Chapter 275: The Sultan’s Return
The Emir of Fayoum collapsed as soon as he returned to his tent. The two servants who rushed to support him were startled; they could clearly feel that the body in their hands was heavier than ever before, indicating that their master had lost control of his own body.
To be an Emir, their master was naturally someone who had received revelations from the Prophet. Moreover, he was an outstanding figure among these warriors, allowing him to stand out and become a key minister of the Fatimid Dynasty.
He managed his city well, and in several campaigns against the Crusaders, he developed a relationship with Saladin, the Kurd of that time, that was not deep but allowed for mutual trust.
Perhaps it was precisely because of this that he was not immediately replaced after Saladin became Sultan.
But for the Emir of Fayoum, if Saladin had remained the Grand Vizier, or a general sent by Nur al-Din of Syria, they could still have been friends. However, this was impossible after Saladin became Sultan.
He lay heavily on the couch, sighing in his heart and shedding tears. He did not like Saladin, and harbored some faint hope. Did they really need Saladin?
Not necessarily…
Their former Grand Vizier, Shawar, lacked the talent for leading armies, yet Egypt had still repelled several Crusader attacks. In the end, they could not say they lost due to a lack of loyalty or bravery. It could only be said that the system originally established by the Caliph of the Fatimid Dynasty was not perfect—when the Caliph could gain everyone’s approval, no one could defy his will, but when he was foolish or cowardly, Egypt became a formless chaos.
He repeatedly tried to convince himself that perhaps the Caliph Atid at the time was not so bad, and his subjects did not harbor such ambitious greed.
They knelt to the same Allah, praying for the Prophet’s blessings. They were like two brothers in the same tent; even if they occasionally drew swords against each other, they could still work together when foreign enemies invaded.
But reality dealt him a heavy blow. Especially after he returned to the main camp, the Emirs, Governors, Fatah, tribal leaders, Qayeds, and centurions swarmed forward to ask him about the outcome of the negotiations—when he didn’t give them the answers they wanted, their eyes looked at him with disappointment and disdain. When no one wanted to form an envoy delegation, no one was willing to take on this thankless task. They wanted the fruits but were unwilling to toil for them, even if it was just to negotiate with the Christians.
Some others were eager to try, but the Emir of Fayoum knew they were merely looking to enrich themselves. Unfortunately, they could not compete with him in terms of seniority and military strength, so they had to withdraw.
Now their eyes were filled with schadenfreude, as if to say, “You thought it was enough to just have a clear conscience?”
It’s useless.
Even as he entered the Christian tent with them, watching and listening as he engaged in a verbal battle with the Christian envoys, the members of the delegation cast suspicious glances at him, thinking that amidst those sharp words, he was hiding something they hadn’t noticed—something for his own profit.
At first, the Emir of Fayoum tried to explain. Then he realized this was not a meeting about negotiation at all, but a public trial. He was placed in the defendant’s position, and everyone was providing evidence or charges.
But the Emir of Fayoum was not the type of coward who would endure slander. He stood up abruptly, startling everyone, and placed his hand on his scimitar.
“If anyone is unhappy with the outcome I obtained, I can completely step down from this chief envoy position. I came with the results of the negotiation, but I did not sign the documents. You can find anyone you wish to replace me, even a camel!”
With that, he strode out, leaving everyone suddenly speechless, as if they had lost their tongues—who couldn’t see it?
The Emir of Fayoum had arguably secured the best possible terms for them. They could take their attendants, armor, and horses, as well as their weapons and tents, but they had to leave most of their supplies and provisions behind, which was the part they were most dissatisfied with, as they had already regarded these as their private property. Furthermore, they had to pay ransom for themselves and the laborers—three gold coins for ordinary laborers, ten gold coins for craftsmen, fifty gold coins for warriors, and a thousand gold coins for nobles.
Not every Emir or Fatah could afford this money, or if they could, they were unwilling and reluctant.
When the Emir of Fayoum once again tried to tempt and blackmail the Christians with Damascus, the young chief envoy replied: “We did indeed come for Damascus, but without Damascus, we can still gain immense profit, and that is you.
Of course, at that time, the ransom price would not be as cheap as it is now. Perhaps we should do this,” he said with a smile, his green eyes containing boundless killing intent. “This is how Saracen warriors should price themselves, isn’t it?”
He was right. The Emir of Fayoum certainly knew that any monarch would exercise due caution in launching an expedition. This is because the cost of an expedition in terms of money, manpower, and life was too great, so much so that even with the strength of the entire nation, it would take several years to accumulate.
If they failed to obtain Damascus this time, but from these people, the Crusaders could still obtain enough ransom to cover the expenses of this expedition. For them, this was still a victory, albeit in a different form.
But it was different for them.
The fate of the Fatah, who had lost their warriors and slaves in the previous battle, was already evident—the struggles in the desert were always brutal and direct.
Just as no one would listen to a woman or a child, only the wisest elders of the tribe or the bravest warriors could speak. The same applied to this loose coalition, even though their weakness stemmed from their sacrifice for Allah in previous battles.
