"Good. Is everyone assembled?"
Reynald surveyed the sight before him with visible satisfaction.
Hundreds of knights and soldiers.
Virtually the entire fighting force of Kerak stood gathered in front of him.
The clatter of armor rang sharply in the air.
"Yes, my lord. With this many men, Eilat will open its gates soon enough."
"And it will roll into my hands like a perfectly ripened apple."
Reynald threw back his head and laughed.
"Those fools from the desert. Give them a little grain and they come crawling. Isn't that right?"
The desert tribes had attacked Eilat exactly as he had ordered.
All that remained was to dispose of them and draw Eilat into his sphere of influence.
"But the royal court will not remain idle," the dark-skinned steward said carefully.
"Would it not have been better to join hands with Prince Baldwin instead…?"
"That whelp protected the Saracens with some ridiculous excuse! Have you forgotten already?!"
Reynald snarled.
The steward bowed immediately.
"N-No, my lord! I only meant to consider whether this might harm you."
"Trading friendly letters with Saladin of all people. A prince with no sense of royal honor."
Reynald spat on the ground.
His gaze turned toward Jerusalem.
"By the time he reaches Jerusalem, he'll hear what happened. Then he'll realize just how badly he miscalculated."
"And what of the desert tribes? Once they learn they were deceived, they will not stay quiet."
"And what could they possibly do?"
Reynald laughed again.
"As long as I control their food supply, they will crawl before me forever. That is their fate."
The future unfolded vividly in his imagination.
The citizens of Eilat welcoming him as a hero.
Venetian merchants presenting him with silver and silk.
The twisted expressions of young Baldwin, of Balian—even of the king himself.
"I'll sleep soundly tonight."
At that moment, a soldier ran forward and dropped to one knee.
"My lord! A report from the scouts!"
The man stammered.
"Th-there's—"
"What is it? Don't tell me the desert rabble already fled."
"They… they have all surrendered!"
"Surrendered? To whom?!"
Reynald's eyebrows shot upward.
"Don't tell me they surrendered to Eilat's handful of defenders."
"No, my lord. A force led by Prince Baldwin and Lord Balian has returned to Eilat."
The soldier spoke between breaths.
"In less than a day, all the desert warriors surrendered. They are now waiting for your arrival…"
"What?"
Reynald and the steward stared at each other in disbelief.
"He left for Jerusalem only days ago—how could he already be here?!"
"I—I do not know, my lord…"
"You incompetent fool!"
Reynald's kick sent the soldier sprawling onto the ground.
His growl made everyone nearby flinch.
"We depart immediately. I will see this with my own eyes."
"If the scouts' report is true, perhaps it would be wiser to remain in Kerak—"
"You idiot! If I stay behind, it will look as though I admit to having instigated them!"
Reynald swayed slightly.
In a low voice, he muttered,
"What trick did that brat use to ruin my plan…?"
How should I describe this sight?
Strange? Unfamiliar?
No.
It surpassed even what I had imagined.
That was the conclusion I reached as I observed the scene before me.
Balian, Hugh, and the cavalry under my command had swiftly overwhelmed the Bedouin warriors near Eilat.
Caught off guard by the sudden arrival of a large force, they barely managed to resist.
Encirclement and surrender took less than half a day.
And then Reynald arrived.
The moment he saw the captured desert warriors, he began shouting.
A thief with a guilty conscience.
"It was Lord Reynald who instigated this attack! The steward of Kerak personally came to our tribes and urged us to strike!"
The Bedouin chieftains, bound in ropes, shouted desperately.
They wore expressions prepared for death.
"He promised to exempt us from tribute and allow us to purchase as much grain as we wished if we attacked Eilat—"
"Silence, you filthy Saracen snakes! Surely you do not intend to believe the words of these infidels, Your Highness?"
Reynald hissed, his face flushed red as he glared at me.
"They are saying anything to save their worthless lives!"
"For men inventing lies, their statements are remarkably detailed," I replied with a faint smile.
He never expected Balian and me to return so quickly.
After all, we had been resting practically in his front yard.
Once we saw Eilat's signal fire, it took only a few hours to arrive.
I already understood the situation.
