Chapter 124: First Battle
“This letter is from Muhammad, servant of Allah, together with his Lord, to the monarch of Byzantium, Heraclius. O leader guiding the path of truth, bathed in the light of peace. I sincerely invite you to step into the door of the faith… Once you convert, safety will accompany you, and Allah will grant you double blessings. If you refuse, you will mislead your people and lead them astray from the right path.”
After reading this passage, Nur al-Din did not continue. He silently bowed his head and slowly placed the wooden box in his hand on his knee.
This should be the letter of invitation to Islam from Prophet Muhammad to the monarchs of neighboring countries. Also known as the “Letters to Eight Countries,” in these letters, he urged the rulers of Abyssinia, Egypt, Persia, Byzantium, Bahrain, Yemen, Damascus, and Amman to convert. Regardless of the outcome, this was indeed the most glorious merit of the Saracens.
But of these eight letters, only three now remain in Egypt and Syria; the others are hard to find. Nur al-Din gently rubbed the seal on the letter—”Messenger of Allah, Muhammad.” This seal was identical to the one he knew, whether in size, pattern, or the tiny missing traces. The original Muhammad silver ring was indeed lost, but it could still be seen on the credentials preserved in the court.
The tent was silent; everyone was eagerly staring at the relic in his hand. Although they could not yet be sure—there was no doubt that with their imminent launch of a holy war, the arrival of this miracle would surely bring great confidence to them and their soldiers. It was an auspicious omen, no need to say it out loud—excitement shone in everyone’s eyes.
Unlike what these generals thought, Nur al-Din felt little joy or excitement at this moment. No one could question his determination, piety, and wisdom. It was precisely because of these three things that he dared not be certain; the world actually had such a coincidence.
Because their Prophet Muhammad had once said that Allah alone is the greatest, and there is no god besides Allah, so their church was not filled with all sorts of strange relics like the Christians’ churches.
At least as far as Nur al-Din knew, regardless of the sect, the Saracens only recognized three relics: Abraham’s Great Stone—in the Christians’ legend, Patriarch Abraham once sacrificed his only son on it. But for the Saracens, this great stone was the proof that their Prophet Muhammad, guided by an angel, rode a steed to heaven.
The second was one of Muhammad’s seven swords. It was called Zulfiqar; this sword had long been lost and could only be seen in some records related to Muhammad or on tapestries.
The third was a black meteorite located in Muqla.
Abraham’s Great Stone symbolizes worship and reverence for Allah, the Zulfiqar sword represents Prophet Muhammad’s bravery and purity, and the black stone in Muqla is the core of believers’ worship, symbolizing the threshold to heaven and loyalty to Allah.
This extremely important letter, if it was truly penned by Muhammad, would by Christian standards be an authentic and immensely precious relic—the priests might even cut each word on it for veneration.
But for the Saracens, even if it was real, Nur al-Din could not be sure—whether he should make it public. But when he looked around and saw those expectant faces, it was hard for him to voice this decision.
He could guess what these people were thinking: even if this relic was offered to them by an Isaacites merchant. It had not appeared in the previous few hundred years, nor in the following few hundred years, but appeared during their Light of Faith, when Sultan Nur al-Din led them on the expedition to Ayyarasa Road. This in itself was Allah’s approval and protection for them.
Nur al-Din looked again at the yellowed parchment; it was so thin and brittle that it could not even be held by hand and could only be placed in an exquisite wooden box, yet it was so heavy. When he lifted it and traced its sacred script with his eyes, someone instinctively reached out with both hands, palms up, as if ready to catch it at any moment.
Nur al-Din paused. In his father’s secret collection, he had indeed seen handwriting and seal identical to this letter. He finally let out a long sigh and raised the wooden box high: “Look, this is indeed penned by Prophet Muhammad himself.”
The tent immediately filled with suppressed cheers and praises.
While they eagerly passed around this precious manuscript, Nur al-Din had already risen and walked out of the tent. The Chief Eunuch followed him closely, not surprised to hear him ask about the Isaacite who delivered this manuscript.
“That… guest has been kept in my tent by me; he will receive grand hospitality in the coming days,” the Chief Eunuch said. He could tell that the arrival of this Isaacites merchant and the relic he offered did not please the Sultan but instead troubled him.
Normally, he would quietly withdraw and then order the servants to strangle this Isaacites merchant, but: “That Isaacites merchant said,” the Chief Eunuch lowered his voice, “he has more treasures, but he came alone and could not bring them all.”
“What else? Gold, or gemstones?”
“Books,” the Chief Eunuch answered: “Ancient texts, documents, manuscripts, records, poems, architectural sketches, legal documents gathered from various places by the Isaacites after they left Ayyarasa Road over these hundreds of years. Of course, the most numerous are scriptures and commentaries.”
“How does he have these things?”
“According to him, he was once a student’s of a sage, but due to some conflict with his people, they expelled him. Yet he did not give up what should have been his.
He had secretly followed his teacher several times and discovered these—he was somewhat disappointed because he wanted money or vessels, but unexpectedly they were just documents, yet also precious collections. He offers them to us, hoping…”
“Hoping?”
“Yes, Sultan, his idea is quite ridiculous, even amounting to a delusion…”
“Speak, what does he want?”
“He wants to become your minister, Sultan. He wants to serve in your court, even if he cannot become Governor or Vichir, at least a scribe or something…”
“Is he an ordinary man, or one who has received revelation from the Prophet?”
“Probably the latter.”
Nur al-Din pondered for a moment. He did not like this man who suddenly appeared and disrupted his plans, but he always valued education highly. During his decades ruling Syria, he built many schools and libraries with the treasury and his own money, hiring teachers to teach children.
