Chapter 466 - 332: The Punishment of Impalement

Syria, Jerusalem

Jerusalem was now held by Hilfa, the brother of Aziz. In the face of Tutush’s brutal assassination of his brother, Hilfa had decisively reconciled with his old enemies, the Fatima Dynasty. He took the troops still loyal to Aziz, joined forces with the Fatima army, and swore an oath to drive Tutush out of Syria.

Upon hearing the news, Tutush led his great army to Jerusalem with haste. After negotiations failed, he began an assault on Jerusalem City that lasted a full four months. In that time, Tutush had already twice defeated the armies sent by the Fatima Dynasty to reinforce the city.

A shrill horn blast echoed through the ranks of the Seljuk Army.

As Tutush steadily brought in more troops and siege engines from Damascus, he surrounded Jerusalem with ease. The city soon descended into famine and terror.

Today, the glorious city of Jerusalem would fall into Tutush’s hands. The siege was nearing its end.

As the elite, iron-armored Guram Cavalry thundered into position on the flanks, a sacred battle cry erupted from the ranks, shaking the very ground.

In the sweltering fog, the Fatima archers lining the ramparts seemed to shrink back, intimidated by the clamor and the thousands of Seljuk military flags fluttering outside the city. Their bow-shaped insignias hung still and grim in the heavy air.

Amidst the Seljuk Army, the Seljuk Prince, Tutush, sat astride a white stallion.

He sat with a regal bearing, his ornate helmet framing dark, curly hair. A meticulously crafted nasal guard only added to his stern visage.

His advance through Syria over the past eight months had gone smoothly. Once he conquered the resistance in Jerusalem, he would control all of Palestine.

At his side, on a dappled fawn gelding, was his younger brother, Oguz Togan, a boy of only thirteen.

"They fight for you, Brother!" Oguz said with fervor.

Tutush glanced around, a wistful smile briefly breaking his stern expression. "I command them, but they fight for Allah!"

Tutush noticed his brother’s gaze was fixed on a point on the city wall and followed it. A lone Fatima archer was waiting there, powerless to alter the storm about to descend upon him.

Beneath the archer’s iron helmet, he could make out only the glint of a nasal guard and a face cloaked in shadow. A bronze-tipped crossbow leaned against the parapet.

Oguz asked, "Brother, if you take this city, what will you do with its people?"

Tutush laughed at the question, and his officers laughed with him. "Oguz, when we take the city... then we shall see."

Just then, the ground began to vibrate. The groaning crack of stressed timber and stone echoed from behind them, filling the air.

Oguz shifted in his saddle. The catapults at the rear of the formation were dwarfed by twelve massive, wheeled siege towers that now rumbled past them. The towers swayed as they advanced, and the ranks of soldiers parted to let them through.

The wooden walls of the siege towers were featureless, but each was topped with a squat enclosure, shielded on the front and sides. Hundreds of fully armed Lance Soldiers were crammed inside, waiting for the towers to reach the walls so they could storm the battlements.

Armored engineers clung to the rear of the towers, dousing the sides with buckets of water to soak the wood against fire arrows.

Tutush met his brother’s eagerness with a smile. "After the catapults have cleared the battlements, the siege towers will deliver the walls into our hands."

He glanced back at the archer on the wall. Just then, the first catapult shuddered and launched a massive boulder, which soared over the heads of the Seljuk Army.

The boulder smashed into the battlements, erupting in a spray of shattered stone. When the dust settled, it revealed a gaping hole in the ramparts, spattered with the red blood of the defenders who had stood there moments before. A furious roar went up from the army at the sight.

Tutush saw his brother flinch. "Oguz," he said, leaning close to his brother’s ear, "in an open battle, many would die, perhaps all in a single day. They would win their glory, and then the killing would be over. But these men chose to flee the glory of facing our army on the field, choosing instead to hide behind walls. A long famine and plague, followed by a dishonorable defeat—that is their just deserts. Everyone within these walls must die today. It must be so; otherwise, all our enemies will seal themselves away like this. A battle on the open field is glorious and quick. Remember this."

"Then why did you choose to end this with a siege?"

"Because, Oguz, today’s victory will end the threat from these Turkic people who remain outside the Empire’s control. Their remaining forces will march under our banner. Then we will advance against our next enemy, and the one after that... until the Seljuks and their lands form an empire that no one can threaten, ruling over this ancient land."

"Brother, what happens after we achieve that goal?" Oguz asked.

At this, Tutush broke into a cunning grin. ’His brother was already thinking ahead.’ "Then we cast our net wider. There are two fruits ripe for the picking: the Fatima Dynasty to the south and the Byzantine Empire to the west. They are powerful for now, but one of these proud civilizations will falter in the face of our might. And once a power begins to falter, it is on the road to ruin."