Chapter 72 - The Phantom Host
Late March, 1180 – Jerusalem
The spring sun rose over the city of Jerusalem, casting a golden light upon the stone walls of the royal palace. In the high chamber overlooking the city, King Baldwin IV stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out at the horizon. The room was silent but for the soft rustle of parchment and the low murmur of advisors nearby. A rider had just arrived from the coast, and his message had changed everything.
The Sicilian fleet had struck with ferocity and precision.
Reports confirmed the destruction of the port of Damietta, the looting of Tinnis, and the sack of Alexandria. In each case, the Moslem defenders had been taken by surprise. Gold, grain, supplies, and weaponry had been taken by the Sicilians, their ships overflowing with plunder. Fires had gutted key structures, including warehouses, dry docks, and in one case, a great mosque that had stood for centuries. Panic had swept through the Nile Delta, and word was spreading quickly through Egypt, fanning fear like a wildfire.
Baldwin—Ethan—read the report twice before slowly setting the scroll aside. Around him stood his closest advisors: Balian of Ibelin, Reginald of Sidon, Humphrey of Toron, Joscelin of Courtenay, and now, newly arrived, the famed Prince Richard of England—already known for his boldness in Aquitaine and his strength on the battlefield.
"So," Baldwin said softly, his voice muffled slightly beneath his silver mask. "The Sicilians have lit the flame. And Saladin burns."
There was a murmur of approval in the chamber.
"We've done it," said Reginald of Sidon, leaning forward. "He'll be torn between defending Egypt and holding his northern borders. It will force his hand."
"Unless," added Balian cautiously, "he sees through it. We cannot underestimate him."
Baldwin nodded. "True. Which is why the next step must be executed with precision. Richard," he said, turning to the young English prince, "you've seen what disinformation can do to an army. We have a force of six thousand heading east. The goal is to make it seem like ten—no, fifteen thousand. Suggestions?"
Richard stepped forward, armored in mail and bearing a red cross across his chest. He looked every bit the soldier-commander, yet his mind was as keen as his sword.
"We use light, sound, and speed," he said. "Double the number of fires at night. March and counter-march along visible routes. Spread rumors in every village between here and the Jordan. Let them see dust clouds and hear horns. Make the enemy believe this is the main force."