by Tony Roberts
Amir realized Timur was serious and sent a delegation to Tashkent. Kaykhusraw attended this meeting and sat there, scowling the entire time at the representatives of his enemy. Amir pleaded with Timur to disperse the Moghuls. In return he would restore the governorship of his home territory around Kish and Bukhara to Timur.
It was what the Emir wanted. He also extracted from them a promise not to carry out any retribution against the Khuttalanis for their faithful support of Timur whilst in exile. Timur then gave the order to his Moghul allies to disperse and return to their homes. That day, he led his men out of the Moghulistan city of Tashkent and crossed the Jaxartes back into the Chaghadai Khanate. His period of exile was over.
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Amir had not forgotten, however, how troublesome Timur was, and summoned his most trusted lieutenant. “Do we have someone close to Timur who hates him more than anything? Is there anyone he trusts who would be prepared to kill him for payment?”
“There is, Amir. I know of one who would gladly plunge a dagger into that viper’s bosom.”
“Then go arrange it. Do not reveal that person’s name to me or anyone else. In the meantime, I intend to curtail this jackal’s powers once and for all.”
That year, Amir had problems in the Kabul region and he campaigned there along with Timur and the other tribal leaders. No sooner had the rebels been pacified then Amir announced he was building a new capital and Court, at Balkh.
“Balkh? Balkh!” Timur scowled. “Why Balkh?”
“It is closer to your tribal lands, Emir” Casca pointed out, “and it is amongst the Suldus tribal lands, a potential ally of yourself. He is trying to eliminate your power base.”
Timur laughed. “Then he has made a mistake, for to leave one’s own territory and make a home amongst strangers is not wise, for if things go wrong strangers will not offer help.”
The mercenary mulled this over in his mind. Amir must be desperate to end things without going to war again, unless he wished to provoke Timur into precipitate action. That must be what he wanted, to show the other tribal leaders that Timur wanted only to destroy.
Casca called to him the two most trusted generals in the Barlas army, Cheku and Murat. With him in this small council of war were Olujey and the shaman Jaibut.
Casca put to the others the fact that Amir was hoping for Timur to make a mistake before long. “It is my belief that Amir is overextending himself by building his seat of power in Balkh. Samarkand would be better for it watches the east and sits astride the main trade route. It is also more central to the land. Balkh, however, has none of these advantages. So we must assume Amir intends to eliminate Timur quickly.”
Cheku nodded, pulling on his thin wispy moustache. His brown eyes peered out of a full oriental face and he, of all the Barlas generals, looked most like a true blooded Mongol. Murat, on the other hand, had Turkish blood written all over him. Cheku cleared his throat. “I have already heard that Sheikh Mohammed of the Suldus and Kaykhusraw oppose Amir setting up court in Balkh. They are ready for rebellion.”
“Kaykhusraw would oppose Amir for any reason” Murat commented darkly, “after all, Amir did kill his brother.”
“And his daughter is betrothed to Timur’s son Jalaygir,” Olujey added.
Casca waved that fact aside. Betrothals could be broken like alliances in this part of the world. “Agreed that Kaykhusraw will side with Timur against Amir. But what about the Suldus?”
“They will not tolerate Amir setting up his capital in the middle of their lands; that is for sure. Also they have not forgotten Timur’s part in bringing Sheikh Mohammed to their fore” Cheku said.
Casca ticked off his fingers. “Right, so we’ve got the Barlas, the Suldus, the Khuttalanis. Who else?”
“The Apardi and Arlas tribes are undecided” Murat said, “but we must secure their loyalty as they dominate this region, both to the north and to the south.”
Cheku grinned suddenly. “I hear that one of the Arlats, Mundayyam, is a drunkard. It might be easy to arrange an ‘incident’.”
