Act XIV: The Dance of the Seven Veils (Part 6)
six
Most castles are built on high ground, and Karak Castle is undoubtedly one of the best. Perched atop the highest ridge, it boasts a strategic location with unobstructed views, wells, and granaries, enough to sustain itself for months without financial strain. Now, the sturdy walls are teeming with hastily assembled guards. In the darkness, with the enemy still far off, most of them are dozing against the cracks in the rocks.
Yubi slipped away from the banquet and found a secluded tower. He lifted his coat, and from the gaps in his meticulously tailored robes, wings sprouted, and he leaped into the air. There, he had the clearest and widest view—to the west, his gaze swept over towering mountains, where the Dead Sea's salty waters were calmly bathed in moonlight, reflecting the hazy silhouette of Jerusalem; to the east, he saw endless sand, scattered with barren fields, already enveloped by the dust raised by the armies on the horizon. And below him, the nobles continued their nightly revelry, the sounds of flutes and trumpets indistinguishable between sobs and laughter.
He remembered that Yakov had told him about the besieged city.
"First, use catapults to kill a few soldiers stationed on the city walls and set the city ablaze. If you can breach the walls, all the better; if not, use siege ladders and drawbridges to charge directly onto the walls and fight." The Blood Slave spoke of these things with a serious yet leisurely air, as if boasting or lecturing. "There are many ways to attack a city. Some dig tunnels under the walls, some bribe the soldiers guarding the city, and some instigate a mutiny among the city's residents."
"How could the residents be turned?" Yubi asked incredulously. "If the city falls, what good will come of it for them?"
“If the city doesn’t fall, they might starve or die of disease, or be forcibly conscripted. It’s not much better than being slaughtered.” Yakov said dismissively, “The same goes for the besieging army. If they can’t hold out and supplies don’t come in, the soldiers’ lives won’t be much different from those inside the besieged city.”
“How troublesome and cruel,” Yubi asked disdainfully. “Instead of making soldiers suffer, why not just buy the city with money, or have their generals duel?”
Yakov was both angry and amused by his words. "It's not that no one does it. Most of those who do it end up with the reputation of a saint," the knight admonished him. "But everyone is afraid of death and greedy for money, and no one wants to be a saint."
The wedding ceremony continued, only delayed from five days to weeks or months—only Saladin outside the city could decide when it would end. When the first boulder struck the city wall, the sound reverberated throughout the fortress, causing all the candles in the church to flicker. "...Almighty and eternal God has united you together as one body," the bishop celebrating Mass trembled, and the young bride and groom trembled as well. After the ceremony, the guests whispered among themselves around the long table laden with red snapper and spiced roasted lamb, sending their servants and attendants to fill in the lines on the city wall.
Yet people could still feast and make merry, as if they were never in war, as if no Saracen hatred awaited to pierce them; as if they could not hear the increasingly urgent, faint clamor from the city walls, nor see the years of dust from the ceiling being shaken onto their bodies.
Yubi was utterly perplexed. His doubts had been building up for three weeks within the siege.
“Why isn’t anyone afraid?” he asked. “If the city falls, they will either be killed or captured. Unlike us, these people can’t just leave and won’t die.”
“The city won’t fall, and reinforcements will be here soon.” Anbichia loosened her grip on her bleeding neck, and a slave immediately handed her a handkerchief. “But it would be a lie to say they aren’t afraid.”
"Are they afraid, yet they're still eating and drinking like this?"
“It is precisely because of fear that one must feign composure.” Anbichia elegantly wiped her mouth with a handkerchief. “If one is confident, one should bide one’s time; but if one is weak and powerless, one has no choice but to bluff. This is a kind of aristocratic wisdom. Is it better to reveal one’s fear and cowardice to the enemy?”
“These things are insignificant in the face of death. To me, that’s not wisdom, but foolishness.” Yubi sat down beside her, distressed. “This siege was lifted by reinforcements, but what about next time, and after that? If it weren’t Karak, what if it were my city? What if it were Jerusalem? Why are the Saracens blocking the city’s way, and they’re still thinking about weddings, internal strife, and succession?”
Ambikia observed his thoughtful expression. "Don't worry, they don't live long anyway, they don't have time to think about the future," the vampire advised arrogantly yet affectionately. "You're young and inexperienced. In a few days, you won't always use the narrow-mindedness of mortals to speculate about things."
Yubi ignored her arrogant words and disagreed with her ruthlessness, his eyes darting around the room. "...I'll go take another look at the city walls." He picked up his headscarf from the couch. "Maybe it can be of some help."
“Go ahead.” Anbicia gently shook his wrist. “He can look after Selman for me.”
Yubi felt a slight sense of reproach in his heart—but he left without saying a word.
He called Nuk over and adjusted his turban. The two of them, under an umbrella, went to the city wall, to the source of the danger emanating from the loud noises. The bright markings made it easy for Yubi to spot Seleman in the crowd.
“You didn’t need to come, and you didn’t need to worry about me.” Seleman’s armor was still relatively intact, but his whole body was covered in dust, as if he had fallen into a bucket full of coal dust and climbed out. He smiled and led the splendid nobleman to the back of the tower, and pulled out a cushioned chair from somewhere. “Thank you for your consideration. Please rest in the shade here.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than a large, fiery boulder slammed into the city wall not far behind him, shattering into pieces and leaving a horribly charred mark at the point of impact. The sound was so loud that everyone instinctively covered their ears, and the shockwave sent waves of dust billowing up—clearly, this was how Seymour Mann's disheveled appearance came about.
