Part 7 (1/2)
”Now may it be decided which of us is to be thrice separated from his wife!”
Sheriff Said then knelt down upon the ground at Timur's feet, filled his hands with gra.s.s, and as a symbol of cursing and destruction, he threw this towards Bajazet's camp. Then turning towards Timur, with a trembling voice he murmured:
”Go, and be thou victor!”
To these words the trumpeters in camp responded.
On the opposite side Bajazet had raised a high wooden tower for his wives, from whence they inspected as from an amphitheatre-box the magnificent and dreadfully dramatic spectacle which was being enacted before them by two real heroes. It could not indeed have been other than a truly novel spectacle to Maria. What a fearful array of _Dszins_ she saw clad in iron and copper armour! Such garb surely could only be worn by inhabitants from another world! What tremendous camps! Surely only evil spirits who fly, constantly following one another through the air, could come in such large flocks! Likerbuli, the favourite songstress, was seated at Maria's feet when the attack commenced, and the strains of her lute seemed to bring the spectators into line to watch the battle which was proceeding before them.
”Look how they come towards us, the cursed enemy! Seven detachments in seven colours like the rainbow! The leader--Timur Lenk's son--the devil whose name is Mirza Abubekr, rides before them. His armour is made entirely of rubies. How it sparkles in the sun! He who faces him, clad in dark armour, and seated on a black horse, is our hero, Lazaruvich. He can be recognised by his standards, which bear crosses. Hearken! how the earth trembles beneath the tramp of their horses. Listen! how the skies ring with the tumult of the battle!”
”'Surun! Surun!' exclaim the cruel enemy. 'Allah! Allah!' scream our troops. 'Jesus! Jesus!' shout the men of Lazaruvich, but Allah listens also to these!”
Maria secretly crossed herself, and prayed to Jesus.
”Look, they have just come into collision. The clas.h.i.+ng of the swords and axes upon their s.h.i.+elds can be heard up here. Look, Timur's seven-hued troops become disordered. Lazaruvich sweeps them away before him as a whirlwind tosses the mown gra.s.s, or as the waves of the sea sweeps the sh.e.l.ls towards the sh.o.r.e. Ha! Mirza Abubekr's chosen hors.e.m.e.n no longer keep to their own colours. White is mixed with red, and green has yellow patches like china fragments trodden under foot! Lazaruvich is the first hero amongst our troops!”
Maria herself bent forward from her balcony, and applauded this wonderful spectacle, which was soon, however, obliterated from the sight of all in the reedy forest by the clouds of dust which were uplifted.
Lazaruvich now commenced to pursue the despised Tartar hors.e.m.e.n who were fleeing towards Angora. Maria, intoxicated with joy, tore the lute out of Likerbuli's hands, and began to sing herself the song glorifying Bajazet and his hero ”Korona” (Lazaruvich).
The wild madness of the battle seemed to enter into her soul, and she, too, cursed the drunken enthusiasm of these demons who were always the cause of glory or trouble to her own people.
In the dust-cloud of the battle, Khan Mohammed Mirza noticed his brother's flight, and rushed to his aid, with his crack Samarcand regiment. In the midst of the Csibukabad reeds he reached one of the wings of Lazaruvich, whilst Shah Miron, and Chalid with his archers threw themselves upon the troops of Prince Mustafa just where a gap had been caused owing to Lazaruvich having made a rush from thence upon the enemy. Mohammed, the Sultan's son, was there with reserve troops, but he had orders from Bajazet not to move until ordered to do so by him, for the deceitful enemy might make a circuit, and then there would be need for this reserve. Bajazet, in order to relieve his two sons, ordered Suleiman, who commanded the left wing, to throw himself upon Timur with his entire force.
CHAPTER XI
Suleiman had 15,000 Tartars amongst his troops, princ.i.p.ally inhabitants of Aidin and Saruchan, who were led by Bey Illisz. These Tartar hordes were suddenly let loose in one body, being sheltered on either side by the Anatol troops. Timur's opposing force advanced slowly towards the rus.h.i.+ng enemy. At its head was the Khan of Aidin who, on that day, wore neither armour nor helmet, and did not even draw out his sword from its scabbard, though he made straight for Illisz.
The Bey of Illisz was twirling his pike, and turned it towards the Khan.
As he nearly reached him and was within throw, the Bey exclaimed, ”Defend yourself,” and threw the pike at him.
The Khan of Aidin smiled. Had he earned his bread for a whole year as a magician in vain that he should be frightened by a pike?
”You had better defend yourself,” he replied to Illisz, as the pike hissed towards him. He grasped it in its flight, and threw it back to the Bey, and the iron penetrated his cheek-bone. In this state his terrified charger ran away with him. Then the Khan of Aidin rose in his saddle and straightened himself on his horse's back, whilst with ringing voice he cried out to the Tartars, ”I am your Khan! Return to me, and aid me against the enemy!” In a moment the entire Tartar force turned round to him and threw clouds of arrows upon the Turkish hors.e.m.e.n behind them, and thus cut open a s.p.a.ce in the left wing for the advance of Timur's troops.
This move decided the fate of the battle. Bajazet could not believe that his Tartar soldiers would desert him at the sight and by the command of their late master. Those whom he believed to be his own followers had now actually gone over to the enemy! The Sultan's son Suleiman upon this stroke of ill-fate turned his horse's head, struck spurs into him, and was the first to leave the battle-field.
Another son, Mohammed, commenced a fight with the reserve, but no success attended their efforts. The day was lost to Bajazet. The ”lightning” was vanquished, and the iron sword prevailed; but Bajazet still could have escaped with the rest of his troops, and might have overcome his enemy from his European forts, could he have reconciled himself to the notion of flight. All round was heard the tumult of the tempestuous war. It was impossible to see, owing to the clouds of dust, and the women away yonder in the velvet tower no longer sang of victory, but trembling awaited the close of the day. Once during the afternoon a ray of hope sprang up, when Timur's force made an advance, and the Waiwode Lazaruvich cut his way through the Csibukabad reeds across Mohammed Mirza, and joined Bajazet in correct battle order. The Sultan stood motionless amidst his unconquered veterans. Lazaruvich, with his f.a.gged out and wounded troops, who were blackened by dust and covered with the blood of the enemy, with broken pikes and torn standards, suddenly appeared before the Sultan.
Lazaruvich hardly recognised him.
”Is it you, my faithful friend?” the Sultan asked, with emotion.
”It is I, father. Escape; the battle is lost!”