XIII - A Crusade of Sorts
Part I
1525AD
Joseph ben Symon looked left and right five times before he crossed the main street in Pasargadae, clad in his black Arab-style robe.
He hurried across the dangerous street quickly; keen to be back in the shadows. He hoped no Hindus had seen him, or, if they had, dismissed him as one of them. He was a thirteen-year-old Jew, the only son of one of the town’s most renowned Jewish preachers, but he wore the Arab-style robe to try and blend in as a Hindu. His father had warned him; there was serious trouble going on in the city. A group of fanatical Hindu Arabs were rumoured to be stalking the streets, killing prominent Jews and vandalising the synagogues. The nearby Arab state was rumoured to be funding the recent spate of killings, hoping to eliminate Judaism in the city. It was not safe to be a Jew in Pasargadae these days; even though the Mongol state was officially tolerant of the religion. Hence this ridiculous disguise, which itched like crazy.
Additionally, he should not have had to come this way. His father had forbidden him from crossing main streets. But there was this girl, and her father had been out, and they had met at hers after school in secret to hang out. And this was the quickest way home. But, he hoped, the main danger was behind him. He kept walking, entering a dark alleyway, the walls so narrow they almost touched.
However, crossing the street quickly was his mistake, tempting though it had been. He should have crossed normally, as a Hindu would have done.
Unbeknown to him, two Arabs had seen the figure dart across the street. Why did he not want to be seen? Suspicious, they went to follow him.
Joseph kept walking. It was not far now.
His pursuers turned the corner and saw the black robed boy. They hurried after him.
Joseph turned, and saw the men running towards him. He panicked, and turned, fleeing for his life, screaming “Help!” But there was nobody to hear.
The two Hindus saw the boy run and stepped their pace up, anxious to catch the boy before he got away. They were fit men early into their third decades, and accordingly they closed the gap on the boy.
Joseph, panting now, realised he could not outrun these men. But if they caught him, they would surely realise he was a Jew the moment they removed his cloak. What could he do? He scanned the upcoming street for exits or anything, anything he could use. All the while, the men were getting closer, they were only twenty paces behind now. One of the Hindus dug a whip from his robe, intending to trip the boy up when he was within range, his eyes fixed on the black robe, his partners’ likewise.
The black robe surprised them.
It came flying back through the air at the shocked Hindu men, obscuring their view of the boy who had thrown it backwards at them, just for a few seconds. The men swerved and ducked, and then kept running.
But then they slowed to a halt. In those few seconds, the boy had vanished.
“Damn it” cursed one of the Hindus. “Where did the bastard go, you fool?” he questioned his comrade.
“I don’t bloody know now, do I” replied the second Hindu. “He’s bloody got away”.
With that he hawked and spat on the cobbles, then turned and walked back up the alley. The first Hindu gave the alleyway a last accusing look, scrutinising the walls for cracks, but then he, too, turned and followed his comrade back to the main street.
Only then did Joseph emerge. After he had thrown the cloak he had jumped off one wall, and propelled himself through a second floor window on the opposite side, taking his chances that whoever lived there would not give him away. Even by his standards as a dedicated martial artist, it had been one hell of a jump. It had needed to be.
The flat had turned out to be deserted; its owner most likely down the tavern, judging by the reek of cheap wine and the quantity of broken bottles littered on the floor, which Joseph had been fortunate to avoid. He had listened for the Hindu’s footsteps to die away and then dropped himself from the window ledge, landing with a practiced roll. Standing up, he dusted himself down and, with a quick glance over his shoulder, he walked hurriedly away, desperate to be home.
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ISHAK: And, well, like, the city is in turmoil and that, sire. The scene over there is, like, insane for those Jews.
GENGHIS: Ah, it’ll die down. Just troublemakers, we’ll bring them to justice.
IALBUK: Good luck doing that sire.
GENGHIS: Why do you say that?
IALBUK: Because Saladin will be pretty pissed if you try and hang a bunch of Arabs, even if they are murderers. In fact, my intelligence service reports that these insurgents are mainly Arabs, and not only that, but the Arabian government is secretly funding them to kill the Jews.
GENGHIS: WHAT? The bloody swine! But over RELIGION? That’s just madness!
GRIZNAKH: I agree sire. But remember religious zeal? Well, these Arabians are pure religious zealots. They see these murders as righteous acts which they must commit; else they see themselves as sinners and cowards.
GENGHIS: Mental cases. So they reckon they have to kill, or else they’re committing a crime. I’m gonna sort these Arabian mentalists out once and for all. Arabia, your doom approaches! Send word to General Kachiun, tell him to collect as many forces as he can from their northern garrisons, without leaving them too severely weakened, and bring them down to Pasargardae. I’m gonna collect forces from the rest of the towns. We’re going on a CRUSADE! Yeah!
