Chapter 158: White Eagle
“Your turn,” Saladin said. Kamal, sitting across from him, trembled as if he had suddenly awoken from a nightmare. After a moment’s pause, he withdrew his gaze, which had been fixed on some unknown point.
The leading scholar was a doctor whom Saladin kept by his side. To be kept by Saladin’s side, he certainly could not have been a mere pretender.
Moreover, in my observation, what he brought them was more than just protection akin to armor; the revelation he received also allowed him to bear a portion of the pain and harm these people endured.”
Saladin’s lips curved slightly upward. This former colleague was truly sparing no effort in setting traps for him at every opportunity. “If he were willing to submit to me and let his knights become captives, he would not have launched an attack at the last moment that could almost be described as mutually destructive.”
“You are truly merciful,” Kamal could not resist needling him again.
Furthermore, Ilghazi’s ambition had long been exposed. As for Saladin, people said he was a young man who was extremely skilled at feigning and concealing himself. Kamal saw through his true nature at a glance. If Sultan Nur al-Din had lived another fifty years, or if he had an heir worthy of loyalty, Saladin would have been the most useful person—whether as a general or as a governor. But if not, then he could only offer his apologies.
How arrogant Saladin was; in Kamal’s opinion, he might not even have regarded the Grand Scholar of Apollonia City with much respect. Perhaps he was pious, but that piety was only for Allah and His messenger on earth. Saladin showed little reverence for them. As for the Viziers, Emirs, and Fatàh… even Kamal and those distinguished ministers were, to this Kurd, like fruits on a branch, merely waiting to be plucked.
Kamal gazed at this man whom he had initially underestimated, and then regarded with caution. Saladin was in the prime of his life as a warrior, strong and experienced. His face was pale, his beard dark, and beneath his thick eyebrows were deeply set eyes. His eyes were a rather gentle, dark brown, much like his voice. Now that he thought about it, Saladin had never seemed to be enraged or irritable, no matter the circumstances.
This was something Kamal had also observed in his master, Sultan Nur al-Din. Such men seemed to be born knowing that everything in the world belonged to them. They needed no haste, no worry, only to wait quietly, and Allah would grant them everything.
But Allah was also cruel, Kamal thought. He never favored anyone forever. He would take away authority, through old age or death, and then hand it over to new people. Did Nur al-Din ever imagine that his defeat would come so suddenly and despairingly? In that regard, perhaps it was a good thing that he died on the battlefield of the Sea of Galilee. If he were to see Apollonia now, his nation, his heir, his ministers and generals… even a heart of steel would shatter.
Saladin raised his hand. As he moved his chess piece, a glint of light reflected from the silver ring on his finger—its face also bearing a white eagle with wings raised—struck Kamal’s eyes. He turned his face away. Saladin noticed this and turned the ring so the less reflective band faced outward.
“This step is worth recording,” Kamal said, without flattery. In Acre, countless people had been his defeated opponents, and he had never faked or fawned over them due to their status, not even if they were the Sultan or someone who would become the Sultan.
He thought for a long time, and Saladin did not hurry him. Instead, he picked up the grape juice beside him and took a slow sip. He did not have an extremely strong liking for alcohol, only taking a small cup when he needed to relax his mind and ponder problems.
And while both fell into thought, perhaps not on the same issue （, someone entered and gently knocked on the door. Saladin called loudly, “Enter.”
A guard entered and reported to Saladin that the doctors had finished examining the Christian knight and were ready to report. He asked if Saladin had time to see them.
Kamal listened and was about to rise and leave, but Saladin extended his hand. “There’s no need,” he said. “This matter is not related to military or state affairs—you can stay here; I will not impede you in any way.”
Since Saladin said so, and Kamal also wanted to know Caesar’s current condition—regardless of the circumstances at the time, what promise he had made, and what he had done, without Caesar, it would not be easy for him and those ministers, some wounded, some sick, and some old, to leave Apollonia City intact. They might even die in the desert outside the city from exhaustion, sickness, and bandits, without the need for pursuit.
Unlike the Christian world, Saracen medicine, though developing late, rose quickly, and with the will of Muhammad, any scholar could practice medicine. This restriction was due to the fact that some who had not received revelation also attempted to treat others, and if they lacked sufficient knowledge and experience, and the final guarantee of power bestowed by the Prophet, they might have made erroneous judgments or provided incorrect treatment, leading to the patient’s condition worsening, or even death.
Although scholars also make mistakes, they do have an undeniable advantage compared to ordinary people.
The leading scholar was a doctor Saladin kept by his side. To be kept by Saladin’s side, he certainly couldn’t have been someone who just filled a position without merit.
He could heal broken limbs, reduce high fevers, calm convulsions and diarrhea. He had even once healed an infant who had been coughing since birth and was nearly dead from suffocation, thus earning him the love and trust of many.
It could be said that if he had stayed in Acre or Damascus, he would still have received the favor of the Sultan or the Governor, but they would have kept him in court, not allowing him easy contact with the outside world; this is a fate that anyone serving those in power would inevitably encounter, and he did not wish for it.
