xymnovel Chapter 92 Garlic and Alcohol
Chapter 92 Garlic and Alcohol
Meanwhile, although Beitsheenburg had walls to protect it from the cold winds and spared it the hardship of camping, it was not much easier than Baldwin's camp.
Beitshean Castle achieved a defensive victory, but casualties were still unavoidable. The Ghulams, being the elite of the Ayyubids, engaged in fierce fighting with the defenders when they stormed the walls.
To conceal their strength, the Danes and Bohemians, skilled in close combat, hid inside the towers and did not immediately scale the walls. The crossbowmen on the walls, wielding flailes, could barely exchange blows with Ghulam's elite troops. Fortunately, Catalonia arrived with Catalan mercenaries, who hurled javelins at Ghulam, thus providing cover for the crossbowmen's retreat.
After taking inventory, it was found that eleven crossbowmen died in the battle, more than one hundred were slightly wounded, and more than fifty were seriously wounded.
The atmosphere inside the wounded camp at Beitsheenburg was even more oppressive than on the battlefield itself.
The wound was red, swollen, oozing pus, and turning black. The delirium caused by the high fever and the smell of rotting tissue filled the air. Sepsis caused by the wound infection was like a deadly grim reaper, silently reaping lives.
The army doctors tried every traditional method imaginable, such as branding with red-hot irons, washing with low-concentration wine, rubbing with honey or local herbal remedies, and even praying for the protection of saints, but lives were still being lost in agony every day.
While Lyon was inspecting the camp, he saw a young soldier with a deep, bone-revealing wound on his chest, slashed open by Ghulam's scimitar. He was running a high fever and kept calling out for his mother, his eyes beginning to glaze over.
The army doctor shook his head helplessly at Lyon: "Your Highness, gangrene has already formed; amputation is the only option... but I'm afraid even that's..."
"No, there's another way," Leon pondered.
Logically speaking, there is indeed a way. If high-purity alcohol could be distilled for disinfection... He had indeed planned to prepare in advance, but Jerusalem is not like wealthy Western Europe. Food is scarce, and the wheat and grapes used for brewing wine are far from enough as food, let alone any surplus for him to use for brewing experiments.
But if he could only watch helplessly as the soldiers he had trained suffered and died... Leon couldn't think about that anymore.
To disinfect wounded soldiers, the only options are penicillin and high-concentration alcohol. The former is out of the question; Lyon lacks both the capability and the resources. However, allicin could be used as a substitute. As for the latter, anhydrous ethanol, made by removing water from spirits with lime, is best.
"Guillaume," Lyon asked Guillaume beside him, "what's the strongest spirit currently stored in the castle?"
"Strong liquor?" Guillaume asked, puzzled. "What do you need strong liquor for? Berthesian only has arugula, I don't know if that'll suit you..."
Ale is an anise-flavored distilled spirit with a long history in the Middle East, known for its high alcohol content, which is at least 70% or higher.
Guillaume quickly arrived with a clay jar: "Your Highness, this is the strongest spirit in the castle, sent by my brother. It is said to be from Damascus."
Lyon walked up to the arugula, took a spoonful of the liquid from the earthenware pot from the servant, and with just a light touch of his tongue, the strong aroma of anise hit him and filled his throat, making him cough.
This wine is indeed stronger than regular wine. Although it is far from being as strong as modern disinfectant alcohol, it would have been a game-changer in the Middle Ages.
"That's it, have all the Alex wine from the cellar brought out!" Lyon quickly ordered. "And summon the castle's winemaker, blacksmith, coppersmith, and even the priests who know medicine!"
Although Guillaume did not know what Lyon intended to do, he had already placed his trust in Lyon and quickly carried out Lyon's orders.
Soon, the carts loaded with arugula were led into the castle courtyard by servants, and the winemaker and several priests from the castle chapel followed Guillaume toward the center of the courtyard.
"I need to build a distillation apparatus." Lyon quickly sketched out a design: a copper pot with a lid, connected to a long tin tube that needed to be immersed in cold water.
Lyon needed to distill and purify the arugula. A large copper kettle served as the base for heating and evaporating the alcohol, tin tubing was used to collect and guide the steam, and a cold water tank was used for cooling.
The castle's blacksmiths and coppersmiths acted swiftly. Two hours later, a crude but usable distillation apparatus was erected in the open space outside the kitchen. Lyon poured the arugula into the copper pot, inserted tin tubes into the opening of the lid, and carefully sealed each joint with a damp cloth.
After the first ignition, Leon watched expectantly at the end of the tin tube. After a long while, only a few drops of liquid dripped out. He touched the tube and found it too hot to touch due to the steam.
"It seems the cooling effect isn't strong enough." Leon thought for a moment, then ordered the soldiers to bring over a large wooden tub, coil the tin pipe around it, and immerse it completely in the icy well water.
On the second attempt, the liquid dripped at a significantly faster rate. However, the collected liquid still had a distinct yellow color and anise flavor, indicating that its purity was far from sufficient.
"This time it's not a cooling issue, it's that it's not pure enough."
Lyon recalled that quicklime was an extremely strong drying agent. So he ordered his men to break up flaked quicklime blocks and add them to the first distillation, stirring vigorously before letting it stand. The quicklime rapidly absorbed the remaining water in the liquor, gradually expanding and cracking. After a second distillation, the final liquid was almost entirely free of water.
Lyon poured a small amount of this liquid onto the wooden board, and a single spark ignited it into a pure, almost colorless flame.
The alcohol problem is solved, but it's not enough. To stop the spread of infection, especially gangrene, allicin also needs to be added.
Lyon directed the cooks and priests to crush the garlic and let it sit for an hour, as he requested. The strong smell of garlic permeated the entire castle, even reaching Baldwin and the Jerusalem nobles who were preparing to enter the city.
Gerald covered his mouth and nose, and said sarcastically, "With such a strong smell of garlic, is this prince no longer satisfied with dealing with Saladin, but instead planning to take garlic to hell to fight Satan?"
"What a fuss," Earl Raymond exchanged a glance with the king and smiled at the nobles. "It's just His Highness using the magic he learned in Constantinople again."
Gerald scoffed, "Ha, I've never heard of the Romans of Constantinople possessing such strange and ingenious skills."
"Under the whole heaven, all is Rome. From the Maghreb to Syria, which place wasn't once a province of the Roman Empire?" Baldwin said leisurely from his sedan chair. "The culture and learning that the Arabs, Bedouins, and Saracens are so proud of today are nothing but the legacy of Rome. Lyon, born in Constantinople and well-versed in Arabic classics, is it any wonder that he replicates the legacy of Rome?"
As they entered the courtyard, they saw Lyon ordering his men to put the settled garlic paste into a ceramic jar and pour in freshly made alcohol.
Lyon personally sealed the jar and shook it continuously to fully extract the active ingredients. Two hours later, the filtered pale yellow liquid was a rudimentary version of the allicin solution.
After all, it was his first time doing hands-on practice and clinical application. When Leon used a cotton cloth soaked in the solution to wipe the wounded soldier's blackened wound in front of the doctor and priest, who were full of doubts, he was so nervous that his palms were sweating.
To everyone's delight, the first soldier to receive treatment had his high fever subside by the next morning. Although the wound was still gruesome, the horrifying dark purple color had noticeably faded, and the foul-smelling pus had stopped oozing.
"Our Lady of Mary!" The priests stood by the bedside, making the sign of the cross. "This is truly a miracle!"