The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 89 The Meeting of the Two Kings

May of Shiji 578 (late October of Julian 1182), Transjordan.

The desert at the southern end of the Dead Sea steamed with scorching heat. Saladin's golden eagle banner fluttered in the hot wind as his 20,000-strong army surged across the border of Transjordan like a tidal wave.

The vanguard of the Turkmen light cavalry kicked up dust, like a flock of vultures flying close to the ground, skimming over rugged rocks and dry riverbeds.

The army halted at the sandstone pass on the border. Saladin's messenger rode out to deliver a parchment scroll bearing the Sultan's wax seal to the walls of Caleb.

The messenger's cry pierced the sandstorm: "Renard of Satyrón! Sultan Saladin, the sword of God, commands you to come to the front lines within three days, kneel and repent for your crime of plundering caravans, and repay your blood debt tenfold! Otherwise, Calebau will become your grave because of your arrogance!"

On the tower of Calleburg, Reinald de Châtillon stood leaning against the battlements.

"Tell that Kurdish shepherd," Reynald roared with laughter as he looked down at the city walls, "not just caravans, I'd even burn the bones of your damned prophet as firewood! Let him come and attack if he dares, and see if his scimitar is stronger than the Frankish knight's longsword!"

The messenger returned to the border in anger and reported to Saladin.

Saladin's face was grim, his lips pressed into a cold, hard line. He slowly raised his hand, and the silent army behind him suddenly erupted in commotion.

Five thousand Turkmen light cavalry scattered like arrows released from a bow. They wore pointed felt hats and light leather armor, with composite bows and two quivers of arrows hanging beside their saddles. These mounted archers from the Central Asian steppes were the vanguard of the Ayyubid army, skilled in harassing the enemy with the "Parthian counter-shot" tactic.

At the forefront of the central army, five thousand Mamluk, Tawash, and Kurdish heavy cavalry stood firm like black reefs. They were clad in heavy plate armor, wore visored helmets, carried lances, and had scimitars or maces at their waists, with horse armor covering their knees.

The formation consisted of three thousand men on each flank, Bedouin warriors wearing turbans riding dromedary camels and fast horses. They were armed with javelins and broadswords and were responsible for flanking maneuvers and cutting off supply lines.

The central army formation consisted of 8,000 infantrymen. The heavy infantrymen carried long-handled battle axes and heavy shields, while the elite Egyptian militiamen, armed with spears, formed a dense spear formation. They protected Saladin's golden tent, the accompanying artisans, and the ten heavy catapults pulled by camels at the rear of the army.

The vanguard swarmed like locusts toward the village of Adil, northeast of Kaleburg. Turkmen riders grinned as they set fire to the huts, and Mamluk spears strung the fleeing villagers into bloody gourds.

On a high slope outside the village, Balian made the sign of the cross on his chest, then raised the family sword, gently kissed the blade, and removed the visor from his helmet.

"Raise the flag! Charge!"

Balian spurred his horse and led fifty Ibelin knights down the slope into the enemy ranks.

Balian's sword cleaved through the collarbone of a Turkmen centurion, and his armored warhorse knocked down two Turkmen who couldn't dodge in time.

The knights charged forward in a wedge formation, their spears piercing through light armor, their hooves crushing the shins of fallen enemy soldiers.

But the locust-like enemy quickly surrounded them, and the Turkmen riders circled around the knights, shooting arrows that clattered against their chainmail; the Mamluks charged at the Ibelin knights with their lances, or slashed at their horses' legs with their scimitars, and the fallen knights were instantly torn to pieces by the blades.

"In the name of Jerusalem! In the name of the holy King of Jerusalem! Charge!"

An arrow lodged in Balian's left arm, his right shoulder armor cleaved by a scimitar, blood soaking through his robes. He was left with only twenty or so riders, forced into a corner by the mill in the center of the village.

