CHAPTER IV

"May you be thrice separated from your wife if you do not appear before me!" Every Eastern chronicler notes these words with shuddering horror!

Ibu Shimah, Arabshah, Sherefeddin, and the Persian Khandemir all record them with the greatest loathing, and Christian historians, such as Phranzas and Chalcondylas, admit that a greater curse could not befall a Mussulman! "May you be thrice separated from your wife!"

He who loves, nay adores, and respects his faithful wife, the mother of his children, who is to him a queen of the world as well as the queen of his heart, and he who knows that in accordance with the Alkoran it is easy to be separated from a wife, but should remarriage be desired, she must live with another man first, and only when he has thrust her aside can she again marry her first husband--he it is who will understand what a frightful curse is this to a Mussulman!

"May you be thrice separated from your wife!"

It is a greater insult than to slap the face; it is far worse than to break in two your opponent's sword! Nay, it is even more than to have the graves of one's ancestors uprooted, and is a deadly offence to all Mussulmans. And when this Mussulman is a Monarch! and this Monarch, Timur!

Timur Lenk did not appear to be furious. He did not howl with rage. He stood up, speechless, and held the letter towards heaven as though he would say, "Here is this letter; read it!" His sons and generals and the vassal princes were horrified to see him as he stood there in his camp, apparently speaking, though none could hear him nor understand him, save those who are unseen, for his lips remained closed. He folded the letter slowly and placed it in his breast in order that he might carry it there until he could revenge himself for the insult. After this, anger was no longer visible on his countenance. He did not put the envoys in chains, though Bajazet had so treated those sent by him; he did not have their noses and ears cut off. On the contrary, he gave them presents of golden caps and richly embroidered coats, and had them mounted on horseback and escorted through his camp, in order that they might count his standards and number his troops. He had the fighting elephants brought before them; he let them know that his cavalry wore armour beneath their uniforms, in order that they might go back to their master and tell him that Timur was quite prepared and would soon meet him, or should he decide to come himself, that he would await him. The Sultan was not to hurry! He would do well to prepare himself in a befitting manner to meet his enemy! Meantime Timur would bombard the Fort of Szivasz, the Sultan's most important stronghold!

Timur Lenk looked down from the Taurus Mountains into the Valley of Anadot. A new Paradise stretched before his feet. He saw hundreds and hundreds of places amidst the green meadows, and as far as eye could reach his troops were to be seen; and before him, in the mouth of the valley, lay Szivasz, surrounded on either side by massive citadels and canals, quite unapproachable, owing to morasses. There was but one route by which the gates could be reached, and this was defended by triple walls and high watch-towers.

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The woeful news was brought to Bajazet that Timur had started his expedition against him. He had received tidings of this beforehand, and therefore had time to prepare himself. Szivasz had 100,000 inhabitants, amongst whom were 20,000 military. The Sultan reinforced them by sending 10,000 Armenians, the pick of his regiments, who were commanded by his second son, Ertogrul. The fort, which was called the "Unconquerable," was provided with ammunition for one year. One year's ammunition! Within that space of time barley was being reaped in its courtyard after its capture by Timur!

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Timur's followers were divided into a camp of twenty-seven sections. Tartars and Persians formed the cavalry; Manchou miners made the subterranean ways, whilst the supple Hindoos scaled the walls. These men were all veritable magicians! They climbed the enemy's ramparts like snakes, they were quite nude, with ropes round their shoulders, and they carried sharp iron prongs in their hands, and in their teeth yataghans. They clung partly to the bricks, partly to the smooth surface of the walls, and resting on the shoulders of their comrades beneath them, they reached the summit. Whilst this living ladder, man on man, made its way up the giddy heights and attained the foot of the citadel, those beneath were being continuously dragged up after them. Had they swerved or fallen they would have been dashed to pieces. Those who first reached the citadel, crept slowly, like so many panthers, to the unsuspecting guards, and stretched themselves along the ground as their backs were turned, then threw the ropes suddenly over their necks and pulled them down to the earth. Thus they died without making a sound. When one or two thousand Hindoos had reached the citadel, they flew down to the watch-towers, strangled the guard, and cut the chains of the bridges. Then Timur's iron men, with swords in both hands, made a rush to slaughter the whole population. They had been frequently successful in these cunning attacks upon the walled towns. Strong forts which had been prepared to resist an attack of a year's duration had often fallen suddenly in one night into the hands of the conqueror.

