Chapter 45: Return
In the end, the battle never broke out. In reality, once the enemy discovered that Lothar's party wasn't carrying a caravan or pack train laden with gold and silver treasures, they had already begun to have second thoughts. The reason they still approached was merely to try and extort some wealth.
This was an era where the big fish ate the small fish. At any time, in any war, one had to consider the cost-benefit ratio of engagement. If he lost too many trusted men, it could very well shake his own position, and the gains would be meager. Added to that was the possibility of being caught in a pincer attack by reinforcements sent by Sa'd al-Din.
The enemy ultimately chose to withdraw.
When Lothar had challenged him to state his name, the fact that he didn't take the challenge showed he wasn't some reckless fool who acted on impulse without regard for consequences.
"Lothar, at a time like this, we absolutely cannot choose to hand over our wealth." Abdullah rode abreast with Lothar, imparting his wisdom. "In this desert, there are no morals or any regulations that can restrain your enemy. Surrendering your wealth will not only fail to make the enemy back down but will instead expose your weakness and make you seem easy to bully."
Lothar, quick to learn by analogy, added, "And it would greatly demoralize the soldiers. With the morale falling, even if the enemy originally intended to let us go, they might change their minds."
"Exactly!"
***
Two full days passed. They bypassed Irbid, where Sa'd al-Din was personally garrisoned, choosing a longer, more remote, and less traveled route to avoid potential enemy encounters. Lothar had no confidence that if he ran into Sa'd al-Din again, he could bluff his way past him a second time.
"Over this small hill, Kaymont is just ahead." Abdullah smiled, halting before a sand dune.
Lothar's expression was somewhat complex. "Are you leaving?"
Abdullah nodded. "By the Holy Fire, Lord Lothar, it has been my honor to fight alongside you. If, after this... I am still alive, I might choose to bring my lads to join you." He finished, then added with a smile, "But I hope by then you'll already possess a fief rich enough, because the salaries my lads require are not low."
"I guarantee it will be." Lothar clapped Abdullah on the shoulder, then looked at the Kurdish cavalrymen behind him and said sincerely, "You are the bravest and most skilled cavalry I have ever seen. I am proud to have served as your commander, and I sincerely wish you all a safe journey." He placed his right hand on his shoulder and bowed his head slightly. "May the Heavenly Father bless you, and may the Holy Fire burn forever."
The Kurdish cavalrymen all placed their hands on their shoulders and returned the salute. During this time, they had gotten along very harmoniously with Lothar. This had somewhat changed their stereotype of Crusader nobles.
Of course, after Lothar displayed his mysterious "witchcraft," the Kurdish cavalrymen's feelings towards Lothar had transformed into thirty percent goodwill and seventy percent fear.
Abdullah was somewhat moved, but he laughed heartily and said, "Lothar, you pray to two gods consecutively. That's not very devout at all."
Lothar smiled and said, "Perhaps my god and your god are actually the same god? After all, they are both creators."
"Perhaps." Abdullah made no comment on Lothar's blasphemous words. He moved away from Lothar, nodded to Hans in acknowledgment, then looked at the two "witches," performing the shoulder-touching salute to each in turn. "Farewell, two honored ladies. Farewell, brave and hardworking squire."
Hans hastily returned the salute. He had initially been rather overwhelmed by the unexpected favor, but hearing himself described as "hardworking," a trace of resentment couldn't help but surface. 'Does being with Milord mean I'm just here to do menial chores?'
Finally, he exchanged a look with Lothar. His sun-darkened face broke into a smile, his teeth dazzlingly white. Then, the cavalry troop slowly departed one by one.
Lothar watched the receding backs of Abdullah and the Kurdish cavalrymen. After a long while, he finally let out a deep sigh. A mere few dozen cavalrymen—how much of a wave could they possibly stir in Syria, a land garrisoned by an army of a hundred thousand?
Even if this hundred thousand was just an approximate number, even if it were divided by ten, leaving only ten thousand, it was still a behemoth that a few dozen cavalrymen could not hope to shake.
