Chapter 252: Eagle’s Nest’s Threat
Laila saw Caesar first stunned, then revealing a dangerous look.
Previously, the one who came to Holy Cross Castle to seek an opportunity for peace talks with Amalric I was the master of the Eagle’s Nest, Sinan, but now it was an assassin, a chess piece placed on the chess board. Was this indicating that the master of the Eagle’s Nest held Baldwin IV in contempt?
It was unclear if she sensed Caesar’s malice, but Laila’s first words were: “The elder is in Cairo.”
——————
When that elder with a kind face, but whose heart might be completely the opposite, appeared before Saladin, the vast hall fell into a terrifying silence.
The terror of the Assassin assassins had already been proven by those countless lives, heads, and camels and mules continuously transporting gold and silk to the Alamut Mountains—the Eagle’s Nest Headquarters—but the elder’s appearance here was a provocation too blatant to be more so, even a threat, or humiliation.
Saladin along with those around him, whether ministers, guards, or scholars, all involuntarily turned pale with shock. Even the usually steady Saladin suddenly gripped his book tightly and stood up.
Where was this place? This was Cairo in Egypt, the root of his painstakingly established new dynasty.
Even before Amalric I attacked Egypt, most of the real power of the Fatimid Dynasty had already fallen into his and his uncle’s hands. After his uncle’s death, Saladin as Grand Vizier was the only one who could speak out in the Imperial Court.
Although there was still Caliph Atid, more often he was just a shield to block attacks from those old subjects, or a spear thrust at those who held original interests to push new policies.
In these years, Ayyarasa Road and surrounding areas had been in unrest, and some suggested Saladin send troops to attack Ayyarasa Road or Damascus, but he refused them all. Of course he knew it was a good opportunity; even Nur al-Din could not resist this temptation.
But he was different. Egypt was not territory left to him by his ancestors; the first thing he had to do was consolidate his existing rule.
Saladin knew very well that no glorious palace could be built on shallow foundations— he knew Shawwar would burn down the entire Fustat to accompany King Amalric I of the Christians and himself in death, yet he did not intervene. Why?
Precisely because Fustat as the capital of the Fatimid Dynasty had too strong remnants of Orthodox forces here; he had always been an adherent of the Traditionalists.
Although since coming to Egypt, countless people had urged him to side with the Orthodox, to take the Fatimid Caliph as lord, offering endless chips and temptations for this, Saladin had always kept a clear head. He did not carry the Prophet’s blood; if he pursued the Orthodox, even if one below one and above ten thousand, so what?
There would always be a Caliph above him to whom he could wield any means. He was not foolish enough for that.
And the final developments were just as he thought: after Fustat’s destruction, the remaining wealth and population in this great city could only follow him to Cairo.
Cairo, originally an ancient city, seemed to prosper even more in an instant. Now it had become the largest, wealthiest, and most densely populated city in Egypt.
In these three years, Saladin had also built a massive fortress belonging solely to him—Saladin Fortress, like the old palace in Acre. It covered a vast area, surrounded by towering towers and broad city walls. Inside the fortress were not only a palace and courtyard, but also a library and temple. It could be said to be a small city standing in Cairo.
Whenever Saladin ascended that tallest tower and overlooked all of Cairo and the surrounding fertile land, he seemed to see the embryonic form of his great enterprise—after coming to Cairo, with almost no constraints, Saladin easily reorganized the Royal Palace’s guards and attendants; cleared out the original officials—no, it should be said, the former Fustat officials; he hardly used any of them—those capable and ambitious had already been recruited to his side in advance.
Besides, he had those officials who fled from Acre, those originally under Nur al-Din. Nur al-Din was indeed the Light of Faith of the Saracens; he had excellent judgment, clear rewards and punishments. Those he selected and gathered would not be ordinary people.
At least Kamal solved many thorny problems for Saladin as soon as he arrived in Cairo.
