Chapter 84: A King’s Gamble
May 17, 1180 — Aleppo
The courtyard of the Aleppo citadel rang with the sounds of hammers, boots, and shouted orders. Repair crews bustled about, sealing breaches and reinforcing the towers, while carts of captured supplies were offloaded from the city's emptied warehouses. A week had passed since the city fell, and though Baldwin had secured the gates, he knew the real battle had yet to begin.
From the top of the southern tower, he watched the horizon through a polished brass scope—his own commission, crafted by Italian artisans months ago. Dust clouds rose in the distance like faint scars on the landscape. Not yet close. But moving.
They were coming.
He heard the quick footfalls before the door behind him opened.
"My lord," said Hugh of Ibelin, winded but urgent. "Our forward scouts returned from the hills east of Hama. Saladin is marching—his full host. They passed Homs and are advancing steadily. They'll reach this region in no more than eight or nine days."
Baldwin turned, his silver mask catching the light.
"How many?"
"Over twenty thousand, by their estimate. The army is stretched—supplies run thin—but they are determined. There's no doubt now. He's not going to Damascus. He's coming for us."
Baldwin didn't flinch. He only nodded.
"Have the council summoned. Tonight. At the great hall."
—