Chapter 938 - 161: Second Battle
Woo—woo—woo—
A melodious horn sounded from the mountains.
The Tatars, caught in a desperate situation and surrounded, eventually retreated.
Yet even with their retreat, Ivan felt a lingering fear.
This war was undoubtedly a grim victory. It was clear to the naked eye that their losses significantly exceeded the enemy’s corpses left behind. If it weren’t for Ivan’s troops descending like divine warriors at the last moment, and the Tatars being limited in number and choosing to preserve their strength instead of fighting to the death, the outcome would have been uncertain.
Ivan panted heavily and dropped into a pool of blood: "It seems those merchants from the East weren’t exaggerating. This nomadic alliance known as the Tatars is indeed far more formidable than the Kuman people, Turkic people, or any others."
Fulk silently nodded beside him, the pressure brought by these Tatars was indeed unprecedented.
"Did you notice? In such a situation, any other army would have been in chaos and disarray, but those Tatar cavalry retreated in an orderly manner even in defeat, making it difficult for the Khitan cavalry to expand their victory."
The discipline exhibited by these Tatar cavalry made Ivan, who had witnessed Cossack and Kuman cavalry, wonder if they could still be considered nomadic cavalry.
"Ivan, our losses this time are not small."
"Don’t worry, the captured weapons and supplies must include a share for us!"
Ivan was full of confidence. In this battle, he demonstrated his value. The Khitan people, who are in dire straits now, will surely spend a higher price to win him over.
As for the loss of men and horses, he actually didn’t care much, because there was no need for him to pay any death benefits, plus saving on a portion of the salary. Based on the spoils of war, everyone who survived this battle made a considerable fortune.
While the two were conversing, Yelv Zonghan approached with a smile: "Ivan Thousand Households, you rendered great service this time. I will definitely report to Ju’er Khan and suggest promoting you to Ten Thousand Households and granting you a large grassland!"
Had it been before, when Yelv Zonghan held the thought of a great victory over the enemy, he might not have viewed this grim victory as precious. But having witnessed the terror of the Tatars in person, he now fully realized that these threats were not mere alarmist talk.
After all, this was just a detachment of the Tatars!
In the past, the ruler of the Tatar Grassland, the Naiman Tribe, claimed to have a hundred thousand bowmen at its peak. Now, with the entire Tatar Grassland unified and the Tatar Tribe occupying all of the Great Jin Territory, their bowmen likely number at least two hundred thousand.
In light of such formidable foes, threats like Sassanid Persia, Gur Turks, and Khwarazm rebels have all become mere nuisances.
Upon hearing the interpreter’s translated words, Ivan’s face showed a mix of genuine fear and gratitude: "Thank you, Your Highness, for your recognition!"
"Ivan Ten Thousand Households, besides Ju’er Khan’s desire to reward you, I also wish to reward you heavily. For this battle’s spoils, I will allocate a quarter to you, including captured slaves and seized cattle and sheep, all of which shall be at your disposal!"
Yelv Zonghan actually did not favor outsiders, but the Khitan’s rule in the Western Regions was inseparable from outsiders, as the Khitan population in those regions was too small.
Reliance on outsiders was necessary to maintain control, and Yelv Zonghan felt that Ivan’s mercenaries, who lacked roots, were more valuable for recruitment than the established tribes rooted in the Western Regions for centuries.
...
With a roar, jars filled with asphalt and crude oil, resembling a debased version of Greek Fire, were launched onto the ramparts by giant catapults, bursting forth with countless viscous liquids.
Fire arrows ignited them, instantly resulting in a blazing inferno.
The wooden forts and towers constructed on the ramparts turned into torches, and the soldiers hidden within wailed desperately, jumping off the ramparts seeking a swift death.
As new and old hegemonies clashed to the death across the vast Central Asia, European Crusaders once again launched a ferocious attack under the walls of Homs.
Retaining vast territories in Syria with millions of subjects, the Ayyubid Dynasty, like a camel succumbing to exhaustion, remained more powerful than a horse if taken to Europe, still a formidable nation even as Jerusalem crowned its new king, preparing to march north.
The heart of the whole kingdom was completely scattered.
The various peoples under its rule, like Greek Orthodox Christians, Syrian Orthodox Christians, and Armenian Apostolic Christians, contemplated when to break free and submit to the Crusaders.
Meanwhile, the Fire Worship citizens were fretful, seeking a path to survival.
Everyone knew that the ship of the Ayyubid Dynasty was about to capsize.
Homs City was already reduced to a ruinous rubble.
"The Crusaders have retreated again!"
"We’ve won."
Ramla, a Jewish guard, although not fond of the Saracens, found the Franks loathsome compared to Saracens who merely extorted money, while the Franks wanted everything—lives, estates, homes, workshops.
The city’s food supply was nearly depleted, had it not been for King Saladin’s five hundred Kasaji Guard bringing in a batch of supplies through a daring break into the siege two days ago, they would have no will or means to hold on despite a desire to stand firm.
However, the daily ration they received was already pitiably small.
He guessed there should still be reserves in the noble households within the city, but expecting those misers to admit, much less supply it to them was utterly impossible.
As for the outcome of the city being taken?
At this rate, the city would turn to cannibalism long before it fell.
"Advance, no one may retreat a step!"
"These cowardly Germanic men, haven’t they noticed our Frankish Knights have already occupied the ramparts? Tell Leopold to see me, I must question him on how he manages his troops!"
The Lionheart roared in fury.
Originally, Homs, caught between internal and external troubles, was about to lose all its resistance, yet a few nights ago, a lapse in a besieging army’s vigilance allowed a determined Mamluk Cavalry to break through.
Though not many in number, this cavalry brought a last glimmer of hope to those damned defenders.
Plus, with the Crusaders’ infamous reputation, even Monarchs as relatively lenient as Losa suffered from them, how could the people of Homs not resist to the end?
"Germanic affairs are always a mess!"
"They can’t even guard a besieging camp without leaving such a large breach!"
Philip sighed nearby: "We pressed these Germanic Crusaders too much earlier; now hearing Losa is arriving, having support, how could they still heed us?"
"That Leopold is also an arrogant fool, gathering the Germanic Crusaders to contend against us since his arrival, a mere Duke, what gives him the right to stand on equal footing with us?"