Hah! That would be an interesting twist indeed. He has been spending much less time with his wife than I would have liked, but who said anything about Jean surviving for the prologue to make sense? I took care to write 'The King of Jerusalem'.
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
Hah! That would be an interesting twist indeed. He has been spending much less time with his wife than I would have liked, but who said anything about Jean surviving for the prologue to make sense? I took care to write 'The King of Jerusalem'.
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
Character List
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
From the Perspective of Lord Jean, First Prince of Jerusalem, The Outskirts of Jerusalem, 1239 AD
Some kind of liquid was all over my face.
I opened my eyes, fearing that it was my blood dripping copiously from gaping wounds, and attempted to wipe it off.
Clink.
Two sounds made themselves known to me. The first was a couple of men laughing, presumably at me, and the second was the groaning of the chains binding my hands in place.
I’m a prisoner.
Then it all came back to me. The failed charge, Lord Philip’s treachery, and most certainly, my inevitable death.
But I’m not dead.
I screamed as a large amount of water smacked me in the face. Wait, water. The liquid on my face is water. I looked up to see two men chuckling away and speaking in Arabic, a now empty bucket in their hands. One of them said something to the other, who then ran off gleefully. The fellow who remained simply stared at me and grinned rather menacingly.
My men. Wait, how long have I been here? The Kingdom?
A more revolting thought struck me. My family? If I could, I would have buried my face in my hands. Instead, all I could do was let my tears mix with the water on my face. I am foolish. I have doomed the good people of the Kingdom of Jerusalem.
My feet were shackled together, as were my hands, and I was in a tent of some kind, so for a time I simply sat there in the sand, numb and bitter. Lord Philip almost certainly had the Kingdom in his hands now, and there was nothing I could do about it. In fact, I was probably going to die here. I blinked and gazed at the ground hopelessly. Is this what losing everything feels like?
Hearing the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching, I lifted my head and saw four spearmen headed in my direction, accompanied by the man who had previously walked away, still grinning from ear to ear. Try as I might, I could not swallow my fear, and it must have shown, for as the spearmen drew nearer they gestured at me excitedly and broke into smiles.
“Up!” One of them shouted as he dragged me to my feet. The rest formed up around me and I was marched out of the tent and in a particular direction. It was as if my senses of sight and sound chose that moment to fully return to me, for all at once my ears were assaulted by a tumultuous cacophony, and my eyes the enormous amount of men gathered in the area, not to mention the swirling of dust and sand all around.
I’m in a Saracen war camp. I expected to be heckled and jeered by the soldiers, but to my surprise, aside from some looks of disgust and the irregular insult and spitting, I was mostly left alone. The spearmen escorting me gave me the occasional rough shove, but that was to be expected.
Strange. I always thought being a Saracen’s prisoner would be one of the worst evils a man could experience. Stories of their legendary torture methods and inhumane imprisonment tactics were often told in court, and I had learned to fear the Saracens from a young age. And yet here I am, still very much alive, and…unharmed?
It was then I realized I hadn’t taken a good look at myself. I wasn’t wearing my armor anymore, and I was probably indistinguishable from the rest of the prisoners. That must be why I’m not getting stoned yet.
Then, it hit me. The rest of the prisoners…where are they?
“My men.” I croaked. “Where are they?”
The men ignored me, and when I asked again, louder, I was given a blow on the head for my troubles. Wincing from the pain, I resolved to remain silent and instead, start to count the number of soldiers in the camp.
Ten, twenty, probably fifty… I reached two hundred and fifty before giving up. Tents and encampments stretched as far as the eye could see, and I could hardly keep track of them all. I was escorted down what looked to be the main pathway inside this camp, in full view of anyone who cared to shoot a glance my way.
For ten minutes we walked in silence. Then another ten. And another.
I yearned to ask where we were going, but fearing another, stronger blow, I kept my mouth shut. This pathway is ridiculously long. I’ve passed over a hundred tents already…the size of this army is incredible! …and depressing.
It did seem like it would never end. I passed by contingents of spearmen, swordsmen, archers, cavalry, all doing drills, patrolling, or whatever task was set of them. It was totally unlike the crazed, untrained swine that they were constantly described as during my time in Jerusalem, and I was very taken aback.
