Chapter 43: Ambition
In the open-air camp, bonfires burned in clusters. The Kurdish cavalrymen sat relaxed on the ground, replenishing their water and food.
From time to time, someone would laughingly boast about how many enemies they had killed during the day.
This time, every one of them had reaped a rich harvest. If they were in a feudal country, each of them could purchase a manor in their hometown and become a manor lord.
But unfortunately, the Kurds were a nomadic tribe. An individual, even with wealth, could not survive alone. They had to huddle together for warmth.
Lothar sat on a woolen carpet spread on the sand, holding an earthenware pot of meat broth and sipping it slowly. "I wonder if word of Kaukab's death has spread. And I also wonder if we'll be attacked by Sa'd al-Din and his Mamluks on our return journey by the same route."
Mamluk referred to slave soldiers, similar to the "Ghilman" that had been prevalent for centuries, but even more elite. Kings had their Mamluks, and governors also had their Mamluks.
Saladin's Khassaki Guard, in particular, were the elite among Mamluks, and a rare force within the Zoroastrian sphere capable of confronting Crusader knights.
In terms of combat effectiveness for a similar number of troops, Crusader knights were undoubtedly among the best of this era. Princess Anna Komnene of the Eastern Empire once described them in her writings: a knight from the Crusade could make a hole in the walls of Babylon.
This was enough to show how formidable Saladin's Khassaki Guard were.
"News of Kaukab's death won't reach the Ayyubids that quickly, unless they can rely on falcons in the sky to deliver messages." Abdullah, clutching a Damascus scimitar with a silver pattern, sliced off a piece of roast lamb rib from the rack over the campfire and stuffed it into his mouth. Grease dripped onto his thick beard as he said, somewhat indistinctly, "But the other lords loyal to the Sasanian King will definitely react immediately. They will be more vigilant and much harder to deal with."
Lothar took a piece of roast lamb rib, chewed on it, and nodded slightly. "I know. I don't plan to make a move on any other targets. Our gains are already plentiful enough."
Kaukab, this feudal lord active on the Sasanian and Ayyubid frontier, was, in terms of status, not much inferior to Sa'd al-Din, the Governor of Syria. If one looked at a map, Kaukab's territory was even larger than Sa'd al-Din's, though most of the former's land was just meaningless sand, and his subjects were various chieftains and tribes migrating with the water and grass.
But this didn't prevent Kaukab's death from causing a huge uproar throughout the entire border region, especially since the perpetrators had claimed to be under Saladin, the king who occupied Egypt, a land rich in produce, once hailed as the empire's granary.
Abdullah glanced sideways. "I was worried earlier that you might get reckless, carried away by this easily won victory."
Lothar said resignedly, "I thought my performance these past few days had already earned your approval."
"Of course, but precisely because of that, I was worried you were too young and impetuous." Abdullah chuckled lightly. "Among young men, you are the most outstanding I have ever met, bar none."
"Thank you for the compliment." Lothar chewed on the lamb rib, his peripheral vision catching Fringilla, who was sitting on a nearby blanket, chattering incessantly in Banu's ear. This journey must have been terribly boring for her. Banu held a yellowed old book, silently flipping through its pages, completely ignoring Fringilla's prattle.
"Oh, right, there's also..." Abdullah hesitated.
Lothar said with a sigh, "If you have something to ask, just say it directly. Ever since we left Kaukab's wooden fort, everyone looks at me as if I'm some kind of monster."
"Everyone says you've made a pact with the devil, sacrificing the wealth the soldiers couldn't carry away to the fiends of hell."
Lothar asked in return, "Do you believe that?"
Abdullah shook his head. "I don't. Devils have never lacked wealth; on the contrary, they delight in using wealth to tempt people into depravity. You are a merciful man, Lothar. You respect our faith and generously granted us the right to choose spoils first. It is our honor to fight for you."
