Chapter 253: Chapter 254 Eagle’s Nest’s Threat
“Wait!” Baldwin shouted loudly, interrupting their conversation. “You’ve seen him? When? Where?”
His questions were both panicked and urgent, and he subconsciously grabbed Caesar’s arm, wanting to pull him to his side—this was a protective gesture.
This might be one of the few times Baldwin and Caesar’s thoughts failed to align. Caesar was questioning why the person from the Eagle’s Nest was not their elder or anyone qualified to make a contract with the King of Ayyarasa Road, but merely an assassin, not to mention that she was a woman.
Although Sinan changed many practices after becoming the leader of the Eagle’s Nest, such as Hassan originally recruiting young males aged fifteen to twenty.
In order to make these young men completely obey his commands without flinching at the threats of pain and death, Hassan deliberately built a palace in the depths of the Alamut Mountains whose exact location was unknown to anyone.
Once those young boys passed the initial screening, he would get them drunk and send them there.
There were evergreen tall trees, fragrant and abundant flowers like stars, wine, honey water flowing like streams in the secluded valley, a palace and courtyard built of white marble hidden under dense branches and leaves, golden domes surpassing the setting sun and rising moon, and all serving them were young, pure, and beautiful girls.
They indulged in pleasure there day and night. Besides wine, a drink Saracens shunned, there was hookah laced with hallucinogenic herbs provided for them, making their senses more dulled yet perfect—so that once they left that secret palace, they could never find such worldly bliss again.
Such days might last only seven days or two weeks, and when the time came, they would be gotten drunk again and sent out of the palace.
When they woke up, Hassan would tell them it was the power granted by the Prophet, allowing them a brief glimpse of Heaven. If they wanted such pleasure again, the only way was to obey Hassan’s commands, kill every mortal who dared defy him, and then they could ascend to Heaven, regaining their former joy and enjoying it forever.
This method worked well on young males, but its effect was greatly diminished on females. After all, Hassan could not seek out baby girls and raise them as men. Therefore, women were rare among the Assassins’ assassins.
This situation changed somewhat after Sinan became the leader of the Syria branch.
He believed there were many things in this world that could make one fearless of death: favors, hatred, ideals, and faith.
Laila might be one of his best works. This ill-fated woman was originally the child of a scholar in Damascus City, but she showed unusual features in appearance at birth. Her father firmly believed this infant was the devil’s incarnation, born through his wife’s womb into this world, so he threw her into the water to drown her.
What he did not expect was that the water instead buoyed Laila, carrying her to a ditch outside the city, where she was then adopted—though the adopter was not out of goodwill. She was treated as a rare commodity for sale. Before meeting Sinan, Laila had already changed several masters: Saracens, Isaacites, and Christians.
And after becoming an Assassin assassin, she saw even more intrigue, deception, betrayal, and hatred in the shadows, as if it had become an inseparable blood vessel entwined in her life.
Laila did not immediately answer Baldwin’s question, instead watching with interest as Caesar awkwardly explained for Baldwin.
“We met in Damascus. That night, I was looking for a doctor, hoping to copy some ancient texts from his private collection—because we were setting out the next day, there wasn’t much time to wait. People told me he was…” He paused, glancing at Laila, “at a small gathering hosted by a Qiyan. Laila was the mistress there, skilled in poetry, dance, and music.
At that time, I did not know she was a member of the Eagle’s Nest, and she showed no hostility toward me.” In fact, at the very beginning, Laila had even helped him.
As soon as copying medical ancient texts was mentioned, Baldwin immediately knew who Caesar was doing it for, and his heart finally eased a bit. Although Caesar was now standing by his side, he still could not help but feel frightened for Caesar back then.
It could be said that if Caesar had not remained sufficiently vigilant and won the loyalty of many knights with his generosity, that mission would not have gone so smoothly.