Casca nodded. “Then do it. Murat, I want you to go see Zinda Hasham of the Apardi and gauge his loyalties. See how he’s taking the news of Amir’s move. Olujey, you go round the nomads and see which of them supports Amir. I don’t want worms eating at our insides the moment we make our move.” He turned to the shaman. “Jaibut, you know the religious leaders of the area. Can you do a quick round and see what way they are leaning? Timur’s forces have all sorts of gods amongst them, so it’ll mean asking Imams, shamans, priests and Dervishes.”
Jaibut inclined his head. “It shall be done.”
Olujey led the three others out, leaving Casca alone with his thoughts. He was interrupted a few moments later by a guard breathlessly whipping aside the flap of his yurt. “Lord, Olujey has been stabbed. I fear he may die!”
Casca rushed out and followed the guard. A knot of people stood around the fallen officer, off to the left, and the mercenary pushed his way to the front and knelt down.
The young man lay face up, blood trickling down his chin from his mouth. “Olujey!” Casca lifted his head in his arm.
“He got me in the back, lord” the officer murmured.
“Any idea who it was?”
“No. It was swift.” The voice was barely a whisper and Casca knew the young man had little time to live. He fumbled for his sword and pressed it into the man’s hand. “Now you can die with your sword in your hand, like a true warrior, Olujey.”
Olujey’s mouth twitched into a slight smile, then he sighed deeply and was gone. Casca’s eyes stung with tears as he gently lowered the man’s unseeing face to the ground. He looked up at the guard who had brought him. “I want this brave warrior sent to the heavens in the true manner. Arrange it.”
“Lord” the guard acknowledged and picked up the dead man.
The mercenary was left alone to ponder on the manner of Olujey’s death. It was clear to him that only one of three could have done the deed, for there had been no one else around. Murat, Cheku and Jaibut had followed Olujey out and any one of them could have knifed him in the back, like an assassin. He looked at the angles and nodded, for the assailant had waited until Olujey had passed out of sight of the two guards outside his yurt to strike. He stood up and went over to the one remaining guard and questioned him. He confirmed that Olujey had been first out and had turned to his left upon leaving. The three others had indeed followed him out, but two had turned right while one had gone left.
Casca asked if the guard had seen who it was.
The guard nodded.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Timur called a great meeting of the tribes opposed to Amir Hussayn in his city of Kish. Such a thing was, of course, forbidden, so it would be a useful guide to see who was for Timur or for Amir. Casca noted the arrival of Kaykhusraw Khuttalani and Sheikh Mohammed Suldus, two of the most vehement opponents of Amir. Murat and Cheku represented the Barlas clan while newcomers included Musa of the Taychiut tribe and Ali of the Yasa-Uri tribe.
Surprises included Zinda Hasham and Oljeytu of the Apardi clan. The Apardis were recognized as being firm supporters of Amir but it seemed even these had been alienated.
“Friends, fellow tribal leaders” Timur began, “it has become clear that Amir Hussayn has exceeded his position as leader of the tribes of the Chaghadai Khanate. He has murdered family members of some of you” he looked at the bitter face of Kaykhusraw, “and has seized and imprisoned in Balkh members of others.” His own face clouded, for his sister had been dragged, screaming, from her home in Bukhara a mere ten days ago on orders from Amir. “He had appointed a feckless youth as Khan who authorizes each new atrocity this monster carries out on us, so he must go the same way as Amir. Together our armies can crush this evil man once and for all.”
Many of the men present rumbled agreement. However, Ali stood up. “It is treasonable to conspire against Amir in this manner. In doing so, you sink to the level of brigands. I was sent by A
mir to this meeting to assess the measure of hostility against him, and have been empowered to negotiate on his behalf.”
“Amir knows of this meeting?” Timur stood up from his cushions, glaring at Ali. “How did he know?”
Ali waved the words aside. “It does not matter; he knows much of what goes on. He is prepared to relax taxes on certain households provided you pay him homage.”
An angry mutter went around the cavernous yurt. Kaykhusraw pointed a finger at Ali. “You can tell your master that I for one will never pay him homage. I do not bow to dogs.”
Ali’s face darkened. “Then you will forfeit your lands, Khuttalani.”
