The enemy general in command of this city was none other than its Caliph--an Emir named Khayr al-Fatimiyyun. He had with him a sizable force that on any other day would have terrorized the many crusaders in the Holy Lands, for it comprised of a good mix of cavalry, infantry and even had a balista!
However, this was not just 'any other day'. This was the day Cairo would fall to the combined might of Sicilian and Crusader armies.
In my army I had a fantastic variety of soldiers. I had mounted skirmishers, archers, spearmen, and heavy cavalry. All in all, it was a good mix suited to all sorts of battles, and it was obviously led by me.
The Crusader State's army however, was led by a very old general. He was none other than the famed Bohemond.
I surprised that he was still alive at this stage, for the average life expectancy of a crusader wasn't very high. Nevertheless, I was thankful for the additional forces he brought with him, for it made destroying Cairo's garrison a much less daunting task.
My army alone outnumbered the Fatimids hiding behind their walls, but those very walls could well negate the advantage of numbers in battle, and so Bohemond di Taranto's additional numbers may well tip the scales in our favor.
I met him just before the battle commenced, and out of courtesy for his seniority and age I was the one who made the five-mile ride to his siege camp. He received me graciously enough, but around him lingered an ever-present aura of fear and dread, characterized by the way he spoke and his battle tactics. I cautioned him against the idea of entering battle personally, for his old age may be his downfall in this decisive battle. The only reply I received was 'God will guide me', and I had to be content with this cryptic response.
Our discussions came to a close before midday. General Bohemond's army had not yet constructed any siege equipment, so I would be sending some over to his side to allow his men to attack the city from behind. My own forces would simultaneously box the Fatimids in and slowly push them back to the city square, where we would finish them off in a bloody fight. The battle lines were drawn, the siege equipment were aligned, and the battle was about to begin.
As per our agreement, I sent a siege tower and a battering ram towards General Bohemond's army. They had to skirt around the large city walls for fear of being shot, so it took quite some time before they arrived at the Crusader General's location.
The stubborn Fatimids followed the siege tower's every move, and pursued them from wall to wall, refusing to let the tower out of their sight. That was exhausting work on their part, and to see them scurry from wall to wall like rats brought a lopsided smile to my face. If not for their magnificent armor, my smile would have been a wide grin.
As I waited for the rams and other siege equipment to get to their assigned positions, I admired the view of the city. The Masjid inside was so big and awe-inspiring I had to spend a whole minute to completely admire its glory. The golden-yellow hue that reflected off its top was an indomitable sight indeed.
Just then, many runners approached me. They reported the readiness of the siege equipment and their current locations. From this information I was able to put together in my mind a mental map of the proceedings.
Satisfied with their positioning, I turned to the runners and sent them back to their respective companies with various messages--hold position, prepare for assault or attack immediately. First to reach the large walls of Cairo were the peasants that I ordered to man the ram. They battered down its great iron doors, but from the opening came a flood of monsters, devils and heathen. The Arab cavalry stormed through the broken gates, taking the peasants completely by surprise and slaughtering many of them.
I smiled sardonically. Everything was going according to plan. These bastards would pay for their impetuousness. I ordered our skirmishers forward--our Desert Cavalry. They more than earned their pay by hurling accurate, painful javelins at the enemy cavalry. They completely decimated their opponents without losing a single man.
With the Arab cavalry in full flight and their numbers down to less than a tenth of their original strength, I ordered the general advance into the city. I hoped that our siege equipment on the other side of the city had breached the walls by now. The better our timing and the more well-coordinated our combined assault was, the more lives we could save and the more enemies we could kill. We streamed into the city in an orderly manner, looking out for any signs of conflict.
Just then, a lone Muslim on horseback approached our lines. From his flag I could tell that he was on our side and was in fact from one of the three companies of Desert Cavalry I had sent to aid General Bohemond's army. To my astonishment, he rode right past our lines, a wild and demented look on his face! Startled, I apprehensively prepared for phase two of our plan, hoping that the Muslim was just corrupted by the delirium of battle, and not the sole survivor of General Bohemond's assault.
