CHAPTER 175: CHAPTER 175 - INTERLUDE SALADIN POV

September 7th, 1181 - Cairo

The Nile rolled by in its steady flood, its waters swollen by spring rains from the distant highlands of Ethiopia. From the balconies of the Citadel in Cairo, the city spread out like a living tapestry—minarets gleaming in the sun, markets buzzing with noise, ships laden with grain gliding upon the river. Yet in the cool shade of his chambers, Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn Yūsuf ibn Ayyūb sat heavily on a cushioned divan, his hand resting on his side where the scar from the Frankish crossbow bolt still throbbed faintly. The wound had been deep, and though months had passed since the disastrous campaigns in Syria, he still felt the echo of it when he moved too quickly. He had endured the injury in silence, masking his weakness, but the truth was that only recently did he feel he could mount a horse again without pain.

A servant entered, bowing low. "My lord, the emirs are gathered in the audience chamber, awaiting your summons."

Saladin rose slowly, adjusting his robe. "Let them wait no longer," he said. His voice carried authority, but his thoughts were clouded. News had come from Palestine—troubling, dangerous news.

The Franks had moved swiftly after their victories in Aleppo, Homs, and Damascus. King Baldwin of Jerusalem, the leper king whom Saladin had once believed would crumble quickly under the weight of disease, had instead proven resilient and cunning. Now, word reached Cairo that Baldwin had sealed a betrothal with none other than Lady Constance of Sicily, the aunt of King William II, heir to the Norman throne. It was not just a marriage—it was an alliance that shook the foundations of the balance of power across the Mediterranean.

The council chamber was crowded. Cushions lined the floor, and lamps of polished brass shed their glow over the carved lattice screens. Arrayed before Saladin were his closest emirs and advisors: al-Adil, his brother, grave and pragmatic; Taqi al-Din, fiery and quick to act; and a half-dozen lords of Egypt and Syria, each bearing their own grudges and ambitions.

Saladin lowered himself upon the dais, and the chamber fell silent. His hand rested again on his side. He spoke slowly, measuring every word.

"Word has come from Outremer. The Franks’ leper king has taken for his bride the aunt of the Norman king of Sicily. Constance of Hauteville. This marriage binds Jerusalem to one of the most powerful realms of the sea. Sicily’s fleets are many, their harbors strong. With such an ally, the Franks will not lack for ships, men, or coin."

A murmur spread among the emirs. Some cursed softly under their breath.

Al-Adil spoke first. "This is grave news indeed. Sicily’s power reaches from Palermo to Tunis, and their fleets patrol the waters of the central sea. If they lend their strength to Jerusalem, then the supply of our coasts—Alexandria, Damietta, even the approaches to Cairo—will be endangered."

Taqi al-Din scowled. "And not just the sea. Remember, my uncle, the Sicilians struck Egypt once before in the days of the Fatimids. They will be eager for another chance if Jerusalem calls."

Saladin inclined his head. "It is so. This alliance is meant to hem us in, to choke Egypt from sea and land alike."

Another emir, the grizzled Qaraqush, shifted on his cushion. "My lord, before we speak of Sicily, we must look to our house. Damascus is lost. The Orontes valley is gone, and with it the road to Aleppo. The emirs of Mesopotamia grumble, for they say you promised them spoils and lands that have not come. Egypt itself holds, but only because you rule with a firm hand. Rebellions smolder still in the Delta and in Upper Egypt. What strength have we to match both Jerusalem and Sicily together?"

The words stung, but they were true. Saladin lifted his gaze, his eyes dark with thought. "I will not hide the truth. The loss of Damascus was a bitter blow, and the valley of the Orontes is in Frankish hands. From those heights they guard the passes and cut us from striking into Syria. Raids from Mesopotamia are fewer now, for the roads are long and treacherous, and Baldwin has fortified them."

He paused, then leaned forward. "But Egypt remains strong. The grain of the Nile feeds our armies. I have placed governors loyal to me in every province—al-Fayyum, Aswan, Damietta. Those who dared to rise have been put down. Yet the emirs are restless, yes. They resent the strength of my hand. They grumble of lost honor in Damascus. But they will obey, so long as I give them war to win glory."

Saladin gestured to a messenger who stepped forward, carrying a scroll. "Our spies bring troubling tidings. The leper king builds in Jerusalem—not only new towers and walls, but an outer curtain wall, massive and strong, of a kind the city has not seen since Heraclius. They say he uses a new kind of liquid stone, poured and set quickly, to fashion his works. With this, his masons raise walls and roads faster than we have ever known."

The chamber stirred uneasily. Al-Adil frowned. "Liquid stone? What is this?"

Saladin’s lips pressed together. "It is a technique of the Franks—cement, they call it. It is said even the Romans used such craft. Now Baldwin pours it into molds, raising towers with a speed we cannot match."

Taqi al-Din spat on the carpet. "So the jackal dresses himself in the skin of lions. He seeks to make Jerusalem into another Constantinople."

Saladin nodded grimly. "And not only walls. They say the roads leading to Jerusalem, and even into Galilee, are remade with this same liquid stone. Smooth, solid, easy for carts and horses. He builds not only a fortress but a kingdom that may endure."

At this, Qaraqush leaned forward, his brows drawn. "And the south, lord? What of the Sinai? Our raids into the Holy Land once passed swiftly from Egypt across that desert. But now..."

Saladin raised his hand, cutting him off. "Now the Franks block the way. They have raised outposts along the Sinai routes, small fortresses with towers and signal fires. From al-Arish to Gaza, they keep watch. It is a bulwark, meant to guard against Egypt. Each time our raiders cross, their scouts are warned. Their horsemen strike swiftly from these towers."

He turned his gaze upon the council. "Thus the leper king closes every road—west through Sinai, north through the Orontes. He means to hem us in, just as we once sought to hem him."

The emirs broke into debate.

Taqi al-Din slammed his hand against his knee. "Then we must strike before it is too late! Egypt has men, and Mesopotamia can still send horsemen. If Baldwin strengthens Jerusalem further, we will never uproot him."

But al-Adil raised a hand. "No. We must be cautious. Egypt is not yet healed. Our armies bled at Aleppo and Damascus. If we march rashly, the Franks and their Sicilian allies will fall upon us together. Better to wait, to build strength, to sow division among the Franks."

Qaraqush growled. "And while we wait, Jerusalem grows fat. Their leper king may die, but now he has Sicily at his back. Even if he falls, his son or his wife will inherit a bulwark of stone."

Saladin listened to them all, his mind weighing each word. At last, he spoke. "You speak truth, each of you. Yet know this: I have not abandoned Jerusalem. The House of Islam will not forget the loss of al-Quds. I bide my time, I build my strength, and I wait for the moment when the lion may strike again. But for now, we must endure. Egypt must hold firm. Mesopotamia must be quieted. Only then can we march once more."

The emirs fell silent, each nursing his own thoughts. Saladin looked out through the latticed window, beyond the courtyards of Cairo to the desert stretching away, vast and endless. His side still ached, a reminder of his mortality. Yet his will burned undiminished.

"The Franks rejoice in their marriage," he said quietly. "Let them. But kingdoms rise and fall not by marriage alone. We shall outlast them, as the Nile outlasts all floods. And when the time is right, we shall sweep them from Jerusalem, wall or no wall, road or no road."

The council bowed their heads. Outside, the Nile rolled on, steady and eternal, while the fate of empires hung in the balance.