Legends Never Die: Sword of the Caliphate (ch. 169) (Patreon)

Jafar Barmakid

Yahya (son)

Emir Ismail of Damascus  (Does not like Hadi because of a duel) 

Isa (Emir of Isaid)

Abd al-Aziz ibn al-Qasim (Emir of Dulafid)

Hasan (Emir of Zaydid)

Emir Divdad of Sajid (Co-head of conspiracy)

Al Muwaffak ibn al-Mutawakkil (Emir of Basra)

Ahmad ibn Malik (Emir of Attab)

Emir Asad of Egypt (Hadi’s ward)

Al-Khayzuran (Harun mom)

…

The reaction to Hadi's victory, and to Khalid's, was as expected. His sudden arrival, followed by a series of defeats, had taught the Emirs a painful lesson -- alone, they were vulnerable. There was strength in numbers. Safety. Abd al-Aziz, upon realizing that he would not be able to lift the siege on Baghdad, swiftly retreated. 

Divdad managed to escape after his army's defeat, but his relief was short-lived. Ahmad captured him and his remnants, and apparently Hadi was quite bloodthirsty, as Hadi had him killed as well. The truth of it, as far as Hadi could tell, was Ahmad had him killed to quietly absorb control over the odd four thousand men that had escaped with Divdad. Leaving Ahmad with a combined host of nine thousand men. 

He retreated to where Yusuf and Yahya gathered, towards the region of Armenia. The land was treacherous with mountains, making it no place for a battle. Hadi was yet unsure what their total number would be. Isa remained a desert away, essentially a non-factor in the battle to come. With the string of defeats, Hadi expected some desertions. After all, men preferred to fight for winning causes. 

Still, he put their combined force of forty thousand. Maybe more, maybe less. Meaning that they were evenly matched. In theory, at least. 

Hadi was content to let them gather their strength and kick their wounds. The nature of the war had changed with his victories. He had the initiative. Their claim to power was that they were acting on behalf of the Caliph. That they were punishing a traitor. It was a narrative that Hadi fed into simply because it left them with a singular course of action. They had to attack. 

Particularly when he was besieged the capital with forty thousand men. 

“I can't say that I expected these circumstances when I returned to Baghdad,” Hadi admitted to Khalid. He did expect to return one day. Only that it would be clapped in chains once Harun realized he had promoted a fraud. It was a beautiful city, the little he could actually see of it from behind the tall walls. 

Baghdad was a statement of power from the founder of the Abbasid dynasty. There was none like it anywhere else in the world. A perfectly round city, guarded by walls and a deep moat, with the palace resting in the very center of it. It was no fortification turned center of power. Quite the opposite. It was almost exposed in a way that pricked at Hadi as entirely unacceptable. Because someone like him would do what he was doing without much difficulty. 

That was the point, Hadi knew from his quiet discussion with Harun. It was a testament of power. The capital of the caliphate was exposed because none could reach it. At the very least, Harun had conceded it was a dangerous confidence that bordered arrogance. 

It possessed four gates, each on a central axis. As it was a city to mesmerize any who visited it, Baghdad was not built to confound an enemy. For that reason, four central roads connected the palace to the gates. However, within the city itself was a second wall. An intentional barrier to keep out the poor and undesirables from the wealthy and nobility. A third wall was erected around the palace itself. Or rather, the impressively large garden surrounding the palace, with the palace itself having its own mostly aesthetic walls. 

Meaning, just because it wasn't a conventional city didn't mean it would be easy to take. Not that he desired as such. Hadi imagined Harun would be quite cross with him if he sacked his capital. 

“I would be quite worried if you had,” Tahleela mused with a touch of amusement. The three of them resided in his tent. Hadi himself stood behind a table with a map of Baghdad upon it. His army was divided into twelve parts -- groups of five thousand were placed around each gate, with smaller groups placed in the space around the city. "I suppose this is where you intend to kidnap the Caliph and his family?” 

