by Tony Roberts
So Timur began sending his soldiers and allies into Moghulistan and Khwarazm, plundering and looting. Booty built up and enhanced the riches of the tribes, although not as much as in Samarkand where the royal capital was beginning to take on the looks of an opulent city.
Casca took up residence in the city, on the western side close to the citadel. Here the houses were larger and all had walled gardens, and the twisted narrow alleys of the poorer quarters were not to be found here. The streets were wide and well maintained and the proximity of the garrison at the citadel meant that there were patrols to keep undesirables away. The gardens looked out onto a large stream and servants kept the gardens and house in good order. Adil was delighted with the place and soon had bought enough vases, ornaments and spices to stock an average Middle Eastern palace. In all, times were good and Casca enjoyed it, knowing that in time he would have to leave all this and travel on, once more a common soldier. It had happened enough times to him in the past. He had learned to live for the moment, and that’s what he was doing with Adil.
The first major campaign was north to Urgenj which capitulated soon enough; the Khwarazami army being no match for the battle hardened men of the Chaghadai Khanate. Following this raid, for that was what it was, Casca stood in front of a map that had been beautifully drawn up by the best cartographers that money could buy, which as far as anyone knew, represented the world as they all knew it.
“So, my learned friend” Timur stood behind him, fists planted on hips, “what do you see there?”
Without turning round, Casca waved at the jigsaw that constituted the political face of the region. “We are surrounded by potential enemies, and if we suddenly assume a powerful position, then they may unite to crush us. Firstly, it must be recognized that the richer nations lie to the west.” He indicated the Turco-Persian lands held by the Kartids, Kings of Herat, who were the top dogs in Khorasan; the Muzaffarids centered around Isfahan and Kerman; the lands of Mazandaram, located to the south of the Caspian Sea; and lastly, Baghdad where the Jalayrid federation held sway. “Here is where any successful raid will make you richer than all the kings in Asia. But first you must secure your rear.” He pointed east, to where the lands of the Moghuls lay. “The rulers of Moghulistan still cannot come to an agreement. A big expedition there will cripple their military capacity to trouble you for some years, which will allow you to plunder the western lands without fear.”
Timur nodded to the north. “And the Golden Horde? They are rich, richer than you or I could possibly believe.”
“That is true” Casca eyed the vast realms of the Mongol Khanate. Only the previous year the civil war there had finished and the Horde was once more united. How it would present itself to the world was yet to be seen. “They however are exhausted as yet, and fear the Blue Horde to their east under Urus Khan. I think we would have much more to fear if Urus won any struggle there.”
Timur idly played with a pointed dagger. “Plunder, booty, raids. Yet you spoke to me in times past of conquests. My prestige needs conquests.”
Casca grinned and waved at Khwarazm. “There. It’s weak, isolated, and caught between you and the Golden Horde. Annex that part of the world before the Horde regain sufficient strength to challenge you.”
Timur surveyed the map. The land of Khwarazm lay between the Caspian Sea, the Aral Sea and the Oxus. The campaign the previous year had revealed how weak that country was. “A conquest will reveal to all my neighbors of my intentions. Yet, you are right in that many are involved in petty conflicts at this time. Still, I am concerned about the loyalty of the tribes.”
Casca turned to face the warlord. “Then replace their leaders with your own men and integrate them in your army. That way they will be under firmer control. They will still retain a separate identity, but they will follow leaders loyal to you and not themselves.”
The lame leader sat down on a pile of rugs. “You appear to have experienced such a situation before, Unchanging One.”
“Genghis Khan united the tribes in much the same way. Divide and rule.”
“Very well, I shall take your advice. The first shall be the Apardi tribe.” The Apardi leader, Zinda Hasham, had recently died in prison in Samarkand, and his tribe was now leaderless. He decided to hand over the Apardi tribe to the son of a trusted follower.
