Episode 62

The journey from Constantinople to Jerusalem is a long one.

In the medieval era, where climate changes had a significant impact, it sometimes took even longer than the trip from Rome to Constantinople.

Yet, until we reached the Syrian region, we were still within the Eastern Roman Empire’s territory, making the journey relatively comfortable.

But comfort didn’t extend to our hearts.

While I remained fairly composed, the closer we got to Jerusalem, the more tense the bishops became. The Orthodox members seemed to maintain their calm, but the Catholic members visibly grew more anxious.

Jerusalem held immense significance for Western Europe—a place they longed to reclaim, had indeed reclaimed, only to lose again. My argument that the loss of Jerusalem was due to the sins of the Catholics added to their burden.

For the Catholic bishops and theologians, Jerusalem had become a symbol of their guilt.

As soon as we entered Jerusalem, the sight of the Islamic mosque and its minarets made Chancellor Robert let out an involuntary groan.

“To think we’d set foot on this land like this…”

“Weren’t Christian pilgrims once frequent visitors to Jerusalem in this manner?”

“True, but we couldn’t leave this holy land in the hands of infidels forever. That’s why the Crusades were formed…”

“Try to see it from a different perspective. There’s a saying that the greatest victory in war is one achieved without bloodshed. We’re not here just to exchange pleasantries with them. Don’t let your guard down as a knight.”

“Understood. I’ll do my utmost to support the Prophet in this holy mission.”

With a resolute nod, Robert gripped his sword hilt tightly. The Templar Knights accompanying us for protection also surveyed the city with similar intensity.

I could understand their feelings. For devout Christians, seeing Jerusalem transformed into an Islamic city was akin to torture. This was why Christian conquerors had massacred Jews and Muslims when they took Jerusalem—an attempt to erase all traces of other religions from their holy land. Of course, the fact that this was done through massacre is an inexcusable mistake on Christianity’s part.

If Islam had done something similar, perhaps they could argue it was tit for tat. However, Saladin’s actions upon retaking Jerusalem were the opposite. He merely removed the church crosses and allowed Jews to worship again, a gesture of tolerance that shamed Europe.

Europeans, with their conscience and awareness, knew they were being compared to Saladin. While they couldn’t openly praise him during the Crusades, figures like Richard and other Crusader survivors held Saladin in high regard.

History, after all, is recorded, and future generations were troubled by the contrast between the Christians’ brutality and the Muslims’ tolerance.

Thus, they attempted to separate Saladin from Islam, portraying him as a noble leader comparable to Christianity’s great leaders, despite Islam’s general portrayal as barbaric. In terms of generosity, this wasn’t entirely wrong, as Saladin’s tolerance was exceptional even within Islam, to the point of discomfort for some.

Initially, many criticized Saladin’s approach, but most were swept away during the Crusades, and his overwhelming success silenced the rest.

Saladin’s influence was significant not only in Islam but also in Europe. Even Fatima, a Shiite, was unusually restless upon arriving in Jerusalem.

“Are you nervous?” I asked, distancing myself slightly from the knights. Fatima took a deep breath and shook her head.

“No, it’s not like I’m the one speaking directly.”

“Right. Keep telling yourself that. If you lose focus, it could affect my safety.”

“Do you think Saladin would resort to underhanded tactics?”

“Not likely. If it were anyone else, maybe, but Saladin attacking us in Jerusalem would be more trouble than it’s worth.”

If anything were to happen to a Christian dignitary in Jerusalem, it would be a disaster for the Ayyubids. Especially if something happened to me, who had united the Catholics and Orthodox, even Saladin couldn’t handle the fallout. France, England, the Holy Roman Empire, and the Eastern Roman Empire would all converge, and not even Saladin could stop them.

“However, there’s no guarantee that there aren’t short-sighted extremists among Saladin’s ranks. Trying to predict their actions rationally often leads to surprises.”

“Yes, I’ll stay vigilant and protect the Apostle with all my might.”

“Good. Given the location, you can take preemptive action if necessary. If you see someone about to do something truly dangerous, act first and report later.”

Fatima smiled faintly. “Understood!”