As time passed, I grew tired, my shoulders sagged and my head hung listlessly. Yet the uncompromising soldiers forced me to carry on. Just when I thought I would collapse to the ground from exhaustion, I heard the men around me stop in unison…and then they threw me to the ground anyway. I was almost thankful for the modicum of rest hitting the sand afforded me.
“The Sultan of the Ayyubid Caliphate!” A crier announced.
I looked up, realizing that I was in front of a huge tent ceremoniously decorated with banners and sigils. A very stern looking man, surrounded by soldiers garbed in the heaviest armor, was staring at me with his hands on his hips, chewing on what appeared to be a leaf of some kind.
“Prince of Jerusalem.” He spoke slowly, yet threateningly. “You look…young.”
The men around him, and there were so many, all erupted into condescending laughter.
Men. “What have you done with my men?” I dared to ask. The haughty laughter quickly turned into snorts of disdain, and yet the Sultan deigned to reply. “They were slaughtered. Twenty knights against four hundred. Did you expect otherwise?”
“Then why am I alive? Why did you make me march through the entire war camp? What is to be done with me?”
The Sultan said something in Arabic, and once again his men burst out into merriment. “So many questions.” The Sultan replied. “You were made to walk the entirety of my camp just so you could see the vast army arrayed against you. You have no chance.”
The Sultan gestured towards the north east. “A Seljuk army is encamped fifty miles that way. My scouts tell me it is bigger than mine.” He then shifted his finger westward, towards the north. “Eighty miles that way, another one, and from what I’ve heard, even more are on the way. Even the Almohad Caliphate, hundreds of miles to the west, have answered the call of the Jihad. Your tiny Kingdom is about to be wiped from existence.”
"The Almohad Caliphate?" It made no sense. "We have no quarrel with them."
“Then you are more out of touch with reality than I imagined. Your spies must be failing you. We received the news of their declaration of war weeks ago."
"But why would they - "
"Enough questions, young prince!” The Sultan glowered, seemingly enjoying himself. “Your men are not the only people in this world who march to distant lands for a righteous cause. Tonight you shall dine in my tent, and no harm will come to you.” Then, a wicked gleam entered his eye. “But as for tomorrow, I’m afraid I cannot say.”
From the Perspective of Lord Philip, Lord of Nicosia, The City of Jerusalem, 1239 AD
The Kingdom is mine. I’ve been suffering from a snivelling, indecisive King for far too long. No more false promises of peace, no more dastardly duplicity, it was time for a proper, all-out war. Jean de Brienne…if only you hadn’t gone so soft in your later years.
Could he really blame me, though? The streets of Jerusalem were full of the Saracen rabble, selling their wretched wares and demeaning this holy city. Part of the population followed Islamic teachings rather than the proper, Christian beliefs. This was a cancer that could not be allowed to spread further. We didn’t need a great orator or diplomat. We needed an outstanding warrior. And in this Kingdom, it was a well-known fact that I was second to none.
God forgive me for what I’ve done. I know he will when he sees his soldiers ruling this stretch of Earth in a few years’ time.
“My lord!” A templar called out. “The Council of Nobles demand to know what happened to the Prince!”
“Demand?” A sly grin crossed my face. “It is unwise for people to demand things of Kings. Did they not learn that as a babe?”
“Orders, sire?”
“Inform the council that I’m on my way. I need to fetch something from my chambers.”
“Yes my lord.”
The parchment King Jean had written was the key. Not even the council of nobles could deny his signature and seal.
I allowed myself a satisfied smirk. Finally, this Kingdom will have a King she deserves.
Last edited by Swaeft; May 04, 2019 at 07:27 AM. Reason: Formatting
CIVUS DIVUS EX CLIBANO
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
Called it! Would've been weird for him to die
Qualis noncives pereo! #justiceforcookie #egalitéfraternitécookié #CLMOriginally Posted by Cookiegod
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
You have no idea how long I have toyed with that idea...Called it! Would've been weird for him to die
Philosopher
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
I feel a bit cheap saying this after the update is out, but I also never thought he would die. It was obvious Philip wanted to frag the little royal stripling of a lad, but Saracens are a better lot than they get credit for. And now I feel that I can see the wrap-up coming into view on the horizon. I will keep my thoughts to myself, to avoid any spoiling by being so damn cleverbut I think I know what will happen, and also how Swaeft's campaign ended up
going terribly wrong.
Note: I can't rep you yet, but you'll get one at some point. Maybe here, maybe somewhere else, but you'll get one!