Gathering his forces together, Timur led an army of conquest north-west into Khwarazm once more. However, he received a nasty shock on the first few days of the invasion. Kaykhusraw defected to the enemy, taking the Khuttalani regiments with him, and they stood face to face with the Khwarazami army outside Khiva. Casca shook his head in sorrow. Kaykhusraw, once Amir Hussayn had been eliminated, had no reason to side with Timur, and therefore the once loyal ally had decided Timur was getting too powerful and wished to stop him before things got too far out of hand.
The battle was brief but bloody. Timur arranged his army into the traditional formation of three units. Casca had been working on him for some time to have some men put aside as a reserve, but so far Timur had not listened. Forming the wagons he had as a mini fortress in the center of the plain, he sent his archers out to pour fire into the enemy formations. This goaded their cavalry into the attack and Timur’s center fell back in apparent disorder, drawing in the Khwarazami army. However, it was the old Mongol ruse of a feigned retreat; and the trap was sprung, catching the enemy between the wagons and two flanks of archers. A few moments of slaughter led to the confused retreat of the opposition, and at that moment Timur sounded the general charge.
The Khwarazami retreat turned into a panic stricken rout. Swords hacked at fleeing backs and bodies toppled by the score. Thousands were herded into pockets and shot to bits by archers until they surrendered. Amongst the prisoners was Kaykhusraw, sporting a bloodied face. He was dragged before Timur and forced down onto his knees.
“So, traitor, do you have anything to say for your treachery?”
Kaykhusraw looked up into the pitiless face of his conqueror. “You must not be allowed to lead the Chaghadai tribes, you are not of the lineage.”
“Fool! I am of the Celestial Birth! It is written I shall once more bring the lands of the Mongols greatness. Your puny ambitions are of a small, defeated man, and here you kneel, a small defeated man. I cannot trust one who stabs me in the back. Your regiment will be given over to one whom I can trust. As for you, I give you to the Kara-Unas tribe.”
Kaykhusraw went pale. He knew what would happen to him, following his execution of the Kara-Unas leader Amir in Balkh a couple of years back. “No, Lord, I beg you, please allow me to serve you faithfully once more!”
Timur waved at his guards to take the pleading man away. “You had your chance, and you betrayed me. Now get out of my sight.”
The screaming Khuttalani leader was dragged away, his voice fading. The other leaders stood straighter as Timur eyed each and every one of them. “Remain with me, and you will share the glory of victory and plunder and receive the enemy’s riches, cities and women. Oppose me, and receive the sword across your necks. Down!”
Startled, all hastily dropped to the ground, prostrating themselves in front of the triumphant warlord. Casca had begun to drop, too, but Timur shook his head. “Unchanging One, you shall no longer need to prostrate yourself.”
Eyes raised in wonder at the title, each man having heard of the legend, wondering if their ears and eyes deceived them or not. Now they knew the truth; Timur had a legend on his side, how could he lose?
Timur’s army poured into Khiva, sacking the city and looting all the homes. Prisoners were chained together and led out to be sold in the markets of Samarkand, Balkh and Bukhara. Another unit, under the command of Timur’s son Jahangir, took the city of Kat. Both cities were annexed with the Khwarazami leaders powerless to oppose the move, particularly as their king had died in battle outside Khiva.
Casca returned with the main part of the army to Samarkand and to Adil. He always looked forward to being greeted by his wife after a c
ampaign and enjoyed his time with her in their comfortable but modest house. Although of high status they only had half a dozen slaves whereas many of the nobility in Samarkand had twenty, thirty or even more. The city was beginning to take on the appearance of a capital now, with many skilled people flocking to the Khan’s city looking for work, and work there was a-plenty. Buildings were being designed, built and having to be maintained. The swelling population needed to be fed, and vendors and merchants were working like never before. Those skilled in weaponry and armor made their way there to sell their produce. The money lenders and bankers had hoards of coins pouring in, thanks to the booty gained on expeditions, and artisans of all types, from decorators of vases to glass blowers, were needed in ever increasing numbers to supply ornate and beautiful pieces of work to adorn the nobles’ houses.
