The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 107 Military Intelligence in Jaffa

Galleons laden with released Venetian prisoners of war, steered by their former captains and sailors, fled the Golden Horn like a school of startled fish.

A thin mist hung over the sea as dawn broke, temporarily dispelling their fear.

However, this brief tranquility was soon shattered by a dark shadow that suddenly appeared on the distant horizon.

It was the outline of a Calais warship, its hull long and slender, with lead plating around the waterline to prevent maggots, gleaming coldly in the dawn light.

Even more chilling were the dense barricades above the ship's hull, the large shields resembling those of Genoese crossbowmen, and the shadowy figures clad in chainmail on the deck.

"They're mercenaries hired by the Greeks!" someone exclaimed in surprise.

"Why deploy such a warship to capture us unarmed prisoners?"

"They're trying to silence us!"

Panic spread like a plague among the prisoners.

They were unarmed and traveled in small galleys used for transport, far inferior in speed and firepower to warships.

Some people desperately made the sign of the cross, some collapsed to the ground, and some began to wrap their bodies in tattered clothes, futilely hoping to protect themselves from the incoming arrows and swords.

A mix of absurdity and despair ensued as the survival instinct drove some sailors to try to turn their ships around, only to find themselves equally unfamiliar with the area, nearly colliding with their friendly vessels in the ensuing chaos.

However, the Calais warship did not deploy into attack formation as expected; instead, it lowered some of its sails and gradually slowed down. When it was close enough, a sharp-eyed prisoner exclaimed, "Look at that flag! That...that's the Jerusalem Cross!"

The Jerusalem warships carefully maintained their distance, parallel to the Venetian captives' ships.

Zahir at the bow glanced at the group of ragged, terrified "sailors," and his eyebrows twitched.

It turns out they were just a bunch of Venetian mice trying to escape... But the situation is urgent, we can't waste time on them.

Zahir cleared his throat and asked loudly in Latin with a Saracen accent, "Who's in charge here? We're the garrison of Jaffa, Kingdom of Jerusalem, and we have something to ask you!"

The two captains stepped forward timidly.

Zahir continued, "Is the mission sent by Jerusalem to Constantinople to attend Basil's wedding still in Constantinople? Haven't they set sail back home yet?"

The captain and crew looked at each other, bewildered. They had been imprisoned and knew nothing about the outside world, but they couldn't simply say they didn't know, lest they arouse suspicion.

Seeing that the group was stammering and unable to speak, Zahir spat out, "A bunch of useless trash!"

He turned and gave Catalan a look, who glared at him and said coldly, "I know what to do without your orders!"

The Catalan and Catalan mercenaries threw bundles of hemp rope onto the Venetian ships, then took out gleaming, cold-looking javelins and aimed them at the Venetians.

"Tie yourselves up, or we'll have a few javelins in our hands!"

The Venetians were horrified and knelt down in droves, wailing and begging Zahir for mercy.

Zahir raised his scimitar, cursing, "I'm fucking in a hurry! If you can't answer my questions, you'll be punished! Hurry up, or your skulls will be riddled with holes!"

The Venetians had no choice but to do as they were told, picking up ropes and tying themselves up.

"Tie another knot!"

The Venetians, weeping but unable to shed a tear, tied another knot.

Zahir nodded in satisfaction, signaled the ships to set sail, and continued towards the Golden Horn, leaving the Venetians on the two ships disheveled in the wind.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The sun was high in the sky. Lyon remained in his room at the state guesthouse where the mission was staying, with Alexius's Greek fire diagrams in front of him, his mind in turmoil.

Leon was shocked when Contortefanos told him the news yesterday, after all, this old man was the culprit behind the future Crooked Crusade, and they had to find a way to get rid of him in advance, preferably by hanging!

But when Altaïr suddenly visited at dawn and told him that there were two people among the Assassins who looked exactly alike and acted in the same way, Leon was even more shocked.

Is this definitely not some kind of bizarre ancient mystery drama plot?

Suddenly, Count Raymond's voice rang out from outside the door.

"Your Highness, there is an urgent military situation in Jerusalem!"

Lyon pushed open the door and found Raymond standing outside, with Zahir, who was supposed to stay in Jaffa, standing behind Raymond.

"Zahir? Weren't you staying in Jaffa?"

Zahir said anxiously, "Your Highness, half a month ago, Prince Atabak Adil of Egypt led the Egyptian navy northward, passing through Jaffa. However, we do not yet know their purpose. I am here on the King's orders to remind you not to return home at this time, lest you be attacked by the Egyptian navy."

“Your Highness, in that case, I will meet with the Imperial Marshal and the Imperial Foreign Minister to extend our holiday in Constantinople.” Raymond smiled at Lyon, trying to ease his mind. “We won’t be able to decide the course of the war if we go back; we’ll only cause them trouble—what do you think, Your Highness?”

Lyon remained unusually calm, his mind rapidly comparing historical records with current intelligence. Historically, Saladin's naval offensives always began with the northern port city of Beirut, and his naval operations were often accompanied by land offensives.

Zahir said the Egyptian navy would pass through Jaffa without attacking, while Saladin's main army was in Damascus, and their target was most likely Beirut.

He looked at Zahir and asked in detail, "What is the number and type of enemy ships? Have they made contact with our forces?"

Zahir recalled: "There were about sixty ships observed, mainly Venetian galleons and some Fatima's Salandi. They seemed to be there for reconnaissance and blockade, and had not yet launched an attack on Jaffa, but our coastal navigation was already under serious threat."

A knowing glint flashed in Lyon's eyes. The course of history roughly matched the current intelligence: Prince Adil's main Egyptian navy, along with Saladin's land and sea forces, would launch a combined attack on Beirut, while the remaining navy would distract and supply the city while simultaneously confusing Jaffa's Jerusalem navy.

The real danger lies in the fact that the Kingdom's navy is weak and concentrated in the Jaffa area, while Tripoli, Beirut's neighbor, is far from the Kingdom's core territory. If it were to send reinforcements by sea, the journey would be long and the Egyptian navy, which would be waiting in ambush, could easily intercept them, with unimaginable consequences.

Conversely, this also means that some routes between Constantinople and Jaffa may actually have gaps due to the enemy's focus on the Beirut direction.

"No, we're going back home as planned," Lyon said firmly. He recalled the blueprint on the table and the several cans of ready-made Greek fire that he had secretly brought onto the ship yesterday, and a confident smile appeared on his lips.

This secret weapon we just acquired, if we don't use it now, when will we?