Ottoman

by Christopher Nicole

  “See the sun glinting from those horsemen?” William asked. “That is plate armour. Those cavalry are far heavier than our timariots or sipahis. They are a formidable body of men, especially if their charge is well timed, and our people are strung out to any extent.”

  “What then is your plan, Hawk Pasha?” asked the Sultan.

  “It is a very simple one, based upon my knowledge of these people. I have said that their kings are proud and foolish; their knights are hardly less so. We will order our army into three lines. The first line will be the bashi-bazouks, the second the Anatolians, the third the Janissaries. Then we will do what it is supposed we cannot do, and make a frontal attack with the bashis.”

  Suleiman waited, frowning.

  “It will be repulsed, of course. And our people will fall back in great disarray. The first line of our people. It is my certain belief that when the Hungarian knights see that happen, they will not be able to resist the temptation to charge home and complete the victory they will feel they have gained.”

  “And suppose the bashi-bazouks break and flee?” Suleiman asked.

  “They may well do so, Padishah. They may even affect the Anatolians. But I can vouch for your sipahis and Janissaries. They will fight to the end. I can also vouch for the artillery. These we will mass behind your attacking lines, and they will only be uncovered when those lines are opened. Our cannon will be chained together, so that there can be no question of any guns being carried or driven off, or even being ridden through. It will be a hard contest but one which will bring us certain victory.”

  “What of the cavalry?” Ibrahim asked. “As you have said, Hawk Pasha, more than half the Hungarian army seem to be cavalry. Will you not oppose them with our sipahis because of their armour?”

  Again his tone held some contempt.

  Hawk Pasha did not take offence. He had been winning campaigns when both these men were children.

  “Cavalry are best used in the counter-attack, Ibrahim Pasha. Our cavalry, timariots and sipahis, will be held in reserve, to be launched when the enemy onslaught is broken.”

  Suleiman pulled his beard while he gazed at the Hungarian camp. “No victory is ever certain until it is gained,” he remarked.

  “That is true, Padishah. I can only offer my experience as a guide.”

  “Experience I value highly, Hawk Pasha. I have no doubt of your success. But is it not possible to make it even more certain than it now appears?”

  It was William Hawkwood’s turn to wait.

  “Your strategy would be even more likely to succeed were we able to launch our counter-attack before the enemy has broken.”

  “Padishah?”

  “You estimate that the knights will take advantage of our retreat in order to charge — supposing at the moment they did so they were struck in the rear, or at the side, by a body of horsemen. Would that not have a most powerful effect upon their morale?”

  “Indeed it would, Padishah. But where would that body of horsemen come from?”

  “We will arrange it now,” Suleiman said. “How long would it take a division of our timariot cavalry to march ten miles to the west, then move to the north, and then swing round to come in behind the Hungarian host — remembering that our enemies must know nothing of our manoeuvre.”

  “They would have to walk their horses for the first part, certainly,” William said, pulling at his beard in turn. “I would say not less than twenty-four hours.”

  “Well, then, let us despatch them now and not engage until this time tomorrow. We shall fill the time with making our dispositions at apparent leisure.”

  “And if the Hungarians will not wait twenty-four hours?”

  “If they attack us without our having attacked them, will we not have gained the first part of your strategy without the consequent loss of men?”

  Hawk Pasha was silenced.

  Suleiman looked left and right at his pashas, and then gestured towards Harry Hawkwood.

  “Young Hawk. You will take command of ten regiments of timariots and carry out the manoeuvre I have outlined. Mark me well: you must be in a position to launch your assault by the fourth hour after sunrise tomorrow morning. Our attack will be made at the third.”

  Harry saluted. “I will leave within the hour, Padishah.”

  *

  It was Harry’s first entirely independent command. Never had he felt so exhilarated. His uncle rode with him to select the horsemen.

  “This young master of ours has a touch of genius about him,” William Hawkwood confessed. “Nevertheless, manoeuvres of this sort are always attended with risk of delays or mishaps. I do not believe it will affect the outcome of the battle, but it will certainly affect your reputation. Do not fail your name, boy.”

