Chapter 159: White Eagle
Then he moved a chess piece, defeated Saladin’s “Vizier,” picked up the defeated chess piece, held it in his hand, and gently rubbed it. “I don’t know how you view this child, but are you really not worried that some people will develop jealousy and hatred because of your special favor toward him?
And no matter what, he is a Christian.
When I was in Acre, I once read extensively in the grand library of the capital city, where, just as rivers bring sand, merchants brought countless ancient texts, records, and documents. Among them, I once came across a book of philosophy from the Seres translated by an elderly scholar, which contained several brief but profoundly meaningful proverbs that I deeply engraved in my heart.
Lord, one of them says this: when a precious medicinal herb or herb grows in the middle of a great road, even though people will feel regret and reluctance, those traveling back and forth on this great road must still grit their teeth and uproot it.
I admit, Caesar is the young man I have seen who is most favored and loved by Allah, but he is ultimately not a Saracen, but a Christian. If you let him return to Ayyarasa Road safe and sound, he may one day encounter us on the battlefield, and your current benevolence may cause defeat in the war and the deaths of countless Saracens.
You also saw that those knights cannot be called stunning geniuses by any means; they were able to defeat and devour enemies several times their strength with their meager power because they had Caesar, such a respected, trusted, and extraordinarily powerful leader, which allowed them to achieve such brilliant results.
Moreover, I have heard that in the Battle of the Sea of Galilee, which caused Sultan Nur al-Din’s great defeat, it was also he who steadfastly stood by the King of Ayyarasa Road’s side. He was then hailed as the Shield of the Holy City, and the doctor also said that the revelation he received is far more than what people see; it can be said that as long as he is there, the King of Ayyarasa Road will never fall on the battlefield.
So are you really going to let him go back? Why not take this opportunity to bring him back to Cairo? Once he arrives in Cairo, treat him like a son or nephew, give him money, give him a palace, give him power. You could even tell him that as long as he is willing to serve you, you would even slow down your offensive against Ayyarasa Road and the other Christian countries.”
Hearing this, Saladin finally couldn’t help but laugh. He was not mocking Kamal; Kamal’s words had indeed hit upon his innermost thoughts—he could indeed do this. After all, in the coming years, his focus would not be on the coastal Christian countries, but on Egypt, on Syria, and even on those lands still held by the Seljuk Turks.
As for the Crusaders, he could even say he looked down on them; from what he knew, they had long lost their initial vigor and piety. Their rusted swords might still retain some of their early sharpness, but they could no longer pose a threat to him.
Moreover, if he kept them, it would have a considerable benefit for his great cause of unification—he could use this sacred name to bind all the Saracens together, so tightly that they could no longer be separated.
“I have indeed thought of that.” Saladin let out a long sigh, but unfortunately, “This young man I have my eye on is so clever; I once spoke with him outside Caliph Atid’s palace, and he saw through my intentions at a glance. He absolutely would not believe that I am refraining from attacking those Christian countries for his sake, and he knows I am merely offering an empty gift in exchange for his loyalty.
Not only would he not comply, he might even strike me hard for the sake of his brother, the King of Ayyarasa Road.”
“Would he?”
“He would; he is that kind of child with strong convictions, faith, and decisive action.”
“If your generals hear you say that, they will even more insist that you execute him, or imprison him so he can never return to Ayyarasa Road.”
Saladin closed his eyes and comfortably stretched in a subtle yawn, “But if so, the King of Ayyarasa Road alone would have no way to deal with those hungry jackals.
And I am not talking about Saracens, but the Christians surrounding him; they have never given up seizing benefits for themselves in anything. Kamal, I don’t believe you haven’t noticed the strangeness in this—those people, whoever they are, whether the First Lady, Salih, or those two princes, what benefit is there in killing Count Joscelin III of Edessa and his wife?
Jocelin III posed no threat to us; he became Zengi and Nur al-Din’s prisoner from the age of five. The reason he was able to grow up and marry was because Nur al-Din did not completely swallow Edessa, so he could be used to make a point when necessary. Such a person returning to Ayyarasa Road would only bring more trouble to Ayyarasa Road and no benefits, yet they still did it. Why do you think that is?”