“Now, let’s change the subject. We’ll soon be in contact with the other side. Do you have any advice or information you haven’t shared yet?”

After pondering seriously, she replied cautiously, “Well… I can’t say much beyond that I’m not in a position to speak lightly. My brother once said that the most formidable Islamic ruler was undoubtedly Saladin.”

“What was his reasoning? One might think he’s easy to deal with because of his kindness.”

“He said he couldn’t fathom Saladin’s depths with his abilities and didn’t want to be his enemy. At the time, I thought my brother was being small-minded, but now I see he might have been right.”

Indeed, realizing someone is on a different level makes you reluctant to make them an enemy. It’s not about being kind or ruthless, practical or not—it’s a visceral fear of opposition.

Fatima glanced around cautiously and whispered, “Also, my brother’s allies are in Jerusalem. They’ll come to greet you at an appropriate time, so let me know how to contact them.”

“I’ll think of a way by tomorrow. Good work.”

In a place where anything could happen, it’s wise to have as much insurance as possible. With the Assassins of Syria stationed in Jerusalem, we couldn’t ask for better allies. However, while I trust Nasr and Fatima, I need to meet the others and gauge their intentions.

As I was organizing my thoughts, a group of people appeared in the distance, waving to show they meant no harm and greeting us warmly.

“Are you the guests from Constantinople?”

“Yes, we are. Has your delegation not arrived yet?”

“We received word that the Sultan will arrive today or tomorrow, but he’s not here yet.”

Robert clicked his tongue softly and shook his head. “Inviting guests and then being late yourself—how rude.”

Technically, we had arrived early to prepare thoroughly before the council, so Saladin wasn’t at fault. It was an unreasonable complaint, but the Islamic representatives showed no reaction. Not because they were tolerant, but because Robert had muttered in English, which the Islamic interpreter didn’t understand. They likely sensed his dissatisfaction, though.

The Islamic representative ignored Robert’s grumbling and turned to me.

“Are you the one from Rome?”

“Yes, I am.”

Though polite, they refrained from calling me a prophet or apostle. Naturally, this made my companions’ expressions harden, but the Islamic side continued unfazed.

“The Jewish delegation has requested to meet you before the council. You can refuse if you wish.”

“No, I’d like to meet the Jewish elders as well. It wouldn’t hurt to introduce myself.”

“I’ll convey that message.”

With the conversation wrapping up, an awkward silence followed. Just as I was about to ask for directions to our accommodations, someone approached from the opposite direction, riding swiftly.

“Ah, there you all are. Perfect timing.”

The Islamic soldier, unmistakable in his attire, was greeted by the representative who had been speaking with me.

“Thank you for your efforts. We were just about to escort the guests from Constantinople inside.”

“Would you mind waiting here for just a moment?”

At the messenger’s request, Robert and King George II exchanged a glance, their brows furrowing slightly.

What kind of etiquette was this, leaving guests who had traveled such a long way standing around like this?

Were they trying to engage in some petty power play? But the messenger quickly dispelled any such misunderstanding.

“The Sultan is on his way.”

“Right now?”

“Yes. The Sultan is very much looking forward to welcoming his guests. If you could just wait a little longer, I would be most grateful. I will report to the Sultan immediately…”

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

The messenger’s rapid-fire words were drowned out by the sound of drums that suddenly filled the air.

Then, the blare of trumpets cut through the atmosphere, announcing the Sultan’s arrival.

In the distance, a massive army appeared, kicking up clouds of dust, and the previously composed Islamic officials hurriedly dismounted their horses.

As the grand and splendid procession approached, the music gradually faded, and a group of people stepped forward.

Among them, one figure stood out unmistakably, and as he passed, everyone bowed their heads in respect.

“Saladin…”

Though it was unlikely anyone had actually whispered the name, he turned his head slightly to look in our direction.

I bowed my head slightly, then raised my eyes to meet his gaze.

Even from a considerable distance, I could feel the intensity of his stare directed at us.

It was my first encounter with Sultan Salah ad-Din of the Ayyubid dynasty, a moment I would remember for the rest of my life.