xymnovel Chapter 155 Surprise Attack on Mecca
Chapter 155 Surprise Attack on Mecca
Chapter 155 Surprise Attack on Mecca (Part 4)
In mid-May of 1183 in the Julian calendar, the monsoon winds over the Red Sea began to shift.
Three battle-hardened galleys, their hulls stained with soot and blood, sailed unimpeded toward Jeddah, the most important port in the Hejaz region.
Jeddah Port is not a very strong military fortress; it is more like an open gateway, busy yet vulnerable.
Normally, the harbor would be filled with a forest of sails, crowded with merchant ships from India, East Africa, Egypt and the Persian Gulf, as well as many more simple pilgrim boats, and the dock area would be bustling with noise under the towering lighthouse.
But now, with the terrifying rumors of the "Frankish devil," "dry-land sailing," and "killing indiscriminately" reaching the port, merchants and workers scattered and fled. Those with boats fled by boat, while those without boats flocked to the mosques in Mecca for refuge, leaving the docks eerily silent.
Zahir stood on the deck of the "Revenge," squinting with his intact right eye, observing the port layout, waterway depth, and the density of moored ships through the monocular telescope Lyon had given him.
After a moment, he turned back to Reinald, who was pacing anxiously beside him, and reported: "The docks are eerily quiet, and there's no one around. The local garrison might be lying in ambush nearby. If we launch a frontal assault on the docks, we'll only get caught up in a chaotic melee and waste time."
Zahir pointed to a promontory to the northeast: "See that promontory, the one that juts out? To the northeast, a bit further from the main channel, the water is deep enough, the shore is gentle, and the defenses are visibly sparse. From there, we can storm the city and the road to Mecca."
"Good!" Reinald grinned, revealing his white teeth, and turned to face the soldiers and knights of Transjordan, shouting, "Children! We shall continue our pilgrimage!"
The three ships made no attempt to conceal their actions, hoisting their sails and rowing with all their might, charging straight towards the cape in battle formation.
When the watchtower in Jeddah finally sounded the alarm, it was too late.
Sparse arrows shot out from behind the simple wooden fence on the shore, clattering as they landed on the hulls of the ships or fell into the sea. Occasionally, a few struck the neck guards of the Transjordanian soldiers but bounced off, and Reinald didn't even bother to raise his shield.
"Put down the diving board! For Châtillon, for God, for the gold!" He was the first to leap onto the beach, his heavy footsteps splashing up the murky water.
Behind him, nearly a hundred bloodthirsty warriors, their eyes reddened by the violence and slaughter along the way, surged forward like a tide.
Jeddah's resistance was laughably weak. The hastily assembled local militia and a few caravan guards were cut down like straws before the battle-hardened Italian mercenaries and Transjordanian knights under Reinaldmore. The battle quickly devolved into a one-sided massacre and looting.
The port warehouses were smashed open, and the silk, pepper, cloves, and myrrh inside were looted or doused with oil and set on fire.
The pilgrims' luggage, which was waiting to be transferred in the warehouse, was looted.
The wealthy merchants and ship owners who had no time to escape were dragged into the street and, under the threat of swords, cried out and handed over the gold and silver they had hidden.
Reinald had little interest in completely taking over Jeddah. He grabbed an old port tax collector who was paralyzed with fear, his large, rough hands almost crushing the man's shoulder, and demanded in broken Arabic: "To Mecca! The shortest route!"
"Speak quickly!"
After receiving the stammering instructions and casually snapping the tax collector's neck, Reynald sounded the rallying cry.
He left thirty men to continue creating chaos and burning ships in Jeddah, while he personally led the main force, leaping onto the stolen horses and camels, and galloped along the road worn smooth by the footsteps of countless pilgrims toward the holy city inland.
The hot wind whistled past my ears, and the desert landscape receded rapidly.
Reinald's heart was pounding like a drum.
It was a tremor of extreme satisfaction and excitement mixed with the impending realization of the most extreme and insane blasphemy against Muslims.
His dream—it's finally going to come true!
"Praise be to God! Praise be to Your Highness!"
He turned to his men and laughed maniacally, his voice distorted with hysteria: "Children! Look, our devout pilgrimage is finally reaching its final destination! But what we carry in our arms is not the Quran, but swords! What we hold in our hearts is not reverence, but the flames of revenge! Muslims have tormented me in hell for sixteen years! Today, I will set an even greater fire in Muslim paradise!"
About a day and a half later, in a valley baked by the scorching sun, the outline of the holy city of Mecca appeared on the horizon.
Low-rise houses surround the outline of the central mosque, whose minarets soar into the clouds.
We've arrived in Mecca.
Mecca has almost no outer defenses; it is essentially a giant pilgrimage town.
The terrified screams within the city instantly shattered the afternoon's oppressive atmosphere, and pilgrims and residents scattered in all directions, as if witnessing the end of the world.
Reinald completely ignored the ordinary houses; his gaze and horse's hooves were directed towards the heart of the city, the Forbidden Temple.
The heavily armored warriors under Narenald, the defenders of Mecca, who had been swarming with dinars, were helpless. They could only watch as the enemy charged through the narrow streets, overturned stalls selling holy water and rosaries, trampled over scattered prayer rugs, and claimed the lives of believers with their swords and crossbow bolts.
Reynald led his warriors, tearing through the flesh and blood of the Mecca defenders and advancing deep into the city.
The view gradually opened up, and the huge Forbidden Temple Square came into view.
