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The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 216
🕑 Added 2025-05-22 19:06:01 +0000 UTCChapter 216: The Siege
Three days after the Tunisian rebel forces encircled Tunis from the north, west, and south…
Jamil gazed coldly at the magnificent city of Tunis, raising a stern hand to point toward the ranks of the Janissary Guard below. “Give the order. Launch the full assault!”
The mournful sound of horns echoed across several miles, and more than a dozen rebel formations, under the silent command of their officers, began advancing slowly.
Koja, the commander of the Janissaries defending the city, stood on a high ground west of Tunis. Holding a telescope, he frowned and murmured under his breath:
“That accursed fire... Is the glorious Janissary Guard truly doomed to perish here?”
Had it been a conventional battle, even if the rebels outnumbered his forces two-to-one, Koja was confident of crushing them.
However, more than half a month ago, an unexpected fire broke out in the city’s armory, likely started by Berbers living within the city. The blaze destroyed over 70% of the weapons stockpiled there.
Previously, Janissary soldiers who insisted on living inside the city had been required, after the attempted assassination of the Bey, to surrender their arms to the armory upon entry. As a result, after the fire, half the soldiers were left without weapons.
In the wake of this disaster, rebel forces began to win victories on all fronts and converged toward Tunis.
Upon learning of the dire shortage of arms, many pampered Janissary officers in the city fled with their wealth to Tripoli or Egypt, further demoralizing the soldiers under Koja’s command.
“In less than a week, over a thousand deserters!” Koja shook his head and sighed. “With a hundred years of accumulated strength, if the Janissaries had fought resolutely and heroically against the rebels, how could we have ended up besieged like this?”
“Pasha?” His adjutant softly reminded him, “The enemy is approaching.”
Koja nodded and waved his hand casually. “Fire the cannons.”
“Yes, Pasha.”
From the Janissary defensive lines, a dozen cannons roared to life. The projectiles whistled through the air, crashing into the advancing rebel troops.
“Ah—!”
Amidst the cries of pain, shattered bodies were blasted apart, spraying flesh and blood in all directions. The already chaotic formations of the rebel forces fell into further disarray.
The newly appointed officers—who only months ago had been farmers or merchants—tried desperately to suppress their fear, brandishing scimitars and shouting commands: “Hold formation!”
“Don’t panic, and absolutely no retreating!”
“Keep moving forward!”
Under their efforts, the assault lines barely managed to maintain forward momentum. Yet the Janissary cannons fired again.
In truth, these solid cannonballs inflicted limited casualties. Even with a direct hit at an optimal angle, they might kill a dozen men at most; often, they claimed only one or two lives or missed entirely.
However, the deafening blasts of the cannons, combined with the fear of unseen projectiles smashing bodies to pieces, tested the soldiers’ resolve.
For these poorly trained rebel soldiers, such pressure was insurmountable.
After four or five rounds of bombardment, most of the soldiers began to flee uncontrollably—especially those drenched in blood and brain matter, who ran faster than anyone.
The officers, after a futile round of berating, found they could not hold the line and joined the retreat.
A few soldiers, overcome with fervor, shouted the names of the Prophet and God as they charged toward the Janissary lines, only to be met by the withering volleys of musket fire.
...
Two days later.
Jamil, his expression grim, listened to reports of casualties from his officers. He muttered under his breath, “More than twenty thousand soldiers, over a dozen assaults, and not once did we manage to get within fifty paces of their lines...”
He had thought that, like in previous battles, Tunis would fall quickly. But in the past two days, over 400 of his men had died, and they had not even breached the Janissaries’ first line of defense.
“The cannons! It’s all because of those damned cannons!” he suddenly roared through clenched teeth. “If we had cannons too, we’d crush those devils!”
An officer nearby stepped forward and whispered, “General, perhaps we could seek help from Ishak Pasha.”
Since becoming a rebel leader, the magnanimous “Zaganos Bey” had resumed his original name: Ishak Pasha.
