xymnovel Chapter 49 Enemies Meet, Their Eyes Are Filled with Hatred
Chapter 49 Enemies Meet, Their Eyes Are Filled with Hatred
Reinald prided himself on his madness and bravery, but when he actually stood behind the battlements and looked down at the 5,000 Mamluks standing there 500 paces away, an unprecedented chill gripped his heart.
This is the real terror.
The Mamluks were elite cavalrymen who underwent rigorous training from childhood, with a near-quarter attrition rate. They wore pointed helmets that concealed their faces, revealing only slits of their eyes. They were clad in heavy plate armor, with Damascus steel swords hanging at their waists, lances in their hands, and round shields on their backs. Riding armored Arabian horses, they surged towards the castle like a black tide of steel.
Before the tide rose, Saladin, surrounded by Sarahia's personal guards, stepped out from the crowd and stopped his horse alone four hundred paces from the castle—a safe distance that no defensive weapon could reach. A guard spurred his horse forward, reined in at three hundred paces, and shouted towards the castle walls in heavily accented Latin: "The Sultan invites His Highness the Duke to speak below the walls!"
Reinald's lips twitched almost imperceptibly as he cursed inwardly, "He really is an old fox."
Saladin's caution was well-deserved; this distance was enough to ensure his invincibility. Such a display of force was undoubtedly a stern warning, yet the other party had only brought a small number of personal guards, extending an invitation with courtesy, leaving Saladin unsure of their intentions, yet unable to refuse.
He turned his head, and the soldiers around him looked at him with resolute eyes, as if filled with expectation. Although Reynald and his army were unusually hostile to infidels, Saladin himself was renowned for his chivalry and noble bearing in both religious worlds. Now that Saladin was extending a courteous invitation, even though he was a hostile infidel, Reynald had no reason to refuse. He hardened his heart and summoned fifty cavalrymen from the castle to accompany him out of the city.
Under the watchful eyes of the Kallberg garrison and the Ayyubid army on the city walls, the two opposing sides, each leading their personal guard cavalry, met in front of their respective armies amidst the dry sandstorm.
Reynald reined in his horse ten paces away, his body tense, watching his opponent warily. Saladin, however, was unarmored, wearing only an old black robe stained with the dust of his journey, and his expression showed no hostility.
He spurred his horse forward a few steps, a polite smile appearing on his thin face, but his words carried a deeper meaning: "May peace befall you, Duke Reinald. I have led my army through my territory peacefully, as agreed with your king. However, many caravans of my loyal subjects have disappeared one after another in this land that should be safe, even during peacetime. As the guardian of this place, have you heard any news of them?"
"As expected, they've come to interrogate me," Reinald thought to himself, then remained calm and put on a surprised and innocent expression.
"The caravan has disappeared? Oh, Your Majesty the Sultan, bandits roam this wasteland, and sandstorms are merciless. Nothing is surprising! I deeply sympathize with you, but to blame me is truly unfair."
Before Saladin could answer, he changed the subject, asking in return, "But what do you, Your Majesty the Sultan, intend to do, leading such a large army to approach my castle? This doesn't seem like a peaceful passage. It makes me and my soldiers very nervous."
"Nervous? You feel nervous?" Saladin scoffed, his face grim. "Even the caravans of my loyal subjects feel nervous. Every time they pass through your territory, they are cautious and fearful, but recently they don't even have the right to be nervous!"
After saying that, he suddenly raised his hand.
Reynard drew his sword as a reflex, and his guards, belatedly realizing what was happening, also drew their blades.
The expected attack did not occur. Saladin simply took an object from his guard and unfolded it in front of everyone. It was a rusty lamellar armor with a gruesome hole torn in the left breast.
Saladin glared at Reynald and his party, who had drawn their swords, his gaze as if looking at a group of comical clowns. He pointed to the hole in the armor, his voice icy and chilling: "The owner of this armor once served me. Three years ago, he was forced to retire due to severe injuries, and I granted him property to live out his remaining years in comfort. Several months ago, his caravan, caught in a storm, sought refuge in a valley in your territory when they were attacked by a group of crossbowmen. Apart from him, no one survived."