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CIVUS DIVUS EX CLIBANO
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
I agree. The end appears to be nearing. That being said...
...If I don't get my "and they lived happily ever after" ending I'll boycott everything you write! >You have no idea how long I have toyed with that idea...
Qualis noncives pereo! #justiceforcookie #egalitéfraternitécookié #CLM
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
Don't be so hard on yourself, I did kind of set it up a little, what with the Prince being so naive and all, (royal stripling of a lad, where do you get these phrasesI feel a bit cheap saying this after the update is out, but I also never thought he would die. It was obvious Philip wanted to frag the little royal stripling of a lad, but Saracens are a better lot than they get credit for. And now I feel that I can see the wrap-up coming into view on the horizon. I will keep my thoughts to myself, to avoid any spoiling by being so damn clevergoing terribly wrong.
Note: I can't rep you yet, but you'll get one at some point. Maybe here, maybe somewhere else, but you'll get one!) yeah, there is a certain way of ending this in sight, but will I take that way?
...for you my friend, I will change the script...I agree. The end appears to be nearing. That being said...
...If I don't get my "and they lived happily ever after" ending I'll boycott everything you write! >
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Frothy Goodness
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
The way that the Prince's perspective gradually broadens, and he seems just how big the enemy encampment is, works brilliantly.
It seems that the Prince - and his father's kingdom - are in terrible danger. I'm looking forward to finding out whether they can survive, and how Lord Philip will react to the demand of the Council of Nobles.
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
Good points as always, Alwyn! I'll be sure to address them before this is over
Primicerius
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
Does Cookiegod have an inside look at this be we read the posted installments?
This was a great update regardless. I do like that Phillip is pretty much in his own world. The simultaneous perspectives is interesting.
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
If he did, I'm sure the chapters would have come out better
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
Character List
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
From the Perspective of Lord Jean, First Prince of Jerusalem, The Outskirts of Jerusalem, 1239 AD
The guards escorted me to Sultan’s tent at dusk.
“Welcome, young prince.” The Sultan smiled and gestured to a seat at the end of a rectangular table. “Over there.” I approached the wooden stool and plopped myself down, eyeing the area cautiously. The Sultan nodded to his men, and they all left the tent save for a person whom I assumed was his servant. The two of them started eating like it was just another day in their army, and I couldn’t stomach it.
“What am I doing here, Sultan?”
“Here in the desert, it is considered rude to reject food your host offers you.”
“Where I’m from, it is considered rude to mistreat your prisoners.”
The Sultan exchanged a look with his servant, then deigned to reply. “Would you say I have mistreated you, young prince?”
“No, but –”
“Then eat.” The Sultan’s voice hardened. “What comes after, comes after.”
There was no denying that the food was sumptuous. The spices, and sauces made them all the more exotic and exquisite, and yet I had to force myself to eat in moderation, lest I be too full to run should an opportunity to escape be afforded to me. The Sultan noticed this, perhaps, and though he did not rebuke me openly I noticed a frown appear on his face.
When the meal was done, more servants came in to clear the dishes before exiting as quietly as they came. “Now will you tell me what I’m doing here?”
The Sultan laughed. “Always so…hasty. In my culture, offering food and drink to your prisoner means they will not be harmed. You have nothing to worry about for now. I simply wish to experience the pleasure of your company…and your insight.”
I knew not what foul trick the Sultan was playing, but I was never going to give him information on Jerusalem’s defences. The Sultan noticed the fire in my eyes and shook his head. “You misunderstand. I do not ask you to betray your Kingdom, unlike your subordinate, the Templar Master. I wish to discuss matters of intellect.” He gazed at me curiously, watching me squirm in my seat, wide eyed and horrified. That bastard. Somewhat paradoxically, the Sultan appeared to be quite displeased with the whole affair. “He approached me with an offer I couldn’t refuse – handing the future King of Jerusalem over to me. Of course I jumped at the chance. A most disgusting man, that Templar, to betray his own King. Allah will not look kindly on those who turn their backs on their own kin.”
“Nevertheless, I will not say that conspiring with that man failed to benefit me. After all, here you are.” Still, I said nothing, a little numb from the shock of this revelation, and so the Sultan continued. “You seem like a man who understands honor, or so my spies tell me. You remember the little boy you caught thieving in the market?”
I glanced at the Sultan, not knowing if he was mocking or teasing me. “What of him?”