Therefore time in Samarkand was enjoyable, but the violent nature of the region and the conflicting ambitions of local rulers ensured that Timur always needed to have his forces on standby. There was always the hope that time could be enjoyed to the full, but Casca and Adil knew that sooner or later a knock would come on their door and a man dressed for war would be waiting to call the Unchanging One to battle.
And it was early in the following spring when the knock came on Casca’s door.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The army filed across the mountains like a line of ants, a living train of insects bent on a mindless journey through all obstacles. But this was no mindless mass of beings; this was an army moving forward with just one purpose in mind, to destroy the Moghul Khan, Karmar al-Din. The Moghuls had been threatening Timur following the annexation of Kat and Khivas so Timur had promptly prepared his supplies for a campaign into the T’ien Shan and led the army out of Samarkand eastwards. Once across the Jaxartes River they proceeded to pillage every settlement they came to, terrorizing the populace into cowering servitude. Casca didn’t like it, but it was the way of the Steppe nomads and had always been, from the time of the Huns to the present. He kept away from these raids and preferred to be with the main army. At least with the main force you fought warriors, not helpless civilians. Butchery he left to the sadists. He preferred to fight fellow soldiers; he felt it was more honorable.
They had plundered through Tashkent and scattered what local forces there were to the four winds. Then they had crossed a fertile valley called the Ferghana and moved into the mountains proper, their scouts reporting the way ahead was still clear. Karmar al-Din was retreating deeper into the mountains, abandoning his people to the Timurids. Timur took this as an invitation to do what he liked to the people and huge numbers there were enslaved and dragged away back to Transoxiana and their villages obliterated.
It seemed as though Timur was trying to goad the Khan into battle by slaughtering as he went, but Karman remained impassive and kept away; knowing that his forces were inferior to the huge numbers of men that made up the invading force. The city of Andijan had been next; and then they moved over the mountain passes towards Atbashi, the populace fleeing before they were slaughtered, so the invaders entered an empty city.
Casca walked stiffly into a large airy building, thankful to be out of the saddle. His ass ached from the jolting he received and wished dearly for a long hot bath. “Anyone know where the hot water is?” he bellowed, startling some soldiers who had begun to loot the place downstairs, prizing gems out of statues too heavy to have been moved by the terror stricken civilians.
“Try along there, sir” a sergeant pointed, a long stretch of silk curtains in his hand, “there’s a large bathroom at the end.”
Nodding his thanks he pounded the dust off his mail coat and strode down the empty passage, thinking how the place had changed the last time he’d been there when part of Genghis’ horde. Then, it all had been a small, impoverished mountain town with stone houses and goat shit and not a lot else. The influx of money into the Mongol domains had improved things somewhat. He found the bathroom and examined the plumbing. Primitive but functional. He turned on the gilt taps and shot his hand away swiftly. “Ooh, shit! That’s freezing!”
“I think the water supply comes straight from the mountains” a calm voice said from behind.
Casca turned to see a straight-faced soldier with slanted eyes, yellow skin and a wispy moustache and beard. There was no doubt as to the race of this man. “You are a long way from China” he said.
The Chinese man bowed. “Lu-Fong at your service, honored sir. I am one of the few survivors of the Yuan Emperor’s household guard.”
Casca grunted. “Looking for a new job, Lu-Fong?” The Yuan, the Mongol dynasty in China that Kubilai Khan had founded, had been evicted from China by a new force, the Ming, only a few years back, and had chased the fleeing Yuan all the way to the old Mongol capital, Karakoram, killing the emperor and smashing his forces. “What brings you here then?”
“Ah, those who served the Yuan are now as seeds on the wind. We go where fate decides for we have no home. I heard of your advance so I journeyed here. I wish to serve the new master of Asia, Timur the Lame.”
Of course, Lu-Fong had given him the local title, Timur-i-Lenk, but that was the translation. Casca turned off the tap. “And what skills can you give him, Lu-Fong? He does have a vast array of talents in his army.”
The Chinese soldier indicated his sword. “I am fortunate to be proficient with the blade but I can bring the great warlord knowledge of the lands of China as well as the Ming. Surely the conqueror would be interested in those lands?”
