Islam advocates a quick burial, and in Islamic thought* it is only a temporary residence, so where Arabs die, where they are buried, they are not transported back to their homeland, and few of them stay for three days, and most of them are buried on the same day. [Ran^Text^Library] []

Even the caliph was no exception.

After stopping for three nights and two days like Hassan, it was already a long time, so in one morning, without giving Hou Jie much time to rest, Sherman and the others had already gathered the elders of the sect and temporarily converted the mortuary palace into a mosque chapel to start the final ceremony.

Before every Muslim dies, he must leave a will to settle or summarize his life's grievances and grievances.

Died suddenly, the last words Hassan is not left, the corpse * is powerful, last night was busy all night tidying up the corpse, smearing spices and embalming, it can be regarded as a great cleanse, only this station salute can not be sloppy.

It was almost the same as yesterday's coronation of the elders of the Caliphate, and the body of Hassan, which had been cleaned up with great difficulty, was placed in front of everyone, facing Mecca, the direction of the Ka'ba, a hundred shekhs, mullahs, etc., who opened the scriptures almost at the same time.

It's just that this time it was no longer Sherman who was at the forefront of the prayer, but Hou Jie, whose eyes were bloodshot.

The sound of prayer was also very different from the majesty and sanctity of yesterday's Caliphate, and was replaced by a deep sorrow, in which so many scholars of the sect used hymns in the books to praise Allah for the great deeds of Hassan's life, and so many languages came together, but there was also a melancholy atmosphere.

The Caliph had already been terrified when he died tragically, and when he heard such a sad chapter, the Hassan's concubines, children, and cronies and eunuchs who were waiting outside cried even more, tearing the clothes, and the howling cry spread from the entire palace.

The final prayer is the most solemn part of the funeral, in which people pray to Allah about what the deceased did during his lifetime, whether he ascended to heaven as a good person or as an evil person to bring down Hell.

According to common sense, it is impossible for a caliph like Hassan, who violates the big canons and the petty canons, to be praised by so many sect elders.

However, after all, these high-ranking people can't really regard the life of just a hundred years as a step in life, so looking at Hou Jie, who was praying with his head bowed in front of him, in lamentation, Sherman, Sarava and others still recited a word of praise against their will.

After more than an hour of worship, Hassan's coffin was finally loaded into a sumptuous coffin, and a dozen people carried him out of the palace, and in the weeping of hundreds of people, the two thousand caliphs were surrounded by the forbidden army and carried all the way to the high post outside Damascus, where the tomb was dug in a sandy area of sunset afterglow.

Finally, before the last rays of sunlight fell down the hillside, the last handful of soil from Hassan's tomb was also buried, and the ban on burial in three days was not broken, but the tomb of this great man in the past was really a little shabby, an ordinary small earthen bag, if it were not for so many mourners, it would not be believed that this was the graveyard of the dignified caliphate.

Unconsciously, Hassan was buried, from the tribal chief above to the female slave eunuch below, there was a sense of melancholy and relief like an era being buried.

Taking advantage of the fact that it was not yet dark after sunset, the funeral procession hurriedly returned to Damascus and the imperial palace.

To Sherman's delight, after burying Hassan, Emir Houjie seemed to be much more relaxed, at least he had no objection to their decision to arrange for him to rest in the palace.

A generation of emperors rose and set like the sun, but under the dim moonlight, Damascus still existed peacefully, although I don't know what the sky will be like tomorrow, one by one, rich Arabs or poor Persians, still trying to live well.

However, in this turbulent season, the sweet sleep that was finally there was was broken in the middle of the night.

Damascus is located on the left bank of the Baidara River between the former Lebanon Mountains and the East Lebanon Mountains, where the desert disappeared, leaving behind a large oasis and fertile land, so the ancestors of the Middle East settled here in a very early period, and the various ethnic cultures collided again, bursting into brilliant sparks, creating an amazing handicraft community.

With advanced handicrafts, it is natural that the products need to be spread, but Damascus is a full 80 kilometers from the sea, and in order to undertake the important task of communication between Damascus and the Mediterranean trade, another port city of Tarakia has also sprung up quietly near the sea.

At its peak, the port was anchored with hundreds of ships bound for East Africa and Egypt, but with the recent Greek fire of the Byzantine fleet and the annihilation of the Arab navy in Cyprus, commerce quickly declined.

The empty harbor is filled with just over a dozen small dilapidated fishing boats, and it looks extremely depressed.

The economic depression was so bad that the merchants were constantly exploited in the port on weekdays, and the Arab defenders who wanted to eat and take cards became listless, huddled in the lighthouse of the port one by one, playing cards and smoking cigarettes from Fujian in the camp, and the decadent roars and angry scolding could be heard everywhere.

