xymnovel Chapter 132 Saladin's Ambition
Chapter 132 Saladin's Ambition
Chapter 132 Saladin's Ambition (Part 1)
In late January of 1183 in the Julian calendar, the great Ayyubid Sultan Saladin Yusuf ibn Ayyubid arrived in his loyal Damascus.
Saladin left his army behind and traveled lightly, accompanied by his two nephews and Sarahia's personal guards, from Beirut to Damascus in just three days.
The reason for this urgency was that Saladin received a letter from Isfahani, the chief seal holder, during the march.
Emir Kokberi of the Zengid dynasty wanted to switch sides and join Saladin, and his envoys were already waiting for him in Damascus.
As Saladin approached Damascus, he intended to enter through the city gate in the direction of the governor's palace, where the crowds were relatively small, as he was eager to meet the messenger of the Emir of Haran.
However, the main road extending from the main gate of Damascus was already crowded with serfs and citizens who came to watch and offer their congratulations. They bowed to the Sultan, seemingly intentionally or unintentionally leading him toward the main gate where merchants gathered.
Saladin and his nephews exchanged wary glances and silently continued along the official road amidst the cheers of the crowd.
As Saladin approached the city gate, he spotted the Vizier Hakim Muqadam of Damascus in the distance, along with his welcoming entourage.
Hakim Muqadam is nominally second only to Farouk, the Emir of Damascus, but in reality, he holds the true power in this ancient capital through generations of family influence and a complex network of relationships.
He was dressed in an expensive Persian brocade robe, his long silver beard was meticulously trimmed, and he wore a respectful smile on his face, but his eyes were fixed on the dust raised on the city gate road with a sinister look.
Behind Hakim, hundreds of city defense soldiers in brightly colored uniforms stood at attention with spears, musicians held suonas, hand drums and stringed instruments, local dignitaries and guild leaders stood on both sides, and further away were citizens who had been summoned to watch the spectacle.
The sound of horses' hooves grew louder as they approached. Saladin and his entourage appeared, so small that Hakim's eyelids twitched slightly.
The Sultan was accompanied by only about fifty of his most elite Sarahia guards, who were covered in dust from their journey.
Saladin himself was still dressed in a black robe, riding his iconic white Arabian horse, with his nephew Farouk and Tajuddin beside him.
Sudan's face betrayed no emotion, only the weariness of a long journey and a calm, unwavering composure.
Hakim astutely noticed that the column carried no conspicuous flags of spoils of war, nor did it escort a large number of prisoners.
This is quite different from the triumphant scene that was expected after the great victory over the Franks.
"Welcome back His Majesty the Sultan in triumph!" Hakim bowed first, his voice booming. The officials and dignitaries behind him followed suit in a wave of respect. Music suddenly rang out, and a deafening cheer erupted from the crowd.
Saladin reined in his horse, his gaze sweeping over the grand scene, lingering for a moment on Hakim's face. His sharp, deep eyes seemed to pierce through all feigned respect.
He nodded slightly, but did not dismount.
Hakim straightened up, his smile growing even more earnest: "Praise be to God, who protected you and your army and brought you back safely! Damascus prayed day and night, and finally, we have witnessed your glorious victory in the Bekaa Valley! I wonder if my brave young man and his followers also returned with Your Majesty? It is the greatest honor for our family to serve the Sultan's great cause."
The air seemed to freeze slightly, creating a somewhat subtle atmosphere.
A flash of anger crossed Farouk's face, while Tajudin looked at his uncle with slight unease.
The surrounding noise seemed to subside, and many ears perked up.
Saladin spoke calmly, his tone initially steady, then tinged with a perfectly measured regret: "Chief Hakim and his retinue, while performing their guard duties, encountered a cunning night attack by the Franks. They fought bravely, but unfortunately, they were all martyred."
Their loyalty and courage I will remember. God will grant them a high place in Paradise.
Hakim's heart sank. A flash of hostility and resentment crossed his face, quickly replaced by a complex expression of grief and pride.
"Martyrs—oh, supreme ones! They fulfilled their vows to you and Jihad." He paused, then seemingly casually changed the subject, "but—according to reports from passing merchant ships and Antioch merchants, the Frankish navy suffered an accidental fire in Beirut harbor. It seems the wicked infidels will ultimately reap what they sow; surely this is another blessing from God upon Your Majesty's great achievements?"
At that moment, the music around them stopped, and everyone held their breath and listened. The serfs and citizens who had come to watch the spectacle looked at Saladin with anticipation and reverence, while most of the people in the honor guard gave Saladin strange looks that they did not hide.
Farouk ignored Tajudin's warning look and was about to shout at him when Saladin stopped him with a very slight gesture.
Saladin slowly said, "The waves and fires of the sea are all under the control of God. Prince Adil has sent someone to report to me in detail that the cunning enemy has used trickery and colluded with spies in our army, but the foundation of our Egyptian navy remains unshaken and the main force is still intact."
Saladin didn't actually believe the so-called spies; spies couldn't have caused this level of damage. He sent Adil's messenger back to Adil, instructing him to continue the investigation.
However, there's no need to tell this arrogant usurper all of this.
Saladin raised his voice and continued, "And on land, we dealt a heavy blow to the Franks' proudest Templar Order, capturing their Grand Master and forcing the Frankish army to retreat to their fortresses. The Bekaa Valley remains under our command. God's will lies in long-term struggles, not in the gains or losses of a single city. What do you think, Your Excellency Hakim?"
Hakim quickly bowed: "Your Majesty the Sultan is wise! We were short-sighted. Your Majesty's great undertaking naturally follows God's grand plan."
He then proclaimed, "Praise be to God! For bestowing upon us such a wise and steadfast Sultan! May His Majesty's sword forever guide the jihadist journey!"
The officials and crowd behind them joined in the shouts, and the atmosphere seemed to return to the initial warm welcome, as if the strangeness from just moments ago had never existed.
Saladin lightly kicked his horse's flank and slowly passed by Hakim with his nephew and guards.
Sarahia's guards immediately rushed forward and parted the crowd.
Saladin nodded to the dignitaries and citizens on both sides, but did not linger. He rode straight toward the castle, leaving Hakim, who was still standing there with a somewhat stiff smile, behind.
Farouk glanced coldly at Hakim as he passed by, letting out a low snort. Tajudin hurried after him.
"The foundation remains unshaken?" Hakim gazed at the receding smoke and dust, a cold smile playing on his lips. "That fire in Beirut was well-deserved! Your Majesty, how many more times can your prestige withstand such a 'baptism'?"
Just as Hakim was about to call off the procession and the serfs and citizens who had come to watch the spectacle, and set off to leave, the sound of rapid hoofbeats suddenly rang out again from the direction Saladin had gone.