At dusk, as both sides temporarily halted fighting in the dim light, Jamil and his key officers went to Ishak Pasha’s quarters.
“Cannons?” Ishak frowned and shook his head. “Such things aren’t easy to come by.”
Jamil pleaded anxiously, “Pasha, the enemy’s cannons are causing us great harm. Without comparable weapons, victory will be difficult. Please, you must find a way…”
“Currently, only the French in Tunis have cannons,” Ishak mused, shaking his head again. “But this is a conflict between Tunisians and the Ottoman Janissaries. It has little to do with them—they might be unwilling to help.”
Jamil immediately countered, “How could it have nothing to do with them? We share the same Roman heritage! I believe they won’t stand idly by!”
Several officers echoed his sentiments, nodding vigorously.
Seemingly persuaded, Ishak reluctantly agreed. “Very well, we’ll approach our ‘Roman brothers’ for assistance. Oh, and we should invite Elder Arlai to join us—his esteemed reputation could be a great asset.”
“Understood! I’ll personally seek his aid!”
...
The next day, a delegation of more than ten Tunisian representatives arrived at the French guard’s camp, where Berthier warmly received them.
Elder Arlai, now the religious leader of the Tunisian natives, had gained immense prestige and influence during the uprising. Whether he initially wished it or not, his fate was now intertwined with the rebels, and he no longer pursued the matter of false prophecies issued in his name.
On the contrary, he actively worked to advance the rebels’ cause.
When he explained the rebels’ plight and requested assistance from their “brothers,” Berthier replied earnestly: “Rest assured, we will do everything in our power to help our brothers in their time of suffering.
“Not only cannons, but I can also assign officers to aid you in commanding battles. Their experience will undoubtedly prove invaluable.”
This was also part of Joseph’s strategy: to ensure that the Tunisians understood the Janissaries could not be defeated by their efforts alone. Without the support of their “Roman brothers,” victory would have been impossible.
Upon hearing this, Jamil was overcome with gratitude and deeply bowed. “We will never forget your kindness! Nor the assistance of our French brothers!”
The accompanying officers and several tribal chiefs of high prestige among the native clans also bowed deeply to Berthier, offering repeated expressions of sincere gratitude.
...
Outside Tunis.
Two artillery companies from the Guard Corps had positioned six 8-pound cannons at a predetermined site. Behind them, rows of ammunition crates were neatly stacked.
“Load!”
“Aim!”
Under the direction of their respective gun captains, the artillerymen swiftly completed the firing preparations.
“Fire!”
With a thunderous roar, six cannonballs shot straight toward the Janissary artillery positions.
The battle quickly shifted as the Guard Corps' cannons joined the fray. Although fewer in number than the enemy's artillery, the French gunners were leagues ahead in skill.
After only a few calibration shots, a cannonball struck one of the enemy cannons from over 700 paces away with pinpoint accuracy. The immense force of the impact dislodged the barrel from its mount, crushing several Tunisian artillerymen behind it before the debris rolled onto nearby rocks, irreparably warping the cannon.
As cannonballs rained near the Janissary artillery positions, the Ottoman gunners abandoned their posts in terror, scattering without even attempting to drag their cannons to safety.
“Praise be to God!” Jamil exclaimed in delight as he watched the scene through his telescope. Turning to one of his officers, he commanded, “Send word to prepare for a full frontal assault!”
“It would be unwise to attack so hastily,” interjected the French officer accompanying him.
“Oh? What do you suggest, then?”
The French officer did not elaborate further to Jamil. Instead, he bypassed him and issued orders through his own messenger. One by one, commands were relayed with signal flags, and the mid-ranking French officers began reorganizing the rebel forces.
On the western front, a thin infantry line slowly advanced toward the Janissary positions. Without the threat of enemy artillery, their steps were more deliberate and steady.