Fortunately, the Arab Empire banned alcohol, otherwise it would have been a drunken place.

I couldn't stand it after drinking too much coffee, so the two Arab cavalrymen who had lost the money left the barracks in a huff and went to the port to release water.

Unbuttoning their breeches in front of the endless sea, after a sound of Suosuo, the two unlucky ghosts finally came out of the grievances of losing money, and after shaking their bodies comfortably, one of them first tidied up his pants happily, and then shouted arrogantly: "Little who should go to hell, this time grandpa must get it back, Allah will give me luck!" ”

Listening to the footsteps of his companion hurriedly walking back, another unlucky ghost who couldn't catch up with others couldn't help but be more anxious, casually stuffed his pants into his belt, turned around and was about to go back, who knew that he had just taken a step, and he bounced back as if he had been electrocuted, and looked into the dark sea.

A little light, and the reflection in his eyes.

"Hey, Dave, it's the boat, it's finally time for our brothers to get moving! It's a merchant ship! ”

Having a merchant ship means having trade, and having trade means that those fat and oily cargo directors are slaughtered by these soldiers, and after slaughtering the sellers and slaughtering the sellers, their wallets that have been dry for many days will bulge, and the Arab soldier called Dave also turned around excitedly.

Sure enough, more and more sporadic headlights were slowly reflected in his eyes, making the companion jump and scream excitedly, but Dave's face showed a deep doubt.

It's almost the middle of the night, will such a large fleet dock without saying hello at this time?

Just in Dave's doubts, suddenly, in front of the slowly advancing fleet, a bush of torches suddenly flashed, and the golden brilliance immediately met Dave's eyes, and in an instant, his bearded wheat-colored face quickly turned pale.

Double-headed eagle flag, Byzantium!

Wrapping his arms around the neck of his companion who was still shouting to hollow out the last copper plate of the merchant shipowner, Dave smiled weakly and wryly, "Hey, man, it's time for us to get started!" ”

……

In just half an hour, the port of Tarakia was ablaze with monstrous flames, raging flames, illuminating more than a dozen miles as if it were day.

Early in the morning, the Grand Palace in Damascus.

It's been a long time since I've slept so steadily, even Hou Jie, who is diligent in morning class, with the soft court mattress, is up half an hour later than before, and after finishing the morning class, it is already two strokes a day.

Rubbing his hungry stomach, Hou Jie was just going to find some food, and then go to continue to perform his closed-door plan, but in the long corridor, the chaotic footsteps suddenly came from his position, his heart tightened, and he felt out the short sword hidden under the pillow and hid it in his sleeve, Hou Jie took the lead in pushing open the door and welcomed out.

Led by the old man Sherman, who was still full of seriousness, followed by more than a dozen high-ranking members of the empire, the leaders were much more anxious than before, and their hurried steps were even more brisk.

Full of bitter clothes, far away, Hou Jie has already bowed down.

"Thank you, Elder Sherman, for your kindness, but this Emir has made up his mind not to be an ungrateful villain."

However, on this day, it seemed to be different from the previous persuasion, Sherman's old face behind his gray beard was a little more anxious, and he no longer spoke politely to Hou Jie, walked in front of Hou Jie in a few steps, pressed his shoulder and said anxiously.

"Lord Hou, something is wrong, last night the Byzantine navy landed and attacked the port of Tarakia, more than a thousand imperial soldiers were killed, and Tarakia has been burned to the ground!"

With a bang, the jade pendant that Hou Jie had been holding in his hand couldn't help but fall on the hard stone pavement in the palace and shattered.

Seeing Hou Jie's frightened appearance, Sherman cautiously added again.

"Caliph, now that refugees have poured into Damascus City, there is panic everywhere, we need people to come and lead us!"

I don't know if I heard Sherman's voice, after a moment of silence, Hou Jie suddenly hurriedly turned around and went back to the house, in just a minute or two, when Hou Jie came out again, he was already covered in scale armor, wearing a helmet like a lion on his head, and a narrow Damascus scimitar was carried by him in his hand.

"Elder Sherman, let's go!"

Seeing the majestic Hou Jie walking in front of everyone with his head bored, the Sherman who followed behind couldn't help but show a little relaxed smile.

In their opinion, it is one step closer to persuading Hou Jie to ascend to the position of caliph.

No one noticed that Hou Jie, who was walking out with his head down, had a face full of pain, but he still couldn't suppress a sinister smile on the corner of his mouth, and the smile spread rapidly.

The last shiver of the eighteen worships was stuck in front of me, and just as I wanted to doze off, someone brought a pillow!