Chapter 485 - 346: Really, He Really Tried Hard

This event had a profound impact on the army. Now, everyone was convinced that Christ Himself was leading them, and that they could not fail.

The farmer, Stephen, told Brother John that they must continue fasting until everyone’s sins were cleansed. Only then should they attack the Turkic People, the Arabs, and the other Heretics. He promised that with the help of the Saints, Angels, and their fallen comrades, the Crusaders would defeat the enemy.

Ordinarily, taking the fight outside the city walls against a heretical army that far outnumbered them would be sheer folly.

But now, not a single Crusader had any doubt. They all believed it was what they had to do.

Tomorrow, the Holy Spear would be paraded throughout the city.

Meanwhile, despite the late hour, bells rang out as the city echoed with hymns of gratitude and praise.

Since leaving the land of the Franks, the army had never been in such high spirits.

It was a miracle.

It was as if everyone had been reborn.

...

Outside Hama City, the Aleppo Army had easily filled the land between the two rings of moats.

This army from Aleppo was a complex mix of peoples: Turkic People, Arabs, Persians, Qincha People, Kurds, Cumans, and Delamu people. It had gathered nearly every people of the Crescent from across the Levant.

Naturally, the Turkic People and Arabs were the most numerous, accounting for two-thirds of the army. The majority were cavalry, numbering over ten thousand, and the Crusaders on the walls found their eyes drawn to these locust-like swarms of horsemen.

Even the most battle-hardened Crusader warriors had never seen so many horses gathered in one place. Standing on the city walls, they could hear the sound of ten thousand horses breathing and snorting in unison, to say nothing of the overpowering stench from the mountains of manure.

A closer look revealed the Heretic army, especially the cavalry, to be a disorganized-looking lot. Their armor was mismatched, their Round Shields were of various sizes, and some were even damaged.

Most wore Leather Armor of peculiar styles, while some were clad in Zha Armor and Chain Armor. The poorest among them wore only cotton and linen tunics.

Many wore woolen caps, which offered protection from both the cold and enemy blows. Those wearing captured armor added a Chain Armor coif on top of this. All were equipped with Short Swords and the light Long Spears favored by the Arab Cavalry.

They came from all over: some were local to Aleppo, others from the steppes of Anatolia, the mountains of Azerbaijan, or the shores of the Persian Gulf. Some had journeyed all the way from Isfahan, the heart of the Turkic Empire. Others had never even seen a large-scale battle; a week ago, they were still Bedouin bandits robbing caravans in the Syrian Desert.

Just a month ago, many of them might have been mortal enemies. They were desert Warriors from rival Bedouin tribes, nomads from competing steppe clans, garrison troops from various cities in Syria, and Conquerors and the conquered from every landscape imaginable—steppe, desert, and city alike.

Now, they were all united under the banner of a single Arab: Sharafi Dawla, the Emir of Mosul and Aleppo. And their mission? To avenge a Turkic Warlord.

Aleppo’s Infantry sat scattered about, bored before the battle had even begun. The Turkic and Arab cavalrymen led their mounts to and fro, the horses reluctantly nibbling at the dry grass and shrubs.

It was Winter, a season even drier than usual this year. The spring rains had yet to fall, leaving the surrounding land parched and showing almost no signs of new growth.

Consequently, most of the grazing was concentrated along the banks of the Orontes River. Only there, where water was plentiful, was the grass just barely suitable for the Warhorses to eat.

They had expected to fight the Crusaders on an open battlefield—a Crusader army that should have been exhausted, both physically and mentally, from a long siege of Hama. They had not expected this: a tedious, uninspired siege battle with their enemy safe behind the city walls.

Hama was known throughout Syria as a formidable fortress. Yet, barely half a month had passed since they received Yajisiyan’s plea for help, and Hama had already fallen. To add insult to injury, the enemy had hung Yajisiyan’s head from the city walls.

