CHAPTER 102 - 103: THE ANVIL IN THE MOUNTAINS

June 22, 1180 – Outside Baalbek

The mountains closed around Baalbek like the jaws of a trap. The air was thin and dry, tasting of dust and pine. Baldwin IV sat his horse on a narrow plateau overlooking the valley below, where the walls of Baalbek rose sharp and defiant from the rocky soil. The sun had barely crested the ridgeline, its rays glinting off Frankish mail and burnished helms.

The city itself was smaller than Damascus or Aleppo, but its position—fortified within a basin of cliffs and hills—gave it natural strength far greater than its size. Its walls, high and well-kept, bristled with watchmen. Smoke from cookfires rose above the rooftops, and faintly, Baldwin could hear the muffled clang of a hammer striking an anvil within the city. They were not preparing to surrender.

Baldwin turned his horse and made his way back toward the royal tent, his limbs aching, his breath short from days of hard riding. The leprosy did not spread—thanks to the mold salve applied daily by the Hospitaller physician who had followed him since the early campaigns—but the toll of ceaseless movement was evident. His body was stiff. His fingers ached. But his mind remained sharp, and the task before him would demand all of it.

The War Council at Baalbek

The tent was already crowded. Balian of Ibelin, Hugh of Tiberias and Ernoul stood around the command table, where a crude topographical map of the region had been spread across the wood. Red markers showed Christian positions now encircling the city from three sides.

"They haven't sent out envoys. No white banners. Not even silence on the walls," Hugh observed grimly.

"They intend to resist," Balian added. "Even knowing Homs and Hama surrendered or fell."

"They believe the mountains will save them," Baldwin said as he entered. His voice was calm, if hollowed by fatigue. "And perhaps they will—for a time. But we have come prepared."

He gestured toward the map. "The ground is too steep for a complete encirclement, but we control the main passes into the valley. We cut off their access to water yesterday when we seized the lower spring here—" he tapped a red mark to the north, "—and scouts report no significant movements. They're hunkering in."

Heraclius asked, "Do we attempt negotiation, or begin the engines?"

"No parley," Baldwin said, firmly. "They saw what happened to the others. They made their choice. If they wanted mercy, they should have opened the gates."

Hugh nodded. "Then we storm the heights."

"No." Baldwin paused, eyes narrowing. "We make them bleed first."

Preparation for a Harsh Siege

Orders flowed quickly through the camp. Baldwin had learned at Aleppo that speed and engineering were key. Siege engines from the campaign's earlier battles had been carefully dismantled and transported—piece by piece—by ox carts and mule teams. Now, those parts were being reassembled by teams of engineers and soldiers, some hammering in the open, others beneath makeshift awnings that shielded them from Saracen arrow fire.

Three large trebuchets were being constructed on a narrow plateau to the southeast, just within range of Baalbek's eastern gate. From there, they would hurl stones to hammer the walls until a breach could be made. Ballistae were mounted along the ridgelines, positioned to harass the defenders and prevent counter-efforts.

Frankish soldiers dug trenches and erected mantlets, while sappers began tunneling beneath the western wall where the rock was softest. If the mines could be timed with the bombardment, the wall might collapse entirely.

Still, the siege was slow. The city's location meant that supplies—stone, timber, pitch—had to be hauled uphill along narrow, winding paths. Rain the previous night had turned some of the passes into treacherous mud channels, slowing everything. And the elevation made breathing harder for men unaccustomed to the altitude.

But Baldwin's men had hardened through months of war. They moved with grim efficiency, knowing that victory here would open the road to Damascus—and end the war on their terms.

Fires in the Dark

By the fourth day, the siege lines were fully established, and the trebuchets began their work. Stones the size of barrels smashed into Baalbek's walls with a thunderous crash. Dust rose in clouds, and the hills echoed with the sound of impact.

The Saracens responded fiercely. Arrows poured down from the battlements. On the second night, a sortie from the city broke through the western line and tried to burn one of the trebuchets—but the Franks repelled them after a brief but savage skirmish. In the torchlight, Baldwin watched as the survivors were executed, their heads mounted on stakes before the walls.

He gave no order to stop it.

"This is what happens when they refuse terms," Baldwin told his commanders. "The others will see."

He had already made one critical decision: the prisoners from the Battle of the Snare had been too many to feed or guard. Most had been put to death after the march from Baalbek began. It weighed on him—he confessed it to the bishop—but the bishop had reminded him that hard mercy often had a sharper edge than cruelty. Now, they would apply that edge here.

Reports and Decisions

On the evening of June 22, Baldwin gathered the war council once more to review the latest reports.

"Our losses thus far are minimal," Balian reported. "Forty dead, a hundred wounded. But the sappers' tunnels are progressing slower than expected. The ground is more stable than we thought."

"They can hold out?" Baldwin asked.

"For a time," Heraclius said. "But not indefinitely. We cut their spring. Their reserves won't last."

"We give them two more days of bombardment," Baldwin ordered. "If the breach is sufficient, we storm it. If not, we dig another tunnel. I will not leave this place until Baalbek flies my banner."

"And if Saladin moves to relieve the city?" Hugh asked.

"Scouts say his army remains in Damascus," Balian answered. "He is still recovering. The emirs haven't moved."

"And they won't," Baldwin said. "Not while Egypt fears the Sicilian fleet off their coast. Saladin is isolated."

There was a pause.

"Then we break Baalbek," Balian said. "And from there... Damascus."