“He is part of your spy corps now, is he not?”
I squeezed my eyes shut in dismay. There is only one way he could have known that. The Sultan let out a soft chuckle. “I wouldn’t look so downcast if I were you. The boy speaks very highly of you. A Prince who cares about the common folk. A Prince who allows second chances. A Prince who is not disconnected from the reality of his people’s situation. A very rare sight in most Kingdoms, let alone in this region of unending conflict, where cruel men often rise to the top.
“He is also my son.”
I stared at the Sultan, flabbergasted, whilst he paused to pour himself a dark colored drink. “You see, young Prince, why you are not fit to rule? You let your underlings plot behind your back, and you fail to secure your own inner circle. A most fortuitous time for me to become Sultan. Particularly now that your Templar Master seems to be leading your Kingdom as of this afternoon. That man only knows how to make war.”
Tonight was definitely a night of surprises. “You lie.” I spat. “There is no way for him to rule. He has no claim.” And yet…
The Sultan gulped down some more of his drink before shaking his head at me sadly. “You speak as though the only way to the throne is by birthright alone. My spies tell me he secured his rule with an order written by your own father before he passed. And before you ask, that was not our doing.” As the Sultan continued to gaze at me, I saw only pity in his eyes. “Events in your own Kingdom slip by you like grains of sand in your hand. You truly are naïve, young prince.” It was revolting, yet I had no response. “But perhaps, your strength lies in other areas. I would speak to you of matters of intellect. Of course, assuming that you aren’t completely devoid of it.”
I stiffened as the Sultan’s servant raised a hand to his mouth, presumably to hide a snigger, though I lacked the willpower to rebuke him. “If it does not compromise my Kingdom’s security, I will answer what I can.” I exhaled slowly. “It is the least I can do for the hospitality you have shown me.”
The Sultan once again exchanged a look with his servant. “You are most kind.” The Sultan replied, and once again his servant had his hand to his mouth. Most annoying. “I will get to the heart of the matter, then. Why are you here?”
The query took me by surprise. My mind raced to find the correct answer, but I could not for the life of me think of it. Perhaps it was the shock of tonight’s revelations, or the suddenness of the question, but I could not think straight, at least not in this matter. An inordinate amount of time passed before the answer leaped to my tongue.
“We are here to defend God’s holy city.”
“From who?”
I was stunned. “Surely you are jesting, Sultan? You are our enemy.”
“It was not always so.” The Sultan raised a finger to silence me before I could interject. “Before the First Crusade, the lands here were free of Christian presence. Pilgrims were allowed to pass here in relative safety – though some died, I will not hide it – and the only people the Sultans here were fighting were each other.” At this point, his voice increased in volume and intensity gradually as he continued. “And then you Christians came, proclaimed this city as your own, and erected your church here. Then more of you came, under the guise of defending the Sepulchre and the city. And that has been the status quo ever since.”
I bristled. “What is your point?”
The Sultan glared at the interruption. “My point, young prince, is that throughout the entire history of our conflict, no lasting peace has been achieved because no one bothered to try hard enough.”
I felt the rage well up within me and lashed out in a fury. “No lasting peace has been achieved because you send bands of raiders to pillage our villages! To attack trade caravans, and to kill off the weak and helpless before they can link up with our main forces! Women and children included. What say you to that?”
“I say that your own soldiers do the same. It is painfully obvious, no matter how much either side tries to deny it. Do we need to consult what has been written of this place, from academics both Christian and Mulsim?”
My anger simmered into nothingness. God knows he’s right. Both sides had committed blasphemous acts.
“And this will continue until the end of time unless someone stops it.”
Is he suggesting…?
“So here is what I propose.” The Sultan stood up and looked me straight into the eye. “Tomorrow morning you will be escorted back to Jerusalem, where you will take control of the situation and reclaim your crown. You will convince the soldiers to abandon their stations and return to wherever they came from. The people will be allowed to stay, so long as they swear not to cause trouble. Christian pilgrims who venture to Jerusalem for their pilgrimage will not be harmed.”
It took me a few seconds to digest the meaning of his words. Can I even reclaim Jerusalem from Lord Philip? He is much more highly decorated than I am. “Asking the soldiers to abandon their posts will be viewed as treason.” I shook my head. “They will not obey such an order.”
