The slave trader had bought Shansi from the ruler of Tripoli for a huge sum. He didn’t pay it because Shansi was worth that much, but because the old men in black robes from Baalbek had hired him to broker the deal.
"Five hundred Dinar Gold Coins, eight cows, two bags of malt, and a silver-inlaid horn—that was my price," Shansi told Eric happily.
"The slave trader paid that much?" Eric asked, slightly surprised.
That price was enough to buy over a hundred strong male slaves.
"He didn’t pay. The Sufi Practitioners from Baalbek did. The slave trader just handled the negotiations."
"They’re the ones who paid?"
"They must have emptied Baalbek of all its silver," Shansi said proudly.
"And the Lord of Tripoli agreed to sell you?"
"For that price? Of course he agreed! Why wouldn’t he?" Shansi said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"He must have known Tutush would have rewarded him for handing you over," Eric said.
"Well, he did seem to like me," Shansi said.
That did make sense. Shansi was the kind of person who was easy to like.
He greeted each day as if it held endless happiness, and being around him seemed to make life brighter.
"He still made me empty the latrine buckets," Shansi continued with his story, "but he stopped kicking me every time. He liked talking with me."
"About what?"
"Oh, everything! God, the weather, fishing, how to make milk tea, women—you name it. He could tell I wasn’t a Warrior, and to be honest, I’m really not.
"Now that I’m a King, I have to be a Warrior, but I don’t really like it." Shansi paused, a confused look on his face. "The Lord of Tripoli made me swear I’d never wage war against him."
"And you swore an oath?" Eric asked, looking at Shansi.
"Of course I swore! I like him! I’ll steal his cattle, sure, and kill the soldiers he sends to Baalbek, but that doesn’t count as waging war, does it?" Shansi said with a smile, his expression as innocent as ever.
So, this was what happened: the ruler of Tripoli took the silver from the Sufi Practitioners of Baalbek, and the slave trader led Shansi away. However, he didn’t hand Shansi over to the Sufi Practitioners from Baalbek—the old men in black robes—but instead took him east to Hama.
Hama was much more prosperous than Tripoli, and the slave trader believed he could make more money by selling Shansi to Yajisiyan instead of fulfilling his contract with the Sufi Practitioners from Baalbek.
The Sufi Practitioners from Baalbek followed them, begging for Shansi’s release. It was then that they encountered an envoy from Damascus who had come to Hama. The envoy saw an opportunity to profit from the situation.
The envoy from Damascus planned to take Shansi back to Damascus, and he undoubtedly would have killed all the Sufi Practitioners first.
Then the Crusaders appeared and laid siege to Hama. In less than a week, Hama fell and became Christian land. The envoy from Damascus was killed, the slave trader ran into the Pisans, and finally, Eric ordered the Pisans to release their slaves. That was how Shansi gained his freedom.
Eric understood all of this, but what puzzled him was why five Sufi Practitioners would travel from Baalbek and spend a fortune to buy the son of a dead Turkic Lord.
Anyone with eyes could see that Aziz’s rule was a thing of the past and that Tutush was destined to rule Damascus. Moreover, among the natives of Syria and Palestine, Aziz’s reputation wasn’t just notorious—he was seen as a man of monstrous evil.
"Because I’m their King, of course," Shansi said matter-of-factly. "Though I never thought I’d become a King. First, the Lord of Tripoli captured me, but this is what God wants. How can I possibly object?"
"Their god wants you?"
Eric looked back at the five Sufi Practitioners who had traveled so far to rescue Shansi. They were twice or three times Shansi’s age, and their tattered clothes made them look no better than that Sheikh he had encountered earlier. ’Then again, maybe all Sufi Practitioners prefer to look like that.’
"Their god wants me," Shansi said seriously, "because I’m the chosen one. Do you think I should become a Shiite? Or a Sufi Practitioner? Though I’d hate being dirty all day."
"That’s for you to decide," Eric said.
"I think I should," Shansi said, looking at Eric earnestly. "Just to show my gratitude. God doesn’t like ingratitude, right?"
"Do what you feel is right; that is God’s guidance," Eric said. "God grants every person the wisdom to distinguish right from wrong. In every heart, there is a lamp lighting the way to the righteous path, yet those willing to walk it steadfastly are as few as the stars at dawn.
"I cannot speak for your god, but that is what my God has taught me."
.....
The march from Hama to Baalbek was smoother than Eric had expected. As they left the territory of Hama, Eric had even prepared to fight the Turkic ruler of the Homs region.
As it turned out, the Governor of Homs, whom Eric had considered the greatest threat, didn’t move a single soldier. Instead, he dispatched a special envoy to ceremoniously escort the Crusaders out of his lands. This was not an isolated phenomenon. The entire journey became a series of scenes so absurd they were almost comical—from the surrounding Muslim cities and even villages, a constant stream of mules and horses came, bearing gold, cloth, and food as offerings to the Crusaders.
At first, Eric and the other Crusaders suspected the gifts were poisoned. They forced the gift-bearers to leave a group of their own people behind to taste everything. As it turned out, everything was normal; the offerings were sincere.