The Leper King's Healer

Chapter 58

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the city, Philippa gathered her most trusted advisors and the Lazarist knights. The intelligence they had received suggested that their enemy had already set camp outside Jacob's fort.

Philippa turned to Gideon, her eyes filled with determination. "We must march to the aid of Baldwin by nightfall. Our enemy seeks to strike when they believe we are at our most vulnerable. We shall prove them wrong."

Gideon, ever the strategist, nodded in agreement. "We shall prepare our forces and set out under the cover of darkness. Our leprosy-afflicted knights have the advantage of moving silently, and their disease will be of little consequence in the darkness."

As the moon rose high in the sky, the Lazarist knights, led by Queen Philippa, Abu and Ser Gideon, set out from the city gates. They moved with stealth and precision, their armor polished to a mirror sheen that reflected the moonlight. Their journey was fraught with danger, but their resolve was unwavering.

A lone fort kept guard in a small piece of desert near Jordan River. Baldwin IV, though weakened by fever, stood tall within its walls. The air was thick with tension as the Saracen forces, led by the notorious Al-Ashraf, encircled the fortress like a predatory beast closing in on its prey.

Inside, the Frankish knights prepared for the impending siege. The clinks of armor, the sharpening of swords, and the determined whispers filled the air. Baldwin, aware of the odds stacked against him, remained resolute, his mind focused on the imminent clash.

Every story he heard about these Arab beasts was terrible beyond human imagination. They claimed that this Emir, known as Al-Ashraf, committed crimes in every city he encountered. And if these stories were real, and this guy was the Devil himself, Baldwin knew what would happen if they lost.

"How many men do we have?" Baldwin questioned his correspondent quietly from his quarters.

His jittery war correspondent responded by saying, "God help us, Your majesty. So far this was a wrong place to put an isolated fort. We only have 500 men and 30 horses, and a food ration for only three days. Reinforcements on the other hand are impossible."

Baldwin fell silent after hearing this, which disturbed his correspondent. Any warrior would have lost their spirits after hearing such odds against them. Baldwin's response to these overwhelming odds was unexpected - a laughter that startled his correspondent.

"Have no fear, scribe. I've always been in these disadvantages," he said, his tone surprisingly light. "God always loved to put me in these unwinnable situations. Now let's see if I can impress him once again."

On the outskirts of the fortress, the Muslim Army prepared. Al-Ashraf, who was being carried by his troops in a litter, dispatched a messenger to engage in conversation with the Christian king. The Saracen appear to have already encircled the camp, eager to ultimately bring it down like the walls of Jericho. Despite his evil reputation, Al-Ashraf used diplomacy to speed up the battle's conclusion.

The messenger returned with the news that King Badlwin was ready to talk .As the Muslim forces readied themselves outside, Al-Ashraf, carried on a litter, dispatched a messenger for parley. The masked leprous king and the Saracen general exchanged words, their eyes locking from across the battlefield - two warriors representing opposite ends of the world.

"Greetings, Emir," Baldwin declared with a mix of bravado and curiosity. "May I ask what you are doing uninvited in my domain?"

Al-Ashraf just laughed at the courage this king had for asking him such a trivial question. "Well my reasons for this incursion are simple. I only want the land of my people, the place where the Prophet Muhammad was born, back in Muslim hands," he said before making his large army salute as a show of force. "As you can see, my forces have surrounded your tiny fort. There is no way for you to escape or win. Give up now and you and your men will be spared."