"This is a group of respectable warriors. Their loyalty to their lord surpasses that of most knights in this era," Hans remarked with deep emotion.
Lothar clapped Hans on the shoulder. "You've worked hard these past few days."
Hans nodded in profound agreement. "Indeed, Milord. You've given me all the rough work. I alone have to pitch two tents and feed eight horses. I sincerely hope you can find me some companions soon."
Lothar's face darkened. 'What a rotten luck! Isn't this kid cursing me to only draw 1-star cards from now on?'
"Don't give me that! I've helped out plenty!" Without waiting for a rebuttal, Lothar said, "Quicken your pace! Let's get into the city quickly and rest."
The thing he wanted most right now was a cold bath. He hadn't bathed in nearly a week. Trekking under the blazing sun every day, even with Banu acting as a small air conditioner to cool him down, he was often drenched in sweat.
Kaymont was a somewhat dilapidated border city. Large chunks of plaster had peeled off its walls due to years of disrepair. Occasional merchant caravans entered the city, only to stop briefly before heading deeper inland. There were no fountains in the city, only a filthy drainage ditch that cut through its center, in which a thick layer of slippery grime had accumulated, smelling like a sun-baked dry toilet.
This place was located on the northern frontier of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Further north lay the former Principality of Antioch, now the Syrian governorship of the Ayyubid Kingdom.
As a gateway city, it constantly faced Saladin's hundred-thousand-strong army, which was sharpening its weapons and feeding its horses in the north. Thus, even the lord of this city had abandoned his fief and gone to Jerusalem to serve as Master of the Stables.
***
In the tavern, a few scattered customers were drinking. Lothar's party pushed open the door. The two ladies were the first to find a corner to sit down, while Lothar and Hans went to the bar.
Someone laughed and teased, "Ha, two noble knightly lords! They're actually sitting at the same table with us! Care to join us for a couple of drinks?"
Lothar showed a humble and polite smile. "Of course. My treat." As he spoke, he flicked a silver coin. "A round of ale for these gentlemen, and for myself and my companion."
"Thank you, generous lord!"
"May the Heavenly Father bless you, knightly lord!" The customers beamed.
Lothar flicked out two more silver coins, pressing them onto the counter. "Prepare two clean rooms, and enough bathtubs for four people to bathe separately." With that, he looked at the customers. "Gentlemen, has anything unusual happened in the Holy Land these past few days?"
The customers looked at each other, unsure what would count as unusual.
'Surely the knightly lord wouldn't want to hear gossip about the stonemason's wife next door cuckolding her husband while he was out?'
Just then, a man who seemed well-informed stood up and said, "Knightly lord, you are a German, correct?"
Lothar nodded. "Indeed. I am Lothar of Aargau."
The man said, "Yesterday, I heard a merchant say that your Emperor is fighting the Lombards on the Apennine Peninsula. It's said to be because the Lombards defied the Emperor's orders and refused to pay the Crusader tax, so the Emperor, his patience exhausted, decided to take action against them."
"Ah, this..." Lothar was somewhat incredulous.
This Emperor Henry, unlike the famously ambitious Frederick Barbarossa (Redbeard), was not known for such boldness. His attitude towards the domestic princes, especially those in the northern Apennine Peninsula, which was separated from Great Germania by the Alps, had always been rather lenient.
Why the sudden change of style, resorting to such thunderbolt methods, especially at this critical juncture when he was about to reconcile with the Pope?
Someone said worriedly, "In that case, the German crusaders will probably take a very long time coming."
"This is indeed a major event." Lothar nodded and took a large swig of ale. The ale in these small taverns had a faint bitterness and malt aroma, its alcohol content negligible, making it a godsend for quenching thirst.
The man added, "Besides that, there's Balian of Ibelin. It's said he's going to duel Guy of Lusignan." At this, his face lit up with excitement, as if he had witnessed it himself. "They are both smitten with Princess Sibylla. To compete for who is more suitable to be Her Highness the Princess's husband, they have resolved to fight a fair knightly duel in Jerusalem three days from now."
*****
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