At the same time, Saladin selected trustworthy people from among his supporters, granting them large fiefs, just as the Christian kings granted to their subjects. This move instantly won over most hearts—compared to the former Caliph treating subjects like slaves—now Sultan Saladin was like an envoy sent by Allah to the earth.
In addition, like Nur al-Din, he built libraries and schools. Of course, the doctrines taught in these libraries and schools were all Traditionalist, which caused some dissatisfaction among the Orthodox, but what could they do?
When Saladin heard of the second most important thing Caesar did on the island—the first being the three laws he promulgated—which was to cancel one year’s miscellaneous taxes and greatly reduce poll tax and land tax, he had laughed heartily. He really did not expect there to be someone in this world with the same ideas and practices as him. He could even use Caesar’s actions in Cyprus to refute those protesting his decree not only spreading Traditionalist doctrines but also allowing Egypt’s Christians to continue having their priests, temples, and ceremonies.
His refutation left them speechless: “If even our enemies can tolerate treating commoners of different faiths with tolerance, but we cannot, wouldn’t that mean those we consider barbaric are more civilized than us?”
Thus, his opponents could only quiet down. After all, no one wanted to admit they were more ignorant and backward than their enemies, and this move indeed gained great support from the people.
Most people did not have such sharp hatred—they were farmers, craftsmen, or scholars—here referring to those scholars who had not heard the Prophet’s revelation—the benefits gained from war would not fall to them because of the superiors’ generosity.
On the contrary, what they feared most was war, which meant increased taxes, forced conscription, and the ensuing various corvees.
These corvees at this time were not only in fields and forests; men were inevitable, but sometimes even women would be conscripted to provide clothing and food for the army.
They desperately sought a stable living environment; who the ruler was was not so important. Some could even accept three times the taxes for this.
And at this moment, Saladin felt the time was ripe, so he had Caliph Atid “fall ill.”
Afterward, Saladin even required all temples to restore praise for the Abbasid Caliph in ceremonies and stop praising the Fatimid Caliph. The next day, he held a grand military parade in Cairo, with one hundred forty-seven formations for review—this was all the accumulation of him and his uncle over more than ten years. For this parade, he paid nearly thirty thousand gold coins in rewards, and the result was completely worth it.
People all said no Sultan or Caliph could have an army like Saladin’s.
Immediately following was the death of Caliph Atid. Of course everyone knew why; Saladin no longer needed him. After he died, Saladin held a simple but dignified funeral for him.
The Ayyubid dynasty was thus born, and he was the first Sultan of this dynasty.
If Nur al-Din were still alive, Saladin might have allowed Caliph Atid to live a bit longer—after all, Nur al-Din was his mentor and the only monarch. So when Nur al-Din decided to expedition to Ayyarasa Road, facing the decree brought by the envoy—requiring Saladin to lead troops in coordination—Saladin did not dare refuse outright. Of course, he did not obey either. He knew that even with a hundred thousand troops, the moment he saw Nur al-Din, as soon as Nur al-Din gave the order, those around would seize him and strangle his neck with a bowstring.
And Saladin’s delay was worthwhile; Nur al-Din unfortunately perished at the Sea of Galilee. The moment he stopped breathing in the City of Ayyarasa Road, the last heavy stone weighing on Saladin was removed, and he could finally act freely.
Saladin certainly had reason to be satisfied; born in 37, he was now only forty-one. As a male ruler, he was like the blazing sun hanging high at noon, dazzling and awe-inspiring wherever he went, impossible to look at directly.
But just as he was preparing an expedition against Damascus, like a discord suddenly inserted into the music, the elder of the Eagle’s Nest appeared before him without anyone’s announcement.
And this was the deepest part of Saladin’s castle, the hall connected to the harem, used for him and the “scholars” to teach the Prince—Saladin had a proper wife at nineteen—the daughter of the Governor of Damascus（ former）, but no children.