He was going to regret that choice of words. He might already. “We cannot afford a siege for several reasons. To begin with -- Baghdad is well provisioned. We are not. Harun estimated that Baghdad could survive two years under siege with proper rationing. I estimated five, because most Caliphs would expel the poor and sick as their opening move.” 

Tahleela remained a mystery to him. She was an intelligent woman. Sharp. She could never meet Sheba, that was certain. She offered nothing about herself, but from what he could glean, she was fiercely loyal to the Abbasids and enjoyed Al-Khayzuran trust. 

“Secondly, I cannot risk putting Jafar into a corner,” Hadi continued. He saw that she understood by the flash of violence in her eyes at the mere thought. “When Yusuf and his army march, I will have to give battle. Winning would be as disastrous as losing.” 

Jafar would realize his attempted coup failed. Whatever he sought to achieve with it would be lost. He might lash out. Burn the whole Caliphate to the ground by slaughtering the hostages in his possession. Or, if a steadier hand prevailed, he would use Harun as leverage. 

After all, Hadi had no proof of duplicity. Only Khalid's word. Thus far, Jafar had behaved accordingly as his position of Visier demanded, if one set aside the fact he was the cause of Harun's impairment. It was entirely possible that to accept Harun's release, he would need to spout the story that it all was just a misunderstanding. That bygones were bygones. Water under the bridge. 

In that case, it was possible that Jafar could remain as Visier. It entirely depended on how lucid Harun was. 

In any case, it was entirely unacceptable. 

“Once we have kidnapped the Caliph, such a battle will prove unnecessary, yes?” Tahleela questioned, a certain grimness in her tone that told Hadi she suspected the answer already. “The traitors must be dealt with, but I fear the Romans at our door just as much. They have already seized Antioch and the surrounding territories. As Charlemagne rises the Roman Empire to west, the Eastern half champions a reclamation of the East.” 

Hadi was aware. Painfully so. But that hadn't been his problem, so he was mostly unconcerned with it. 

Irene spouted rhetoric about the eagle rising from the ashes. How it wasn't that long ago Rome had controlled the Levant. How it had encompassed all of the Mediterranean Sea. Such an expansion was well beyond their means, but wouldn't stop them from trying. Seizing Antioch and Cyprus had been a strong indication of intent. 

The rallying cry that followed was that the holy land of Jerusalem was in the hands of heathens. It paired well with the religious fervor that spread over the Roman empire, the flames being stoked into an inferno because they somehow managed to justify their outward expansion by feeling threatened and persecution. 

“Unlikely, I'm afraid,” Hadi admitted, wishing it could just be that simple. But no, it couldn't be. Hadi was convinced it couldn't be specifically to spite him. “After kidnapping the Caliph, all that he shall say in my defense will be suspect. It shall be a trivial thing for the lords to twist everything as a result of duress.” 

If he felt like being fair -- which he absolutely did not -- then he could admit that he would have his doubts too if he were on the other side of things. Odds were, no matter what, he would suffer a dark mark on his reputation in the eyes of many even after restoring Harun to power. There would be doubts and whispers that followed him that he kidnapped the Caliph and restored him to power for… something. Hadi didn't know. 

They would, though. Those that scheme as naturally as they breathed would fill in the blanks themselves, convinced Hadi got something out of the arrangement. But, if he was lucky, then he woukd never have to deal with that kind of intrigue again after cleaning up this mess.

He could go back home. 

To his wife. 

Their children. 

And live out the rest of his life in peace. 

Hadi nearly smiled at the thought, but restrained himself because it would give the wrong impression as they were talking about kidnapping the Caliph. He cleared his throat, “We must secure Caliph Harun al-Rashid, his mother, his children, and his harem before we fight the traitors. The siege is only bait to spur them into action.” 

Unwise action. Which was why Divdad had to be removed from the equation. Now the host was, theoretically, being led by Yusuf and Ahmad. Both ambitious, prickly, and prone to rash action. As far as enemies went, they were his favorite kind. 

Tahleela nodded slowly, her expression betraying nothing. “There are passages in and out of the city. Including to the palace itself,” she began and Hadi was unsurprised. After all, it only made sense to have a few ways out of what appeared to be a corner. “However, their danger is that Jafar is also aware of them. He helped oversee the construction of Baghdad, after all.” Also expected, but Hadi really wished that Harun's relatives would be a little more paranoid. 