Timur waved a finger and a guard behind Ali struck swiftly, severing his head. The tribal leaders gaped, then turned to Timur. The Emir leaned back into his cushions and folded his arms. “So dies anyone who opposes me here at the meeting. Does this satisfy you, Kaykhusraw?”
The bitter man nodded. “But there remains the problem of the spy in your camp, Timur.”
Casca rose from his position in the darkness. “I may be able to help in that respect.”
“You know who it is?” Timur stated.
“I have known for many days, but I was waiting for the right moment. I suspect he is here to assassinate you and all other conspirators. I suspect the wine may have been poisoned.”
The other leaders growled and stood up, eyeing the large golden ornate dish that held the wine which had been brought in a few moments ago. Casca had been gathering intelligence from his men all week and had come to the conclusion that Amir intended to have all opposition killed here, which was why he had allowed the gathering to take place despite his knowledge. Politics in Transoxiana being what they were, a man who killed leaders of all these powerful tribes would soon find vengeful tribes people beating down his door, so it was better to have them poisoned by an agent while he was miles away enjoying the delights of his own residence, rather than have his own soldiers burst in and slaughter all and sundry. It was tidier, neater and more convenient.
“How can you prove this?” Timur demanded.
“By asking the spy to take the first drink. I had a short list of three men who the spy could be but my investigations confirmed it was only one, and he has done it for money. Money for his family, his future. He intended setting up a temple of his own with the proceeds of this dirty act. Didn’t you, Jaibut?”
All eyes swung round to the shaman who seemed to shrink. Timur, his face white with anger towered over him. “You? You betrayed me?”
“He speaks lies, Lord! Lies! It is he who intends to kill you all!” Jaibut was practically gibbering.
Casca sighed and ladled wine into a goblet and passed it to Cheku, who was the nearest to him. “If he drinks this, then he tells the truth. If he refuses....”
The unfinished sentence was like a sword to the heart. Jaibut shook his head. “Alcohol is forbidden by the prophet.”
“Since when have you been a practicing Muslim, you old phony?” Casca snapped. “Drink it and prove your innocence.”
Timur leaned towards the shaman. “I drink alcohol, yet I follow the Quran. Drink it, pig, or my guard will lop off your head.”
Jaibut sobbed and took the proffered goblet, a sword at his throat. He trembled and took a small sip. “All of it!” the emir bellowed. The shaman flinched, closed his eyes, and swallowed a large draught.
Timur took the goblet and watched the deep breathing Jaibut. The shaman’s eyes bored into Casca’s with hatred. After a few seconds he groaned and clutched his stomach, doubling up. The groans grew in frequency and intensity and he began rolling about, screaming. His face turned black and after one convulsion lay still, his eyes staring wide into nothing.
“I think he lied” Timur said, then roared in mirth. The others followed suit, although some were forcing their laughter. After a few moments Timur indicated Jaibut’s seat to Casca. “I think you have earned your place closer to me. We all owe our lives to you.”
As Jaibut’s body was carried off to be thrown into a pit, new wine was ordered and the plans to get rid of Amir went on deep into the night.
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The army descended upon Balkh from all directions, driving back those units still loyal to Amir. Soon all were locked up in the city and surrounded by vastly superior forces. After only two days Amir agreed to surrender, there being no reserves of food in the city. Timur, at the head of the delegation, rode into the city and made his way to Amir’s residence.
He dismounted and awaited Amir’s arrival outside in the streets. Soon the beaten man emerged, escorted by trusted men of Timur’s own bodyguard. “So, stealer of women, your brief reign of misrule has come to an end. I trust my sister is unhurt?”
“She is” Amir replied defiantly. “What are you to do with me now? My tribe would never follow the man who kills me.”
Timur gazed at Amir for a few moments. “You speak the truth. I therefore pass you over to the tender care of Kaykhusraw Khuttalani.”
“NO!” Amir screamed in horror as he was pushed into the arms of the wickedly grinning man. There was a brief flash of sunlight on a blade, a gurgling cry, then Amir was sinking to the paved stones, his lifeblood seeping away.