"How's the situation?" Yubi had to shout for Seleman to hear her. "Can the city still hold? When will reinforcements arrive?"
“Signals have been lit in Jerusalem, and reinforcements have been assembled.” Seilman pointed to the other side of the Dead Sea. “We will hold out until they arrive.”
Yubi looked in the direction he pointed—and sure enough, a wisp of black smoke was rising from the shimmering saltwater lake. "...That's great." The vampire hastily sat down. "I won't bother you, you go ahead and get busy."
Seleman seemed quite pleased with his mature and restrained demeanor. The soldier thanked him and returned to his ballista, his grey figure blending into the ranks of the fighting soldiers. Yubi watched them calculate distances, repair equipment, and occasionally boost morale and punish deserters—decency and refinement were luxuries, the nobleman thought, things were never needed in the army at the front. Seleman moved with ease through the complex conflicts, yet he still sustained various small wounds. Yubi repaired them one by one, and could only repair them one by one. Occasionally, the wounded, the disabled, and fresh corpses were carried from the city walls to the monastery; the vampire watched them, and could only watch them.
Just as he was feeling distressed, Yubi suddenly felt a cool breeze brush past his ear.
He turned around and saw that Nuk had somehow pulled out an ostrich feather fan from his pocket and was fanning himself to cool off. "Sir, why don't I go to the city wall too?" the slave said timidly but bravely. "They're short-handed there, and I can do some odd jobs."
“You’ve never practiced swordsmanship, never served in the army,” Yubi ordered impatiently from behind her veil. “You’re not allowed to go.”
Upon hearing this, a strange happiness appeared on Nuk's dark face. "...You are so kind. I am so lucky to have a master like you." He touched his ear shyly yet shrewdly. "Besides you, no one values my life more than I value myself."
Yubi glanced at him—Nuk, skilled at reading people since childhood, was speaking his mind, yet it filled Yubi with genuine pity. “You think this is a good thing, but others will think I’m inconsiderate, stingy enough not to send my servants to help defend the city,” Yubi scolded him, as if scolding herself. “It’s not that my sister doesn’t want to go to the city walls herself. But she’s a woman, and women are never allowed to go there during wartime. Don’t be so harsh on her.”
“Anyway, you’re better to me than Lord Ambicya is to Seleman.” Nuk carefully moved his fan. “I’m telling you the truth, and I can’t and don’t care what others think of you.”
“Does my kindness to you mean I’m a kind person?” Yubi closed her eyes. “Maybe my kindness to you is just proof that I’m a narrow-minded and selfish person, that I have no compassion for strangers.”
"How could you think that?" Nuk pressed his hand anxiously to his heart. "You're good enough to your own people! You can't possibly save all the soldiers defending the city, or all the starving citizens! On a larger scale, are you going to save the wounded soldiers on the other side as well? You're kind, but are all the people in the world so good that they deserve your kindness? They don't understand your good intentions; they only care about themselves!"
“You’re right.” Yubi frowned. “I understand, Asa.”
Upon hearing the name, Nuk immediately shut his mouth, refusing to utter another word. The master and servant hid behind the tower, as if in a cozy, safe courtyard amidst a brutal war, as if the billowing smoke and blinding flames were merely clumsy props on a stage. After an unknown amount of time, the catapult attack ceased. Yubi remembered what Yakov had told him: "The catapults have stopped, the ladder towers should come. The fiercest blade battle is about to begin. It will soon be a river of blood, a mountain of corpses."
Seymman was running towards him through the crowd. "I know," Yubi said, brushing the dust off his sleeves as he stood up. "I'm going back to the castle now."
But then he noticed a smile plastered on the blood slave's filthy face. "My lord, please go back and tell the others that Saladin has withdrawn his troops." Seleman's words were filled with joy. "Reinforcements have arrived, and the siege has been lifted."
Yubi opened his mouth, dragged his robe towards the city wall, and looked out at the vast battlefield. Amid a chorus of relieved cheers, he first looked east and saw the Saracen banners being pulled back, and the crowds dragging massive wooden siege engines back into the valley; then he looked west and saw the familiar Jerusalem Cross spread across the hillsides, trudging through the glistening salt flats, the huge golden cross gleaming blindingly in the dust.
He first found his blood slaves among the countless, vast army—Daud, along with the soldiers of Lud and the Knights, had come to answer the call. Yubi was worried for their safety, but also relieved by their loyalty. His gaze continued to move back, and he discovered more markings—whose blood slaves were these? The vampire stared fearfully at the red crosses on their bodies, wondering how many of them bore the surname Zashchitnikov, and how many were his sister's confidants?
The army moved slowly forward, their robes and banners embroidered with various family crests. The vanguard was relatively orderly, but the ranks became increasingly disorganized towards the rear, with their armor and weapons growing ever more shabby. Yubi walked along the city wall, his eyes wide open, oblivious to everything around him. He removed his veil, leaving Nuk, who followed anxiously behind him, holding an umbrella. But Yubi heard nothing of the slaves' words—
He found his lost old turban even before the lone engraving. It was black, once the most unassuming and inconspicuous one in the wardrobe, its luxurious gold thread mostly hidden modestly in inconspicuous details, designed to appear understated; but now, its edges were broken, its pattern so dirty that it was almost invisible, crookedly covering the robber's entire head.
The bandit looked up at the city wall. He had a pair of deep, icy blue eyes, full of unyielding spirit.
A wave of bitter, unbearable heat washed over Yubi's chest and abdomen. He turned his head away, unable to bear looking into those eyes again. "I'm going back now," the nobleman forced a smile, "I'll tell everyone this good news."
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