The Sultan grasped me by the shoulder. “Then you will kindly explain to them that if they do not comply the Seljuks and I will kill them all. Between us our armies number over fifty thousand men. You cannot hope to match us. Even a boy as young as yourself must know this.”
There was nothing to be gained from further rebuttal – the Sultan knew the inner workings of Jerusalem about as well as I did, if not better. “And the Seljuks are on board with this plan? How will I know they won’t butcher us on our way out of Jerusalem?”
The Sultan’s servant stood up. “You have my word, as Sultan of the Seljuks.”
“You’re –”
“Yes.”
…
“And the Almohads?”
“They haven’t even reached Tunisia yet. This Jihad will be over by the time they arrive.”
…
…
“May I have some time to think this over?”
The Ayyubid Sultan nodded. “You would make an even poorer ruler if you did not. Guards! Please see the prince here back to his tent. He has a night of deep thought ahead of him.”
From the Perspective of The Ayyubid Sultan, The Outskirts of Jerusalem, 1239 AD
“Well? What do you make of him?” I drained my mug of fruit juice.
“The boy is a poor ruler indeed, though his excuse would certainly be his youth. You really believe he can convince the soldiers to sail home?”
I suppressed a smirk. “If he doesn’t manage to do so, we'll swoop in and kill them all. If he does manage to do so, we'll swoop in and kill whatever remains of them.”
The Seljuk Sultan laughed. “Then what was the point of this?”
I turned sharply and glared at the man. “We make every effort to save as many lives as we can, especially that of our soldiers. If there is a chance that our armies shall have to fight fewer enemies, we must try to take it.”
The Seljuk Sultan stood. “Very well. I pray you receive good fortune in the morn. I must return to my camp.”
I offered my hand. “As-Salaam-Alaikum.” The Seljuk Sultan’s handshake was a firm one. “Do not forget our deal for Jerusalem.”
I grasped his hand equally firmly. “I shall not, Allah be my witness.”
“Very good. Wa-Alaikum-Salaam.”
Tomorrow, the armies of Islam will finally reclaim Jerusalem, one way or the other.
Last edited by Swaeft; May 12, 2019 at 12:45 PM. Reason: NO MORE WINE, LANCEL?
Tiro
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
I feel that having the Sultan drinking wine might not be the best idea. Considering that alcohol in Islam is forbidden.
Primicerius
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
Son of Darth Vader? Also, the wine is it a clue or a mistake? Hmmm???I squeezed my eyes shut in dismay. There is only one way he could have known that. The Sultan let out a soft chuckle. “I wouldn’t look so downcast if I were you. The boy speaks very highly of you. A Prince who cares about the common folk. A Prince who allows second chances. A Prince who is not disconnected from the reality of his people’s situation. A very rare sight in most Kingdoms, let alone in this region of unending conflict, where cruel men often rise to the top.
“He is also my son.”
What this medieval wine jug can tell us about Islam | Prospect MagazineThe seeming paradox of our Islamic wine-jug now starts to makes more sense. Drinking was, in Ahmed’s words, “prohibited in legal discourse, but positively valued in non-legal discourse—especially amongst social and political elites.” The question arises, though, that if the term “Islamic” is stretched to accommodate two such opposing views does it retain conceptual coherence? Should we perhaps call drinking a “culturally Islamic” practice or even a “Persian” or “Arab” one? Ahmed insists we shouldn’t. For him, one of the distinctive characteristics of Islam—up until the modern period, at least—is its ability to comfortably contain multitudes.
A good update.
Last edited by NorseThing; May 11, 2019 at 07:56 PM.
Frothy Goodness
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
I like the way that you write the Sultan - as a clever, experienced ruler who does what he can to save the lives of his soldiers. An enemy, but a reletable one. I wonder whether Lord Jean will accept this mission and whether he can carry it out - it sounds like a very difficult thing to achieve, for the reasons that Lord Jean has already identified.
The Sick Baby Jester
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
A most interesting conversation between Jean and the Sultan. Jean continues to be a puppet of "greater" men it seems. Like Alwyn said, the Sultan seems to be a shrewd man with all the advantages in his favour. I'm interested to see the fate of Jerusalem and perhaps the entire Kingdom for that matter.