’This speed is terrifying. Even if Yajisiyan had sent most of his army to Tutush, I expected Hama to hold out for at least a month or two. I even waited an extra week after receiving the plea for help before marching. My original plan was to wait for several more weeks at Mahad, on the border of Hama’s territory. I would wait until Yajisiyan’s recalled troops and the Christian army had torn each other to shreds, and only then would I make my move. If I was lucky, I could have seized all of Hama for myself with little effort.’

’Ever since I usurped the title of Emir of Aleppo a year ago with Tutush’s help, I have coveted Hama, that juicy piece of meat.’

’By using this incident to swallow Hama, even Tutush wouldn’t have had much to say about it.’

’After all, my new wife is Tutush’s aunt. That makes me, at least in name, Tutush’s uncle-in-law. Yajisiyan, on the other hand, was just a Turkic Warlord who had recently sworn fealty.’

’Since I had planned for a single, decisive field battle, I barely prepared any provisions. The few Catapult parts I brought along weren’t for a siege at all; they were meant to intimidate the ’exhausted Yajisiyan’ of my imagination.’

’As for why I had to bring such a massive army... partly because Yajisiyan exaggerated in his letter. But more importantly, my own rule is still shaky. I relied on the Turkic People to become the Emir of Aleppo, and my grip is far from secure. I have to manage the tensions between my own tribal kin from Mosul and the local Arab Tribes of Aleppo, and between the Arabs and the ambitious Turkic People.’

’It was a political minefield. If I marched with only my own Mosul kin, I feared the local Arab Tribes of Aleppo would conspire with Turkic mercenaries to seize the city. If I marched with both my Mosul kin and the Aleppo Arab Tribes, I feared some ambitious faction among the Turkic mercenaries would seize Aleppo in my absence. After all, the cautionary tale of the previous Emir of Aleppo becoming a puppet to his Turkic mercenaries was fresh in everyone’s mind.’

’As an Arab myself, I have no love for the Turkic People. I see them as half-civilized barbarians from the steppe whose minds are filled with nothing but war, pillage, and slaughter.’

’I had no choice. To minimize the chances of a rebellion, I brought all of my forces with me.’

’But because I brought such a massive force, I now have to figure out how to sustain it.’

This was a difficult task, as the Arabs and Turkic People under his command could always find some excuse to quarrel, even though most of the time they couldn’t understand a word the other side was saying.

For instance, just now, an Arab cavalryman had noticed with great indignation that the grass in their pasture was a poor shade of green, while the grass in the neighboring Turkic Cavalry’s pasture was clearly greener. It might have just been a trick of the light, but the cavalryman, without a moment’s hesitation, reported this to his tribal chief. It was, of course, ironclad proof that the Turkic barbarians were discriminating against their noble Arab superiors.

"They dare to seize the lushest pastures on the battlefield today, forcing us onto land with nothing but withered leaves and dead branches! I can’t even imagine what they’ll do tomorrow!"

"Equality between Arabs and the Turkic People? It’s a lie! There’s no such thing!"

"Bullshit! Of course! You think we don’t know that? The Gulashi people were born to rule! We are above all others! Even Allah is *our* Allah!"

"The Turkic People are nothing but a pack of Mawali! They’re even lower than the Persians! They have no right to stand at our side. Other peoples are only fit to pay us taxes!"

"We brought them the true faith! We saved their souls! Without us, they’d still be wallowing in ignorance, worshipping wood and bones."

"..."

The cavalryman’s embellished report successfully fanned the flames of the Arab Cavalry’s anger. The boldest among them swam across the moat, and from the other side, foolishly drew their Curved Bows. They took aim at one of the heads hanging from Hama City’s walls—the head of Yajisiyan.

One Arrow, two Arrows, three, four...

They deliberately fired a volley of Arrows, making sure the Turkic People could see. It was the only way to vent their fury.

The final three Arrows struck Yajisiyan’s head dead center. He was supposed to be the target of their rescue mission, yet he was also a detestable Turkic Warlord.

———————

Author’s Note: Mawali refers to Crescent Believers outside of the Arab tribes, such as Persians, Berbers, and other non-Arab groups. They were discriminated against by the Arabs for a long time.