"However, this crossbow bolt pierced through the armor." Saladin's gaze was fixed on Reynald, suppressed rage burning in his eyes. "He barely managed to crawl back, but ultimately died from his festering wounds. I'd like to know, in this sparsely populated land, who possesses such a powerful crossbow bolt?"
Reinald stared at the tattered armor, a hazy memory resurfacing. He'd wondered how the man could struggle and escape after being hit by an arrow; it turned out he was wearing inner armor beneath his robe. Although bandits roamed the area, they were mostly horse bandits and robbers who plundered civilians, primarily using bows and arrows and scimitars. Those who used crossbows were few and far between, let alone one of this power. Even Reinald, usually adept at sophistry, was momentarily speechless.
He raised his head, his previous frivolity gone, and his voice deepened: "This caravan was well-equipped, and in the sandstorm, it's easy to be mistaken. Our army mistook them for bandits and killed them by mistake. Your Majesty, please remind your people next time to wear Christian clothing and speak fluent Latin, so that we can accurately identify them..."
These words were a blatant insult. Saladin's guards, enraged, drew their gleaming scimitars, and the air crackled with murderous intent. Saladin did not stop them; his eyes blazing with fury, he forced out the words through clenched teeth: "We made a covenant, a sacred oath. Those who break this oath will not only be shamed in the eyes of the world, but will also bear the consequences before Allah!"
Reinald suppressed his heart pounding and sneered, "Your Majesty, please calm down. As long as the truce remains in effect, Caleb and I are an inviolable part of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Any act of hostility will be considered a declaration of war against the entire kingdom. As for that caravan, it was merely an unfortunate misunderstanding. But this time we are certain—you are traveling here in a friendly manner, aren't you?"
Saladin let out a very soft sigh, as if he had exhausted his last bit of patience. He snatched the scimitar from his bodyguard, the tip pointing directly at Reynald's nose, and growled, uttering each word slowly and deliberately, "What do you say?!"
The atmosphere instantly tensed to its limit. A commotion arose from the Mamluk army behind Saladin, and the two sides were on the verge of drawing their swords, with a bloody conflict about to erupt.
At this critical moment, Saladin and Reynald, locked in a fierce gaze, suddenly sensed something amiss. The sound of galloping hooves echoed behind them as their nephew Farouk rode up, urgently reporting, "Uncle! Cavalry from the Kingdom of Jerusalem have appeared behind our lines!"
Upon hearing this, Reynald looked in the direction Saladin was pointing with delight. Behind the dark mass of the Ayyubid army, a surge of azure waves was rising—the King's Cross of Jerusalem was flying high. Although still outnumbered, this new force's pincer movement instantly plunged Saladin's army into a perilous situation.
The vanguard of the Jerusalem army consisted of nearly a thousand knights, followed by a mixed phalanx of tens of thousands of infantry and crossbowmen. Several Jerusalem lords were clustered at the front of the formation, and at the heart of their ranks was a king with one hand on the reins and a silver mask covering his face.
Saladin withdrew his gaze, gave Reynald a meaningful look, and muttered, "I truly don't understand, you madman, what merit do you possess to deserve your king dragging his ailing body to personally lead the army to your aid... You should be ashamed!" He waved his hand, and his guards sheathed their swords. Farouk understood, spurred his horse back to his own lines, and loudly relayed the orders.
The massive Ayyubid army began to change formation, slowly bypassing the right flank of Caleb at an angle that appeared as harmless as possible, under the watchful eyes of both the Caleb defenders and the Jerusalem reinforcements.
Saladin gave Reynald one last glance before turning his horse around, surrounded by his guards. His words, cold and prophetic, echoed in the wind:
"Renald, your actions are accumulating disaster for yourself and your kingdom. When the hourglass of peace runs dry, I hope you will not regret your choices today."