At least, he is dead at your hands, and though he sinned against me and betrayed my niece to Sinan, peace be with his soul.

Now I have one more thing to say to you.
That Frank, Prince Arnat of Karak, whom you call Reginald de Chatillon--accursed be his name!--" and he spat upon the ground, "has once more broken the peace between me and the king of Jerusalem, slaughtering my merchants, and stealing my goods.

I will suffer this shame no more, and very shortly I unfurl my standards, which shall not be folded up again until they float upon the mosque of Omar and from every tower top in Palestine.
Your people are doomed.

I, Yusuf Salah-ed-din," and he rose as he said the words, his very beard bristling with wrath, "declare the Holy War, and will sweep them to the sea.

Choose now, you brethren.