  Harry clasped his uncle’s arm. “I will not fail either you or myself.”

  There was only time to give Yana a quick embrace, and gaze in surprise at her tears as she realised he was being sent on special and possibly dangerous duty, then he was hurrying away to join his men.

  The timariots were pleased to have been selected for such a mission, even if they hardly understood what they were about. Harry marched them away from the camp, and behind the shelter of the hillock. There was no way he could prevent them sending up a cloud of dust in the August heat, even at a walk, so he took them even farther back than had been originally intended, as if on a search for forage.

  Behind him the Ottoman army slowly took up its positions, watched closely by the Hungarians. But gradually the sound of their movements, the clank of weapons and the chatter of men died into the distance, submerged beneath the clip-clop of his own company’s hooves.

  He commanded six thousand men! His heart swelled as he looked back at them, strung out in column behind him.

  They marched south-west for three hours, then turned due west. It was mid-afternoon when they at last turned north. At dusk Harry called a halt. He forbade fires, and made each man dine off biscuits and water. Harry made the rounds of the various regiments himself, accompanied only by Diniz, speaking to the ordinary soldiers as well as the officers, telling them at last what was intended, and what they must needs do on the following morning.

  He allowed them six hours sleep and roused them at four in the morning, when it was already light. Now they moved rapidly, behind a screen of skirmishers. They rode through two villages, but the terrified inhabitants they ignored in their haste.

  At six, as the sun began to rise out of the mountains to the east, Harry swung them south-east. Now they trotted more often than walked, but he made them halt for ten minutes in every hour to rest their horses.

  He watched the glowing ball ahead of him, flooding light across the plain, and listened carefully.

  Time seemed to pass so very slowly, and more than once he felt a sense of despair that he had taken the wrong way and was missing the battle altogether. Yet surely he would hear its clamour from some direction?

  Then he heard it: the blowing of bugles and the beating of the tabalcans, the cries of many thousands of men preparing to die. It came from the south-east at the third hour of the day, almost at the moment his skirmishers rode back to tell him they had spotted the sun glinting off the armour of the Hungarian troops.

  He halted to give the horses a last breather, and to order his men. He formed them into three lines of two thousand men each, all the while hearing the shouting and the clash of arms of the battle drifting towards him on the morning breeze.

  Then he rose in his stirrups and pointed his sword towards the enemy. The timariots gave a great shout and trotted forward.

  Minutes later he could see what was unfolding. The battle had followed exactly the pattern his uncle had predicted. The bashi-bazouks had charged, but were scattered and retreating in every direction, exposing the Anatolians. These were now under attack from the heavily armoured Hungarian and German infantry, advancing behind their fearsomely long pikes. Behind the Christian foot, the horsemen were surging forward, lances couched,
ready for their own charge.

  Harry raised his sword again, and the timariots began to canter.

  The Anatolians broke before the impetus of the Christian charge, and then the Janissaries were exposed. Now the Christian infantry moved to either side, to allow their cavalry to pass to the front. The knights and their squires and men-at-arms — six men to each “lance” or platoon, each lance led by a knight in full plate armour — trotted forward, the earth shuddering beneath their hooves. As they did so, the Janissaries, beautifully disciplined, also moved to either side, white plumes nodding as they emplaced their stakes and levelled their arquebuses.

  Exposed by their manoeuvre was the Ottoman artillery, which belched fire and smoke, sending men and horses tumbling to and fro.

  The knights checked their advance for only an instant, then rode forward again at a canter.

  Harry’s force was now within half a mile of the battle. He raised his sword yet again.

  “Sound the charge,” he yelled to his bugler, and the notes swept across the morning.

  The timariots screamed as they levelled their lances and surged forward.

  Before them the cannon exploded again, and tore great gaps in the Hungarian cavalry. The horsemen halted briefly, and then advanced again; the cannon would take time to reload.