Meanwhile, on the southern flank of the Janissary defenses, dozens of rebel columns raced toward the enemy’s side. The French artillery redirected their fire to support this flank assault.
“What are they trying to do?” Koja put away his telescope, puzzled. After days of inactivity from the rebels, their movements suddenly appeared coordinated and deliberate.
Quickly analyzing the situation, Koja surmised that the enemy’s frontal troops were a diversion, with their main attack targeting his left flank.
He immediately turned to his adjutant. “Send word to move Orhan’s men to reinforce the left flank.”
“Yes, Pasha!”
Orhan’s force of over 1,000 soldiers, previously stationed on the front line, quickly regrouped and marched toward the left flank.
At that moment, a rebel force of four to five thousand appeared on the Janissary’s right flank, advancing in six ranks of infantry lines.
Koja was alarmed, muttering to himself, “So this is where their main force is concentrated!”
He swiftly pulled 500 soldiers from the front line and redirected half of his reserves to reinforce the right flank. Koja himself moved his command post northward to oversee the situation.
However, the rebel infantry on both flanks never closed in to engage. Instead, a cavalry unit of more than 300 riders suddenly burst forth, exploiting the confusion caused by Koja’s troop movements. They galloped directly toward several Janissary artillery positions.
These riders, mainly herders by trade, lacked proper military training in formations and combat techniques but were exceptionally skilled horsemen.
Galloping at full speed, they reached the artillery positions and dismounted. Their leader shouted instructions as per their prior orders:
“Mehmet, take your men and destroy the cannons! The rest of you, stay alert and guard against enemy infantry!”
“Yes, sir!”
About 40 soldiers formed a defensive perimeter with their scimitars drawn, while a group of ten set to work on the cannons. They drove iron spikes into the touch holes, hammering them securely into place. These spikes, made of wrought iron, were nearly impossible to remove, rendering the cannons useless.
After completing their task, the cavalrymen swiftly mounted their horses and returned to their camp like a gust of wind.
Within minutes, rebel forces on all three fronts withdrew without engaging in combat. It was only then that Koja received a report confirming the complete loss of his artillery.
Jamil, watching the French officer’s actions in awe, was dumbstruck. In just over 30 minutes, with negligible casualties and hardly any direct combat, all the Janissary cannons had been neutralized.
“This must be the work of a war god like Saladin!” he exclaimed internally. “If we had such brilliant allies earlier, the Janissary bandits would have been driven out of Tunis years ago!”
The French officer, had he known Jamil’s thoughts, might have been slightly embarrassed. After all, these were merely tactics commonly practiced during drills at the Paris Military Academy, adapted to the battlefield as needed. Being elevated to the status of a "war god" seemed an excessive compliment.
...
Without artillery, the Janissaries were put at a severe disadvantage.
Rebels bombarded them continuously with cannon fire. Although the casualties inflicted were not overwhelming, the psychological toll was immense. Being unable to retaliate left the soldiers demoralized and on the verge of collapse.
After enduring five days of relentless bombardment, Koja, fearing his troops would lose all will to fight, gathered his remaining forces for a desperate breakout attempt.
On the rebel side, however, the French officer had already organized an impenetrable defensive formation. While the native soldiers lacked advanced training, they could still fire their muskets from stationary positions.
Supported by their numerical superiority and the artillery at their rear, the rebels bravely held their ground against the Janissaries’ frenzied charge. Their dense volleys of musket fire forced the enemy to retreat.
Behind the defensive lines, the French officer lowered his telescope and let out a long breath. He had kept a reserve force of over 3,000 soldiers in the rear, prepared for the possibility of the line breaking.
“It seems they can be relied upon,” he remarked to his adjutant with a smile. “Or perhaps the enemy’s attack was simply too feeble.”
Jamil, hearing the officer’s words through a translator, hurriedly stepped forward with an expression of deep reverence. “No, honorable Pasha, I believe it is entirely due to your superior command!”
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