The Emir of Fayoum had not felt this way before. He had always fought alongside Saladin; although he was the governor of the Fatimid Dynasty, he could even regard the disputes between these generals as a joke, adding a bit of amusement to the dull and monotonous march.
But now, being in the midst of it, he realized how quickly such a vortex could drain a person’s spirit and energy.
“My lord…” A servant brought him coffee. The method of preparing coffee taught by Caesar to Baldwin had not yet entered mass production, and the Saracens still drank a thick soup made by crushing the fruit pulp and seeds together.
To balance the bitter and sour taste, a lot of milk and sugar was added. “Please drink more,” his servant urged, “I’ve added a lot of rock sugar; it will invigorate your spirit and bring color back to your face.”
The mention of rock sugar gave the Emir of Fayoum another headache, and the sweetness in his mouth turned to bitterness.
He put down the cup and waved his hand. “Would you like some hookah?” another servant asked solicitously, sensing his master’s lingering fatigue.
“Yes, but no sugar,” the Emir of Fayoum specifically reminded him. Since rock sugar was brought to the Mediterranean by merchants, nobles had become fond of adding it everywhere—in food, coffee, milk, hookah, and even spice burners.
They said this sugar had a lustrous texture, was not easily spoiled, and its sweetness and fragrance were exceptionally clear and pure, like mountain spring water. Some temples were even selling this rock sugar as medicinal herbs, but he truly did not want to see anything related to that person anymore.
Under the worried gaze of his servants, the Emir of Fayoum fell into a deep sleep.
In fact, it was more like a coma. When he woke up, he felt pain all over his body and his mind was muddled. With the help of his servants, he knelt in the direction of prayer and performed his ritual. Of course, those Saracen nobles had not truly expelled him from the delegation; no one was willing to undertake such a troublesome and humiliating task.
But the room for maneuver left to him was indeed too small. They wanted everything. The Emir of Fayoum had the impulse to negotiate with these Christians in his own name and leave all these scoundrels in the Jordan River valley, returning to Egypt himself. But his residual sense of responsibility and his final loyalty to the Fatimid Dynasty—most of these fellows were his former colleagues—kept him going.
In the end, the Crusaders reduced half of the ransom and allowed them to use slaves to offset the remaining amount.
The young chief envoy then proposed a condition that greatly surprised the Emir of Fayoum: he said that prisoners could be exchanged.
Prisoner exchange, from a future perspective, was not common but not rare either. However, at this time, people usually exchanged prisoners in a different way.
In short, according to customary law, when two sides were at war, after the battle, the captured person and the captor naturally entered into a contractual relationship. The captive was no longer an enemy but collateral for his ransom. The captor had an obligation to ensure the captive’s safety.
If the captive was a lord or a king, they would be treated with further courtesy.
There was even an instance where a lord was insulted after being captured. He proposed a duel to the insulter, but was refused by the latter on the grounds that he was unwilling to duel with a captive—how was this matter resolved?
The person who had captured the lord fought a duel with the insulter in place of the captive.
Therefore, although knights fought for their lords or kings, once captured, even if the king could pay their ransom to redeem them, more often than not, the king was either unable to do so or felt that the knight or subject was not loyal enough or not worth the price, and might refuse the terms proposed by the captor.
The situation of the captured knight would then change—mostly for the worse. Just like William Marshal, who still guards King Baldwin of Ayyarasa Road, he was captured after falling from his horse while rescuing Eleanor of Aquitaine, Queen of England. However, for several years afterward, Henry never requested his redemption.
His situation at the time was also very difficult. It was only when Queen Eleanor paid his ransom that he finally gained his freedom. This was also why he no longer served King Henry of England but turned to Queen Eleanor.
In the previous battles, both Saracens and Christians suffered casualties and took prisoners.
Among the Saracens, there were Christian captives with titles as high as Count. There were also Qayeds, Fatah, and an Emir. Logically, their ransoms should have been paid by themselves or raised by their relatives or friends.
If not, I’m afraid they might spend their lives in prison, or die unknown at some point by getting caught in a conspiracy.
Just like Count Joscelin III of Edessa and his wife in the past.
But now that Caesar made such a request, even the Emir of Fayoum could not help but raise his head and look at him with a solemn expression, “Is this your personal wish, or your king’s will?”
“The king’s will,” Caesar replied. He said that in matters like this, he would never act without consulting Baldwin.
King Baldwin of Ayyarasa Road still had many prisoners. He was, after all, the Spear of Saint George. If it were another monarch, even Amaury I might not have made such a decision—because if prisoners were exchanged, only the prisoners themselves would benefit; they would not lose their fortunes, nor would they face humiliation or the threat of death.
But for those who captured them, exchanging prisoners offered no advantage, and even the king would lose a significant amount of money.
But Baldwin agreed without any hesitation.
This was not only because Caesar made the suggestion, but also because he had realized that people’s hearts were more precious than gold.
In this battle, it could be said that without the creditability established by Caesar beforehand as a guarantee, their plan would not have succeeded from the start.
And among the Crusaders, the one most harmed by this decision was probably the son of Count of Tripoli, David of Mersin. The Emir of Fayoum also realized this problem, “Do others agree?”