  Now they were assailed by the bullets of the Janissaries, yet they rode right up to the guns, only to be checked there by the lengths of chain stretching from cannon to cannon, behind which the artillerymen were safe even from the long spears of the Christian cavalry.

  While the knights were trying to devise a way though, the Janissaries dropped their muskets and ran forward with drawn swords, the sipahis charging from the other wing.

  The Christian infantry, rallied by their commanders, were about to return to the fray when they were distracted by the drumming of hooves from behind them…

  And beside them. King Louis had kept a division of his own horse in reserve, and these now charged from the flank. Just in time Harry realised his danger, and swung his entire force to meet the threat. The two divisions crashed into each other, the heavily armoured knights and men-at-arms bringing the timariot charge to a halt.

  For a few moments it was a wild mêlée. Harry saw an armoured and visored man in front of him, swung with his scimitar, and felt a jar go up his arm as it struck steel. The man fell away before the impact, although Harry did not suppose he was seriously hurt. He had problems of his own, since the much larger Hungarian warhorse had struck his Arab on the shoulder, and the stallion then fell to its knees. This may indeed have saved Harry’s life, as a lance passed immediately above his head, and another body cannoned into his. He thrust with his sword, aiming low, where the knight sat his saddle, and was rewarded with a scream of pain. Once again his Arab had been struck, and this time the gallant little horse all but rolled over, but recovered himself and rose again, Harry still firmly in the saddle.

  There was no one in front of him. He wheeled his panting mount and found Diniz and his trumpeter still at his shoulder.

  “Sound assembly,” Harry bawled, his voice hoarse.

  The notes rang out, and the timariots disengaged themselves, where they could, and clustered around him. They had suffered severe casualties but so had the knights. Fallen men and horses were scattered across the wheatfields.

  But the battle had been decided: Hungarians and Germans were fleeing in every direction, since the armoured knights had broken before the impact of the Janissaries reinforced by the sipahis.

  Harry immediately realised that the personal pleasure of engaging further knights must take second place to making sure the Christian army did not have a chance to recover. So he led his men amongst the fleeing foot soldiers, scimitars flashing in the sunlight. The Hungarians screamed and fell; the timariots beheaded each victim and attached the dripping mementos to their saddles.

  When the remnants of the Christian cavalry saw what was happening, they galloped off. There were not more than two thousand of them left. The army of Hungary had been destroyed.

  *

  When Harry reached the royal standard, the grim work of tallying the dead was in progress. It was not the Turkish custom to take prisoners when fresh slaves were not needed. Those Hungarians who had thrown down their arms were forced to kneel before Suleiman and his pashas, and one by one had their heads struck from their shoulders. The pile of heads grew and grew.

  William Hawkwood, bloodstained and powder-stained, embraced his nephew.

  “A great victory,” he said. “The scribes say more than twenty thousand of the foe are dead.”

  “And our losses, Uncle?”

  Hawk Pasha’s face was grave. “Scarcely less, for the enemy fought like demons. But their king is amongst the fallen. There is not an organised force between us and Buda.”

  Harry bowed before the Sultan. “I fear my men played but small part in the battle, Padishah.”

  “Your manoeuvre was decisive, young Hawk,” Suleiman said. “You ended any chance of a Christian rally.”

  “You have gained the greatest victory in the history of the Ottomans, O Padishah. The Hungarian army has been annihilated.”

  Suleiman’s lips twisted. “I have the power to annihilate empires — and that is what we must now do.”

  *

  Ten days later the Ottoman army was in Buda, and this after spending three days on the field of Mohacs to tend their wounded and bury their dead. The Christian dead were left to bleach their bones in the sun.

  Outside Buda they were met by a small force of armoured knights under a flag of truce. Their commander, Count Janos Zapolya, was brought before the Sultan. He spoke in Latin.

  “I advised the late King against so rash a venture,” he said; “against opposing the might of the Ottomans at all. But he was a foolish man. I offer you now the keys of our city and the allegiance of my followers and myself.”

