Chapter 153: Breakthrough
More than a decade later, a great Saracen commander would praise it thus: Acre is the eye of Syria, and Apole Castle is the pupil of that eye.
Being praised in such a way, Apole Castle could not possibly be just a large, useless empty city. As people know well, it has three gates, each connected to tall and thick city walls stretching thousands of feet.
The South Gate, which is the only entrance and exit of Apole Castle, but some also call it the Sultan’s Gate. Because whether the New Sultan or the old Sultan, they must inevitably pass through this gate, or be carried out.
It is simple yet solemn, with almost no excessive decoration, only a proverb inscribed by Sultan Nur al-Din himself above the lintel—”Truth is like a mirror.”
Passing through this gate, you see buildings crowded closely together, but these buildings are clearly short and dense, because those living here are not the Sultan and his ministers, but the eunuchs, soldiers, and servants serving them. Although they are also part of Apole Castle, like the daily sunlight and dew, they may enjoy a portion of it, but certainly not the most or the best.
Even so, their treatment and glory already surpass those outside this castle.
The second layer is called the Double Lion Gate. Because lions are carved on both sides of the gate, lifelike, glaring fiercely, as if they are the most vigilant guards, firmly protecting the Sultan in the city. Sometimes, an Emir or a Fatah will also call themselves the twin lions before the gate, comparing themselves to the two beasts here.
And behind the Double Lion Gate stand the palace complex along the contours of this hill, large and small totaling around ten, but no Consorts of the Sultan live here. This is where the Sultan summons subjects and handles state affairs, with the most commonly used being the King’s Hall and the Throne Hall.
Contrary to what people imagine, when handling government affairs, the Sultan does not allow all ministers to crowd together with him in one place—nor is it possible. The Zengid dynasty still follows the ancient provincial system. Of course, the saying “under the Sultan, only slaves” is no empty words, but the slaves of the Sultan hold immense authority granted by the monarch—the governance of a region or a province.
Although the Sultan still holds the power of life and death over them, if they can gain the Sultan’s trust and ensure that the province they oversee steadily sends one-fifth of its income to the Sultan’s treasury each year, generally speaking, the Sultan will not barbarically interfere with his governance of the province. Undoubtedly, this form of rule cultivates countless ambitious men.
When a Sultan possesses wisdom, military force, and the people’s respect beyond the ordinary, like Nur al-Din, looking out, all before him are prostrate wheat. But if he becomes weak, or old, or has no heir capable of inheriting these, these docile crops will instantly turn into sharp thorns, piercing the monarch until he bleeds profusely and writhes in pain.
The third gate has no exact name. Because it connects to the Sultan’s Harem, people are inevitably full of curiosity about the Sultan’s women, but no one dares to be reckless here—only some of the most audacious fellows, when drunk on grape juice, vaguely call it the Rose Gate.
The unrest originated in the King’s Hall and Throne Hall adjacent to the Rose Gate, and the palace hidden behind the Rose Gate. Very likely, the Princes gathered their men here, and the riot behind the Rose Gate was possibly aimed at the Sultan’s three Madams. Once the bloody battle for inheritance rights begins, what the two Princes think of is inevitably to seize or kill the other’s mother. Their mothers are not female slaves without status and background; the meaning of life and death is naturally different.
But evidently, the two Madams are not entirely unprepared. But whether those two most important halls or the Sultan’s Harem, they are all at a certain distance from where the Christian knights are temporarily staying. After all, no one would place the enemy’s delegation at the heart of the fortress—now it has become their advantage.
And after the second gate, that is, behind the Double Lion Gate, the residences are separated by low walls or groves of trees, separated from another place by an olive grove. Caesar need not worry that his knights will get lost in the night. Even without God’s blessing, these knights who never lack intake of fish and meat can see much more in the night than commoners.
And just before stepping out of the olive grove, Caesar suddenly stopped. The knights behind him were puzzled but also reined in their mounts.
Soon, they heard a clamor from afar. Geoffrey silently whistled—the direction was the Great Stables.
Because of the provincial system adopted by the Zengid dynasty, those serving before the Sultan daily might only be the Grand Vizier and a few officials. If he wants to exercise power over the Governor of a province, he summons him to Acre. Behind the Double Lion Gate, there are some mansions prepared for them, and the Great Stables, sufficient to house over a thousand steeds, also serve only them.
At that time, the Saracens also demanded that the Christians put their horses in the Great Stables for joint care and feeding, but Geoffrey firmly refused. Perhaps some secretly mocked these Christians as a bunch of cowardly fellows.
Now, as those noisy voices gradually approached, all the Christian knights shouted “God save us” in their hearts and cast grateful looks at Geoffrey. It turned out that when the unrest occurred, a group not knowing which Fatah or Emir it belonged to thought of this place. These soldiers attacked the Great Stables, selecting the best horses for themselves, perhaps taking one or two, but they could not take more away, nor find a merchant to sell them to.
So they did a cruel thing: quickly slaughter the remaining horses, then set fire to the stables. Covered in blood, they proudly held blazing torches, loudly exclaiming their luck.
Fortunately so, eyes accustomed to bright light sweeping the olive grove could not detect the knights standing silently in the darkness. They passed noisily before the Christians, the nearest soldier needing only to turn his head slightly to see Caesar not a hundred feet away, but he did not.
From beginning to end, Caesar and his knights made no sound. They patiently waited for the others to leave before riding out of the olive grove, exposing themselves under the cobalt-blue sky.
The soldiers guarding before the Double Lion Gate were exactly those bribed by Kamal. Upon seeing the Christian knights, they immediately went on alert, but their leader soon saw Kamal, who leaned out from behind Caesar, revealing his face.
