"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.
* * * * *
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!
* * * * *
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?