Episode 154
Al-Adil, who had confidently descended to Damascus based on the information gathered by Philip II, returned with a grim expression.
“I thought it would work out… but it seems not everyone shares my enthusiasm,” he sighed.
“And what did the Sultan have to say about it?”
“He said, ‘I understand your intentions, but it’s not feasible in reality.’”
“I believed the Sultan had the ability to turn the impossible into possible.”
Al-Adil nodded with a bitter smile. He, too, had thought that his great brother could impose his will regardless of what the Amirs said. That’s why he had gone down with such confidence, only to return with nothing but disappointment.
“Let’s hear the reasons. Surely the Sultan had his reasons for deeming it impossible.”
“If the Sultan were to forcefully impose his will, he could certainly suppress the Amirs’ discontent. But doing so would come with its own burdens.”
“In other words, there’s no need to risk internal discontent just to ally with us. I find it puzzling, though. I heard the Caliph declared he wouldn’t bow to the Mongols.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
If they decided there was no need to join forces with us, I can guess the reasoning behind it. It’s not that they think they don’t need the Crusaders’ help against the Mongols. Al-Nasir isn’t foolish enough to think that. Even if he did, Saladin would have put a stop to it.
The answer is clear: the Sultan doesn’t believe they’ll actually clash with the Mongols. The Caliph likely shares this view, which is why he took a strong stance.
“That’s probably the case. Even if a conflict does arise, it’s expected to be at least two years away. By then, they believe they’ll be well-prepared, so there’s no need to ally with the Crusaders. Besides, they doubt the Crusaders will still have a large force here by then.”
His expression was confident, without a hint of doubt. This wasn’t wishful thinking or a desperate prayer for peace. It was a logical conclusion.
“You know how far the Mongols have advanced, right?”
“Of course. I’m surprised you know as well. The Crusaders’ intelligence is quite swift. The Mongols have taken Isfahan and aren’t moving further. They’ll likely stay put for a while, given the vast territory they’ve already conquered.”
According to the reports compiled from Philip II’s information and the Assassins, the Mongols, after defeating Khwarezm, spread their forces in all directions. They reached as far north as Samarkand and as far west as Isfahan. In modern terms, that’s a staggering 2,000 kilometers in a straight line. Conquering such a vast area step by step is unrealistic. Even if they played a continuous game of territorial expansion, they’d run out of time.
They likely split their forces to quickly capture major cities that could serve as key strongholds. This means their main forces are scattered, and there are many regions they haven’t occupied. In such a situation, expanding the front to Baghdad would be a reckless strategy.
Al-Nasir’s decision, which diverged 180 degrees from historical precedent, was undoubtedly based on this calculation. Moreover, unlike the history I knew, the relationship between the Caliph and Khwarezm wasn’t as strained. Tekish was recognized by the Caliph as a legitimate Sultan of Islam, and with Saladin still alive and close to the Caliph, his position was incredibly secure.
If things continued this way, they might even hope to restore the glory of the once-great Abbasid Caliphate. In such a scenario, extending a hand to the Mongols, who had slain Tekish, recognized by the Caliph, would be unseemly. Even if I were Al-Nasir, I wouldn’t make such a decision lightly.
“Facing the Mongol invaders with dignity as the Caliph, while gradually consolidating the power of the Islamic world to make Baghdad its center once more… it’s not a bad plan.”
“The Caliph is a wise man, and it seems the Sultan understands his intentions well.”
“Indeed. Without the Sultan, the Caliph might have made a different choice.”
Ultimately, the reason the Caliph can afford to take such a stance is that Saladin is still alive and holding strong. If Saladin had died and the Ayyubid dynasty was in chaos, as in the original history, the Caliph wouldn’t have had the confidence to act this way. He would have likely tried to appease the Mongols with gifts, hoping to maintain friendly relations.
“Given the circumstances, it seems we’ll have to abandon the idea of cooperating with the Crusaders. The Sultan also asked me to convey his wishes for a safe journey back to Europe.”
“That’s kind of him, but I think we should observe the situation a bit longer.”
“True, with Khwarezm’s fall, the Crusaders are in a tricky position regarding their interests. It might take some time to sort things out.”
Al-Adil nodded, misunderstanding my intentions, and left to meet with other kings. I had no intention of correcting his misconception, and with him gone, there was no need to.
In the original history, those who tried to deal with the Mongols with common sense all met disastrous ends.
Once Isfahan had stabilized under Mongol control, the long-awaited figure arrived at the western front of the Mongol Empire.
“To come all this way yourself, you must have endured a great deal.”
“How can I speak of hardship when you are fighting so far from the steppes?”