“Lord,” he exclaimed in surprise, “how are you here?”
“Let them go,” Kamal did not answer him, but wearily commanded, “At least at this moment, he is not our enemy. I hired them to escort us out of Acre.”
This “us” caught the soldier’s attention. Then he saw several familiar faces. After all, every minister passes through the Double Lion Gate coming and going. “Why?” he asked instinctively. “The New Sultan will need you.”
“I don’t think so.” The one answering him was not Kamal, but another minister. Before this, he had managed the finances of the entire kingdom for his monarch Nur al-Din and all the people of Syria.
He twisted his body in an odd posture. Only then did the soldier realize that the other was bound to a knight with a belt. As he felt puzzled, he saw the old man raise his hands—or rather, arms. There were no hands on the bare stumps. “This was cut off by the Second Prince,” he said. “Because he demanded money from me. He didn’t believe there was only so little in the treasury.”
But it was true. Sultan Nur al-Din had spent an unimaginable sum on the expedition to Ayyarasa Road, and this sum should be gradually replenished in the coming years. After all, every province in Syria continuously sends gold, silver, and silk to Acre.
But the Second Prince did not believe it. He thought the old man was either deliberately deceiving him, had already sided with his brother, or had embezzled the money himself. He subjected him to severe torture, and when he did not get the answer he wanted, cut off one hand, then the second.
“You ask why Kamal is here? If he weren’t here, I might now have lost my hands, feet, and head.” This minister was upright and highly respected. Even a gate guard knew he was indispensable in the Imperial Court. He had even repeatedly submitted resignations to Sultan Nur al-Din due to old age and frailty, but Nur al-Din never agreed, because he could not find anyone more honest and wise to fill the position.
“Well, at least there’s still the Eldest Prince.” He said haltingly.
“The Eldest Prince is no better.” Another minister pointed to a man beside him, also one of their colleagues. He had his tongue cut out by the Eldest Prince. Did he commit a crime? Of course not. He simply refused to say words against his conscience.
“But where can you go after leaving Acre?”
“Anywhere. Syria is vast. If worst comes to worst…” Kamal paused, not continuing. “But if they stay here, they will surely die. So if you are still a Saracen and wish to preserve a sliver of life for this great dynasty, open the gate and let us leave.”
The guard was silent for a moment. He looked at his companions, who stepped back two paces. Several ran to open the gate. They were convinced by Kamal. Caesar breathed a slight sigh of relief. In any case, he did not want to waste even a moment here. Acre now was a powder keg ready to explode at any time. He could not gamble on how much time God had left them.
But before entering the tunnel, he cautiously looked up at the grated openings at the top of the tunnel. Above the openings was another tunnel connecting to small rooms on the city wall. When enemies attacked, or the Sultan wanted to deal with some overly ambitious fellow, he would order soldiers to pour boiling excrement or scalding oil from the openings above, instantly scalding the people in the tunnel until their skin rotted and limbs were destroyed.
Fortunately, these soldiers were sincere. He led the knights quickly through, and the journey between the Double Lion Gate and the South Gate/Sultan’s Gate was still full of danger—but fortunately, at this time, these soldiers had all accepted bribes or enlistment from the two Princes and were fighting for their Sultan. Few soldiers remained here, along with some eunuchs and servants, but they only dared to cower in their rooms, not even daring to peek.
But before the Sultan’s Gate, there was indeed a small force of Nubian soldiers belonging to a Fatah. Not long ago, their master sided with the Eldest Prince, swearing to eliminate those two bothersome blood relatives for him. Tonight, he ordered them to guard here, but not for Caesar and his group—if the Second Prince did not die in the Rose Gate or the Double Lion Gate, he would die at the Sultan’s Gate.
These Saracen soldiers saw them and raised their spears, but Caesar spurred his horse forward, instantly coming before them. Contrary to the soldiers’ expectations, what flashed was not a sword, but gold coins, casually tossed out—at least a hundred, landing with a crisp sound. This sound was more pleasing than any music in the world. Several soldiers immediately dropped their weapons and lunged forward, desperately grabbing the gold coins from under the hooves and stuffing them into their bosoms.
Other soldiers let out angry roars, but not because they saw the enemy, but because their comrades dared to ignore them and seize the glittering little things first.
But they need not be too disappointed, for Caesar tossed another handful of gold coins. The coins rolled, scattering everywhere, into cracks and holes, making the soldiers even more frantic.
The knights and some escorts dismounted to open the Sultan’s Gate, but at this moment, the captain of this troop revealed a greedy look. Not only did he not step aside, he shouted for the soldiers to pick up their spears again. “They have more, more, more gold! Don’t let them go!” he shouted, but his voice seemed not to reach his soldiers’ ears.
The one who heard this was Caesar, and Caesar’s response was also straightforward. He spurred his horse forward. People did not even see how he wielded his long sword before the small captain was split in two along with the spear in his hand. When his upper body fell to the ground, his face still showed shock, as if completely unable to understand how the other did it.
And at this time, the heavy gate was pushed open. Under the pure ultramarine light was a steep staircase, road, and houses that appeared especially gray and square.
A Saracen who appeared on the street for some reason saw them. He raised his hand, as if to shout, but suddenly his head tilted to one side, followed by his entire body. A crossbow bolt pierced his skull, but this was not the work of some knight, but a band of Turks holding swords and archery. They pulled up their face cloths to cover their faces, revealing only their eyes, gazes fierce.
They also saw the Christian knights. Caesar gave them no time to react. He charged toward them with his knights, in an instant trampling these Turks under hoof and slaying them under sword.