If this Isaacites merchant had brought only relics, or gold, silk, and the like, he might not have been moved. But if he said he had many precious ancient texts—regardless, Nur al-Din would not kill him before obtaining them.
“It sounds like his appetite is not small at all,” Nur al-Din said as if joking. The Chief Eunuch immediately bowed deeply.
Whether in the Christians’ palaces or the Sultan’s court, those who have received blessings or revelations always gain more trust and favor from superiors than ordinary people, for they have proven their piety and uniqueness. Otherwise, how could they be called “the chosen ones”? Moreover, even those with meager blessings—like Witt—could not easily rise.
Nur al-Din recalled the Isaacites merchant he had seen in the tent not long ago—he insisted on seeing the Sultan before offering his treasures, otherwise he would rather destroy them.
He did not seem much like an Isaacite; he lacked the shrewdness typical of merchants. His face was pale, with black hair and black eyes; he was very neatly and meticulously groomed, more like a scholar.
Nur al-Din did not question the man’s intentions. After all, since the Isaacites were expelled from Canaan, Rome, and Egypt, they were a group of rootless rats wandering everywhere, without land or foundation, destined to be excluded from society. Whether in Christian or Saracen cities, they were greatly discriminated against and hard to respect, thus developing a two-faced, opportunistic nature.
Some even say they could betray their own Savior, let alone anything else?
Though harsh, this was very true. If a shrewd Isaacites merchant sensed their determination to take Ayyarasa Road and sought to secure a foothold for himself first, there was nothing strange about it.
“They once had King David and King Solomon, unfortunately…” Nur al-Din shook his head, ultimately swayed by the ancient scrolls said to fill an entire underground cave. After all, it was only a matter of months, or after the war started, he could have the man fetched to retrieve those ancient texts.
“If things are as he says, I can arrange for him a position as a librarian curator—hope he is satisfied,” Nur al-Din said, revealing a sly smile.
Hearing this answer, the Chief Eunuch finally felt at ease. He tried to control himself from touching the small money bag at his waist—inside was a large ruby, the bribe from that Isaacites merchant. He asked for nothing, only saying that perhaps they might become fellow ministers in the court someday…
The Chief Eunuch knew the Sultan’s physical condition all too well; Nur al-Din did not hide it from him. He had told the Chief Eunuch that once he fell, he would entrust his eleven-year-old young son Salih to him, to become Salih’s guardian and Regent. The Chief Eunuch was of course deeply grateful for this arrangement, but he also knew that the Vichirs and Fatah he colluded with were probably no match for the child’s two older brothers.
At such a time, any force that could be pulled under his command was extremely important. Especially since this Isaacites merchant said he originally lived in the City of Ayyarasa Road—if the Sultan could not return to Acre, he could quickly bring his young master from Acre here. Then, holding Ayyarasa Road, he could still contend with the two elder princes.
And at this moment, having someone who knew Ayyarasa Road very well would be ideal.
——————
The Chief Eunuch’s tent was not large but could hold ten people; it was simply but comfortably furnished. Only the two people in the tent—Haridi disguised as a merchant and the merchant’s servant—this servant was one of the escorts of the Grand Master of the Knights Templar. Even prepared for death, he felt like sitting on pins and needles.
Philip did not trust Haridi much, even though Haridi had not led the Saracens here—he had asked Haridi to bring a Christian. This was fine before Caesar became well-known, but now most people knew that new king Baldwin IV had a black-haired, green-eyed attendant by his side—his appearance was so distinctive, impossible to conceal, so he could only send his own escort.
Haridi indeed needed a servant; the letter personally penned by Muhammad was real, and precisely because it was real, it was extremely fragile when retrieved, as if a little force would turn it to dust. Thus, it was kept in a thin, large wooden box and protected very carefully.
And to prove his words, he also brought some documents written from the sixth to seventh centuries. For a man like Nur al-Din who loved reading and learning, just a quick comparison would lead to the conclusion that Haridi spoke the truth—there really was an entire underground cave of ancient scrolls waiting to be excavated.
It was precisely because of this that their identities had not been exposed.
But not being exposed did not mean they were safe. Who knew what Nur al-Din was thinking? Perhaps he still thought Isaacites untrustworthy, or even that Muhammad’s relic in his hands was a desecration—but now they were deep in the Saracen camp. Even with God’s blessing, they could not cross the swords and arrows of tens of thousands.
With a single thought from the Sultan, they would surely die.
This waiting was undoubtedly grueling and tormenting. They might have waited hours until someone entered; they carried no drawn swords or tough bowstrings, but some food and water.
Haridi and the escort involuntarily sighed in relief; this at least meant Nur al-Din would not kill them now.
He had already seen the Sultan during the previous audience. Upon seeing him, Haridi knew, as they had guessed, that Sultan Nur al-Din indeed had little time left. In that instant, Haridi even considered assassinating him on the spot, but in the end, he restrained himself.
Not to mention success, compared to a sudden but quick death, he preferred to see the pained look in this aging beast’s eyes upon realizing his lifelong wish could never be fulfilled.
Of course, they were still under strict watch and would move with the army later, but this escort had been favored by a saint, and his ability was interesting—he could summon small animals and make them temporarily obey his commands.
He crumbled the dry biscuit, and soon attracted several plump sand rats.
The escort used dye he carried to color the sand rats’ foreheads red—this was their agreed signal. He would release these fluffy little creatures, urging them through the Saracen camp straight to the hills on one side, where waiting knights would catch them and see the result.
He released several, after all, the Saracen camp was vast; after some distance, who knew if the sand rats would still obey. They might return to their burrows or hide. Fortunately, even if discovered, no one would notice a sand rat’s forehead.
After doing this, the escort and Haridi exchanged a brief glance—next, they had to wait again.
