure, from this day forward, as long as you are the King of Ayyarasa Road, Guardian of the Holy Sepulchre, knight of Christ, I will forever obey your will.”
With that, he lifted the young monarch’s hand and pressed it to his own forehead.
If Philip had adopted a tyrannical posture or a contemptuous attitude, Baldwin could have paid lip service while acting otherwise, or even detained or executed him to seize his power. But with such heartfelt words, Baldwin instead felt ashamed of his previous wicked thoughts.
As we said, the relationship between the Knights Templar and the monarch of Ayyarasa Road has always been quite tense. After all, no ruler would want such a force in their capital that they could not fully control, and compared to the Knights Hospitaller, the Knights Templar were indeed much more overbearing in their actions…
They firmly believed they served God. What of secular monarchs? They still had to wait for judgment in hell, whereas they, upon death, would immediately ascend to heaven.
Thus, they schemed against each other and despised one another, yet had to stand together when facing heathens. This relationship seems very strange to later generations, even unbelievable—how dare you entrust your back to someone who would draw sword against you?
But that is the fact. No matter how fiercely they quarreled within the City of Ayyarasa Road, once on the battlefield, whether Knights Hospitaller or Knights Templar, they would fight to the death with all their might. Their piety in faith was both hateful and admirable—and for Philip to go this far was already a great concession.
Baldwin rarely hesitated. What Philip said was not wrong; returning to Ayyarasa Road was a relatively conservative approach. But precisely because of his special status, if he made a wrong decision and Philip decided to obey, and their judgment erred, leading to him being captured or killed amid the enemy, this Grand Master would not only lose all his current status and glory but be nailed to the cross of shame.
They would mock him, and even more condemn him as Grand Master of the Knights Templar. Because he was both elder and strongman—yes, even now Baldwin and Caesar were knights—people would still say he failed to protect these two children. He could afford to be willful, but if the price was not paid by him but by others in his stead, he had to be more cautious.
Baldwin looked to Caesar for help with his eyes, but Caesar could only give the same answer. This was the limitation of the era: almost all intelligence was murky and unclear. Neither merchants nor knights could approach Sultan Nur al-Din’s army, let alone get before Nur al-Din to closely observe his condition.
Those Saracens around him would not leak any information about him, not even a scrap. They could only guess. It would be a grand gamble: winning would bring huge gains, but losing would mean nothing.
“Lord…?”
Breaking the stalemate was Philip’s escort. “There’s an Isaacite outside,” he said. “He wants to see the Knight of Bethlehem.”
Philip’s gaze sharpened like a needle: “How does he know the Knight of Bethlehem is here?”
Baldwin IV always traveled with the Knight of Bethlehem, something many people knew. At this time, for a profit-seeking Isaacite to suddenly visit and specifically ask for Caesar was no good thing. “Did he say who he is?”
In any case, Philip had already decided to detain him or simply hang him for the charge of swindler.
“He asked me,” the escort said to Caesar: “whether you still remember, in Fustat, when you as overseer made a fair judgment between him and a Crusader knight, saving him and his family. He has always remembered this favor, and now he has finally found an opportunity to repay it, if you are willing to see him.”
“Bring him in,” Philip said. “I’ll see him with you.”
The Isaacite was quickly brought in. Upon seeing him, Caesar immediately remembered: he was that Isaacite craftsman with a lovely daughter. He had left a deep impression on Caesar—not because of his wife and daughter, but because his Saracen neighbors were willing to speak for him and pay his redemption money.
One must know, Isaacites, whether in Syria, Ayyarasa Road, or Egypt, were second-class, even third-class citizens. People despised them because they always hoarded and speculated, bought low and sold high, even lent at usury. For Isaacites, this was necessary, as they had no land, could not farm or herd, and could only sustain themselves this way.
But to others of this era, such things not only violated doctrine—whether Christians or Saracens—but often involved deception, intimidation, and distortion. Their contempt and hatred for Isaacites was entirely justified.
For this Isaacite to gain full support and help from Saracens showed he was indeed a rare upright man among Isaacites. “You are called…”
“Haridi.” The Isaacite gave his name.
“It seems you still remember me.” His voice was hoarse, eyes bloodshot, hair disheveled, body stained with large patches of blood—especially on his thigh, where though the bleeding had stopped, the exposed wound was still so horrific and dangerous, swollen with deep red scars like a devil’s mouth.
And the blood on his chest, face, and hands showed he had once held a blood-drenched body in his arms.
“You say you owed me a favor and have now found a way to repay it,” Caesar asked. “So, how do you plan to repay me?”
Haridi gave a bleak smile: “First, I must tell you something. My hometown, the Isaacite settlement in the wilderness of Kibbutz Kunlan, has been completely destroyed by Sultan Nur al-Din’s vanguard.
They killed almost everyone, burned the village. I escaped; perhaps there are a few survivors like me. I don’t know…”
“You come bearing hatred.” Philip asked, “Do you want to beg us to avenge you?”
“If I had such a thought, let me go to hell.” Haridi said: “Lord, I will not ask anyone to avenge me. I myself am a sharp blade forged in hatred. I came here hoping you will grasp me and thrust me into the enemy’s heart.”
“You are not a knight.”
“I am not a knight, yes; there are no knights among Isaacites. But lord, not all revenge must be accomplished by sword. I brought a prophecy, spoken by my teacher, a lofty sage.”
He turned to Baldwin: “The old stars are falling, new stars are rising.” He did not say the next part of the prophecy: “Lord, do not be intimidated by that old beast’s dull roar and bristling mane; it is merely the last flash of a dying man, the final delirium of a soul decayed and dulled by age…
His campaign ended three months ago. What now walks the road is but a superficially glossy walking corpse. His defenses are like thin paper, torn at a pull. And for those Saracens, once their master dies, they will neither avenge him nor fulfill his wishes; they will slaughter each other to decide a new master.”
Philip frowned. He looked worriedly at Baldwin. Earlier he had gone to great lengths to persuade Baldwin, only for this extraneous matter to arise now—this Isaacite’s ravings would clearly reignite the dead fire in the ashes, making it blaze again.
He wanted to rebuke him, drag him out, lock him in a dungeon, torture him to reveal the full truth—he suspected he might be a Saracen spy, but if so, the Sultan’s army should have already surrounded them.
Baldwin stopped him: “Words are empty, pale, powerless, and change like night dunes. If you have only this tongue, we will not only disbelieve you but punish you. Because you would stake Christians’ lives on waves. But if you can produce any proof, as long as it proves your words…”
“I have it,” Haridi said candidly: “The sage of Qumran, my teacher, always had high hopes for me. He is dead, died after a night of flight. But before departing, he left me his most precious treasure.”
“Gold?”
“No, more precious than gold, Your Majesty. It is an incredibly ancient treasure. In the year 70, the Ancient Romans breached Ayyarasa Road and destroyed our Temple. Our scholars and sages, fleeing Ayyarasa Road, took as many ancient texts and documents as possible. My teacher collected some, and I know where they are. I even brought some.”
This was indeed precious. The room fell silent for a while, then Philip looked up and asked, “But what does this have to do with the current war?”
“You are unwilling to believe me because you do not trust the prophecies of Isaacite sages. But what if there were an opportunity to confirm Nur al-Din’s current condition? If he is as I say, only a frail shell with the inner flame already flickering—”
“How will you confirm?” Philip asked. “They will not allow an Isaacite before the Sultan.”
“I have something that, if the Saracens knew, they would surely want to obtain.”
