Chapter 113: Siege of Damascus 3
Date: July 30, 1180Location: Damascus – Saracen Point of View
The call to prayer echoed faintly through the city, distorted and hollow beneath the weight of war. The muezzins’ voices, once proud and unwavering, now trembled slightly with fatigue—like the walls they called over, shaken and scarred by a week of relentless Christian bombardment.
Inside Damascus, the air was thick with dust and tension. Shops near the eastern quarter stood shuttered, their windows bricked up or covered in cloth to prevent glass from scattering. The city’s famed gardens had withered—dry, brittle stems of mint and fig curling in the sun. The aqueduct from the Barada River, once the artery of the city’s life, had been severed by sappers. Water was now rationed. Wells dug into courtyards delivered only brackish trickles.
The siege had truly begun to show its teeth.
In the great hall of the Citadel, surrounded by scrolls, maps, and wounded messengers, Emir Sa’d al-Din lowered his goblet and listened grimly to the latest report.
"They’ve brought another tower to the southern wall," said the scout, a grizzled veteran with blood caked on his cloak. "It’s smaller, but better protected. Their engines haven’t stopped since the fourth day—two stones every quarter hour, it seems."
Sa’d al-Din rubbed his brow. "Where was the strike?"
"Just past the Gate of Thomas. The wall there is older. One of the buttresses split this morning. I saw the fracture myself."
"Have engineers reinforce it with timber," Sa’d said, though he already knew they had precious little wood left. Most of what remained had been diverted to brace the breach near the aqueduct. "What of the gate?"
"They’ve shifted focus away from it, but the hinges are shaking with each volley. The western gate still holds, but... the eastern wall can’t last another week."
Murmurs of unease rippled through the other commanders seated at the table. Banners of black and green hung behind them, limp in the still summer air. A pitcher of water, half full and guarded like treasure, sat untouched at the center of the map.
"Where is Salah ad-Din?" one of the younger officers asked.