“But?” Hadi tried, hoping that there was one coming. 

“But-” What a relief. “-There may be one we can use. It was a passage that we may be able to use. One built by smugglers that Caliph Harun al-Rashid's father discovered, had them executed, but did not destroy the tunnel. I am unaware if Jafar knows of it. And it is into the city. There are still many walls to the palace.” 

That was a complication, admittedly. 

“It's a start,” Hadi decided before his gaze slid to Khalid. His ward turned right hand offered a knowing smile. There was no mistake in what Hadi would ask. 

He would go himself, but the truth of it was… the truth was he was a middling swordsman. The war depended on him. If rescuing Harun failed, and Hadi was captured, then that was it. Jafar would win in every way that matters. Whereas Khalid… 

“I understand, Hadi al-Ghayb,” Khalid assured him, but it still twisted his guts into knots. “I am up to the task, but not alone. I will need… ten men, I believe.” 

His confidence was convincing, but Hadi couldn't tell if it was for his sake than not. “Have them. What else do you need?” 

“A distraction. How large is the garrison?” He questioned, sounding like he was putting the plan together. 

“Five thousand, nominally. Jafar has put weapons in the hands of an untrained militia to bolster their numbers to fifteen thousand,” Tahleela answered. 

Khalid nodded, “How much time would I have?” 

“Two weeks. Three, if we're being optimistic.” It was winter, after all. That would slow them down a fair bit, both in regrouping and the following march. While Arabia did not experience the brutal winters of the North, particularly the far north the Scandinavians described, it was not uncommon for them to see snow. Nor did it change that marching for miles on end in the cold, particularly when you were not equipped for it, was a thoroughly miserable experience. 

Khalid mulled that over for a long few seconds before his chin dipped in a nod, “It should not take that long.” 

He was confident. Enough so that Hadi wanted to believe him as a matter of principle. “You will have your distraction,” he promised, knowing that all of it rested on Khalid's shoulders. 

He could only hope that he put his faith in the right hands. 

…

Khalid ibn al-Walid found himself in a small, cramped tunnel heavy with the scent of smoke due to the torch he carried in one hand. Behind him were ten men who followed in relative silence, all loyal to Hadi. Thus the Caliphate. 

There was a sharp hiss as moisture from above dripped into the torch; the tunnel itself was steadily flooding, the stagnant water already coming up to his ankles. 

They followed the tunnel carved from stone for some time, but through the darkness beyond his torch's light, Hadi spied their destination. A rough set of carved stairs leading up to a wood covering. The hiss was stronger when Khalid plunged the torch into the water, similarly plunging the tunnel into absolute darkness. It made the faint light that streamed in from the gaps in the floorboards that much more apparent. Pushing up against the boards, the hatch lifted with a squealing hinge in dire need of an oiling. 

Pulling himself up, Khalid instantly found the gaze of an elderly woman in the cellar they arrived inside of. 

[Jasra el-Nasrallah 

Age: 65

History: Orphaned at a young age. Raised by Rifaah al-Qazi until the age of sixteen, she was then wed to Haashim al-Dajani for the dowry of a silver ring, five chickens, and a goat. 

Her marriage with Haashim was a peaceful one, resulting in three children. Two lived to adulthood, with four grandchildren produced from the union. Haashim passed fifteen years ago, leaving her eldest son, Mamoon, to maintain ownership of the inn. Mamoon does not have a head for numbers, or good business sense, leaving her to run the inn as she had with her husband. 

Has been aware of the smuggling tunnel for some time. Her husband was part of the smuggling ring. Did not fill the tunnel out of fear it would arouse suspicion. 

Fears your arrival. Understands that even should she scream, she is not likely to be heard.] 

Hadi did not understand Khalid's gift, for all that he tried to. Perhaps the only one who truly could was Siegfried, as their tale was a similar one. From the moment of his birth, he could look upon anything to learn its history. Secrets that he could not learn naturally were revealed to him within his mind, not as a whisper but as if he had learned it from a page. 