"Ha, no need to flatter me so, Abdullah." A slight smile touched Lothar's lips. "But I don't believe Baron Godfrey didn't tell you the truth."
Abdullah paused, then admitted, "Yes, that is so. You have the allegiance of two witches. They possess mysterious and unfathomable powers. But does their power originate from the Heavenly Father you believe in? If so, why haven't your own clergymen been blessed by God with such mighty power?"
Lothar was silent for a moment. He certainly knew that the witches' power by no means originated from God, but he couldn't say so aloud.
"The Heavenly Father bestows upon witches extraordinary powers, and with them, a sacred mission. Some fulfill this mission, supporting enlightened rulers, while others are content with ruling a small corner, indulging in sensual pleasures." Lothar paused, then continued, "Just like among those clergymen, there are archbishops who are content with poverty and donate all their wealth to the Knightly Orders, and there are also greedy ones who wear jeweled rings on every one of their ten fingers, so miserly they wish they could squeeze out every last drop of blood and sweat from every serf."
Remembering the clergymen from his homeland, Abdullah deeply agreed. "You have the allegiance of two witches. So, what you mean is, you are a favorite of your Heavenly Father?"
"Perhaps. I cannot fathom God's will." Lothar frowned. "But I do feel I should do something different from other Crusader nobles. This is my mission."
"Do something? Become a lord of Jerusalem, a baron, a count, even a grand duke, or a king?"
Lothar shook his head with a smile. "That is merely the process. What I truly hope to achieve is to end the frequent warfare here, to enable peoples of different languages, faiths, and even skin colors to coexist equally here." Lothar's tone grew heavier. "To establish a powerful, unified empire in the Levant, to bring peace to this land that is always shrouded in the chaos of war."
"That's impossible!" Abdullah shook his head vehemently. "That's absolutely impossible!"
Lothar certainly knew it was difficult. A multi-ethnic state without a dominant ethnicity, in later ages, either fractured or was in the process of fracturing, not to mention the acute religious problems.
This wasn't some game where you could just click on "religion" and reduce rebellion to zero. But precisely because it was so difficult, it could be called an ambition.
With his system, he had never doubted his future, that he would step by step attain higher peerages, even become a monarch wielding royal power. Moreover, national identity in this era was extremely weak; culture washing was not impossible.
"Why is it impossible? If the Eastern Empire once achieved it, why can't I?" Lothar retorted.
Abdullah was silent for a moment. He instinctively wanted to say that the Eastern Empire had already failed, but in the end, he merely said, "Lothar, perhaps a divinely favored one like you is meant to have ambitions beyond the imagination of ordinary men. May the Holy Fire bless you and grant your wishes."
"Thank you."
"Once we enter Kaymont, we will be within Crusader territory. We shall part ways there."
Lothar was somewhat surprised. "You will no longer serve Baron Godfrey?"
"Not for the time being." Abdullah hesitated, then said, "King Nur al-Din's son is gathering his old followers. We plan to go and assist him, to regroup the forces resisting Saladin in Aleppo. After we eliminated Kaukab, the frontier will fall into chaos. This is our opportunity."
Lothar was silent. "You should know how small your chances of success are. No matter how merciful Saladin may be, he will not spare rebels like you."
Abdullah said gravely, "When one's former lord calls, one presses on without hesitation out of duty."
Lothar didn't try to persuade him further. Although this Kurdish cavalry unit made him extremely envious, they possessed a firm conviction that couldn't be swayed by a few words.
Lothar glanced at Hans. His "squire" was setting up tents, sweating profusely from the effort. This was Lothar's only "cavalryman." In this era where cavalry was king, the expense of organizing an elite cavalry force like the Kurdish troop before him was simply too great.
"Perhaps I too should join, or establish, a Knightly Order. In any case, I don't plan to marry anytime soon. When I become powerful in the future, I can just withdraw from the Order or secularize it."
In these times, feigned conversions followed by later repentance were common, so naturally, feigned lifelong vows followed by later marriage also occurred.
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