And Caesar had not detailed Laila’s matter to him before. He truly did not know Laila’s true identity, and he did not want to mention the doctor’s difficulties for him again—what was the point?
Baldwin could not very well drag the doctor over and beat him to vent for Caesar. Besides, he could feel the doctor’s malice was not heavy—even kinder than some people in Holy Cross Castle.
Afterward, he got his wish and found many valuable things in the doctor’s collection.
Laila just smiled without speaking. Although she was called a “Qiyan,” she knew that both Saracens and Christians had a clear term for her: a woman who sold her body.
Caesar also knew that the word “Qiyan” would not be unfamiliar to Baldwin. His euphemism was unnecessary, but it had to be said that even Laila, after all she had been through, could still feel pleased by it.
She was certainly not some naive girl who would be moved by a few kind words or helpful gestures. This might stem from his natural benevolence or instinctive upbringing.
But Laila liked this young man not because of that mercy. She still clearly remembered the courage he showed when facing the doctor’s scolding.
Courage is not only seen on the battlefield or in the arena. As the doctor himself admitted, noble death is simpler than humble survival. Humans are fragile and can only bear so much.
So when Caesar bared his heart to him, even this cunning rogue could not take it and hastily wrapped things up, straightforwardly agreeing to Caesar’s request.
At that time, Laila wondered what kind of person could make this beautiful good child willingly sacrifice himself.
She had seen many ingrates, some even harboring resentment instead of gratitude after receiving immense favors from others.
They might even say, “Why did you do that? I did not ask you to. Now, though I have your help, I cannot repay it. You have forced upon me a debt I cannot bear, so you are not my benefactor but my enemy.”
At such times, Laila wished these people were more despicable.
If they were despicable enough not to care whether they received a favor or owed a debt, the situation would be better. Unfortunately, many are tormented by conscience, though who knows which direction that torment leads them.
Laila had been employed by such people multiple times. Amusingly, those who could hire Eagle’s Nest assassins were usually already successful, powerful, and prominent.
And those who had once helped them mostly remained in their original stations, becoming objects they could manipulate at will.
So, would the young King of Ayyarasa Road be the same? Would he think Caesar’s actions were not to help him but to mock him?
Look at him: a leper with noble blood, extraordinary favor, and prominent status, yet he would not live past thirty. Now she saw it—this was a satisfactory ending, yet a trace of pity flashed in Laila’s heart.
These two children’s destinies were doomed to be a tragedy.
This was what her teacher Sinan told her.
Sinan was, of course, one who had received revelation from the Prophet. The Prophet who revealed to him was none other than Nuh, ranked among the top three of the twenty-five Prophets, known to Christians as Noah.
Noah’s deeds are widely known. He received revelation from God that the great flood was coming, so he built a very large ship. On the ship, besides his family, were all the animals on Earth. Thanks to the pious Noah, life on Earth was not completely extinguished.
The abilities granted to those who received Nuh’s revelations vary, but most lean toward prophecy, communication with animals, or persuasion of others.
And Sinan’s ability was to glimpse a person’s future destiny through his eyes.
But this power is hard to fully master and hard to describe. Sinan once described the feeling: like seeing two small trees growing in the courtyard. At a glance, their branches sway, trunks slender, seemingly no different. Yet you always feel one will die young, while the other grows into a towering giant tree.
With this ability, he selected many suitable seeds for the Assassins, not just assassins, but also scholars, officials, and merchants. He mentioned Caesar to Laila, but could not determine how glorious the child’s future achievements would be—only that the path he would take was bound to be full of thorns.
This was inevitable.
From what Laila saw and heard in these brief two meetings, she could almost be certain that such a person could hardly survive in this world, whether Christian or Saracen.
“Yes,” Laila said with a smile after a moment of silence, her face showing no unusual expression that those before her could detect, “it was a joyful gathering. The doctor was my guest, but also a temperamental fellow.” She glanced at Caesar and, as expected, saw a trace of tension in his eyes. He certainly did not want Baldwin to know he had endured such humiliation for him.