Just as I had predicted.
He had meant to use the desert tribes to tarnish my reputation.
Instead, the scheme had rebounded upon him.
I looked at the Bedouin chieftains.
Their anger and thirst for revenge were palpable.
Everything they said was true.
Reynald had lured them with promises of grain and tribute exemption.
Famine had left the Bedouins desperate.
They were not perpetual bandits; most lived by herding livestock.
But with nearby cities refusing to sell them food, they had no choice but to rely on Reynald.
"Even if what they say were true," Reynald snorted, "it would have been the act of a subordinate acting alone."
Though he blustered, fear flickered beneath the surface.
"Why are they still alive?" he shouted. "Cut off their heads and throw them into the Red Sea at once!"
"I captured them," I said calmly. "Their fate is mine to decide, Lord Reynald."
So he would eliminate even his accomplices to bury the truth?
That would not happen.
I turned to the bound chieftains.
"As compensation for this attack, the Bedouin tribes will provide two hundred horses and one hundred camels."
I continued,
"Several tribal leaders and their families will remain as hostages until payment is completed."
"But horses and camels are our lifeline—"
"Be grateful we are not taking your heads instead!"
Hugh barked from beside me, his voice like drawn steel.
"You attacked a city of the kingdom. Ordinarily, every one of you would be executed."
He gestured toward me.
"Would you dare insult the mercy Prince Baldwin has shown?"
Mercy.
I nearly smiled.
Good cop, bad cop.
Hugh understood.
The Bedouins could become a useful card.
Though Muslim, they were pragmatic people. History had shown they could ally even with Crusaders or Mongols if it suited their survival.
If we slaughtered them, the survivors would cling even tighter to Reynald.
Their attack had been born of hunger.
Solve that—and they could be turned.
"I have heard you are barred from trading at Aqaba and other knightly fortresses," I said. "From now on, you may trade legally in Eilat."
"To prevent future incidents, only a fixed number of merchants may enter at one time. Speak now if you object."
"N-No objections!"
The chieftains bowed hastily.
I smiled and looked at Reynald.
His face shifted between red and pale. His body trembled.
The same reaction as before—when I had protected Muslim merchants and pilgrims.
But this time the balance of power favored me far more.
I had repelled the attack.
I had testimony.
This was effectively checkmate.
"From now on, you will render tribute not to Lord Reynald, but to the Crown of Jerusalem."
I turned to him again.
"Do you find this arrangement disagreeable, Lord Reynald?"
"…No."
He growled the word.
Of course not.
He could hardly claim no connection to the tribes while continuing to collect their tribute.
"Even if you did not instigate them," I added evenly, "you cannot entirely escape responsibility."
"As I have said—"
"Had you not cut off their grain supply, Eilat would not have been attacked."
If I were wrong, he was free to argue.
"From this point forward, any military action in this region must be discussed in advance with the Hospitallers and the Templars. I have nothing further to say."
I turned away.
Balian approached immediately, a faint smile on his face.
"Do you believe my punishment too light, Lord Balian?"
"On the contrary, Your Highness. It was precisely judged. All we possessed was the testimony of tribal leaders. That alone would not have proven his guilt."
He shook his head.
"You have warned him. Should Lord Reynald attempt another reckless move… the other nobles of the kingdom will turn against him. He may even lose his lordship."
Hugh spat toward Reynald.
"He schemes like a pirate. No different from his days raiding near Cyprus. I almost wish he had drawn his sword and charged."
"Still, we gained much from it," I said lightly.
With a single move, I had secured the Bedouins—and cornered Reynald.
Eilat and its surroundings were now fully secure.
When word reached Jerusalem…
A thirteen-year-old boy crushing Reynald of Châtillon's pride.
I wondered how Sibylla, Guy, King Baldwin IV, and the other nobles would react.
"Well, we'll soon find out."
I only wished to return and sleep properly.
As I gazed toward Jerusalem, lost in thought, Aig approached with a grin.
"That look again, Your Highness. Is there still something left to do?"
"One thing."
I smiled.
"It's time to return to Jerusalem."
And once I did, I would request leave from King Baldwin IV.
Perhaps this time, I could finally rest for a few days.