The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 122 Battle of Beka Valley

As the last rays of the setting sun disappeared over the jagged ridges of the Lebanese mountains, the sounds of footsteps, arrows, and crossbow bolts whistling through the air in the Bekaa Valley gradually faded away.

Saladin stood by the campfire on the eastern ridge, watching as the Mamluks, Turkmen cavalry, and heavy infantry retreated from Reinald's position like a receding tide.

The heavy infantry phalanx withstood a deadly volley of crossbow bolts from the Franks, but fortunately Saladin had no intention of attacking and withdrew in time, resulting in minimal casualties. However, morale was visibly low.

"When did the Franks' crossbows become so powerful?" Saladin asked Farouk with a look of fear. "At first, I thought you were exaggerating when I heard your description of Beitsheen, but today I've finally seen it for myself."

"Really? It's as miraculous as a seed sprouting and growing overnight," Farouk said, still shaken. "Uncle, you're absolutely right. We simply cannot afford the cost of a direct assault."

"Let him celebrate this victory," Saladin said calmly, his gaze fixed on the campfires gradually lighting up in the Frankish camp below. "Reinald and Guy, along with the Frankish lords, must be celebrating their victory over our fierce attack."

Saladin turned and dictated the order to the scribe standing beside him: "The entire army shall camp on the ridge's back slope, raise many flags, and light numerous campfires, making our appearance twice as large as we actually are. The Frankish sentries must clearly see that our army is here and has no intention of leaving."

"At the foot of the mountain, on the only road leading to our main camp, set up an outpost. As for the garrison..."

Saladin turned slightly to Farouk and asked in a low voice, "What was the name of that Damascus chief who's always been against you?"

"His name is Hakim." Farouk gritted his teeth as he mentioned the name. He asked in confusion, "What's wrong, Uncle?"

"Another Hakim? That name's really overused." Saladin laughed, then turned back to the messenger and ordered, "Send his men to guard the outpost. Tell him his mission is to defend the outpost and monitor the enemy. If attacked, he must hold the line to the death. I will personally lead the main force down the ridge and annihilate the attacking enemy."

Farouk seemed to understand something, then exclaimed in surprise, "Uncle, could it be that you intend to...?"

"What, have you softened?" Saladin's tone was stern. "How many dinars have I spent to appease those local bullies in Damascus? And yet these worms are still not satisfied, wanting to boss you around, Tagudin, and even me!"

"Tonight, Guy will surely attack the outpost, and then Hakim will meet his maker." Saladin paused, then continued, "If Hakim's troops retreat back to the mountain camp, they will scatter like a frightened herd of deer, creating immense chaos and panic. In the darkness and chaos, it will be natural for our main force to break camp and retreat."

At this moment, on the western hillside, inside Guy's command tent, the atmosphere was both heated and subtle.

Reinald waved his fist and loudly recounted how the day crossbowmen harvested the heretical foot soldiers.

But beneath Guy's joy lay worry; he feared this was the prelude to an even greater conspiracy by Saladin.

At this moment, a Templar Knight entered the main tent and reported to Guy: "Your Excellency, the count is complete. Of the 500 Templar Knights who participated in the battle, over 350 were lightly wounded, and over 100 were seriously wounded and captured. Currently, only about 200 are still capable of fighting on horseback."

"With the Grand Master captured, the Templars need someone in charge," Guy asked. "Knight, what's your name?"

The knight replied respectfully, "Gilbert, Gilbert de Iral."

"I remember you! Gilbert, isn't he!" Reinald suddenly stood up, praising, "During the Battle of Montgisar, I heard the former Grand Master Odo mention you. You led several of the Templars' charges against the heretics!"

"You flatter me, Duke."

"Humility is a virtue." Grand Master Roger of the Hospitallers nodded approvingly and said to Guy, "Your Excellency, the Hospitallers would like to recommend this brother as the provisional commander of the Knights Templar."

"Let's do as Grand Master Roger says," Guy said. "Gilbert, take the Templars and retreat to the rear to rest and recuperate."

Gilbert accepted the order and left.

"Now, gentlemen, we must carefully consider our next move," Guy said worriedly. "Saladin's main force hasn't moved, yet he's chosen to camp overnight on a ridge unfavorable to cavalry. This is illogical."

"He's scared!" Reinald scoffed. "Scared of my crossbow bolts, scared of night battles! I bet that newly appeared outpost down the mountain is proof of their insecurity—they're afraid we'll launch a night raid on the main camp, so they're using it as a human shield!"

These words enlightened Guy.

Indeed, that outpost was positioned too prominently and was too vulnerable; it didn't seem like a defensive position, but rather more like an early warning or delaying tactic.

If this thorn can be removed under the cover of night, it will not only demoralize the enemy, but may also reveal the strengths and weaknesses of Saladin's main force, and even... create a large-scale rout?

Soldiers are generally unable to see at night, and large-scale night battles are a major taboo in military strategy, but small-scale elite raids may be worth trying.

Guy made up his mind: "Organize a raid. Not many, just three hundred elite soldiers with good night vision, and you will command them, Reinald. The objective is to destroy the outposts and create chaos, but absolutely not to linger or advance too far."

Reinald readily accepted the order and set off to deploy his troops.

At midnight, the operation began.

Reinald personally led three hundred selected knights and soldiers, some of whom could barely see at night, to stealthily approach Ayub's outpost.

The outpost's defenses were more lax than expected, or rather, its elite status was far lower than Reinald had anticipated.

When Reynald broke through the patrolling soldiers and threw torches at the tents, setting them ablaze, the entire outpost instantly erupted into chaos.

The outpost offered almost no resistance, screaming in terror, "The Franks are coming!" Their cries echoed through the night.

They abandoned their armor and fled frantically towards the main camp on the mountain.

Reynald slaughtered the defenders who couldn't escape, but he remembered his orders and did not pursue the fleeing soldiers who were heading to the main camp. Instead, he quickly set fire to all the tents and fortifications, and then quietly withdrew with a hint of regret for not having had enough.

On the ridge, Saladin stood in the darkness, calmly overlooking the defeat he had orchestrated.

As the fleeing soldiers approached the main camp, crying and shouting, he ordered Farouk beside him, "Sound the horns! Light all the torches! The entire army must make a show of mobilizing for the rescue, and make a great show of force!"

In an instant, the Ayub camp was filled with the deafening sound of horns, the blaring of torches, and the towering figures of men, as if a thousand troops were about to pour down.

This tremendous force not only terrified the fleeing soldiers but also deeply shocked Guy and Reynald, who were watching from afar.

"Look, Saladin is indeed going to launch a full-scale attack!" Reinald laughed heartily. "Luckily we didn't go too deep! Just thinking about Saladin's expression later makes me want to laugh!"