Laila watched him smile for a while until even his shoulders tensed, then continued. “The doctor is not a bad person, just sometimes mischievous. Your friend is such a delicate, clever child—who wouldn’t want to chat more with him? He did not trouble him much（eight or nine out of ten）, and afterward agreed to his request. Don’t worry. He suffered no real hardship—except staying up all night—hope you did not fall off your horse the next day.”
Caesar relaxed his shoulders: “No, thank you very much for your concern. However…” He looked steadily at Laila: “You said before that your leader, the elder Sinan, went to Cairo. Is he seeing Saladin?”
“Yes, he went to see Saladin.”
“What kind of agreement does he want to reach with Saladin?” Baldwin said then. “I doubt it’s about waiving a few taxes.”
“Although relations between Saladin and us are not harmonious due to factional ties, we are ultimately Saracens, followers of Ahmad.
Saladin would not tax us for that.
The elder seeks something greater.”
“Something greater?”
“You should know that while you were preparing this expedition, Saladin has already begun assembling an army.
The prey he prepares to hunt is also Damascus.”
In this era of scarce resources and scattered powers, secretly marching an army is nearly impossible.
Describing an expeditionary army as a moving city is no exaggeration. Preparing one requires starting a year, two, or even three years in advance: merchants procuring fodder, leather, cloth, black iron, and fine steel everywhere; recruiting craftsmen, servant women, and commoners for more labor and taxes due to the expedition; not to mention the martial arts tournament inevitably held before it.
The martial arts tournament is originally a rehearsal for war—even Saracens are no exception.
For instance, in the famous legend of the Saracen warrior Musa, it is mentioned that he was once driven out of the castle in Samarkand for stealing the show.
This was because the Kurds, like the Saracens, had a custom at banquets: setting a table of the most sumptuous food.
Not everyone could enjoy this lavish table—not even the banquet host or the highest-status person. Only the Kurdish warrior who won the sparring had the right to feast and receive the local lord’s reward and title of champion.
After the banquet began, last year’s honored champion would sit at that table. If anyone thought they could best him for the honor, they would challenge him.
Generally, even unspoken, guests should not join such contests, but who could resist that tempting food? One of Musa’s attendants unhesitatingly challenged the warrior.
And in the challenge, the warrior lost. Thus, at that banquet, the visiting Saracens became the centerpiece.
Perhaps a form of humiliated rage, Samarkand’s lord drove them out.
This shows that Saracens too determine their place in the group through military force when gathered.
So it can only be said that Baldwin and Saladin share a strangely tacit understanding on when to launch the expedition and which city to target, but it’s excusable: one has just assumed personal rule and preliminarily established prestige in the army; the other recently settled his former master to become Sultan.
This battle will be their first as rulers rather than subjects—they cannot retreat.
But the Eagle’s Nest intervening now is intriguing. What does the elder’s action mean? Caesar immediately thought of a possibility and asked incredulously: “What conditions did the elder send you with?”
“If Saladin refuses him,” Laila said candidly, “he will lead the sixty thousand in the Alamut Mountains to side with the Christians.”
Hearing this condition, even someone like Baldwin—seemingly mild but actually bold—could not help but startle. Though Seljuk Turks or Saracens had defected to the Crusaders, they were few in number and poor in quality.
Most defected because they violated Saracen doctrine, forced to abandon faith and territory to seek Christian protection.
They were neither valued nor respected.
But the Eagle’s Nest leader making such a decision was truly incomprehensible.
There was, of course, a reason.
The Assassin organization, nearly a century old since its founding, has never been like a nation, region, or city—it is an extreme religious militant group, more fanatical and harsh than the Templar Knights.
