Chapter 81: Assault On The City!
Baldwin looked at Caesar. He was asking Caesar if he had his own judgment on this case, but Caesar just shook his head and remained silent.
He could indeed see that among these two groups of Isaacites, Haridi was indeed the weaker side, and with the testimony of the Saracens, it showed he was not a bad person.
As for Rabhan, he was at least a shrewd fellow. As early as when Amalric I was still stationed outside the city, he had unhesitatingly defected— and it was likely he was not doing grain trade as claimed. An Isaacite doing grain trade would have no need to pressure a fellow goldsmith like that.
So what about Haridi? Sorry, he had not been as frank and selfless as those Saracens claimed. He might be a good person, but he was definitely hiding something. He and Rabhan both knew this secret, but they were unwilling to tell others. Since that was the case, Caesar did not want to interfere with his destiny.
“Then let’s proceed as originally agreed.”
As soon as Baldwin spoke, smiles appeared on the faces of the Saracens. Haridi was also smiling, but his smile always carried some shame and helplessness. It seemed he also knew his deception was very unfair to these Saracens.
Rabhan still wanted to appeal, but Baldwin lowered his head and said to him earnestly: “I do know you. You are not a grain merchant. In fact, you came to appeal to my father many times, hoping he would grant you minting rights. At the same time, you were doing precious metal trade and currency exchange business, and lending, lending to many people.
Knights I know have complained that you are a greedy dog. Don’t be afraid. I say this not to accuse you, but to let you know that I understand your true intentions.”
Rabhan nervously licked his lips. Baldwin waved his hand. “But I cannot set a precedent. If this auction-like behavior spreads in the city, it would be more harmful than beneficial to us—we now need to quickly tally the entire population and settle their matters first—whether ransom or trade.
If you pay three times the price today, and someone pays five times tomorrow, my father might get more money. But he is not a merchant; he is a King and a commander. This interest is not worth our expending so much effort to resolve. Understand?”
“Un, understood.” Rabhan unwillingly swallowed a mouthful of saliva. He slowly stood up and looked at Haridi: “…No matter what, remember you are still an Isaacite.” He said gloomily.
At this time, the Saracens’ servant had hurriedly run back. They brought the previously agreed money, even a bit more. The Saracens were very happy that the Templar Knight was willing to yield on this point. After all, when Rabhan offered three times the price, they had hesitated for a moment too.
Rabhan gritted his teeth and watched them sullenly. He tried to speak several times, but was suppressed by his remaining reason.
Caesar guessed what he wanted to say. Everything in this city already belonged to Amalric I.
So where did these Saracens’ ransom money come from? This could not be scrutinized. After all, these were people with status, and they had not participated in the rebellion against Amalric I. Even when Amalric I truly ruled this city, he would need them.
After all, this city could not have only Christians. Even the current Ayyarasa Road housed many Saracens and Isaacites. This was inevitable. For any city to prosper, it could not retain its original purity.
Haridi’s family could not wait to rush outside the city. Before the City of Bilbeis fell again, he had foreseen and set up a small workshop in a village outside the city.
Although there might not be any business for him in the short term, he was originally an ordinary man content with poverty.
But he could not stay peaceful for long. On the fourth night, another group of Isaacites came to this village, led by a true “teacher,” a sage among the Isaacites. As soon as he saw Haridi, he immediately opened his arms, and Haridi could not help but step forward and embrace him tightly.
“Teacher!” he called out emotionally.
“I thought you would die in Bilbeis.” Haridi’s teacher said.
“I had originally made full preparations. But unexpectedly, I was caught by a Templar Knight just after leaving the city. Fortunately, he was not an extremely evil person. He allowed us to go back and get our ransom money…”
Haridi told his teacher exactly what happened in the city. The teacher had to admit that Haridi and his family had indeed received much protection from God along the way. If even one link was missing, all he would see was Haridi’s corpse.
“That group still hasn’t given up.” Haridi said after mentioning Rabhan.
“They will never give up, after all that is…” The Isaacite sage did not continue, and neither did Haridi. He changed the subject and asked about the teacher’s current situation. “We’re fine. To be honest, for us Isaacites, there is not much difference between Christians and Saracens. They despise us, suppress us, yet cannot do without us.”
Haridi brewed him a cup of hot sweet tea with honey added. The sage took it and drank it down, letting out a long sigh.
Although he was always robust in spirit and strong in body, upon hearing the news of Amalric I’s second expedition, he hurried nonstop to Bilbeis—this urgent and long journey had indeed exhausted him.
But Haridi was his best student. He should have become a sage too, but due to conflicts with some clansmen, he had to become a goldsmith.
Although he was the best goldsmith as a goldsmith, seeing him still made the sage feel heartbroken: “Come back with me. Haridi, I need you, and so do the people who share our ideas and persistence.”
“I hate war, teacher. I don’t like any disputes or quarrels. I am unwilling to raise a butcher’s knife against my own people.”
“Such things do not require you to do it personally.”
“Is there a difference between my orders and my own hands?”
The sage sighed long. “But you have seen it too. This world is full of war—for faith, for interest, for land, even just for a horse, a sheep, a copper coin. Where can you hide? I heard Amalric I is about to attack Fustat. Although you are hiding here, soon the people here will also be conscripted.
The fruit trees here will be cut down, and the farmland will lie fallow without care. Next year there will be a great famine here. Where else can you go?
Unless you stop being an Isaacite and abandon our faith…”
“I will absolutely not do that.” Haridi said agitatedly.