  “Do not trust this man, Padishah,” Hawk Pasha said in Turkish. “He has betrayed his King and his own religion. Do you suppose he will not also betray you?”

  “Perhaps he will dream of it, Hawk Pasha,” the Sultan said, “but he could be of use to me.” He changed to Latin. “If you would serve me, Count Zapolya, you and your men, and every man in Hungary capable of bearing arms must march beneath my banner. Do this and I will make you King of Hungary.”

  “You are too generous, my lord,” Zapolya gushed. “You have but to tell us where to march, and we will follow.”

  *

  “Bah,” Ibrahim commented. “Making such a fellow a king!”

  “It will ensure nothing but discord in central Europe for a generation,” Suleiman said mildly. “Zapolya undoubtedly has supporters. And we know how the Christians are confounded by oaths. I will have Zapolya crowned by the Archbishop in Buda, then all the world will know he is the lawful king of Hungary. But most of the Christian world will hate him for it. Yet those who take the oath with him will be forced to defend him or break their vows.” Suleiman smiled. “As you manage money, Ibrahim Pasha, so I must manage men.”

  *

  “That boy grows on me,” Hawk Pasha confessed. “He has more true knowledge of men than Selim, and is not greatly inferior as a soldier.”

  “Could he combine the two,” Harry suggested, “he would be the greatest of all the sultans.”

  “Supposing a woman does not bring him down,” William remarked.

  For the pashas could not but observe how the Sultan no longer sat with them in the evenings for longer than etiquette demanded; he was invariably in a hurry to seek his divan, where Roxelana waited.

  And they were further distressed when, with all of the central European plain at his mercy, the Sultan marched his armies back to the Bosphorus.

  “The Hungarians are now our allies,” he told his generals. “We have accomplished what we set out to do. There is work to be done at home.”

  *

  Harry was happy to be going home, no matter what the pashas thought. He w
orried for his uncle, who had aged considerably during the rigours of the campaign; he had no desire to see William Hawkwood exposed to a winter in the field.

  And indeed winter came on them before they regained Constantinople; the army suffered as many casualties during the return march as during the battle itself. But Hawk Pasha, wrapped in his cloak and indomitably marshalling his men as usual, survived to regain the ministrations of Aimée and Giovanna, and Harry could seek those of his own women.

  Yana’s sexual attraction grew for him with every embrace, and Harry wondered if Suleiman felt the same about her sister Roxelana.

  And what would Gulbehar, reputedly so sweet and gentle and loving, think of her latest rival? Or did Gulbehar feel secure in the certainty that, as mother of the Sultan’s eldest son, she would eventually be Sultan Valideh and supreme ruler of the harem, and thus fear no rivals?

  *

  Events in Hungary turned out as Suleiman had predicted — up to a point. Half of the country accepted John Zapolya as king, the other half did not. The latter appealed to the Emperor, whose brother, Ferdinand of Habsburg, led an army into Hungary and defeated Zapolya at the battle of Tokay 1527. A month later, messengers arrived in Constantinople appealing for aid.

  “Let him sink or swim,” Ibrahim recommended.

  “Then all my strategy is proved a mistaken one,” Suleiman observed. “What do you recommend, Hawk Pasha?”

  William Hawkwood stroked his beard, nowadays more white than red. “We will have to return, O Padishah. But this time let us make certain of the task we have undertaken. Hungary and Buda are but outposts on the European plain. The true limits of your empire should be Vienna, and then the Rhine.”

  “The Rhine?” Suleiman muttered.

  “You speak of a campaign which will devastate our people,” Ibrahim objected, “and consume our wealth.”

  Suleiman looked at William. “Can we do it, Hawk Pasha? Have we the men?”

  “I believe it can be done. But with some diplomacy and much haste. Instead of summoning your levies from all over the empire, a gathering which would be readily apparent to the Europeans, let us march when we are ready, with whatever we have available in Constantinople and Europe.”