“Anyone would think you were resting comfortably on the steppes, but you’ve just subdued the Western Xia and the Jin. Our efforts pale in comparison to your achievements.”
Genghis Khan chuckled at Jebe’s earnest reply. After forcing the Jin to accept humiliating terms, Genghis Khan crossed into Khwarezm with an army of over 100,000. As expected, the Jin began clashing with the Southern Song, and the task of dealing with the Jin was left to Muqali and some Khitan forces.
As a result, the morale of the Mongol forces on the western front, buoyed by successive victories, was soaring. Who in the East had ever achieved such feats? Attila, who swept through the West, hadn’t subdued the East as they had. Modu Chanyu of the Xiongnu, who had overwhelmed the Han, hadn’t ventured beyond the Yuezhi.
Genghis Khan, the first Great Khan of the Mongol Empire, was the only one to achieve such overwhelming success in both the East and West. And they were still young. The potential for further expansion was limitless.
“By the way, as I traveled here, I realized once again how vast the world is. We’ve come so far west, yet there’s still so much more land to conquer.”
“Yes. According to the merchants cooperating with us, we’re only at the entrance of the westward journey.”
“Indeed, Attila went much further west than this, so it’s not surprising we’re still at the beginning. Though even Attila eventually met his limits.”
“You will be different, Great Khan.”
Jebe’s tone was calm, as if stating a fact rather than offering flattery. Genghis Khan accepted the praise with a similar calmness, devoid of arrogance. Initially skeptical, he now felt a growing certainty, solidified by his decisive victory over the Jin, the East’s greatest power.
Even without his direct involvement, his most trusted subordinates had devastated not only the Western Liao, descendants of the Khitan, but also Khwarezm, the strongest state in the Islamic world. Though he never voiced it, the ambition in his heart grew with each step along this seemingly endless path.
‘How far can I go?’
He longed to set foot on every land from the farthest East to the farthest West and conquer them all. What once seemed a laughable ambition when he founded the Mongol Empire was now inching closer to reality.
“By the way, isn’t there an Islamic emperor not far from here? Have we heard anything from him?”
“No, they call him the Caliph here. We’ve considered various possibilities while waiting for your arrival, but he hasn’t reached out. Perhaps he expects us to come to him.”
“How bold. But then, an emperor ruling such a grand civilization would naturally have that kind of confidence.”
Genghis Khan, still somewhat naive when it came to matters of religion, didn’t fully grasp the intricate role of the Caliph. He only knew that the Caliph was the supreme leader overseeing both the political and religious realms of the Islamic world. To him, the Caliph seemed akin to the Emperor of the Jin or the Son of Heaven of the Song dynasty.
“According to Subutai’s analysis, they seem to expect us to halt our advance here and consolidate our gains,” one of his advisors reported.
“Rushing things often leads to disaster, whether for a person or a nation. In that sense, we’re expanding our territory at an unprecedented pace,” Genghis Khan mused. Many had stumbled and fallen by trying to seize more land than they could handle. Was he, too, at risk of overreaching?
It seemed wise to take a step back and assess the situation objectively, rather than being blinded by arrogance.
“I want to hear your thoughts. If you believe we should pause and strengthen our position, I’m willing to consider it. If we have additional troops, it won’t take long to completely subdue Khwarezm.”
“Indeed, as you say, Great Khan, the annexation of Khwarezm isn’t fully complete. Even now, Jelme is working to eliminate local forces near Samarkand that refuse to acknowledge us. But precisely because of this, I believe we must act now.”
“Oh? Is that your personal opinion?” Genghis Khan inquired.
“No, Subutai also asked me to convey his thoughts to you,” the advisor replied.
It seemed Subutai had anticipated this dilemma and had prepared his counsel in advance. Genghis Khan had been watching him closely, and it appeared that through this war, Subutai’s talents had truly come to the fore.
“Jebe, what do you think of Subutai? Has he lived up to expectations in this campaign?” Genghis Khan asked.
“While I was the one in charge, it was Subutai who crafted most of the overarching strategy. His ability to see the big picture is unmatched among us, yet he never overlooks the details. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he’s the most capable among your followers,” Jebe praised.
Had Jebe ever spoken so highly of anyone else? Feeling a fresh sense of resolve, Genghis Khan turned his gaze westward, toward lands yet unexplored. As he contemplated the unknown territories, a declaration of war against the Islamic world’s ruler naturally slipped from his lips.
“Send a messenger to Baghdad. Tell them if they surrender, I’ll spare their lives.”
“And if they refuse?” someone asked.
“Then they die,” Genghis Khan replied, indifferent to the unwritten rules that Western civilizations had fought over for centuries. With a speed no one could withstand, the human-shaped calamity moved forward.