A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

Eric crossed the square, spotted Hook Eye, and shouted to him.

Belem burst out of a building, laughing and running over when he saw Eric. Hook Eye appeared as well, an arrow nocked and his bow fully drawn. He flashed a wolfish grin, looking like a man caught stealing a money bag, before shrugging.

Eric and Belem walked toward the pitch-black entrance of the Mosque, a narrow passage that could only fit one person.

It was too late. The smart ones had already hidden inside the Mosque and barred the great doors.

The Mosque had been designed as a sanctuary.

The narrow entryway sloped down before rising again to a sturdy gate, making it difficult to use a battering ram unless men were to stand on each other’s shoulders.

Eric spotted several holes in the roof and quickly dodged aside as a long spear darted down like a snake’s tongue, then just as quickly withdrew.

Eric and Belem slid along the wall, carefully inspecting the gate before sliding back out of the entryway.

Eric walked to the center of the village square. He saw a well surrounded by a ring of troughs, and he stopped and sat, placing his shield on his knees and resting his sword on his shoulder. He listened to the screams and howls from all around, watching figures flit through the darkness like bats.

The Shepherd Boy seemed calm, quietly observing the scene before him, impassive to the cruelty unfolding.

Then a fire flared to life, and a roof caved in.

Belem growled at a few Knights, and Eric gave a weary nod. Belem ran off, dragging a reluctant Hook Eye away from Eric’s side. He roared at the men to put out the fire, threatening to rip off their arms and beat out the flames with the wet, severed stumps.

”This Heretic temple is a fortress,” Belem said. ”We have to burn them out.”

”No,” Eric said. ”That will infuriate Faruk, and he’ll likely fight us to the death. It will also enrage the Heretics in the Levant. We can’t afford to be the most notorious Crusaders before we even set foot in the Levant.”

”We can burn the gate, like last time,” Belem replied.

As he spoke, Belem walked to the well, cupped some water, and splashed it on his face. He shook his head like a dog, then walked off to round up a few men to find dry wood and anything else that would burn.

Just then, two figures appeared, laughing as they chased a screaming woman. Belem reversed his long spear and used the butt end to knock one of the men to the ground. He didn’t want the situation to get too chaotic; it would weaken the army.

Belem broke up the group of rampaging Knights and ordered them to find firewood.

On Eric’s orders, only some of the robed Arabs were killed. Others were herded into the square. A few managed to escape, but the Knights outside the village would hunt them down. Two dozen more were trapped in the domed Mosque, and getting them out was going to be much harder.

So Eric and Belem sat in the square, guarding the captives while their men piled wood at the narrow entrance, preparing to set the gate on fire.

Eric sent out a few sentries and had Hook Eye and Guy listen for any movement in the darkness. But beyond that, there was nothing to do but wait and watch the smoke billow from the narrow doorway of the Mosque.

Eventually, Belem reported to Eric that the fire was out. It had caused some damage, but the Arabs inside the Mosque had doused the gate with water. They had even poured wine down from the holes in the roof in an attempt to soak the gate and the surrounding area.

”That means they’re out of water,” Belem pointed out.

”Which means they don’t intend to hold out for long,” Eric finished for him. ”Faruk and his cavalry will be here soon.”

This spurred the Knights into action. No one knew how many cavalrymen Faruk had, or how much support he had from the Pirates and the Heretics of the Levant. For Eric’s men alone, it would be a hard-fought battle against the odds.

Having learned their lesson from the day before, this time they would likely keep their distance, harassing them with volleys of arrows rather than charging head-on.

If the fight dragged on, the situation would become dire for the outnumbered Normans.

However, Eric had already sent word to Robert, who would soon arrive with the main army. Before then, it was best for Eric to take the village as quickly as possible.

Three men could stand shoulder to shoulder at the Mosque’s gate. The wood was charred but still solid. The Knights huddled together, holding their shields over their heads to ward off long spears thrusting down from above.

Underneath this shield-roof, Belem and the other men with axes crawled forward and began hacking at the gate.

It was sweaty, noisy work, thick with the smell of fear.