Tiro
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
Historically what you are arguing holds truth. The nobility broke the rules often that includes drinking alcohol. Drinking was not prevalent among the commoners or the Ulema. Using the Umayyads and Abbasids as an example, we will see that the interaction with Persians and Greeks heavily influenced Islamic architecture and language. However, to further elaborate on my comment regarding the Sultan drinking wine, I believe if he is a pious Muslim ruler driven by Jihad against the infidels, I find it odd that he is drinking wine. It all depends on the way the Sultan is represented in the story by @Swaeft.
Primicerius
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
Being of a high station affords one certain advantages, this is as true today as then. And it certainly helped the Sultan keep his prisoner off his guard.
FREE THE NIPPLE!!!
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
That was an interesting read, thanks! About the wine - I have the answer below!
This now is a mistake of mine - the version of the chapter I uploaded was not the final one, it was the second last draft I made. I had a flash of inspiration whilst writing that segment, so to quickly move on past the drink portion I simply put down wine as a placeholder and changed it to fruit juice later on, though what happened was I forgot to rename my final draft to 'final draft', and instead uploaded the second last draft, which was named 'latest draft', which still had the fruit juice as wine. There was to be another paragraph after the Sultan's perspective from Jean's point of view the next morning, but I hate editing chapters after posting them, so I think I can put that into the next chapter instead. Apologies!!
You are indeed correct to say that the Sultan should not be drinking wine - even though Norsething has rightly pointed out that people tend not to follow the rules all the time, I certainly did not portray (or at least aim to portray) the Sultan as anything less than an honorable man.
Thanks Alwyn, I finally got the chance to write about a character from the opposing side in more detail
Indeed, the Holy Land seems too tough for poor Jean to handle. The fate of the Kingdom hangs in the balance!
You are certainly right in this regard, though I must admit some confusion as to what you mean by 'keeping his prisoner off his guard'. Do you by any chance mean keeping Lord Jean confused?
For clarity: I have fixed the blasphemous wine!
Re: [SS 6.4] God's Justice (Crusader States AAR, with BGR IV and more!)
Character List
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
From the Perspective of Lord Jean, First Prince of Jerusalem, The Outskirts of Jerusalem, 1239 AD
The coming of dawn brought no respite to my troubled mind. It had become abundantly clear to me that the only way to save thousands of lives was to surrender Jerusalem, but I had been thinking – the Pope would almost definitely call another crusade and more lives would be lost in this senseless war.
I had stayed up all night, lost in my deliberations and dilemmas. I finally accepted that I would have to surrender Jerusalem, and then plead my case to the Pope himself, in person. That appeared to be the only conceivable way to end this mad war.
When the Sultan’s guards arrived to fetch me from my tent, I knew what I was about to do would shake the very foundations of Europe and perhaps, all of Christianity. It would also invalidate all the fighting and dying my kinsmen had done since the beginning of the Crusader States more than two hundred years ago. That disturbing notion weighed heavily on my mind, and when I arrived at the Sultan’s tent I still had not formed the words with which I would accept his offer.
“Your decision, then.” The Sultan wasted no time.
Nodding my head felt more crushing than the blow of a mighty Warhammer, but I knew it had to be done.
The Sultan smiled, but it wasn’t a kind one. “There is one more thing, young prince. You must return to me by nightfall. I give you the day to organize the evacuation, but come the setting of the sun, you must present yourself before me, here at this camp.”
I was stunned. “Why?” I stared at the Sultan, desperately trying to discern his intentions, but his face was a mask of composure. “I thought you wanted us gone.”
The Sultan sneered at me. “Indeed I do.” He leaned back in his chair and eyed me closely, before uttering words I could have sworn could only have come from a madman. “I intend to execute you when you return here.”
The fear that I had felt so keenly when I was first captured started to manifest itself again. Fighting back the rising tide of horror, I struggled to make sense of the situation.
“You are setting me free now, to return to Jerusalem, but you want me to return tonight, to…die?”
“Yes.”
A moment of silence fell over us. Amidst the fear in my guts, confusion started to boil over. Once again I felt like a naïve young child. “Forgive me for asking, but once I return to the Jerusalem, why would I come back to your camp to allow myself to be executed?”
The Sultan looked as if he had been waiting for me to ask that question, for his reply was swift and passionate. “I promised you the safety of Jerusalem. If you do not return tonight, the rest of the Crusader States will be massacred. Acre. Gaza. Krak des Chevaliers. Kerak. Damietta, which you sold to the Teutonic order. All of them will not be spared.”