He improved with time. Should he wish, it would be trivial to look deeper. To learn the complete history of her life. The lives of her children. Or he could learn specific things, such as her favorite food, what flowers she found the prettiest, or her opinion on something. 

Khalid rarely used his gift in such a way. And never without cause. It… took something from him, in a way. Not physically. It was an easy gift to abuse. He could look at someone and learn their innermost secrets, fears, desires, and hopes. To do so freely would rob him of his chance to learn such things naturally as their relationship deepened. 

In this case, however, it was prudent. “Good evening,” Khalid greeted her with a polite bow. “I ask that you forgive our trespass. Please, allow me to offer compensation to make amends,” he said, taking out a small coin purse. Jasra looked to it, then to his face, and then to the men that continued to emerge from the smuggler's tunnel in her cellar. 

“... there is nothing to forgive, child. Do you require a room?” She asked, reframing the bribe and Kahlid's smile widened. 

“We do. You have our sincerest thanks, my lady,” Khalid assured her, paying her a generous amount for the rooms. And her silence. She accepted the coin with a knowing look. 

“We have supper. Hot and cold,” She informed after a moment of debate, choosing to treat them as common guests. Khalid saw why she was in charge of the in. 

“Something hot sounds lovely,” Khalid decided, choosing to follow when she made a gesture to. The last man out of the tunnel closed the hatch behind them before joining them inside of an empty in. That, Khalid suspected, was their fault. Few travelers when there was a war. Fewer when the city was under siege. 

“It'll just be a moment,” Jasra assured them, disappearing into the kitchen. Khalid took a seat at a table, and he was joined by the others. It was a strange thing to be looked to for guidance. He understood why Hadi disliked it, even though he was quite good at it. However, he offered none until Jasra and her granddaughter arrived with bowls full of warm stew. 

“My thanks,” Khalid said, looking down into the bowl. The ingredients were fresh and it was untainted. The others only ate when he took the first bite. “Could I trouble you with a few questions about Baghdad?” 

“You may, young man. Though, my eyes are dim and my hearing fades, so I cannot promise any answers,” Jasra replied. “I suppose the siege has your curiosity?" 

“Among other things,” Khalid replied, taking another bite of stew. Hadi's cooks were excellent, but there were times when Khalid found himself wistful for the days of simple travel foods. His days as Alim, a common peasant with only one man aware of his heritage. “How have things been since the siege began?”

Jasra offered a small scoff at the question, likely due to his own part in it, but she answered all the same. “Things have been… difficult. Vizier has strangled the city in the name of rooting out traitors who had a hand in Hadi al-Ghayb’s attempt on the Caliph’s life. That ‘milita’ he assembled aren’t much more than a band of thugs, but they’ve set up checkpoints every five feet, it feels like. Just so they can rob you under the guise of an inspection.”

Unfortunate to hear, but useful. As luck would have it, Hadi had foreseen something along these lines and prepared a sizable purse for the purpose of bribes. “Is travel between rings permitted?”

“If you have a pass. Which I don’t have. And I doubt you do either,” Jasra continued, with a small humph. She was correct in that estimation. “The only ones that do are guards and merchants. The nobility too, I suppose, but I haven’t seen any of them.”

Khalid took another bite of his stew, mulling over the information. Again, it was less than ideal, but well within expectations. Jafar would naturally strangle the ability to move within Baghdad, as it was a means to strangling information coming to and from the city. When every creature inside the palace belonged to him, it allowed him to spin whatever story he wished. His lies became the truth to all who heard them because they had no other means of learning what happened inside the palace. 

However, such measures were not perfect. There were some who would bow their heads, feigning obedience while they plotted behind his back. There would be more who obeyed out of fear, or because they saw Jafar as the eventual victor. Something that would change with the siege and Hadi’s string of victories. Then there would be those who were simply greedy whose loyalty could be purchased for a heavy enough purse. 

It seemed right that Allah had granted him the ability to distinguish one from the other.