“Someone wanted them to kill Count Joscelin III of Edessa—and his heir,” Kamal said: “There is indeed something off.” The number of pursuers and their overly zealous attitude…
“Caesar’s head is worth a thousand gold coins.” Saladin said. Caesar and his knights had indeed killed the previous two groups, but since Saladin was also a Saracen, how could he not understand these Turks’ ways of combat? He ordered his soldiers to strangle the subsequent pursuers; this intelligence was obtained from the captives under torture.
Don’t think a thousand gold coins is little—the Second Prince bribed Christian knights with a thousand gold coins’ worth of jewels per person, but to be honest, whether there was any intention to turn hostile and “take it back” after the deed was done is known only to that head hanging on the South Gate city wall.
The First Lady originally intended to use this sharp blade in the most critical place—those powerful Emirs and Fatah who could spare such a sum would be enough to trouble her.
Moreover, the price for Christian knights and Turks is different, whether buying or selling.
Saladin reached out and pressed his temple; he also felt a headache. The First Lady was not some woman who acted recklessly out of momentary whimsy; this showed that she, or someone she could not abandon, had a handle firmly gripped by the Christians. He did not know what it was, only hoping this handle would not affect the entire Saracen world.
He slowly exhaled; he still needed to uncover this secret.
Kamal still felt it was a pity; this period of interaction had already made him fond of this young man. If he were willing to stay by Saladin’s side, even if it would stain his virtue, his future prospects would be far beyond just a Fatah or a Vizier—at least Grand Vizier or Emir, or even sent out as a Governor of a region; if staying in the court, he might even become an “Atabeg.”
This title once belonged to Zengi’s founder, and later his two sons also inherited it; in the Saracen language, it means “king’s tutor, protector.”
Along the way, he had seen this Christian knight’s mercy and gentleness toward the people; he would make a good ruler, and his actions would not tarnish Saladin’s reputation but rather elevate his glory further.
Saladin grasped his chin, “Don’t worry, Kamal,” he said, while moving his “king”: “He is still so young, and we have plenty of time.
Kamal, I have said that Ayyarasa Road is not a pure holy place; perhaps it once was, but now it has been polluted by those heathens. If one day I reclaim the Holy City, I will surely wash every stone brick and pillar there with rose water, destroy their idols and crosses, and burn spices for three days and nights to remove this disgusting filth.
And this child—you really think he can thrive in the court of Ayyarasa Road?
Indeed, the King of Ayyarasa Road values him greatly, but no matter how much, they are just two young men. Caesar’s family is practically nonexistent and cannot provide him any support; moreover, the King of Ayyarasa Road has leprosy and has not yet recovered—his life may end abruptly some day before he turns thirty.
No, it might not even take that long.
If Caesar were still that attendant of unknown status, it would be fine. But now he has become a true noble, Count of Edessa, and cousin to the King of Ayyarasa Road; he can contend for that throne—whether he wants to or not,” Saladin looked down at the chess board: “He will forever be a thorn in the side of some people.”
Hearing these words, Kamal felt a chill run through his body. They had all seen Saladin’s care for this Christian knight; he was even willing to extend that favor by releasing all the Christian knights, escorts, and slaves for his sake. But he could also calmly watch Caesar walk toward the cliff, falling and breaking his bones, covered in wounds.
But he could only sigh; now he himself was Saladin’s prisoner—he was not naive enough to fantasize about receiving the same treatment here as with Nur al-Din. Saladin treated them with such courtesy, first because he had just become Egypt’s Grand Vizier and had few usable people around him; second, for legitimacy—doubtless, Saladin would soon claim to be Nur al-Din’s true heir, and having Nur al-Din’s old ministers by his side would make his claim much more convincing.
Kamal even changed his original plan—he had intended to visit Caesar once he woke up, but now, better not to meddle. If the other knew or guessed Saladin’s intentions, Saladin might suspect him of informing, and a man like Saladin would absolutely not act rashly until the last moment; he did not want to live the next few decades in trepidation.
However, with this weighing on his mind, his next few moves were indeed played haphazardly.
“Don’t overthink it,” Saladin said: “If you want to go see Caesar, then go. He probably suspects what I said anyway; it’s just that he is stubborn by nature—like a little ram with horns! If you don’t go see him, he will find it strange.” He raised his head: “Go on; perhaps you will meet again soon in Cairo or Acre.”
