The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 118 Battle of Beka Valley

Saladin's orders spread quickly. Fifteen minutes later, the battle situation in the valley began to subtly change.

"They're here!" Reinald's eyes blazed with fighting spirit. "This is the final probing! Saladin's Mamluks are next!"

"Wait, Reinald, look carefully!" Gerald stopped him. "We only see the Sultan's flag, not a single Mamluk. There's only a group of Turkmen in front of us! Saladin is still testing us; if we rush in, we'll only get shot!"

Gerald declared firmly: "We should maintain our current formation and continue defending with our shields raised!"

"Gerald, do you think I'm an idiot? You think I can't see through Saladin's feint?" Reinald sneered at Gerald. "The situation is—we've already taken our pants off, and you're telling me not to rush, to stay calm? If we don't deliberately create an opening, we'll lose both men and ground!"

Reinald ignored Gerald, drew his sword, Châtillon, and raised it high above his head: "Crossbowmen, advance! Knights, be ready to charge!"

The order was swiftly relayed. The Transjordanian crossbowmen quickly formed three ranks in front of their lines. The knights began to adjust their formation, while the squires checked the horse tack and armor.

The Turkmen were incredibly fast; they surged down the hillside like a tidal wave, their hooves echoing like thunder through the valley.

They merged with the previous two waves of Turkmen, and before they were within crossbow range, they suddenly split into two groups, meandering along both sides of the valley, attempting to conduct guerrilla warfare around the Franks.

"The Turkmen have entered our firing range to try and shoot!" Reinald shouted excitedly. "This is absolutely a harbinger of Saladin's attack!"

At Reinald's command, the crossbowmen fired three volleys in unison. The sound of the crossbow bolts piercing the air merged into a low whistle, and the Turkmen cavalry at the forefront were as if they had been harvested by an invisible scythe. More than thirty riders and their horses fell to the ground.

The second and third rounds of firing followed in quick succession, effectively halting the Turkmen's advance.

"Press it down!" Reynald pointed his sword forward.

The crossbowmen line steadily advanced twenty paces, maintaining a consistent firing rhythm throughout.

The Turkmen cavalry's mounted archery was powerless against the dense crossbow bolts. After another volley, the three hundred-man squads finally broke apart and fled in different directions.

"Templar Knights, follow me!" Gerald saw a scattered column of about thirty rookies to his right and could not contain himself.

The Turkmen's rout was real. Annihilating such a small enemy force would not result in any losses, and it would boost morale and demonstrate the Templars' bravery. Why not?

He led fifty knights out of formation and charged straight at the nearest seemingly isolated Turkmen squad.

"Damn Gerald! He told me not to rush, and then he charged off on his own?" Reinald was so angry at Gerald's inexplicable departure from the main force that he almost ground his teeth to powder. "He's ignoring the well-organized hundred-man Turkmen squad right in front of him, and instead running off to fight a lone army whose victory would be meaningless?!"

Just as the Templar Knights were about to make contact with the enemy, hundreds of Bedouin archers suddenly rose from the bushes on both sides of the valley.

"An ambush!" Gerald's alarm bells rang in his mind, but it was too late to retreat.

Arrows rained down like locusts. The Templars' heavy armor could withstand most of the arrows, but their mostly unarmored warhorses became a weakness, as they were used for daily marches and pursuing the ultimate speed in lance charges.

More than a dozen warhorses were hit by arrows and fell to the ground, and the knights fell off their horses.

At the same time, the seemingly isolated Turkmen suddenly turned around and counterattacked, forming an encirclement with the Bedouin ambushes on both sides.

"Support the Grand Master!" Reinald roared, leading a contingent of Transjordanian knights into the battlefield.

The crossbowmen quickly changed formation, with one group continuing to suppress the organized Turkmen guerrillas, while the other group exchanged fire with the Bedouin archers.

Although the Templar Knights fell from their horses, their heavy armor and shields made them appear like killing gods among the Bedouin who were only dressed in long robes and cloth. With the orderly and coordinated firing of the crossbowmen, the Ayyubid army, which was originally in ambush, was immediately at a disadvantage.

On the high ground on the eastern side of the valley, Saladin and Farouk gazed at the battlefield.

"Farooq, what did you see this time?" Saladin asked Farooq.

"The Templars have fallen for the trap, Uncle. Reinald has also left the main position to go to the rescue," Farouk said excitedly.

"Gerald is a man who cherishes his life for great things, but risks his life for small gains. But that's not the point." Saladin shook his head, pointing to the Frankish vanguard and rear, which were already in chaos. "The point is there; look closely at the Frankish central army."

Farouk adjusted his gaze, looking towards the higher hillside on the west side of the valley. There, Guy's central army still maintained its complete formation; the Hospitallers and the various lords' knights remained motionless, and the infantry phalanx was as solid as a rock.

"The Chinese army did not rashly provide support for the war." Farouk nodded.

"Not only the central army," Saladin praised, "but the vanguard, though seemingly in disarray, is still well-organized, and our strategy has not achieved its intended effect."

Farouk asked, "What's next? Should I head to the valley and set up an ambush?"

Saladin pondered for a moment and then gave the order: "The original plan will be slightly modified. You will personally lead five hundred ghlams, carrying the banner of Grand Master Odo, into the battlefield from the northern pass to support the archers and Turkmen retreating. Discard the banners and saddles, and continue to feign a rout."

"But Uncle, why send five hundred gulams to order them to retreat? It's too obvious. Even if I'm flying the Emir's banner, they can't possibly follow me into the valley!"

"They wouldn't have come in anyway; the Franks are more cautious than I expected," Saladin patiently instructed Farouk. "But now, things are different. The moment they see the flag up close, they'll fall for it."

"Guy is new to the position, Reynald and I have a long-standing feud, and Gerald only became Grand Master three years ago. Don't they want a head-on battle to win glory?" Saladin raised his hand, summoned the messenger again, and laughed, "Then I will give him glory, but on my terms."

Farouk had some doubts, but he obediently accepted the order and left. He believed that his uncle's every command must have a deeper meaning.

Five hundred ghulas split into several squads of ten men each and descended the mountain, raising their lances, unfurling their banners, and charging the Templar Knights on foot.

Gerald immediately ordered, "Move together! Form ranks! Ignore those Bedouins!"

The Templar Knights broke free from the close-quarters combat and gathered around their comrades, sheathing their longswords, raising the scattered lances on the ground, leaning forward, and planting the ends of the lances at a 45-degree angle in the ground, preparing to resist Ghulam's charge.

The Ayyubid archers on the battlefield were able to escape and retreat slowly and orderly.

The Turkmen joined Ghulam's flanks, retreating while covering his charge.