CHAPTER 110: CHAPTER 110: ENCIRCLING THE CALIPH’S JEWEL

July 20th, 1180 – Eastern Heights Outside Damascus

The scent of pinewood, sweat, and churned earth hung thick over the forward camp.

King Baldwin IV sat astride his gray destrier atop the saddle ridge overlooking the valley where Damascus sprawled out before him. The ancient city, once a distant dream of conquest, now lay within striking distance—its domes and towers bathed in gold from the lowering sun, and its formidable walls bristling with sentries and sharpened stakes. A half-mile below, the Frankish army was already hard at work, transforming the open fields into a crucible of war.

"My God," whispered Balian of Ibelin beside him. "It looks like the whole world is waiting for us behind those walls."

Baldwin didn’t answer at first. His eyes followed the silver vein of the Barada River cutting through the orchards and gardens that surrounded Damascus like a green halo. The scent of fruit trees still drifted in the air. He could see families gathering their things and fleeing down western roads. The Latin banners fluttered in long lines as the army spread out and drove stakes into the earth. It was all beginning.

"No turning back now," Baldwin finally said. "They’ll either break before our resolve—or bury us beneath those stones."

Two Hours Later — Forward Siege Camp

The royal pavilion had been erected first, staked into high ground where the king’s banner could be seen by every regiment below. From there, Baldwin held his command council under the canvas of gold and crimson, seated at a long campaign table laden with maps, wax tablets, and a model of Damascus carved hastily in the night before their approach.

"This siege will be unlike any other," Baldwin began, his tone firm. "We are not at Jacob’s Ford or Aleppo. This is not Homs or Baalbek. This is Damascus. The jewel of Syria, the prize of the Caliph, and the seat of Saladin’s crown."

He gestured to the model city.

"There are three main gates on the east: Bab Sharqi, Bab Kisan, and Bab Touma. Each reinforced. Each within range of multiple towers. Their walls are thick and angled, old Roman stone laid upon newer Saracen layers. They are dug in behind orchards and irrigation channels. We must remove the trees and fill the ditches before we can begin the real assault."

"We’ll need full encirclement," said Raymond of Galilee, stabbing a finger into the southern edge of the model. "We cannot let them resupply from the western side."

"The west is well defended by terrain," Baldwin noted. "We’ll take the eastern and northern approaches first. That’s where their walls are weakest—and closest to the river."

Orders were issued.

The Templars, under Grand Master Odo de St. Amand, would oversee the northern siege lines and begin trench work near Bab Touma.

Richard’s knights, fresh from the mountain towns, were assigned to clear orchards near Bab Sharqi to create a clear field for siege engines.

The Hospitallers would guard the supply lines to the rear, ensuring water, food, and weapons reached the front lines.

By nightfall, over 15,000 men were at work digging trenches, building mantlets, and hauling timber from dismantled farmhouses and orchards.

July 21 – The First Full Day of Siege Construction

Dawn broke under the ring of hammers.

Work crews labored in shifts. The first priority was to construct a ring of earthen embankments and palisades. Pioneers dug zigzagging trenches to protect from enemy archery, shoveling dirt into baskets carried by servants, slaves, and camp followers.

Behind the lines, engineers and carpenters were assembling the first wave of siege equipment:

Three massive trebuchets, christened Gabriel, Michael, and Judith

, were constructed atop reinforced wooden platforms on the southern slope near Bab Kisan.

Dozens of mangonels—smaller torsion-powered artillery—were being assembled from pre-cut timber carried from Baalbek and Homs.

Siege towers, built in collapsible sections, were being constructed behind the second line, just outside archer range. Each one stood nearly thirty feet tall when completed.

Baldwin, always restless during waiting periods, rode the lines on a litter suspended between two horses, his deteriorating condition forcing him to conserve strength. He greeted captains personally, encouraged the laborers, and issued direct corrections when defenses were too shallow or walls lacked proper stakes.

"Add another layer of clay to that embankment," he snapped at a group of Norman diggers. "If their arrows find a gap, you’ll be the first to die."

To Balian, walking beside him, he confided, "This siege may last a month. Or three. But we’ll strangle the city one breath at a time."

Camp Life and Morale

The Franks knew what lay ahead. Damascus was not just another city—it was the city. They sang hymns in the evenings, prayed in rotating watches, and listened to priests preach beneath the cross raised at the highest point of the camp.

Priests from Jerusalem and Acre gave sermons near the rear catapults, dedicating each machine with holy oil and Latin rites. One bishop even nailed a relic of Saint George to the side of a siege tower.

Food remained ample for now. Supply caravans from Baalbek and Homs brought salted meats, grain, and barrels of water. But the commanders knew the supply lines could be cut, and rationing schedules were drawn up should the siege stretch into the next month.

Still, morale was high. The Franks had won too many victories in the past year to doubt their purpose now.

By Nightfall on July 21st

The entire eastern side of Damascus was hemmed in.

Palisades, towers, and trenches extended from the northern slope near Bab Touma down through the gardens near Bab Kisan. Catapults stood ready. The great trebuchets creaked under their own weight. The orchard fields that once bore apricots and figs were now clear killing fields, waiting for battle.

And in the distance, across the wide fields, Baldwin saw fires glowing along the Damascus wall. Watchfires. Signaling their readiness.

He turned to his officers at the top of the hill.

"Let them look," he said. "Let them see who comes for them. We’ll take their city, stone by stone if we must. And Saladin—if he still breathes—will know this was the price for Aleppo, for Tripoli, for every Frankish soul they burned at Jacob’s Ford."

A solemn silence followed.

The next day, the bombardment would begin.