The Sultan’s words started to sink in.
“If you show up, I will offer those cities and castles the same terms I have offered Jerusalem.”
My life for that of thousands.
“Understand that I do not take your life for nothing.” The Sultan gestured to his guards, who grabbed me by the arms and dragged me towards a waiting horse. Bitterness was now audible in the Sultan’s tone. “My father died at the hands of your kind. I owe it to him to take vengeance.”
The guards shoved me onto the mount, for I was astounded and overwhelmed. “Young prince.” The Sultan called out. “Sundown. Do not forget.”
Barely believing this was happening, I nodded in a daze and rode off towards the city, a troop of Saracen guards accompanying me.
**
My escorts departed after we reached within a kilometre of the city. When the gates were opened, I wasted no time and headed straight for the council chambers, where I intended to challenge Lord Philip for the crown. Though it was still morning, the Sun was rising steadily into the sky, and time was something I sorely needed to use wisely, for a rushed, unannounced and unplanned evacuation would take a long time.
As I rode down the city streets in a rush, I realized that the city was in complete turmoil, far worse than when I had left it. The citizens were living in terror, and none bothered to hail me, or perhaps, they did not even recognize me.
I am to die for them, then? Them and thousands of others who will likely never remember me, much less know of my sacrifice? How can I consent to that?
I grew apprehensive as I approached the doors of the council chambers, and my hand moved to the pommel of my sword after dismounting. It was here where I would live or die – either the soldiers would recognize my authority or not – and the fates of thousands of others were all chained to mine. With a deep breath and a pounding heart, I ordered the guards to open the door.
Expecting to see a full complement of Templar soldiers, I was pleasantly surprised to see Lord de Linus and some city watch officers pouring over a map of Jersualem, which was more than I could say for Lord de Linus, who looked like he had seen a ghost.
“My Prince?” He exclaimed, before kneeling. “We were told you were dead. A cavalry skirmish outside the walls.” The rest of the men in the chambers knelt as well, and that went a long way towards alleviating a portion of my fears.
“Where is Lord Philip?” I roared. “He is behind all this madness and treachery. He left me to die on the battlefield. He nearly led me to my death! He goaded me into attacking and pulled all his men back at the last second. WHERE IS HE?”
Tigel de Linus looked flabbergasted. “A…Acre, my…Prince. He took most of the Templars and knights to scout for the enemy. Are you not the King now?”
“Indeed I am." I snapped a little more harshly than I had intended. "Acre. What is he doing there?”
“I do not know, my Pr – are you aware that Lord Philip has a letter written and stamped by your father declaring him Lord Regent of the Crusader States?”
“I don’t care what he has.” I seethed. “He conspired with the Sultan of the Ayyubids to eliminate me and my father. He will die for this.”
“You’re saying –”
“Yes, Lord de Linus. He is behind all of this, including the murder of my father. Most likely that letter was written under extreme duress.”
Lord de Linus slumped into a chair, his face ashen and as pale as snow. “These are grave tidings, my…King. I do not doubt your words, but even I can scarcely believe it. And if we cannot count on Lord Philip and his troops, what hope do we have of holding Jersualem?”
“We don’t. Give the order to evacuate to the boats. Every soldier, every citizen who wishes to leave may leave. We sail for Rome by nightfall.”
Lord de Linus’ eyes widened in shock. “Abandon the city, my King?”
“The alternative is massacre.” I rebuked. “The Sultan has promised the slaughter of all who resist if we do not surrender. I have seen one of their armies – for I was held captive the past days. Tens of thousands of men stretching across the unending desert. Hundreds of tents and pickets. Trust me, Lord de Linus, when I say there is no hope of holding the city against such odds.”
“But –”
“I’m sorry, Lord de Linus.” I stepped forward. “The evacuation of this city will take many hours, and we have only until nightfall. We do not have time to bicker over the decision – it has been made. Do you recognize my authority as King?”
“Yes, b –“
“Then see it done. Now.”
Tigel de Linus hesitated, then bowed and passed on my orders to his lieutenants and captains. As I oversaw them discussing details of such a rushed evacuation, a knock on the door interrupted the frenzy in the room.
A very exhausted man garbed in a robe that was now drenched in sweat approached and knelt. “My King. I am Gaston de Rocafolio.”
“Gaston.” I exclaimed, and hurried to make him stand. “I know. My father introduced me to you, remember?”