“Who wanted to lead his tribe of ugly bastards anyway?” Kaykhusraw said dispassionately as he watched Amir’s final twitching moments.
Timur slapped the triumphant man on the shoulder. “You have avenged your brother’s death. Now, Murat” he turned to his kinsman, “provided you can eliminate all male issue of this dog here, I will give you governorship of this city.”
Murat grinned and called his guards to follow him into the residence. Cheku came up, his slanted eyes full of pride. “And his wives?”
Timur drew in a deep breath. “I shall examine them myself and pick those that please my eyes the most. As for the rest, I shall share them out. You want one?”
“Lord, it shall be an honor.”
“Then go secure the harem.”
So came to an end Amir Hussayn’s brief rule as tribal leader. Timur installed himself in Amir’s place but moved to Samarkand, executing Amir’s puppet Khan and installing one of his own instead. He married four of the late ruler’s wives and shared the rest out, even offering one to Casca who politely refused, saying that as the Unchanging One it would be unfair to give a woman to him as he would never be able to offer them a normal life.
“That’s one thing which has troubled me, leader of the tribes” Casca said that evening as they walked together outside Timur’s yurt, “you have not revealed to the other tribal leaders that I am the Unchanging One. Why?”
“As long as I have to rely on the other tribal leaders for support I shall not, for they would see this as a statement from me to gain real power in this area. To them, this is unacceptable. I am gradually gaining control of all the Tumens but until I feel strong enough to deal with them, your true identity will be kept secret.
“Now” Timur showed Casca the way into his yurt, “you have said no woman would have a proper life with you, yet there is one who has expressed a wish to be with you in all these years I have had her. She is yours if you wish it.”
Casca caught sight of Adil sitting quietly in the yurt, smiling. He caught his breath. Although nine years had passed since he had first met her, her beauty had not lessened one bit. Indeed, it seemed age had enhanced her looks and she was now in the full flower of her womanhood. “She is far too striking for me, Emir.”
“Do you not desire her?”
“Of course, what man wouldn’t?”
Timur held out his arm to Adil who rose smoothly and glided over to him. “She is yours. Adil Agha, I give you to this man as his wife. You know his condition?”
Adil inclined her head. “I do, my Lord.”
“And you know he will never age while you grow old and wrinkled. He will live on even after you are no more than bones in the ground.”
Adil smiled at Casca. “I know all this. I care not, for I feel for
him in a manner that I cannot for others, even for you, Lord.”
Timur looked at the woman. “Yet you have served me faithfully these years. Here, you are each other’s from now on.”
Casca and Adil took each other in their arms and looked at one another in wonder. The mercenary mused to himself how strange fate was. He was sure he had given her up for good when he had passed Adil to Timur in Bukhara, yet now she was willing to remain with him for the rest of her life.
“Thank you, Lord,” Casca was too overcome to say much more. “I cannot thank you enough.”
The tribal leader chuckled. “You can serve me well in the decades to come.”
Casca looked at the silent dark shadow of Samarkand, then at the stars. “Now the hard work begins.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Getting to the top was one thing, holding onto it was entirely another. The first to go were Musa Taychiut and Zinda Hasham, both rebelling against the position Timur had taken, similar to Kaykhusraw and Sheikh Mohammed’s rebellion against Amir. After refusing to attend Timur’s Kurultai the two were hunted all over the region. The forces used were the indigenous nomad forces that had been subjugated into Timur’s army, and the former tribe of Amir’s, the Kara-Unas. Following the execution of their leader they were assimilated into the army of Timur and put under the command of Cheku.
The other tribal leaders saw too late the power base Timur had gathered. They would have to fight most of the Tajiks, Sarbardars and the combined might of the Barlas and Kara-Unas tribes. Casca saw the dissent growing and suggested the other tribal leaders could be used in plundering raids east and west. Fortune seemed to smile on Timur for the Moghuls lost their Khan to murder and they descended into petty squabbling over the succession, thereby ending any threat they may have posed.