As it turned out, the fleeing Muslim was not a sign of things to come--General Bohemond had successfully entered the rear of the city with minimal fuss after my rams broke down the doors.
We approached the city square, and my eyes were met with a picture of wanton destruction and pandemonium. The enemy had been pushed back into the city square, but were holding fast and unwilling to budge. There was an enormous amount of dead on the floor, and a pathetic, bloodstained Fatimid banner lay in the midst of things. General Bohemond needed help.
And we provided it. Ordering my infantry to create a distraction, I maneuvered my cavalry to the flanks of the Fatimids and repeatedly drove into their lines, creating mass confusion and casualties.
Even though my grasp of battlefield tactics had improved by leaps and bounds over the past ten years or so, my skill with a sword had not. My first strike was parried by a Fatimid spearman, and I groaned in dismay.
That abruptly evoked in me memories from way back, when Ethan and I had the chance to ride together side by side and attack our enemies together. Suddenly a flood of emotions seized control of my brain, and all my movements ceased.
I reminisced about the glorious, happy days near the coast of Syracuse, where I happiness was never in short supply, where Ethan and I were the best of friends, and when I had foolishly endangered my life by falling off my horse.
I still remembered Ethan picking me up and handing me my spear, and then helping me mount up before we chased the routers down side by side...
A tear rolled off the bottom of my eyes, swathing through my grim, dirty face. The tingling sensation I felt was the prelude to my madness. Why didn't I save Ethan? Why wasn't I good enough? Why did he have to die? I still felt joy racking my body when captain Andrea had named me fallen, and how we had laughed together, our friendship--
Thud. I fell off my horse unceremoniously. Someone had lunged at me. My perpetrator was none other than the enemy general himself, the Caliph of Cairo. While the rest of his bodyguards held my spearmen at bay, he himself had lunged towards me in a feral rage. And I, dreaming drearily about the past in the middle of battle, was about to pay the price.
The price of death. I watched incredulously as my opponent smirked behind his helm and drew back his arm to finish me off. I would never reach my sword in time.
Then a silhouette blotted out the light from the sun, and a choked cry of surprise was uttered once from the Caliph. Still coughing up globules of blood at me, he slumped to the ground with a sword in his back. In his place stood Bohemond di Taranto, the new savior of my life. He had leaped off his horse to assist me, and he now sheathed his sword and proffered his hand to me. Lying stunned on my back, I gratefully accepted.
As I was hauled to my feet I looked around. Everywhere I looked I saw only Crusader or Sicilian flags. The battle was going to be ours, I just knew it.
But then one final twist in the the battle simply had to throw itself upon Bohemond and me. I was helpless to stop it from happening. An enterprising Fatimid spearman had the audacity to sneak up behind the two crusading commanders in an attempt to kill us.
Outrageously, he succeeded in part.
General Bohemond's face twisted into one of pure agony as a spear protruded from his chest. I held him by the shoulders to prevent him from falling. However, it was too late.
He was already dead. His head drooped slightly and he slumped forwards onto me. I staggered back, but the Fatimid spearman pressed forward, egged on by his success. My own sword was on the ground where I had fallen, and once again I faced the threat of a premature death.
And once again, I escaped the Devil's claws. Clamoring out their war cries, by company of bodyguards rushed to my aid and trampled the Fatimid spearman into dust.
But it brought no joy to me.
We had won a major victory, crippling the seat of the Fatimid Caliphate's power, and driving them back into the vast deserts where we could hunt them at our leisure.
But the angst, the consternation, and the sense of guilt was all too overbearing. Because of my foolishness once again, Bohemond had become another Ethan, dying to protect me.
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Re: [SS 6.4] To Change our Fate: Reforging Sicily with Steel and Heart ~Chapter 20, 15/1/13~
Senator
Originally Posted by Paragon
I liked the Emir's scene too, although I don't know if having a similar scene in my AAR helps
Sugar free
Rogue Bodemloze
Poor Bohemond! This is how a legend departs.... But now your Outremer territory is larger than your home.
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