CHAPTER 114: CHAPTER 114 – SIEGE OF DAMASCUS 4

Date: August 6, 1180Location: Eastern Siege Lines outside Damascus

The sky above the Damascus plain began to pale, shifting from deep indigo to soft amber as the first rays of dawn crept over the hills. The cool air carried the scent of ash, pine smoke, and sweat. It was the hour when night retreated and the living resumed their desperate affairs.

And it was the hour Baldwin had chosen.

A rider galloped toward the royal tent, his cloak flapping behind him and dust curling from his horse’s hooves. He dismounted before the guards could challenge him, rushing forward with mud-smeared boots and bloodshot eyes.

"The wall is cracking, sire," he said breathlessly, bowing before the King of Jerusalem. "The southern tower near the aqueduct—scouts report it can’t hold another barrage."

Baldwin IV stood already, helm beneath one arm, sword buckled to his belt. He nodded once. The decision had been made days ago. Now the timing simply aligned with the will of heaven.

"Send word to the commanders," he said. "They are to gather immediately. And tell Richard to move his men into position quietly."

The messenger sprinted off.

Baldwin turned toward the eastern horizon where shafts of sunlight caught the tops of the siege towers and mangonels. The city walls of Damascus stood blackened and fractured, particularly along the southeastern flank. Stones had fallen from the battlements like rotten teeth. But they held—barely.

Not for much longer.

Moments Later – Baldwin’s Command Tent

Inside the king’s pavilion, the leading commanders gathered around the war map: Tancred of Galilee, Gerard de Ridefort, Hugh of Jaffa, and Richard of Poitou. Their armor was mostly donned, faces drawn with tension and readiness.

"The breach is upon us," Baldwin began, his voice calm but cutting. "The southern tower will not see another sunrise. We breach at dawn—but only after our enemy is distracted."

He pointed to the northwest corner of the city walls on the map.

"We launch a false assault here. Siege towers, drums, smoke, banners—everything to make them believe this is the true thrust."

Tancred frowned. "That wall’s intact. It’ll hold."

"It only needs to look like a threat," Baldwin replied. "The goal is to pull their reserves north. Once they shift, we break the wall on the southeastern side and pour in before they can recover."

Gerard nodded. "If their reserves are committed elsewhere, the defenders at the breach will fight alone."

"They’ll fight hard," Baldwin said, "but they’ll be overwhelmed. The breach is narrow and confined. If they hold it too long, they’ll be flanked. If they retreat, we gain a foothold inside Damascus."

"And after that?" Richard asked.

"We take and secure three blocks beyond the breach," Baldwin said. "No more. No pursuit. No chaos. We fortify, cut off nearby streets, and prepare for counterattacks."

He looked at each man in turn.

"Tancred, lead the diversion. I want drums and horns waking the city. Richard, you hold your cavalry in reserve and follow once the breach is cleared. Hugh, you’re with me at the breach."

A grim silence followed. Then Richard smiled faintly.

"Let’s make the bastards believe they’ve seen the full fury of heaven."

Just After Sunrise – Northwest Wall, Damascus

The sky was glowing orange as Tancred’s men surged forward with horns and banners. Siege towers creaked to life, pulled by teams of oxen and armored men. Ladders were raised. Fire arrows were loosed.

Drums thundered.

TOOM! TOOM! TOOM!

The defenders on the northwestern wall shouted in alarm, racing along the battlements. Gongs were struck. Signal fires were lit. From within the city, companies of reinforcements—fresh troops drawn from the citadel and rear positions—rushed to the northwest quarter.

To them, this looked like the real attack.

They had no way of knowing what was about to happen on the other side of the city.

At the Breach – Southeastern Wall

The final barrage from the mangonels struck true. A deep, thunderous crack echoed across the field as the southern tower, long splintered and undermined, gave way with a shriek of rending stone. Dust and debris exploded outward. A great section of the wall—over thirty feet wide—collapsed inward in a tumbling avalanche of rubble and fire.

Baldwin was already mounted nearby, watching with a steady gaze.

"Go!" he shouted. "Infantry forward! Archers behind them! Engineers to the breach!"

Hundreds of men surged from behind their mantlets and siege works, crossing the open killing ground in a dead sprint. Shields were raised. Crossbow bolts whistled from the remaining sections of the wall as the defenders there, caught without reserves, fought with desperate fury.

The garrison had not abandoned the wall.

They were dug in—archers in the towers, pikemen and swordsmen forming tight ranks among the broken stones of the breach. But there were no reinforcements. No cavalry to counter-charge. No fresh men from the citadel.

And that made all the difference.

"Crossbows—bring down the archers!" Hugh bellowed.

A line of Frankish crossbowmen fell to one knee and loosed a coordinated volley. Defenders along the inner edge of the breach staggered and fell, opening the gap. The first wedge of spearmen charged forward, scrambling over jagged stones, locking shields and spears as they forced their way into the crumbled gap.

The melee began in earnest.

Baldwin remained just behind the lines, his golden surcoat fluttering in the wind. He could hear the din of steel on steel—the shouted curses in Arabic and French. The scent of blood was already in the air.

"Engineers, up front!" he barked.

Timber planks were brought forward and laid across the rubble, forming a rough but stable path. Behind them, more men poured through the breach—forming ranks and clearing pockets of resistance in the broken tower ruins.

"Secure the courtyard!" Richard shouted as he charged in with the second wave.

They were inside.

Inside Damascus – Just Past Sunrise

The first block of the city beyond the breach was a warren of stone homes and narrow alleys. Damascene soldiers fought tooth and nail to contain the breach, but the Franks moved quickly. Streets were barricaded. Intersections fortified. Crossbowmen were placed in upper windows.

Hugh and Gerard led the infantry in methodical house-to-house clearing, throwing out stubborn pockets of resistance. Engineers erected wooden palisades and spike walls at key points to repel counterattacks.

Baldwin entered the city last, under guard, his cane discarded. He moved slowly but surely through the wreckage and smoke, sword drawn.

"Report?" he asked Hugh.

"We hold three blocks beyond the breach. Casualties are under fifty. No resistance yet from the inner districts."

"They will come," Baldwin said. "Be ready. Fortify every street. Burn what you must. We hold until they break."

Richard approached, helm under one arm. His sword dripped red.

"They fought hard. But they’re confused. The diversion in the north sucked away their best fighters. They were unready for this breach."

"And now they must fight us inside their own walls," Baldwin said coldly.