“They agree.” In fact, as long as David nodded, it would be difficult for others to refuse.
King Baldwin of Ayyarasa Road, Caesar, and David were undoubtedly the leading figures in this battle. Even if the merits of everyone else were combined, they might not be able to match them.
The decisions they made were almost as good as written on parchment, with little room for change.
This time, even Count Raymond of Tripoli did not say anything.
In fact, after hearing about Abigail, he was satisfied.
“Perhaps we should not be too harsh on our children.”
Although he used “we,” everyone understood what he meant.
Of course, Bohemond later beat a horse to death in the middle of the night—Abigail’s mount. That was another matter.
And when the Emir of Fayoum brought this news back to the camp, as he had predicted, the Saracen nobles did not show any signs of joy. Those who were joyous were those who had become Christian prisoners, and they would suffer losses because of this. Immediately, someone raised an objection, but the Emir of Fayoum quickly dispelled their ridiculous notion.
“Those captured Saracens are not alone; they came with their tribes or their armies. Although these warriors and soldiers might be absorbed or bought over, can you guarantee that none of them are loyal? They could slit your throats at any moment.”
This speech did convince some people, but he also knew that the accusations against him would not disappear.
At this point, he didn’t even want to enjoy his hookah or coffee. He deeply missed his palace in Fayoum. No, he even had the urge to withdraw from the court and the army—if his companions were these people.
It was only by chance that he was not captured this time. But what about next time, and the time after that, and the time after that?
He couldn’t gamble; he was unwilling to entrust his destiny to these petty people.
“My lord…”
“I said I don’t want to be disturbed—unless it’s the Sultan.”
“Yes, but my lord, it’s Fatah of Bibah…”
The Emir of Fayoum looked at the other for a moment, remembering that this servant was from the Bibah tribe. While thinking that this servant could no longer be used, he instructed him to call in that Fatah.
Since the negotiation results were out and the war was ending, the promised rewards should be given to these tribal leaders. If they had obtained Damascus, these promises would have been effortlessly fulfilled, and perhaps even more could have been given. But now he himself had suffered great losses, and even five years of Fayoum’s tax revenue might not be enough to compensate.
Fatah of Bibah provided fifty warriors for the Emir of Fayoum. For this tribe, it was a considerable contribution.
And in the previous battle, these warriors had suffered almost half their casualties. Fatah’s objective was also clear: he needed livestock, cloth, sugar, salt, barley, and everything else that could sustain the tribe for the next few years.
He was a tribal leader who fit people’s imagination perfectly: lean, dark-skinned, wearing a headscarf, a loose black robe, with a scimitar hanging from his belt. He made the Emir of Fayoum think of Sultan Saladin for no reason.
Although he had come to beg the Emir to fulfill his promise, he did not appear humble. He spoke in a straightforward tone, explaining how many warriors they had lost, how many horses, camels, and armor they had lost, and that their slaves had been completely lost in the previous battle.
Then, like an innocent sinner falsely accused, he stood firmly in the center of the tent, awaiting the Emir’s judgment.
Their tribe was severely weakened and had almost nothing left to bargain with. If the Emir of Fayoum wanted to renege or refuse to acknowledge the previous promise, he absolutely could. He could even take this opportunity to annex the tribe, making their women and children, and their meager assets, fodder for his own sustenance.
But after a brief silence, the Emir of Fayoum nodded, “I will give you livestock, cloth, and camels. Were any warriors from your tribe captured?
Don’t misunderstand, I’m not blaming you. Earlier, the Christians made a suggestion to me; if we were willing, we could exchange our Christian captives for them.”
Upon hearing this, Fatah’s eyes suddenly burst with immense joy. “Allah bless you!” He stepped forward excitedly, placed his hand on his chest, and prostrated himself, completely disregarding the vigilant postures of the two servants beside the Emir. “Oh Allah! You are the Greatest, You are the Most Compassionate, You are the Most Merciful, You are the Most Loving!”
He prayed for a long time before finally calming down, his joy gradually fading. “I only have three Christian captives, and only one is a knight. The other two are escorts.”
The Emir of Fayoum counted on his fingers. “I can pay for three on your behalf. Go and discuss it—if there are indeed warriors from your tribe among the Christians, and they are not dead but captured.”
For the tribe, getting their warriors back was the most important thing, surpassing livestock and gold. Just as in a wolf pack, as long as the adult wolves were there, the pack could continue hunting. But without warriors, even with mountains of food, they might have it snatched away by others.
The Emir thought that Fatah would surely leave in joy after hearing this, but he did not leave immediately. Instead, he stood there, gazing at him for a long time, his gaze making him shiver.
The Emir couldn’t understand why he felt this way, but the other person bowed deeply to him, placing his hand on his chest. “You are just as he said, my lord. You will receive forgiveness, from Allah and from him…”
He didn’t finish. As usual, he retired calmly. The unease in the Emir of Fayoum’s heart grew stronger. He didn’t know where this anxiety came from, but he later met with several friends, urging them to go and comfort the Fatah and Qayeds under their command. Some listened, and some did not.