Casca didn’t want Timur being distracted by pointless campaigns far to the east when he wanted Timur to advance in the opposite direction. However, he knew that Lu-Fong would only go to Timur if he gave him the brush off. “I will mention it to him. But tell me, why did you seek me out?”
The Chinaman bowed again. “I saw that you were of high rank, for does your attire not speak of such? I followed you here for I was watching from across the street and you rode a horse adorned with barding superior to most. Also you ordered those men around outside as one used to giving orders, not taking them. Truly you are one high in Timur’s eyes.”
The mercenary grunted. He would show Lu-Fong to the Court of Timur but make him go through the process of being vetted and checked thoroughly. The Chinese may be a spy sent by the desperate Karmar. “Sergeant!” he yelled down the passage, “get me a squad of slaves to bathe me. And sergeant!”
“Sir?” came the muffled reply.
“Inform Umar Shaykh that there is someone here who wishes to see his father.” Umar Shaykh was the second son of Timur and had been given command of part of the army, even though he was a youth of eighteen. Lu-Fong bowed and waited for the sergeant, while Casca stood ready for the slaves to find hot water and then bathe him. Rank had its privileges.
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The army passed north, heading for the rich valley of the Ili River. Casca, who had been that way before had informed Timur of its richness and abundant wildlife as well as the many small settlements dotted about the river in addition to the large lake it emptied into, Lake Balkash. The Ili River was the northernmost part of the domain of the Moghuls and on the other side of the Lake was where the Blue Horde’s territory lay. Timur simply wanted to devastate the entire western half of the Moghuls domain, thus preventing him from building up any army to attack his lands. Casca wryly thought to himself it would take Karman years to recover from all this.
Lu-Fong had had his audience but Timur had informed him he was not prepared as yet to invade China. He wanted to subjugate the Middle East first. Lu-Fong, looking disappointed, bowed low and left. Nobody had seen him since. The land dipped sharply towards the river and the lake and at last they topped a rise and gazed down on the sparkling waters in the distance. The Steppes ran off into the distance beyond, while the pine-covered mountains lay behind them.
“The homeland of my people” Timur muttered.
The mercenary nodded. Around Lake Baikal, much further east and north of this place, was the
true home, but the geography was much the same. Casca looked wistfully down at the peaceful scene, knowing that in a few days burning pyres of smoke would mark where villages now stood. “Still no sign of the Khan’s army, Lord” he remarked.
“Bah, that coward had no stomach for a fight” Timur growled. “I will pursue him to the ends of the earth if needs be.”
Casca had dreaded such a statement. “Lord, a word in your ear?”
Timur looked long at Casca, then nodded. He gestured to Cheku and the other generals to send raiding parties to the villages ahead, then rode a slight distance off with his advisor. “You wish to say something for my ears alone?”
“Yes. To pursue a man deep into his own territory is not wise. We are extending our lines of supply and he is shortening his. Soon the winter will come and then we will be cut off, in enemy land, alone. Karman will pick us off one by each as he pleases. Our army would be destroyed.”
Timur looked angrily at his advisor. “So you advise we retreat? Now?”
“To the east is the Junggar valley, full of lush grass for our horses. Beyond there is desert. I would not advise passing beyond that point. If no battle is offered, then that should be our limit. We will have ended any threat to our eastern border for at least three years, Lord, and you have enough slaves and treasure to satisfy anyone who has come along for that purpose. In that way, you have been successful.”
Timur glowered and looked at the eastern horizon. The Ili River ran straight east towards a range of mountains. “What lies there?”
“The river runs into what are known as the Kurgan Mountains. On the other side of that is the Junggar. Apart from a few towns, there is nothing of note there. I suspect the Khan’s army and base is to the south, deeper into the T’ien Shan.”
Timur grunted. “Take two Tumens and scout as far as the Kurgan mountains. I will plunder all the way to the Lake here. If you encounter any resistance crush it. Await my arrival in five days.”
