The Leper King

April 30th - Gates of Aleppo

The cold wind of Syria bit beneath Baldwin's cloak as he sat astride his destrier on the rocky slope overlooking Aleppo. The horizon shimmered with dust and movement—his army unfolding in disciplined waves across the hills and valleys that surrounded the ancient stronghold. It was now mid-April 1180, and the campaign that had begun with whispers in Rome and Sicily had brought them to the threshold of one of Islam's most prized fortresses.

He watched in silence, silver mask gleaming in the morning sun, as the siege engineers began positioning the massive stormracks and trebuchets near the tree line. Behind them, soldiers unloaded lumber and stones, building mantlets and wooden firing platforms with the steady precision of practiced men. Pikes stood like forests in the morning light. Flags flapped from high standards bearing the golden Jerusalem cross. His army—his crusade—was assembling to strike.

But Baldwin had no intention of laying siege for months.

"Your Grace," said Hugh of Ibelin, approaching with his helmet tucked beneath one arm. "Our spies confirm it again. The garrison that once held Aleppo's walls marched south three weeks ago. The walls remain guarded, yes, but by merchants, old militia, and frightened conscripts. Saladin's main forces are still concentrated around Damascus."

Baldwin's heart quickened behind the silver mask. Aleppo had always been a hard nut to crack in history. That it now stood vulnerable was either divine providence—or a trap. He turned to Richard, now riding up beside him with his massive warhammer slung across his back.

"They're stretched thin," said Richard, eyes fierce and smiling beneath his mail. "We strike now, and we catch them by the throat. You have only to give the order, Baldwin."

The king sat a moment longer, thinking. A siege would take weeks, even months. That delay would allow Saladin time to recover, to call his emirs, to bring his full strength down upon them. But a direct assault—swift and furious—might crack the city open before anyone could react. They had the men, they had the machines, and they had the shock of surprise.

He gave a slow nod. "Then we attack at first light. No slow siege. No mercy."

The command staff stood silently a moment, knowing what that meant.

"We'll lead with the Frankish knights and the heavy infantry," Baldwin continued. "They'll push through the gates and hold the breach. The pikemen form behind, wall to wall, with crossbowmen under cover of mantlets. Once the towers go up, we hit from above and below at the same time."

"And the engineers?" asked Reynald de Châtillon, adjusting his scarred gauntlets.