Hassan’s methods did make lords, princes, even religious leaders tremble in short order, willing to pay protection money for temporary peace, but no force can endure with enemies on all sides. When Sinan took up Hassan’s mantle to become the revered elder and leader of the Eagle’s Nest, he worked tirelessly to change this.
Even after Nur al-Din’s death, when Syria and Mosul fell into varying chaos, he began frequent contacts with Emirs, Viziers, or Fatah, hoping to seize the chance for formal territory to establish a foothold.
This was not unfounded worry. An organization like the Assassins is like a tumor rooted in the web of blood vessels. While Central and West Asia remain in war, no nation or monarch can strike them decisively and must submit to their threats, sacrificing dignity and gold to avoid assassin strikes.
But what if a visionary monarch with a mighty army and unified nation emerges? No matter how hidden, towering, or defensible the Alamut Mountains are, they exist in reality.
The sixty thousand inside are mostly ordinary mortals needing food and drink; their ties to the outside cannot be severed—finding them requires only time and money.
When that day comes and armies press in, what then?
One might say they could assassinate the monarch, but under an entire Empire’s pressure, success is uncertain—and even if successful, the Eagle’s Nest in Alamut would face destruction.
Hassan founded the Eagle’s Nest perhaps to fulfill his lifelong ideal, but Sinan rejected Hassan’s idea. He did not believe fear and control through killing, especially assassination, was true wealth. Instead, he was certain that continuing such terror would provoke universal anger; if they finally set aside competition and hatred…
Who wants to live in constant dread, waiting for the sword hanging over their neck to fall?
If Sinan had his way, he preferred Central and West Asia to remain in current chaos and disunity. Only when everyone faces greater threats than the Assassins can the Eagle’s Nest survive in the cracks.
Then, he and his heirs might exchange accumulated gold and military force for territory. Once the Assassins become one of the nations, their threat naturally fades.
Though this surely violated Hassan’s intent, at least the Assassins could survive.
Unfortunately, in Sinan’s eyes, two people could end this chaos: one Saladin, the other possibly the Christian King Baldwin IV.
Ironically, his strongest chip now—the very terror of assassins against monarchs he wanted to discard—was his last movable chess piece.
Making these two compromise is very difficult.
Saladin is arrogant and stubborn. Moreover, the Assassins’ founder Hassan was a fervent Orthodox believer who early on publicly opposed Nur al-Din and even attempted to assassinate the Sultan unsuccessfully. Now, as Nur al-Din’s heir, Saladin likewise refuses Orthodox overtures.
For a Sultan, this is only natural.
He will not tolerate an organization with fierce opponents and power to threaten him.
Baldwin IV even less so—he is a Christian King, Commander of the Crusaders, and the Assassins once targeted Crusader generals.
Caesar had grasped Sinan’s intent. He leaned down and whispered a few words to Baldwin. Baldwin, hearing it, laughed in extreme anger. Sinan sending Laila to them with such conditions was not sincere about alliance or even submission, but using them to threaten Saladin.
And before them, Saladin became the tool to threaten them.
“Then what if I refuse?”
“Then your expedition is doomed to failure again. You have Caesar by your side, the sturdiest shield—do others?
You are not a Sultan or Caliph. Though called commander or leader, you have no true way to control them. Their knights obey only their lords; you cannot force them to follow your orders.
When Assassin assassins kill one, two, three, even ten or twenty lords, can your army retain its cohesion? The Second Crusade failed at Damascus—I’m afraid this time will be no exception.”
“Do you use this to threaten Saladin too?”
“You mean Sultan Saladin?
Their soldiers and subjects are far more loyal than Christians’, but loyal only to one man. His son is too young; he too cannot withstand our threats.”
“So you’re bidding to both sides, seeing who offers more.”
“Indeed.”
Baldwin stood there, silent, eyes downcast, but Caesar, who knew him well, knew he was furious to the extreme.
No monarch can tolerate such provocation.
“Although Sinan is not here,” Baldwin said hoarsely, “I can answer you right now.”