And he agreed to serve Saladin precisely because the latter had made a promise that as long as he could come to Saladin’s side at any time, Saladin would not interfere with him treating others, even if it was just a beggar outside the city, or a Christian.
The doctor’s expression was not very gentle, and even his eyebrows were furrowed. Seeing him like this, Kamal’s heart sank. They had witnessed that glorious campaign, but they also knew what a heavy price was paid for this glory—and one person paid all of it.
The revelation obtained by this Christian knight was said to come from Saint Jerome, a Catholic saint whom the Saracens did not regard as a prophet—they recognized these sages, considering them ancient “scholars,” but did not believe they were qualified to grant a mortal such a clear and powerful revelation.
They must be mistaken—Kamal thought.
Saladin, however, seemed to sense something. “He gave protection to everyone under him, from the knights and escorts to those pitiable servants.
And before this, they had already gone through many battles, and each time, those who were with him received a long and powerful blessing. And this time he extended the favor bestowed upon him by the Prophet to everyone – how many people do they have?”
“A total of three hundred and sixty-seven people, three hundred and sixty-seven people, not one dead,” the doctor said in a tone that even he found incredible, “and the most serious injury these people sustained was losing an arm, yet they killed enemies twice or even three times their number. All of this was brought about by that young Christian knight.
Furthermore, in my observation, what he brought to them was not just protection like armor; the revelation he received could also allow him to bear a portion of the pain and suffering these people endured.
Hearing this, even Saladin’s expression became solemn. “Are you certain?”
“I am sure,” the doctor replied affirmatively, with nothing to hide from Saladin. “I found corresponding injuries on that Christian knight, though they were much milder and healing rapidly. It is clear these wounds should not be on him, as his helmet and chainmail are intact, and some of these injuries could only have been sustained if the wearer had lost his helmet or his chainmail had been damaged.”
Saladin lowered his eyes, pondering, then spoke again, “And what is his condition now?”
“Very bad, my Lord, he expended all, whether from spirit or body, I have never seen someone favored by Allah use strength so frequently and recklessly.
Fortunately, the wounds on his body were healing visibly, even without applying ointment or taking potion. This showed that the Prophet and Allah had not abandoned him, and he still possessed their favor. However, it was like a deep well that had been rapidly drained; it would likely take a long time for clear spring water to accumulate again.
“How long?”
“A month or two.”
Saladin shook his head, “I cannot stay here for so long. It seems I will have to send them back first.” He extended his hand and pointed at the doctor and several of his colleagues behind him, “You will not speak of this matter, will you?” Although his tone was one of consultation and he did not threaten these doctors, no one failed to understand the meaning behind his words, and no one would ever go against his will.
After the doctors withdrew, Kamal spoke, “Are you going to release these Christian knights? Even if you don’t kill them, keeping them as your captives would yield a large ransom.”
Saladin’s lips curled up slightly. This former colleague truly spared no effort in digging pits for him at every opportunity. “If he had been willing to submit to me and let his knights become captives, he wouldn’t have launched an attack at the last moment that could almost be described as mutually assured destruction.”
Although the doctor said at this time that Caesar would recover with time, no one could guess the outcome then. It is like when you throw a piece of porcelain on the ground, you should be prepared for it to shatter into pieces. If it remains intact—perhaps with one or two cracks—that is your luck.
Although the Crusader generals would never fear becoming prisoners of the Saracens, this was based on them not crossing the Saracens’ bottom line and the possibility of being exchanged for a large ransom; for the knights, it was difficult to say. If he came from a wealthy family, or had a noble lady or relatives willing to pay his ransom, he could of course return to Ayyarasa Road and other Christian countries.
But if he didn’t, just like William Marshal, it was precisely because his benefactor refused to pay his ransom that he remained in the enemy’s prison for several years until another noble lady, Eleanor of Aquitaine, paid his ransom, and he could regain his freedom.
In Caesar’s delegation, ninety knights were all from the three great Martial Monk orders, which meant that before entering the order, they had already renounced everything in the secular world; perhaps they abandoned, donated, or left it to their relatives, but in any case, they themselves possessed no private property.
The Knights Templar might be willing to ransom them, but that would surely be a long negotiation process, and their escorts and armed attendants. If they were just escorts looking for an opportunity for promotion, that would be one thing. They might have already been chosen, with family support behind them, and perhaps could leave the prison with their knight masters.
But as for the attendants who were merely slaves and servants, that is hard to say. If it were discovered that they could not be ransomed, they would very likely be sold into slavery, and they might never return to Ayyarasa Road or their homeland. This is, of course, an incomparably cruel matter, but it is also the custom of the time. After all, everything must be cost-effective. In a world where knights can also be consumables, ordinary servants are naturally even less worth mentioning.
“They are the people whom Caesar expended his favor and life to preserve,” Saladin said. “I shall pardon them, release them, and allow them to return to Ayyarasa Road. Perhaps some will have to leave their horses and armor behind, but they will surely return to their families with all their limbs intact and their bodies strong.”
“You are truly merciful,” Kamal couldn’t help but prick him again.
