CHAPTER 106 - 106: BEFORE THE NEXT BLOW

Smoke curled lazily from the broken towers of Baalbek, the last embers of resistance dying in the mountain wind. The storming had been bloody, but swift. Now the Franks held the city, and their standards—golden crosses on white—fluttered from ramparts once marked by the crescent.

King Baldwin IV sat in his field tent, weary but resolute, his hands bandaged from days in the saddle and battle. The mountain air brought no comfort to his lungs. The mold-based salve that the Hospitaller physician applied daily to his leprous sores staved off infection, but it did not restore strength. He endured, as he always had.

The tent flap parted. Balian of Ibelin entered, nodding to the king before stepping aside for a dusty courier.

"Sire, message from Richard of England. From the north."

Baldwin took the scroll, noting the wax seal—Richard's. He broke it, read the parchment, and set it down with a heavy breath.

"Well?" Balian asked.

"He's taken several towns north of Homs," Baldwin said. "Qarqur, Shayzar, and some fortified villages. No major resistance. But Hama remains in Saracen hands, and the larger towns along the Orontes have either emptied or hunkered down."

"So he hasn't struck at Hama or moved south yet?"

"No. He writes that he's consolidating. Waiting for the rest of his men to regroup before pushing further."

Balian frowned. "If the Saracens retake those mountain roads behind him, he'll be cut off."

Baldwin gave a tired nod. "He knows. But he's cautious. And perhaps rightly so. The road ahead of us is not simple."

He stood, gesturing to the campaign map laid over a trestle table. Stones marked the Latin advance—Aleppo, Hama, Homs, and now Baalbek. North of that, small pins indicated Richard's modest gains.

"Ba'albek is secure," Baldwin said. "We've garrisoned it, sealed the treasury, and begun patching the wall breaches. But now comes the harder question."

"Damascus," Balian said.

"Yes."

They stood in silence. Outside, the sounds of soldiers burying the dead, hammering beams, and redistributing supplies echoed faintly.

"If we strike now," Balian said, "we may catch them off guard. Saladin is still wounded. Their forces have bled. We might reach Damascus before they can consolidate."

"But it is not so simple," Baldwin replied. "The valley towns between Baalbek and Damascus still hold. Yabrud. Al-Nabek. Maaloula. Deir Atiyah. Each a thorn in the side of any advancing army. Small garrisons, perhaps, but enough to delay us. If they harry our supply lines..."

He let the implication hang.

"So we sweep them," Balian said, tracing a line on the map with his finger. "We take the mountain spine—secure the heights, the passes, the roads. Then descend on Damascus."

"It buys them time to dig in," Baldwin said. "But it protects our flanks. Our rear. Our food."

A third voice joined them—Raymond of Galilee, newly returned from the eastern ridgelines with scouting reports.

"Your Majesty," Raymond said, bowing. "We've ridden the mountain passes as far south as Yabrud. The Saracen patrols are few and lightly armed. But every town watches the road."

"Do they know we'll come?" Balian asked.

"They expect it. But they do not yet know how or when."

Baldwin leaned forward, resting his weight on the edge of the table. His leprosy had eaten away some of the flesh of his left hand—he could no longer feel the heat of the lantern beneath it.

"We must strike like a hammer," he said. "But first, the arm must rise. We march on the mountains—one by one, we take the ridges. Secure the roads. Close their eyes."

"And when Damascus looks up," Balian said, "they'll see the Cross over every pass."

"Aye," Baldwin said softly. "Then we descend."

He looked to Raymond. "Send word to Richard. Instruct him to hold his gains and send us every able body not needed for garrison. We'll need them before the gates of Damascus."

"And the next move, sire?" Balian asked.

Baldwin turned to the map again, eyes hard.

"We march at dawn. First Yabrud, then Maaloula. No rest until the last stone above Damascus is ours."