“Yes, my King. To my shame, I did not warn him of the coup in time. Lord Philip got to him before I could…and he’s doing the same to your family.”
I felt a lump in my throat. “My family.” I repeated. “Where are they?”
“Acre, my King.” As the rest of the men listened in stunned silence, Gaston told me how he had endeavoured to keep them safe, but now Lord Philip had brought his army with him to force the Acre garrison into surrender, and negotiations were ongoing.
“My King, I beseech you. Ride for Acre and present yourself to the garrison commander before he accepts Lord Philip’s letter of regency as the highest authority in this land. They believe you to be dead, your Majesty.”
We ride immediately. I almost said, before the startling realization hit me. “How many miles to Acre?” I croaked.
“Slightly more than a hundred, my King.” Gaston replied. “If it's the duration of travel you're worried about, we can be there by eventide if we ride now and do our utmost to cover ground - I know these lands pretty well, and I do believe I know the fastest way to Acre without traversing the treacherous hills or mountains. Realistically, we would probably have to camp for the night and arrive early the next day, but we will surely reach before Lord Philip, who has an entire army in tow.”
An invisible weight pressed down on me, and I felt as if I was choking. As I eased onto a chair in the council chambers, I realized it was to be one or the other. My family, or my Kingdom.
With a trembling voice, I explained to everyone present the Sultan’s final ultimatum to me.
The lieutenants and captains scurried off to see to the evacuation, obviously not wanting to remain here. Lord de Linus placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I can offer you no words, for I am at a loss myself. I’ve given orders for my men to arrest every Templar here in Jerusalem. Doubtless they will put up a fight, but Lord Philip took most of his loyal soldiers with him. At the time he told me it was a strong scouting force, but now I imagine he intends to use his army to intimidate the Acre garrison.”
We sat in silence for a few moments, before Tigel de Linus spoke again. “There is someone you should meet. I’ve already sent one of my men to send for him.”
The chamber doors opened, I recognized the man instantly.
“Henri!” I gasped. “You look…tired. How did you escape Lord Philip’s clutches?”
The man I grew up with gritted his teeth. “I didn’t. He threw me in jail two days ago. Couldn’t execute me without any proper charges, I assume. Where is the bastard?”
“Acre.” I replied. “He intends to capture the remainder of our family.”
Henri’s expression darkened. “Yolande.” He whispered, before raising his voice. “No. We must ride at once!” But then he saw my own pitiful expression and softened his tone. “But we can’t, can we?”
I had not the stomach to say it, so Tigel de Linus explained the situation for me. By the time he was done, Henri was red in the face. “The gall of that Sultan. They’re all bastards. You really intend to return to the Ayyubid war camp?”
“I see no other choice.” I sighed in despair. “My father pulled most of the men from the other holdfasts and sent them here. All of them are probably in a worse state of defence than we are. Once the Jihad is completed they will surely feel the wrath of the Muslim armies.”
“This is an incredible sacrifice, Jean. I…you have obviously thought about this at great length, and I will not trouble you by disputing your decision. I will ensure everyone knows what you’ve done. Send me to Acre, then.”
“Regrettably, that would be pointless.” Lord de Linus remarked. “Only the presence of King Jean here will convince the garrison commander to continue defying Lord Philip, because everyone believes King Jean here died on the field of battle two days ago.”
Henri looked astounded. “But I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
Despite the situation, that elicited a chuckle from me. “Just like old times, eh, Henri?”
“What?”
“I told you to do nothing when the Seljuks were pillaging our northern territories. When Acre came under threat and the Seljuks marched past Damascus, once I again I told you to do nothing.” I looked at Lord de Linus, who had counselled me on that very matter. "As a wise man once told me, there is a time for action, and there is a time for patience..."
"And this is a time for patience." Lord de Linus finished, a wry smile on his face.
I refocused on Henri. “Well, this time I need you to do something, but you’re not going to like it.”
Henri raised an eyebrow. “What is there left to be done? We are surrendering, are we not?”
“No. We are evacuating. There is a difference.” I grasped Henri by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. “You are my brother, Henri, and I don’t say that just because of your marriage to my sister. We grew up together, and I trust no one else more in this world for a task of such vital importance.”
“You and all the soldiers loyal to me must sail for Rome, and plead my case to the Pope for me.”
Last edited by Swaeft; May 26, 2019 at 09:40 AM.
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