CHAPTER 64 - 64: PRESSURE ON ALL FRONTS

Date: March 10th, 1180Location: Damascus

The wind over Damascus carried a chill that had little to do with the season. Within the walls of the Citadel, Saladin sat in silence, staring at the maps unfurled before him—maps that told of the Kingdom of Jerusalem's sudden boldness.

Reports from the coast piled on his desk like creeping rot. Acre. Tyre. Jaffa. Sidon. Ships with foreign coats of arms arrived weekly. Soldiers of many tongues, but a shared cause, stepped onto the soil of the Levant in growing numbers.

Saladin's fingers traced the northern roads on the map, stopping at Baalbek and Homs. Baldwin, it seemed, had chosen his path. The Christian king, disfigured by disease but strengthened by growing unity and newfound vision, was preparing for war—and not in the way the Ayyubid court had anticipated.

"This is not like the past crusades," Saladin said finally, his voice steady, but carrying the weight of suspicion and concern. "This time, they are not stumbling across the sea in blind zeal. This one has a mind behind it."

He stood, slowly. The commanders gathered in his chamber bowed slightly—Amir Khalil of Damascus, the fiery Shams ad-Din of Baalbek, and his nephew Al-Afdal, newly returned from Cairo.

"They are coming with order, not chaos," Saladin continued. "Cohorts, provisions, a unified banner. They even offer land to draw more men—nobles and their retainers."

Shams ad-Din scoffed. "What does land mean when we crush them before the mountains of Syria?"

Saladin turned his gaze sharply to him.

"We have not crushed them," he said. "In truth, they have crushed us

—at Montgisard, at Jacob's Ford. And now, we hear Acre is swelling with warriors."

Al-Afdal stepped forward, unrolling the latest dispatch from a spy within Tyre.

"The estimate now is that between fifteen and twenty thousand crusaders have arrived or are on their way," he said grimly. "They are forming units—cohorts, they call them—organized with supply wagons and dedicated officers. Not a rabble."

"And that number," Khalil added, "doesn't include the levies from Baldwin's own kingdom. Nor the men of Antioch, nor the northern Franks who may yet join them."

There was a pause, heavy and suffocating.

Fractures Beneath the Surface

Saladin dismissed his officers save for a few trusted retainers. As the doors closed behind them, he looked to Al-Afdal and his vizier, Qadi al-Fadil.

"I feel it," he said. "Not just from the Christians, but here. In the air. The emirs pull away from me."

"They are cautious," al-Fadil said gently. "Many of them gained their lands by your victories. But now, with our strength divided between Syria and Egypt—"

"They grow bolder," Saladin finished. "They watch. They count our horses and our banners and think to themselves, 'Perhaps this sultan has reached his peak.'"

He walked to the arched window. The great city sprawled below—Damascus, jewel of the east, seat of his authority in Syria. And yet it felt more brittle than ever.

"I have made this empire with war and faith," he said. "But faith is no longer enough. I need loyalty. Not the kind bought with gold, but the kind sealed in blood."

"You suspect rebellion?" Al-Afdal asked.

"Not yet," Saladin said, "but I see hesitation. The Emir of Hama has not responded to my summons. Aleppo's governor delayed his letter a week. Even those who ride beneath my banners delay their levies."

"They fear what lies ahead."

"They fear that I might lose."

The Coming Campaign

In the days that followed, Saladin began preparing his defenses. Riders were sent to every major fortress across the Beqaa Valley and into the Anti-Lebanon Mountains. Provisions were ordered, and scouts dispatched toward Baalbek and Homs.

He commanded additional tax levies in Damascus and Cairo, careful not to overburden the merchants but knowing that coin would be needed for horses, grain, and arms.

He met personally with the commanders of his cavalry in the Citadel's inner yard, walking among them as horses were inspected and weapons laid out.

"When the Christians march," he told them, "they will seek to strike deep and fast. They will look to isolate cities like Homs and Baalbek before we can reinforce them. You must move before they do. You must be the answer before they knock."

Despite his words, the looks in the eyes of his men told him everything—faithful, but cautious. Many of them had sons who would soon ride. None of them desired the war that now loomed.

The Meeting of the Inner Circle

That evening, Saladin held a private meeting in his quarters. Only Al-Afdal, Qadi al-Fadil, and the scholarly commander Ibn al-Khashab were present.

"The Christians no longer simply defend," Saladin said. "They intend to seize Syria itself. They have chosen cities worth taking—Aleppo, Homs, Baalbek. And, if they succeed, Damascus."

Qadi al-Fadil frowned. "What do we do?"

"We must prepare not just for war—but for uncertainty. If the emirs do not fully support us, then we must be ready to move without them."

He turned to Ibn al-Khashab.

"Begin drawing a plan for the defense of Damascus and the mountain passes. If we must fight them on our own, we will do so from strong ground. And send messengers to Hama and Aleppo again. Tell them that their silence will be remembered."

"And what of Egypt?" asked Al-Afdal. "If the Christians move from the north, could they not attempt a second front from the south?"

"They will try, eventually," Saladin said. "But not yet. Baldwin seeks Syria first. Egypt can wait—he knows he cannot reach it while I stand here."

He paused, eyes narrowing. "But if he falls Syria into his hands, then Egypt will be next. And all our work will be undone."