A single-story arcade and open-air courtyard surround the central sacred area, and even the roughest crusaders were briefly awestruck by the scale of the building and the solemn atmosphere that permeated it.
But Reynald did not.
His eyes were fixed on the cube-shaped building in the center of the square, covered in black brocade—Kerber.
"That's their heavenly house! The center of the world?" Reinald let out a mocking laugh. "God, I'll make this center the center of purgatory!"
He detached half his men, led by several fierce knights, and charged toward the warehouses and wealthy merchants' residences around the Forbidden Temple, which were clearly religious donations.
"Loot! Take everything that's shiny, heavy, and valuable! What you can't carry, burn it!"
He himself, along with his most trusted confidants of more than twenty, stormed into the arcade of the Forbidden Temple without any hindrance.
There were also some devout old men, priests, and terrified servants who had not been able to escape in time.
As Reynald swung his longsword, blood was immediately splattered onto the gleaming marble floor.
"Tell me! Where are Muhammad's bones buried?!"
He grabbed an elderly man dressed in a magnificent green robe, who appeared to be a sheikh, pressed the tip of his sword against the man's throat, and demanded in broken Arabic, "Take me to his tomb! I want to see with my own eyes the bones of that foolish prophet reduced to ashes!"
The old man's face was deathly pale, his eyes filled with fear, yet his lips trembled as he recited scriptures.
Without the slightest hesitation, Reynald slashed with his sword, and the old man collapsed to the ground, his blood trickling into the drain.
"You! Say it!" He grabbed the next one.
Reynald's massacres and tortures were brutally carried out in the heart of the Muslim holy land, and those who refused to answer or tried to resist were killed on the spot by Reynald.
Finally, after executing four or five people in succession, a younger priest broke down under the shock of the brutal deaths of Jianfeng and his companions.
He collapsed to his knees, tears streaming down his face, and cried out in Latin with his feet: "Not here—the body of the prophet—"
In the Medina! Under the green dome of the Medina! Here—here there is only the Holy Mosque!
"Medina?" Reinald paused, his brow furrowing.
Medina is located further inland, farther from the Red Sea. Continuing deeper into the country would significantly increase the risks, making evacuation extremely difficult.
His mind, filled with fanaticism and hatred, began to fiercely battle with a sliver of remaining military rationality.
The temptation to grind the prophet to dust was so great that he almost wanted to immediately order a change of heart. But—
Just then, a soldier who had stayed in Jeddah to monitor the sea arrived on horseback, panting and covered in dust.
He rushed to Reinald, almost tumbling off his horse, and screamed, "Your Grace! The sea!"
Off the coast of Jeddah! A fleet has appeared! Quite large, judging by the flags—it's Egyptians! The Egyptian navy has arrived!
Upon receiving the scout's message, Reinald instantly snapped out of his frenzied hatred.
Adil has arrived! Although his army is battered and bruised, even a starved camel is bigger than a horse, and he is far beyond what his current three ships and a hundred or so men can withstand head-on.
Once trapped in the Red Sea or cut off from their retreat back to Jeddah, there is only one way out: death.
"Damn it!" he roared in extreme anger, his eyes almost spitting fire.
Medina was so close, yet so far away. The most blasphemous act, so readily available, had to be relinquished.
He turned abruptly, looking at the black Kerbera, at the magnificent yet empty colonnades around him, at the precious marble beneath his feet, and at the warehouse in the distance that was burning and billowing smoke.
Extreme anger and frustration, mixed with his already intense hatred, overwhelmed his last shred of reason.
"Fine! Fine! I can't go to Medina—" his voice was hysterical, like a raging beast, "Then I can't let anything remain intact here!"
"Fire! Throw all the torches in! Throw them at that dark house! Throw them at all the curtains, carpets, and beams that can burn!"
He roared, snatched a torch himself, and hurled it with all his might toward Kerber.
The torch traced an arc and landed on the smooth stone slabs of the Grand Mosque Square, sending up a cluster of sparks. It failed to hit the Kaaba directly, but ignited the scattered fabrics nearby.
His men followed suit, frantically throwing the torches they carried, and even the oil cans they had stolen, into every corner of the Grand Mosque.
Soon, the exquisitely carved wooden doors, the hanging brocade curtains, and the piles of scriptures—multiple corners were set ablaze, and black smoke began to rise, mixed with the smell of blood, smoldering the clear sky of Mecca.
"Retreat! Back to Jeddah, get on the ship!" Reinald took one last look at the Holy Temple Square, which was beginning to be shrouded in smoke. The hatred in his eyes had not diminished at all, but was now filled with endless regret and violence.
He turned his horse around, and with the valuable loot he had seized, he and his men charged out like a whirlwind, just as they had come.
Along the way, they continued to burn any prominent buildings they encountered, especially those that might be associated with religion, such as colleges and universities.
Inn.
Within Mecca, cries, explosions, and the crackling of burning filled the air. This holy city, which had enjoyed peace for hundreds of years, was transformed into a living hell in a single day.
As Reynald's men hastily but swiftly retreated to Cape Jeddah, they could already see the increasing number of Egyptian warships on the northern horizon.
Zahir had already ordered the remaining soldiers to load all the spoils they could carry onto the ships and prepare for their evacuation.
"Weigh anchor! Raise sails! Full speed ahead, head north, and be careful to avoid Egyptian ships!"
The oarsed sailboat struggled to turn around, and the oarsmen rowed with all their might.
The ship headed north, back the way it had come, and began a desperate escape.