The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 86 The Attack of Farok

May of Hijri 578 (mid-October of Julian 1182), East Bank of the Jordan River.

The dry season winds whipped up sand and dust from the Gobi Desert, fluttering the banners of Farouk Shah's elite troops.

Twenty thousand Damascus soldiers, like a giant python made of steel and flesh, wound their way along the ancient trade route, passing through the town of Ajron and the iron ore mines around it, heading straight for Beit She'an Fortress on the banks of the Jordan River.

Farouk, clad in heavy armor, sat astride his Arabian warhorse, his sharp gaze sweeping across the gradually clearing horizon in the distance.

In the distance, the outline of Beit She'an Fortress appears and disappears amidst the rising heat, nestled against the foothills of Mount Kilibo and overlooking the flat area where the Jordan Valley and the Jezreel Valley meet.

As Tagudin analyzed, this place is indeed the key. Taking it would allow them to threaten Tiberias and Galilee to the north, advance westward to the Mediterranean coast, and cut off the northern territory of the Kingdom of Jerusalem.

"Send the order: speed up the march! I want to see our flag planted on the hill outside the castle before sunset!"

Damascus is a melting pot of all sorts of people, and even when my uncle took over the city, he spent a fortune appeasing the local power brokers.

Initially, Saladin handed over the rule of Damascus to his brother Turanshah, but Turanshah was incompetent in governing and led a dissolute private life, which greatly displeased the people of Damascus.

Saladin then deposed Turanshah in 1178 and appointed his nephew Farouk to rule Damascus, with Tagudin as Farouk's deputy.

Therefore, Farouk was eager to prove his bravery with a swift victory, rendering Tagudin's cautious remarks superfluous and winning the complete respect of the powerful families of Damascus.

Then, a scout reporting from ahead said: "Lord Emir, a Frankish pontoon bridge has been discovered on the Yarmouk River ahead, and there are more than a dozen Frankish soldiers patrolling!"

"It seems the Franks are much slower than we thought," Farouk chuckled smugly, then issued his orders: "Pass down my command: send the Ghulam cavalry as the vanguard to attack immediately and seize the pontoon bridge. If the Franks resist, simply fire arrows from a distance, and wait for the main force to arrive before launching a full-scale charge!"

Like the Mamluks, the Ghulams were also professional slave soldiers trained from childhood, but their training intensity and selection dropout rate were not as high as the Mamluks'. One could say that the Mamluks were an elite version of the Ghulams.

The Ghulam uses the "hundred riders" as its basic unit, and almost every Emir of the Ayyubid has one. In the Emir's territory and court, they are equivalent to the Emir's retainers. On the battlefield, they transform into elite troops skilled in mounted archery and close combat, and are the backbone of the Ayyubid Emirs.

The equipment of a ghulam generally depended on the wealth of their emir. They were typically equipped with chainmail or lamellar armor, wore iron helmets decorated with feathers, carried lances and scimitars or maces, and rode armored Arabian horses.

The Ghulam cavalry responded immediately and marched in a mighty procession toward the pontoon bridge, with the main force following closely behind.

When Farouk arrived at the pontoon bridge, the Franks had vanished without a trace, and the pontoon bridge had not even been retracted.

"Ha! These Frankish garrison soldiers are quite honest and kind. Knowing how difficult it is for our army to cross the river, they specially left a pontoon bridge for us!" Farouk laughed heartily at his generals. "With the pontoon bridge, we can reach Beitsheen before sunset without having to march at full speed!"

Meanwhile, Baron Guillaume de Saint-Eume of Beitshein was already on high alert. News of the scouts' swift horses bringing the approaching Muslim army came back time and again.

Standing atop the reinforced diamond-shaped bastion, Guillaume could clearly see the billowing dust rising in the distance. He took a deep breath, feeling both nervous and reassured by the new city's defenses.

Footsteps sounded behind him. Guillaume turned around and saw Lyon. He bowed respectfully and said, "Your Highness is truly a prophet! Saladin's nephew Farouk's army did indeed cross the pontoon bridge to invade Berthesian. The garrison on the pontoon bridge has all retreated to the castle. It is expected that Farouk's army will arrive at the castle and set up camp before sunset."

Lyon glanced at the dust billowing from Farouk's army in the distance, then turned to Guillaume and praised, "You've done a good job. The defense of the castle will be in your command. Do it as we rehearsed beforehand. I've already informed Thorfinn, Fritz, and Catalan to obey your orders."

Guillaume was flattered: "I will absolutely not let Your Highness down!"

"By the way, don't go overboard and reveal your strength too early. Give Farouk a little taste of success or... hope first," Lyon pondered. "Saladin is always cautious. Farouk's attack is very likely just a test, or even... a decoy."

"Your Highness means..."

"It's hard to say. I've already sent a letter to your brother, asking him to keep an eye on the enemy's movements around Tiberias. I've also sent a letter to Reinald, but I don't know if he's received the news yet, given the long distance." Lyon said decisively. "In any case, we'll observe the situation, keep a backup plan, and ideally, lure Farouk into a major defeat at the hands of Beitsheen!"

Guillaume nodded in agreement and then gave orders to the defenders on the city wall: "All troops on alert! Ballistae cocked! Crossbowmen, take your positions! Remember your firing sectors, and don't waste a single arrow!"

Guillaume's orders were quickly relayed.

The castle's garrison was mainly composed of the Jerusalem regular army, some mercenaries brought from Milan by Lyon, and local conscripts. Relying on the reinforced and thickened city walls, the new bastions that eliminated blind spots, and ample defensive equipment, they were in high spirits and ready for the enemy to attack.

Farouk's army set up a large camp about a thousand paces outside the castle, with campsites stretching as far as the eye could see and campfires twinkling like stars.

Instead of wasting time on a protracted siege, he decided to launch a swift attack while the army's morale was high and the Franks were clearly unprepared.

At dawn, the bugle calls of Farouk's army broke the silence.

Thousands of Mtatawi skirmishers and conscripted Bedouin archers, under the cover of the heavy shields of the Damascus militia, surged toward the outer walls of the castle like a tidal wave. Their task was to suppress the fire on the walls, creating an opportunity for the engineers and main infantry to approach.

Mutatawi means volunteer. They are Muslim volunteers inspired by the cause of "jihad". They go to the battlefield without armor, carrying only a cheap farm knife. They are willing to selflessly dedicate their lives to the cause of God.

The Damascus militia were highly trained elite militiamen who wore cotton armor, thick turbans, and carried spears and heavy shields.

On the city wall, Guillaume calmly watched the enemy enter firing range and ordered, "Ballast guns, aim behind the enemy's shield formation and fire!"

The ballistae mounted on the bastions and main towers roared, and stone projectiles streaked across the sky and fell into the dense enemy ranks. Although the accuracy was not high, the chaos and casualties caused were enough to disrupt the enemy's offensive rhythm.

When the enemy approached within three hundred paces, the Jerusalem crossbowmen on the city walls began to unleash their power. Soldiers equipped with the Divine Crossbow, in particular, possessed bolts with extremely high penetrating power, which were difficult to withstand even for the enemy with shields at three hundred paces.

Arrows rained down like locusts, and the poorly equipped Mutatawi skirmishers were the first to fall silently like autumn harvest straw. The shields of the Damascus militia were pierced, and crossbow bolts either pierced their arms or went straight through their skulls.

In an instant, the ground beneath Beitshean Castle was littered with corpses, and the mournful cries of Muslims and the whistling of crossbow bolts filled the air.