This fate awaited Szivasz! The gates and trenches had been well seen to by spies, but yet Timur was ignorant of one fact--viz., that the Sultan's son, Ertogrul (called the "nightbird," as he only slept in daytime), guarded the walls at night, like an owl.

Timur and his men waited before the gates with drawn swords until midnight, and, indeed, until daybreak, to receive the expected signal for the onslaught to be made. The Polar Star and the Morning Star appeared in the skies, yet no sound was to be heard in the fort. When it was daylight, Timur caused twenty-four huge machines, used for flinging blocks of stone, to be brought into operation. With the bullets which were returned in answer, came back to him the heads of his own soldiers! From early in the morning till late at night the heads of his bravest men were thrown at him! Timur saw them coming in tens and twenties from the heights above him! They had been all selected athletes and clever mechanics who had completed their studies at Delhi, and had silently slidden down on ropes from the precipitous rocks of Georgia to surprise and slaughter the enemy. Until late at night these gory balls fell at Timur's feet. He could have added to the large collection he already possessed, but these were cherished heads, belonging to his own men! Ertogrul had indeed lashed the lion!

Suddenly Timur put into work 8000 miners! The wall of the fort was only to be got at on one side, and under this he made a subterranean way, walled it with timber, and filled it up with sulphur and resin, which he caused to be ignited. After the seventeen days' bombardment, the watchmen of Szivasz perceived a suffocating smell in the air, which seemed to settle heavily down upon them, and took away their courage. The earth beneath them became burning hot, the grass in the woods around the citadels dried up, and the walls could be heard to split and crack from top to basement. The heat became unbearable, the iron railings assumed a fiery red hue, whilst the grain stored away in the citadel was burnt as black as soot, and the wine-casks exploded. This was on the seventeenth day. On the eighteenth the walls of the citadel, together with the iron gates, fell down all together into a veritably burning hell! Then could be heard the Tartar cry of enthusiasm "Sürün!"

Thus were forced open the gates of the Ottoman Empire, and the enemy slaughtered the whole population of the town. Not a man, woman or child was spared on the day of the capture of Szivasz.

The lives of four thousand Armenians were alone preserved. Timur was merciful enough to promise Ertogrul that he would spare their lives, and that he would not kill the young prince himself until he should himself desire it, and he kept his word. He caused the four thousand soldiers to be buried alive in a huge vault, whilst Ertogrul was handed over to his slaves in order that he might be paraded about the camp with a crown on his head and golden circlets about him, and thus shown to the people as some curious monster. Three days later the Sultan's son himself prayed to be killed, and Timur acceded to his request.

On the very day that this happened, Timur absented himself from the camp and went to the grave of Abu Mozlim the Cruel, on the burying-ground where he could yet hear the curses and cries of despair which came from those whom he had caused to be buried alive. He gazed with admiration on the wilderness which his people had created, and passed a whole night there.

At daybreak his leaders came to him, bringing the copper gates of Szivasz, on which he rested his feet. These gates he caused to be afterwards sent to Samarcand, the capital of his empire, where were stored all the gates of those towns which he had captured or destroyed, making a terrible museum. They were placed at the base of an enormously high jasper monument raised to the god of the Delhi Brahmins, and were put along the roadway in order that every follower of the faithful might tread upon the emblems of Christianity with which they were adorned.

After the gates of Szivasz had been placed at Timur's feet, the venerated Tumanaga, the mother of his children, and Csolpán (the Morning Star), his youngest favourite, came before him. They always accompanied the conqueror to his battles, and whilst he bombarded forts, these revered women went in pilgrimage to the graves of the prophets, and caused mosques to be built and gardens planted upon them. When Timur proved victorious they proceeded to reward the prophets by throwing gold and pearls upon their graves! After these followed the learned men. Shacheddin, the historian, then pulled out his parchment, and read aloud his record of an event which he had described, in order that it might be handed down to posterity in the following terms:

"In the year 830 of the Hedjir--the day after the death of the Prophet Omar--at the mere glance of the never-to-be-opposed Djeihangir, the world-renowned conqueror, the impregnable walls of Szivasz, built up by the Alaeddin to an enormous height, fell to the ground. A hundred thousand armed men who defended this fort fell down on their faces, and surrendered at the word of the mighty Szabil Kirán. The gracious Gurgan, who has ever been merciful, gave his gracious pardon to those who were left alive, and forbade that their blood should be shed. May honour and glory attend his footsteps!"

Timur Lenk praised this description, and, after bestowing gifts upon the chronicler, shouldered his club and proceeded to further shatter the gates of the town. The desert plain continued to wail and groan after this, and who knows when it ceased to do so?