“Then think about it again. You have two daughters in their prime. Do you want them to lose their purity and lives in this war? If you come back, I can still select two suitable young men from among the lads. Once they marry and have children, your bloodline can continue.
By then, you will find your sacrifice was completely worth it.”
How Haridi responded to his teacher, we do not know for now, but the sage’s words were right. Amalric I did not force every Saracen to serve labor for him, but these people left the city empty-handed, with nothing.
Even if nearby villages could take them in, what about tens of thousands of people? Where would their food come from? Moreover, the farmers in the villages also had to prepare to survive the coming months.
They wanted to pick fruit to stave off hunger, catch birds and beasts, but these had long been plundered clean by the Crusaders’ knights. Where could such good fortune await them? Even the fish in the lakes and rivers were much fewer.
At this time, Amalric I issued a proclamation, preaching to them that as long as they were willing to work for him, they could get rations and reward. What kind of work? No need to say more, of course for attacking Fustat—more carriages, more siege towers, crossbows, battering rams, catapults… more spears, more shields, more tents and houses…
The trees outside the City of Bilbeis, those that had grown for several years, a dozen years, even decades—date trees, olive trees, pomegranate trees, and fig trees laden with fruit—none escaped and crashed down amid the pained gazes of the Saracens. They had to do it. This was indeed their future, but if they refused service, they would not even have a present.
Baldwin and Caesar had also seen how the people of Ayyarasa Road made these apparatus—during the time the King prepared to attack Tortosa Castle—but compared to this time, it was like comparing a toddling infant to a giant several zhang tall. Standing on high, looking out, the craftsmen were like ant swarms, the piled wood and stone blocks like sugar lumps.
“Alright,” Heraclius placed his hands on their shoulders and gently pushed them: “Let’s go down and see.”
The person in charge of this important project was Heraclius. Some had objections, since Heraclius was no longer a monk by the King’s side but the Patriarch of Ayyarasa Road. But evidently, both Amalric I and Heraclius felt that supervising the construction of siege engines, fortifications, and campsites was far more suitable for the latter than kneeling in prayer before the altar.
Heraclius of course would not miss such an excellent opportunity—looking at drawings and text, listening to explanations, what could be better than seeing, touching, and understanding it firsthand on site!
“This is a siege crossbow.” The teacher said.
For Caesar and Baldwin to see, it was now just a trapezoidal frame, with a beam in the middle and four square fixed feet at the bottom. They were stacked layer by layer and transported to another area, where people installed metal parts and elastic horsehair ropes, then they were securely fixed into a massive assembly. Another group stuffed them with straw and loaded them onto carriages.
Caesar then realized that these people already had a crude and simple assembly line awareness, but this awareness arose from professional isolation. Like a blacksmith needing a wooden plate—he could not just whittle one himself; a carpenter needing nails could not forge them; a stonemason good at carving could not cast iron statues or make wooden puppets.
They did what they did, sold what they sold, bought what they bought, all restricted by guild rules. At the same time, they accepted these rules. These old customs originated from craftsmen on noble territories—any craft, whether messenger, guiding, cattle-raising, honey and beeswax harvesting… was strictly kept secret by every craftsman and passed down as a treasure.
Anyone daring to steal-learn, even if already an apprentice, would be whipped or even executed.
With such traditions, everyone was accustomed to not interfering with others, just doing their own work, and handing it off to the next for the subsequent process…
From what Caesar knew, even among the blacksmiths there were extremely detailed divisions. Some specialized in horseshoes and spurs, and bits; others in making and repairing, sharpening tools for carpenters and stonemasons; some could forge fine sturdy railings and window lattices; some even specialized in nails… all sizes and kinds of nails, from the smallest hooked nails for fixing armor plates to the largest for fixing anchors or figureheads…
“These are flat-firing stone crossbows and projectile stone crossbows.”
Heraclius did not disturb these people’s work but walked to the finished products and pointed them out. “Around the 5th century BC, the Phoenicians here made the stone crossbows we have now, though they could only fire flat, not into the air. And the Macedonians—their stone crossbows could reportedly hurl metal arrows of about one hundred pounds or even heavier, or fifty-pound stones.
These stone crossbows could effectively destroy battlements more fragile than city walls, or thinner fortifications.”
He led them a few steps and pointed to another crossbow: “This is the stone crossbow improved by the Romans after conquering the Phoenicians and Macedonians, allowing it to lob farther with greater damage. They called it the Roman stone crossbow or scorpion.” He stood before this obviously longer apparatus and made an embracing gesture: “Just like a scorpion extending its front claws, right?”
“And this one,” he pointed to an apparatus in a wooden box: “This is a torsion crossbow and its stand. This apparatus requires precision and rigor, so it cannot be stacked casually, which is troublesome and takes longer to make, but it is more stable, with longer range and greater power.”
“These crossbows all need readjustment before firing. Temperature, humidity, and wear will affect their power and accuracy. A skilled archer just needs to listen if the two bowstrings sound consistent to confirm—if not, manual adjustment is needed. On the battlefield, you will experience it firsthand.”
These crossbows varied in size: some as small as chairs, some like cabinets, others directly mounted on carriages—one carriage, one crossbow.
“There are bigger ones, but they can only be assembled on the battlefield.” Heraclius said. He noticed Baldwin’s gaze on a wooden apparatus that also looked like a crossbow: “No, child, that is not a crossbow.”
He said: “That is called a ‘wild donkey’, also from the Romans, though we added double arms to make it shoot farther.”
“But it is still a catapult.”