Just as the Mamluks launched their final charge with their spears, a sandstorm rose from the northwest horizon, obscuring the sky. A huge Jerusalem cross banner and a tall, gleaming golden True Cross pierced through the dust.

Baldwin IV sat astride his white horse, holding the reins with one hand, his silver mask gleaming coldly in the blazing sun.

Behind him stood a thousand heavily armored knights—the Tripoli knights led by Count Raymond of Tripoli, clad in red robes with Toulous crests; the Hospitallers led by Grand Master Roger de Mullens; the Knights Templar led by Grand Master Gerald de Redford; and other knights in uniform blue robes and chainmail led by nobles of the Kingdom of Jerusalem.

Behind the knight was a phalanx of over ten thousand infantry and crossbowmen.

Saladin's golden eagle banner moved forward as well. The Turkmen riders retreated like a receding tide, and the Mamluks regrouped. The two armies were a thousand paces apart, and in the deathly silence, only the mournful cries of wounded horses and the fluttering of banners in the wind could be heard.

Saladin quelled the unrest of his army and spurred his horse forward. Baldwin IV, seeing this, almost simultaneously spurred his horse forward with one hand.

Saladin, clad in black robes and riding a black horse, a scimitar hanging at his waist, surveyed Baldwin's sunken eyes and withered arms beneath his mask with hawk-like gaze, finally settling on those still clear eyes: "Your Excellency, I once thought I would never see you on the battlefield, and so it was this time, and a year ago as well. Your health is failing; why bother standing up for that scoundrel Reinald?"

Saladin replied sternly, "Please withdraw your troops back to Jerusalem. This is a private matter between Reynald and me."

"Is it a private matter to allow soldiers to plunder innocent villagers?"

Baldwin, mounted on a white horse and clad in silver armor, stood as straight as a pine tree, his leprosy-ravaged body gleaming. His voice, weak yet resolute, came through his mask: "Enough blood has been shed today. I implore Your Excellency to withdraw your troops from Damascus, so as to avoid damaging the peace between the two sides."

Saladin's gaze swept past the tattered flag behind Balian, finally settling on the direction of Calleburg: "Reinald must pay the price."

"He will," Baldwin's voice suddenly rose. "In the name of the King of Jerusalem, I swear to you: if Reinald ever again plunders a caravan, I will personally rip off his head!"

Saladin paused for a moment, a hint of respect flashing in his eyes: "You have no need to swear an oath, Your Excellency. I believe in your integrity and honor."

Saladin looked on with pity: "I will send my best physicians to the court in Jerusalem, hoping they will be of some help to Your Majesty's condition."

Baldwin touched his forehead, gave Saladin a simple bow, and spoke fluent Arabic: "It is an honor that we have reached an agreement. May you be well, Your Excellency."

Saladin returned the greeting with equal respect: "May you also be well, Your Excellency."

The two kings returned to their respective camps, and Ayyubi's golden eagle banner slowly moved northward amidst the sound of horns.

Balian led the remaining Ibelin knights back to their camp. He struggled with his injuries and was about to pay his respects to the king when he saw the figure on the white horse sway slightly.

Pus and blood seeped from beneath Baldwin's gloves, and the excruciating pain of leprosy made him tremble violently on horseback. He tried to grab the reins, but his withered fingers were too weak to grip them. He swayed, and his whole body collapsed to the ground like a puppet with broken strings.

"Your Majesty!" Earl Raymond leaped forward, but before he could reach it, he watched helplessly as the mask rolled away into the dust.

Despite his arrow wound, Balian charged forward and caught the fallen king.

Earl Raymond, stumbling to Baldwin's side, quickly picked up the fallen mask and shakily placed it on Baldwin's nearly distorted face.

The Jerusalem nobles, knights, and surviving Ibelin knights behind him dismounted and protected the king in the center.

As the king was gently helped to his feet, suppressed breaths came from beneath his mask: "It's alright... I'm just... too tired..."