Chapter 145: Chapter 145: Foundations of a New Jerusalem
Jerusalem, January 23rd, 1181
The winter sun hung low over the hills as Baldwin IV approached the workshop nestled just outside Jerusalem’s walls. The scent of lime and crushed stone filled the crisp air, mingling with the steady clang of hammer on chisel. A handful of masons, blackened by soot and sweat, bent over a large wooden vat where a thick, gray paste had just been stirred.
Baldwin stopped beside the foreman, a man named Elias, whose eyes sparkled with a mix of exhaustion and triumph.
"Your Majesty," Elias greeted him with a nod. "After many trials, we believe we have found it—the proper mixture of lime, volcanic ash, sand, and water. The mortar binds firm and sets smooth, stronger than any we have used before."
Baldwin knelt to inspect a sample block freshly cast into a mold. It was damp but already hardening with a smooth sheen. He ran his gloved fingers across its surface, feeling the solidity.
"How long before you can produce this on a large scale?" Baldwin asked.
"Days, not weeks," Elias replied. "The lime kilns by the coast produce enough powder, and the ash from the nearby quarries is plentiful. We’ve learned to control the ratio carefully—too much water weakens the mix, too little makes it brittle. We’re near perfecting it."
A young apprentice brought forth a small test wall, a foot in height, built of rough stone and held together with the new mortar. Elias tapped it with a mallet. The stones did not shift.
"We even tested it against moisture and heat," he said proudly. "No cracks, no crumbling after weeks submerged in water."
Baldwin allowed himself a rare smile. "This could change everything."
Back within the stone walls of the palace, the council chamber was alive with energy. Baldwin’s closest advisors, architects, military commanders, and city planners gathered around a large oak table covered with maps and sketches. The warmth of flickering torches cast lively shadows on their eager faces.
Baldwin stood at the head of the table, unrolling a detailed map of Jerusalem. His finger traced the outline of the city’s old walls before sweeping beyond them.
"We stand on the threshold of a new era for Jerusalem," he began. "The ancient walls have served us well, but they no longer contain the life of our city. Like the great walls of Constantinople or the impregnable defenses of Krak des Chevaliers, we will build a second curtain—a wide, strong outer wall, embracing new districts and creating a city worthy of our kingdom’s stature."
The council murmured approval.
He tapped a spot near the Tower of David. "Around this ancient fortress, the heart of our city’s defense, lies a district I intend to transform completely. The buildings around the tower are cramped, haphazard, and decay threatens their foundations. We will clear this area and build a grand Royal Forum here—a place for governance, worship, and treasury."
Baldwin’s gaze softened but was resolute. "Those who currently dwell or work here will be offered new homes and workshops in the districts we build beyond the old walls, constructed with the very cement our masons have perfected. No family or guild will be left without place or purpose."
He spread out new plans. "The city will have a Merchant Quarter—warehouses, caravanserais for the traders, coin exchange offices linked to the banking system. A place bustling with commerce, orderly and secure."
"Then the Artisan District," he continued, "where blacksmiths and armorers will forge weapons and tools without fear of fire or ruin in cramped alleys."
He pointed again. "The Foreign Quarters will provide enclaves and embassies for Italians, Byzantines, and Armenians—each with their own churches, preserving their faith and culture within our city’s walls."
"Near the Royal Forum, we will build a Military Quarter—barracks, armories, and stables for a permanent royal guard to defend the city day and night."
He smiled grimly. "And lastly, the city will be cleansed of its disorder by public works: aqueduct repairs to bring fresh water, fountains to quench our citizens, and paved streets for ease of travel. The days of Jerusalem being cramped with mismatched buildings and no scheme are over."
The architects and planners leaned in, eyes alight with the promise of order and grandeur.
Baldwin gestured to the maps again. "Imagine processional roads, straight and wide, leading from each gate to the Royal Forum. These roads will serve both military and ceremonial purpose. Our knights shall march proudly, and our people shall welcome them with song."
A senior engineer added, "With the new cement, we can build arches for aqueducts strong enough to span valleys, carrying water to fountains and baths. Roads can be laid with stone slabs set in mortar, replacing the rutted dirt paths that turn to mud with every rain."
Sir Godfrey of Ibelin, the Justiciar, nodded thoughtfully. "These improvements will not only protect Jerusalem but ensure prosperity. Merchants will find safer routes; craftsmen will have workshops worthy of their skill; soldiers will be ever vigilant. Justice and order will have a home in the stone as much as in the courts."
Baldwin turned to Balian of Ibelin. "And what of the people displaced from the old quarters around the Tower?"
Balian’s voice was steady. "With proper planning, we can create welcoming neighborhoods in the new districts. The promise of new homes, jobs in the artisan and merchant quarters, and protection under the king’s law will ease the transition."
The meeting stretched late into the evening, plans evolving with each suggestion.
Baldwin listened as the city planner spoke of widening gates and reinforcing towers, the military captain detailed garrison placements, and the treasurer pondered the costs and revenues. The king’s mind raced with visions of a Jerusalem transformed—strong, vibrant, a jewel of the East.
As the candles guttered low, Baldwin allowed himself one thought: the walls of stone and mortar would be more than defense. They would be the foundation of a kingdom reborn.