GRIZNAKH: Isn’t that normally a war where you fight for your religion though? Motivated by religious zeal.
GENGHIS: Well this is a crusade against religious zeal or whatever. These guys need to learn a bit of sense. It’s a crusade of sorts.
IALBUK: Are you sure about this sire?
GENGHIS: Yes I am thanks, now shut up.
IALBUK: Let me tell you about the Arabians, sire. Their tactics - are not of the usual kind. Ok, the least religious of them join the army and fight for their religion that way, or else they get normal professions.
GENGHIS: So they have an army. Oh damn, how will I cope? Wait, I’ll annihilate it!
IALBUK: I’m not done. However, there is a sect within the country - nicknamed the “Scimitar of Justice” - which is glorified by the state and draws the most fanatical of Arabs. The Scimitar is cunning. It will come for you, in the way you least expect, when you least expect it. It will use strange methods in its business, methods near impossible to detect or to expect. And if you declare war on Arabia sire, my spies say the Scimitar will certainly place an “Orkanch” on you.
GENGHIS: Orkanch? Sounds weird.
IALBUK: Sire, it effectively means they will call their members to assassinate you, as the top priority of the sect. The member that succeeds will be immortalised in their legend for eternity, and these guys are fanatics, so they’ll all be gunning for you.
GENGHIS: Bah. I can take them down. No member of this Scimitar is a match for me, however mad they are.
IALBUK: I warn you sire. They will use suicide attacks on you. They will blow themselves up, poison themselves, anything as long as you die too.
GENGHIS: Bloody mad indeed! How am I supposed to guard against such idiocy?
IALBUK: I’ll take measures sire, and my spies will be on constant guard to foil plots. But I warn you, it would be very dangerous to march into Arabia at the head of an army and take Mecca. The Scimitar have never failed.
GENGHIS: Aha! A challenge, perhaps, though! I’m gonna do just that! This Scimitar seems like a tough opponent at last!
IALBUK: Sire, reconsider.
GENGHIS: How do I permanently eliminate this Scimitar from the game?
IALBUK: Sigh. Well, I know they operate out of a secret crypt in the Kashi Vishwanath in Mecca. Taking Mecca and then defeating them there might put a halt to their operations for a long time.
GENGHIS: The what?
IALBUK: The holy shrine of Hinduism.
GENGHIS: Oh, the money-making one? Sweeeeet! I forgot about that! Right, Kolai, go to Pasargardae and start rooting out those Arabs, and also make arrangements for the whole army to barrack there.
KOLAI: Right you are my lord.
IALBUK: So we’re going against Arabia?
GENGHIS: Give it a few years, but yeah.
ISHAK: Like, I dunno sire. It seems kinda - well, dangerous.
GRIZNAKH: And as a high-ranking Mongol official, I might be a target of this horrid sect as well! I want the best security!
GENGHIS: Oh, you two. Didn’t you hear Ialbuk, it’s me they will REALLY want to kill. I’m gonna be top priority! Now pack your bags. Go and wait in Pasargardae.
Alexander enters
ALEXANDER: Yo dudes! G-Unit, I was hopin’ you might be chillin’ in yo crib. I need to ask you summat man.
GENGHIS: Go on then, but make it quick.
ALEXANDER: Bro, the scene in Europe is kickin’ off, man! I don’t know whether you’ve been paying attention, what with all your battles and that, but I’m being victimised by the other nations, and I thought’cho might be able to help me out.
GENGHIS: What’s occurring?
ALEXANDER: B*tch-face is gunning for my ass man, yo know the one, the Russian or whatever her crew’s called, and she’s got that Spanish honey with that scorchin’ body onside! I mean, come on, I only touched her …
GENGHIS: Yeah, yeah, enough details.
ALEXANDER: What’s more, that German guy is grillin’ me too! Blatantly hopin’ to jump in the sack with B*tch-face, who can blame the guy though, I mean loo…
GENGHIS: Is that all?
ALEXANDER: All? Come on, man, I mean, Greece is lean and mean and all that shizzle but it ain’t a friggin’ superpower like you bro! I need you to turn up and knock a few heads together!
GENGHIS: Sorry dude, can’t help you. I have my own plans, and they don’t involve Europe at the moment. Hang on in there.
ALEXANDER: What? God’s sake man, I thought yo was a homey, I thought you had my back man! Whatever, I’m off.
Alexander exits
GRIZNAKH: He didn’t seem best pleased.
GENGHIS: To hell with him. He’ll survive, likely enough.
And so the Mongol armies stayed on the move. They swarmed towards Pasargardae, where they congregated, right on the Arabian border. Business was kept to a minimum as Genghis was busy, although he did negotiate a trade for Constitution with Mansa Musa. Then there was an interesting event.