Half an hour later, Belem let out a triumphant roar as a small hole finally splintered open in the top-left corner of the gate. He hacked at it like a madman, sending wood chips flying, while the men behind him followed closely, kneeling under their shields, ready to charge at a moment’s notice.

Without warning, a long spear shot out of the hole, quick as a blink.

Fortunately, Belem was in mid-swing on a downward chop, which made him duck just enough. The long spear only grazed his shoulder before piercing the throat of the man behind him. The man let out a gurgling shriek and collapsed.

Chaos erupted. The fallen man screamed and thrashed until he had to be dragged away. In the end, they all abandoned the effort, stumbling back out into the cold night air, gasping for breath and spitting in disgust.

”Tell them we can talk. We have no intention of changing where or how they live.

We are Normans, not Greeks. We represent the Emperor of Constantinople, not the Governor of Cyprus. The expulsion of the Arabs was not ordered by Constantinople; it was a unilateral decision by the Governor of Cyprus.

War and killing are the business of soldiers and Lords; peace and life are the business of common folk.

Whatever Faruk has promised you, the Normans can also provide.” Eric pulled the Shepherd Boy over, clapped him on the shoulder, and spoke in Greek.

The Shepherd Boy kept his head down, as if in silent protest, refusing to translate for Eric.

”Don’t let hatred blind you, boy. It’s not worth it.”

”They killed my friends. All Heretics deserve to die.”

”Was it them? The old man upstairs throwing stones, or the old woman who was spitting? Boy, you don’t even know them.”

”They’re Heretics, Lord Eric. Isn’t that why you’re here? They and the Turkic People brutally destroyed village after village just like this one in Anatolia. The Greeks in Lycia struggled in their Churches just like these people are now.

But what was their fate? They didn’t meet someone as merciful as you, someone to give them a second chance. They all died. Not one was left. Even the traces of their villages were wiped from the earth.

Why? Why are they lucky enough to get a second chance? Are they all virtuous people who do good deeds? Are they more devout to God than the Greeks of Anatolia? Does God take such pity on them?

What did the Greeks of Lycia do wrong? What did my friends do wrong? Did they deserve to be killed?

To them, the weeds in the field have more value than a Greek life! They are the people of Satan, capable only of slaughter and destruction! As long as they draw breath, they will bring ruin to the followers of God! They are flies spawned by Beelzebub—filthy, disgusting, and worthless! They are a stain on God’s creation!

They all deserve to die! All of them!”

the Shepherd Boy screamed, his voice thick with emotion.

Eric had been about to say something, but he swallowed the words. The power of speech was limited.

’If only everything in the world could be solved with words,’ he thought.

’But it couldn’t.’

’Nothing short of a miracle from Christ Himself could dispel the boy’s hatred now.’

He would have to find another way to get this translated.

”Leif! Leif!”

Eric looked around for Leif, but he wasn’t there.

Eric called over Priest John. The man was with an Arab woman who was trembling all over. Priest John had just saved her and was now consoling her.

Priest John told Eric that the woman had pushed a Knight into the well, and the man had broken his leg in the fall.

Eric asked if he spoke Arabic. Priest John nodded and agreed to try translating for him.

Even though Eric was unfamiliar with Arabic, the savage looks on the faces of the Arabs in the Mosque and their furious roars made their stance perfectly clear.

”I swear, you will never see victory!”

”We will never surrender to Heretics!”

”We fight you in the path of Allah, and we will fight to the death!”

”Running dogs of the Greeks! Allah will burn you in the fires of Hell!”

”We obey only Allah and no other!”

”You demons with cloven hooves for feet!”

”...”

In the end, two Knights tore a doorpost from a nearby house to use as a battering ram. They filled the dip in the ground before the Mosque with rubble, took a wave of casualties, and finally managed to smash the gate open.

The moment the gate broke, the Arabs inside began to surrender. They screamed wildly, threw down their bows, arrows, and long spears, and held out their hands, begging for mercy.

But the men no longer cared. Angered by the trouble they had caused, they simply cut them down.

The Shepherd Boy watched the slaughter inside the Mosque, his eyes as cold and hard as a black cat’s.

”The longer you gaze into the abyss, the darker it becomes,” Eric said suddenly.