Chapter 99: Shadows on the Nile
June 15th, 1180 — Cairo
The air in the council chamber was thick with heat and tension. Palm fronds stirred weakly in the open windows, barely shifting the oppressive stillness that hung over the palace like a shroud. Though it was morning, the sunlight already struck the polished stone walls with a glare that forced the scribes and guards to squint beneath their linen wraps.
Inside, six emirs sat around a low table in Cairo's inner citadel, each man deep in thought as a courier's scroll lay unfurled before them, heavy with wax and dust.
The message had arrived just days before, galloping through the desert from Damascus on horses switched at every stage. It was sealed with the mark of Taqi al-Din, the Sultan's nephew, and its content had struck like a thunderclap.
Saladin wounded. Gravely.The army in retreat.Aleppo lost.Hama surrendered.Homs stormed.Damascus in danger.
No reinforcements had been sent yet. But now the call was direct. Damascus needed men—and quickly.
"This is the collapse," muttered Emir Sharaf al-Din, eyes narrowed behind a ring of sweat on his brow. "First Aleppo, now the road to Damascus is open. If they take Baalbek next, there's no natural barrier between them and the capital."
"They will not stop at Baalbek," said Emir Musa of Alexandria, an older man whose voice remained calm despite the rising mood. "If the Franks seize Damascus, they'll divide Syria in two.
Silence followed. But then Emir Ali of Fustat leaned forward and tapped the table.
"We cannot send men," he said simply.