Now he also had eight sons, all from the bellies of his concubines— the one born this year still in swaddling clothes crying to be fed, but his eldest son was already eight years old.
According to the laws Saladin himself promulgated, children should leave their mother’s embrace at six and begin formal education—he had great hopes for his eldest son and paid the most attention to him. Of course he hoped his eldest son could become resolute, sharp-minded, able to inherit his mantle, especially after seeing those two extremely outstanding children— of course he meant Caesar and Baldwin, he could not help but have greater expectations for his son.
Although he also knew all talents were bestowed by Allah, just like their appearance, health, temperament, intelligence or stupidity; these were unchangeable. But he still held this bit of fluke: they were his sons, impossible for none to inherit even a bit of him.
The reality made him feel extremely embarrassed and disappointed.
When they discovered the middle-aged man who suddenly appeared in the room was not the servant or guest they thought, the several boys listening to Saladin’s teachings—his eldest son, second son, and third son actually screamed and scrambled behind their father. If the second son born in 72 and third son born in 73 could be forgiven for their youth, the already eight-year-old eldest son’s performance was really too poor.
Seeing them only scream and run, Saladin even thought six might be a bit too late; perhaps as soon as the child was weaned, they should be taken from the women’s hands, raised at his side, or handed to some trustworthy minister. Their performance was no different from women’s, nearly amusing the Eagle’s Nest leader who suddenly appeared.
Sinan’s expression of even greater astonishment than Saladin was simply harder for Saladin to endure than a slap. The scholar nearby first took a vigilant stance, but now a smart one hurriedly took the three Princes to the other side.
Both to guard against this Eagle’s Nest assassin suddenly striking and harming Saladin’s heirs, and to let them avoid Saladin’s anger.
“It seems things in this world can never be perfect. Don’t you think so, Sultan?”
“You came to the wrong place,” Saladin said sternly: “You mistook Cairo for the former Fustat, allowing you owls lurking in the darkness to come and go freely without restraint—you have been rude, barging unannounced into a monarch’s room. By my side are countless brave warriors, wise scholars; they have all heard the Prophet’s revelation. You may have used some unspeakable means to infiltrate here, but since you’ve come before me, do you think you can leave Saladin’s castle intact under so many watching eyes?”
The elder was not alarmed upon hearing this, merely bowing deeply. “I came to you precisely for an equal and peaceful dialogue, Sultan. But just as Alexandria’s richest merchant would not transact with a beggar, if I do not show my hand, how would you think I have the qualification to negotiate with you?”
“You think standing before me gives you the qualification to talk with me?”
“Why not, Sultan? I know you have a vast, brave, and loyal army; after Nur al-Din, no one can interfere with or bind you. But just as a beggar might have something merchants desire, we also have chips to transact with you.”
“How many troops can you give me, ten thousand or twenty thousand?”
“The Alamut Mountains cannot support such a vast population,” the elder said. “But you should know a strong camel might be ruthlessly taken by an axe, but similarly, a small thorn in its toe can make it fall from high fever and poison.
Our assassins are everywhere, omnipotent, Sultan. You should also know that even having heard the Prophet’s revelation, with countless soldiers, staying in this solid fortress, you are still a mortal of flesh and blood.
Our assassins have previously killed the most pious ‘scholars,’ the strongest ‘Fatah,’ the most cautious ‘Viziers,’ and also Sultans and Caliphs. You may escape countless times, but we only need to succeed once.
Your current situation is just like Nur al-Din’s once was,” his gaze paused slightly on those cowering children, almost revealing a smile: “You do not have one, at least not now— a somewhat decent heir.
Your ideas, your cause, your will are all concentrated on you alone.
You should see it. If one day you suddenly meet with an accident and die, your Kingdom and army will immediately fall apart. Your son—perhaps one day there really will appear a young man as outstanding as the King of Ayyarasa Road or the Count of Edessa under him—but please believe me, the Eagle’s Nest assassins will not give you much time.”
