xymnovel Chapter 158 Saladin's Defenses Are Broken
Chapter 158 Saladin's Defenses Are Broken
Chapter 158 Saladin's Defenses Are Broken
Inside the command tent, a map was laid out.
Kochbury's knowledge of the North far surpassed that of any Ayub scout.
He pointed to Haran and Raqqa: "Sultan, the commander of Haran is named Hassan. He is an officer appointed by Izdin, but not a loyal follower. This man is pragmatic, and—he has a past with me and sympathizes with my plight. I have already made contact with him, and he has promised that as soon as your army arrives at the city, he will surrender and only ask to save his life and property."
“Raka is different,” Kochbury said, moving his finger further downstream from the Euphrates. “Raka’s commander is a close confidant of Izziddin, stubborn in character, and prides himself on his loyalty. He will be difficult to persuade to surrender.”
Saladin pondered for a moment, then made his decision: "The army will be divided. Tajudin, you will lead one force to besiege Raqqa and maintain pressure, but do not rush into a full-scale attack; exhausting the will of the defenders is the priority. I will personally lead the main force, along with Kokberi, to Haran."
Things turned out exactly as Kochbury had predicted.
When Saladin's Sultanate banner appeared outside Haran, the city gates slowly opened, and the commander Hassan led his men out of the city, respectfully presenting the city keys.
Upon entering the city, Saladin immediately held a generous ceremony of rewards at the former governor's residence.
Chests of gleaming gold dinars were brought up, and Saladin personally distributed the generous bounty to Hassan and his key officers, offering words of comfort and affirming their wise decision.
"General Hassan," Saladin announced to the crowd, "you have saved the people of the city, and your merit is invaluable. From this day forward, you shall be the deputy commander of the city of Haran, assisting the new Emir. Your salary shall be doubled, all your existing property shall be retained, and you shall be granted two additional bei territories outside the city."
Hassan and the others were deeply grateful and completely convinced.
Immediately afterwards, Saladin publicly and formally granted the rule of Haran to Kochbury.
"Kokbury Burketi, you have endured hardship, are loyal and courageous, and know the customs and people of northern Syria and Iraq well. I bestow Harlan upon you, hoping you will govern it well and make it a strong bulwark for the Ayyubids in the north!"
As Kochbury received the scepter, his hand, wrapped in a blood-stained turban, trembled slightly.
This is not a dream. This city, which he had longed for countless times during his times of hardship but could never reach, has actually fallen into his hands.
He didn't say much, but simply bowed deeply to Saladin again, everything was understood without words.
Hassan, completely convinced, bowed to him and addressed him respectfully as "Emir".
After the investiture ceremony, Saladin appointed Kochbury as the vanguard and guide, and the army marched south along the river, aiming for Raqqa.
Meanwhile, more dinars and letters of surrender were sent to Raqqa.
The power of the dinar and the intimidation of its military might took effect after a siege lasting half a month.
Raqqa was not a monolithic city; faced with the generous rewards and the reputation of Sultan Saladin, some officers launched a mutiny.
The commander of Raqqa died in the chaos of battle, and the city gates were immediately opened.
Tajudin led his army into the city and quickly restored order.
From then on, Saladin's northern campaign was unstoppable.
Under Kochbury's leadership, Saladin's army was taking over towns at almost the speed of a march.
Saladin's name, his reputation for defeating the Dryads, his generosity, and his heavy reliance on Kochbury created a tremendous centripetal force.
Emirs and garrison commanders of towns along the way sent messengers to express their allegiance.
The army advanced eastward almost without bloodshed, reaching the outskirts of Mosul and Sinjar by late May, where it confronted the last remaining core forces of the Zengid dynasty.
Saladin was now riding high on his success. His northern campaign had been far more successful than he had imagined, and the collapse of the Zengid dynasty seemed imminent.
Inside the tent, he was discussing with his generals whether to adopt a strategy of siege and attrition, or to demonstrate strength and then force Izdin to submit through negotiations.
He seemed to see a more unified Islamic force, stretching from Egypt to Syria and then to Mesopotamia, gathering in his hands, which would be the cornerstone of absolute strategic advantage over the Franks.
However, at that very moment, a messenger horse from the south, foaming at the mouth, carrying an urgent letter sealed with wax, rushed into the camp without regard for etiquette.
Saladin immediately opened the letter.
