Read Online Holy War by Jack Hight - Free Book Online

Aleppo, and I fear I shall be less so after today. I will leave for Sinjar, if it please you.’
    ‘Very well. God protect you, Imad ad-Din.’ The emir nodded and led his men from the city. Yusuf turned to Qaraqush. ‘Take charge of the city gates. Take the defenders’ weapons, but do them no harm.’
    Yusuf continued into the city, followed by Ubadah, his sons and a guard of five hundred men. The only sound was the clip-clop of hooves on the cobblestones. The streets were empty, but Yusuf saw the faces of men in the windows that they passed. The main square, too, was deserted. He crossed it to the bridge that led across the citadel’s moat. A dozen guards with lowered spears stood on the bridge. Yusuf rode forward to address them.
    ‘I am Saladin, al-Malik al-nasir. I have come to take charge of Aleppo. Let me pass.’ Several of the guards stepped aside, but the rest held their ground. Yusuf’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. ‘Stand aside,’ he barked in his most commanding tone, ‘or you will die.’ Behind him, he could hear the creak of his men’s bows as they were drawn taut.
    After a moment’s hesitation, the men stepped aside. Yusuf cantered across the bridge and up the causeway. The guards at the gate parted as he rode through and on to the grassy pitch at the centre of the citadel. Yusuf headed for the palace at the east end of the grounds. A dozen men came out to greet him. When they saw his golden armour, some knelt. Others simply stood wide-eyed. The rest looked to an older man in mail. He stepped forward, his hand on his sword hilt.
    ‘Saladin? What is the meaning of this?’
    ‘Imad ad-Din has turned the city over to me.’
    ‘Damn his seventh grandfather! The man had no right!’ He turned to the men behind him. ‘I told you we couldn’t trust the bastard.’
    ‘What is your name, emir?’
    ‘Salamat,’ the man said as he turned back to Yusuf. ‘My family has served the Zengis for generations.’ He drew his sword. ‘We will not stand idly by while Aleppo is turned over to an usurper.’
    ‘Put your sword away, Salamat. I am no enemy of yours.’ Yusuf raised his voice to address all of them. ‘Imad ad-Din is the grandson of Zengi, the founder of the line. He entrusted me with the rule of Aleppo. If you swear loyalty to me, then you will keep your property and your posts. As for me, I swear that I shall make Aleppo a great city, a holy city. As a sign of my intentions, I hereby abolish all taxes not permitted in the Koran.’
    The men before Yusuf began to murmur amongst themselves. Yusuf looked to Salamat. ‘Will you help me to dismount, emir?’
    Salamat hesitated. To hold another man’s stirrup was a sign of fealty. Finally, he sheathed his sword and took hold of the stirrup. Yusuf swung from the saddle and kissed Salamat on the cheeks.
    ‘You have chosen wisely,’ he told the emir, then raised his voice. ‘There shall be a feast today to celebrate my return to Aleppo after so many years. You are all invited.’ Yusuf strode past them and entered the place, Saqr, Ubadah and his sons at his heels.
    Ubadah was scowling. ‘The taxes, Uncle – we could have used that money in our campaign against Mosul.’
    Yusuf looked to his three sons. ‘Al-Afdal, tell Imad ad-Din why I did it.’
    The boy’s forehead creased in concentration. ‘It was the righteous thing to do,’ he said at last. His brother Al-Aziz nodded in agreement.
    ‘It was righteous, yes, but that is not why I did it. Az-Zahir? Can you enlighten your brothers?’
    ‘It was necessary,’ the skinny boy said quietly. ‘By removing taxes, you will win the people to your side. The emirs who still oppose you will find they have no support.’
    Yusuf nodded in satisfaction. ‘You are wise beyond your years, my son. When I leave Aleppo, you shall have the rule of it.’
    Yusuf took a bite of roast lamb spiced with coriander and closed his eyes to savour the rich taste. The tender lamb melted in his mouth. He made a