The first letter was written by Isfahani, in hasty handwriting: "Your Excellency Sultan, urgent report! Frankish ships have appeared along the Red Sea coast. Their number is unknown, and their actions are erratic. They have attacked several ports, burned ships, and plundered merchants. The coast is in turmoil!"
Saladin frowned.
The Red Sea? Franks? How could they possibly be there?
An ominous premonition quietly gripped him.
But he quickly forced himself to calm down. Perhaps it was the actions of a few scattered pirates, or perhaps it was a small-scale harassment by a Frankish lord—like Reynald?
He immediately ordered Damascus to send more scouts south to investigate, and instructed Adil of Egypt to strengthen security on the Red Sea.
But just a few days later, a second and a third post horse arrived almost in quick succession.
The messenger turned pale and collapsed to the ground, the letter he presented seemingly carrying the smell of burnt food and blood.
The second letter came from the Sheikh in Mecca, and it seemed to be filled with anguish: "In the name of the greatest God—"
Reinald, the demon of Satyrone! He led a fleet, emerging from hell, in a surprise attack on Jeddah Port! The defenders were caught off guard, and the port was engulfed in flames—"
Saladin clenched his fist tightly, the letter crumpling into deep wrinkles.
It really was Reinhard!
The name made his eyes flash with a cold light. That treacherous, repeatedly breaching-of-treaty, greedy and cruel heretic!
What finally broke Saladin's last shred of composure was the third urgent report that followed.
The letter, its words choked with extreme fear and rage, was a tearful lament from scholars and officials who had fled Mecca: "—They have stormed the Grand Mosque! Those disbelieving beasts——They have set fire to the sacred Kaaba! Thick smoke has polluted the sky above the sanctuary! They have robbed pilgrims, slaughtered those who dared to resist, and desecrated our holiest temple—Mecca is burning, it is bleeding! O God's protection—Prince Adil is pursuing them with all his might, but the devil has fled into the distant sea, his whereabouts unknown—"
"boom!!"
The message in the letter struck the commander's tent like an invisible thunderbolt.
Saladin stood up abruptly, the letter in his hand crumpled into a ball.
His imposing body instantly tensed like iron, and the color drained completely from his face, replaced by a horrifying pale bluish-white.
His eyes, which always shone with wisdom, tolerance, or majesty, were now filled with an unprecedented emotion.
That was shock, rage, unbelievable brutality, the excruciating pain and shame that struck the deepest part of the soul from the trampling and burning of the sacred site of faith!
"Rainer!!!"
Saladin looked up to the sky and roared, as if it had exploded from the depths of his chest, making the tent tremble.
His eyes were bloodshot, and veins bulged on his forehead. He slammed his fist on the heavy hardwood table!
The sturdy wooden table cracked open from the punch, and the map, sand table, and ink bottle on the table bounced violently before tipping over.
All the generals in the tent, including Tajudin, Farouk, and Kokberi, who had just earned his place through military merit, were terrified by the volcanic rage they had never seen in the Sultan before. They all knelt down, not daring to utter a sound.
They had never seen the Sultan so out of control.
Even when faced with the most devastating defeats and the most formidable political enemies, the Sultan always maintained at least outward composure and grace.
Saladin's chest heaved violently, and he was breathing heavily.
This is unlike any previous setback or failure. It is not a border conflict, nor is it a matter of territorial gain or loss. It is a brutal blow to the heart of the Islamic world, the most vicious desecration of the spiritual home of hundreds of millions of believers! Its symbolic cruelty far surpasses any military defeat!
He stared intently to the south, as if he could see the black smoke rising from Mecca and Reynald's ferocious, maniacal face.
After the initial rage, a chilling killing intent quickly gathered in his eyes.
After a long silence, Saladin's icy voice broke it, each word sounding as if it had been ground and spat out from between his teeth: "The campaign against Zengid—is to be postponed."
He turned around, his face no longer showing the rage of moments before, but only a terrifying calm.
"Order the entire army to immediately break camp and head south."
"Inform Izdin that I am giving him a chance to choose submission. The terms will be discussed separately."
His gaze slowly swept over the generals in the tent.
"As for the demon of Châtillon, and those Franks who sheltered him, and perhaps even secretly praised him—"
Saladin's voice was soft, yet carried a resolute determination: "They will pay the price. Not the dinars, not the land, but blood—blood enough to wash away the disgrace of the Holy Land!"
""
"In the name of God, I am irreconcilably opposed to the Franks! From now on, only one side can remain in this land!"
"1