Both Bajazet and Timur Lenk did what no conqueror of the world ever did
before or after them. They each carried their favourite wives with them
to view the decisive battle of the world! It was as though they were to
witness a dramatic spectacle, in which one million armed men took part,
and by which the government of a portion of the world would be decided
either to the right or to the left. Such a spectacle was surely never
before presented by a general to his wife!
Bajazet's wife was in the camp in an elevated tent made of muleskin.
One thousand women riders went before, and one thousand after her, to
keep from her gaze the face of every man. These were masculine women,
accustomed to sword-handling, and to cutting off heads, women for whom
men can feel but horror, and of whom it is difficult to form an idea.
Bajazet headed this woman's camp with 10,000 veteran Janesars and old
soldiers scarred with wounds. They were picked out from amongst the
Nicapol victors. Every one of them was a hero, and their attacks on the
enemy were always made simultaneously. To the right of Maria were 15,000
Christians, mounted and mailed, and under the leadership of Stephen
Lazaruvich, the Servian Waidwode. These were the most faithful adherents
of the Sultan. The remainder of the troops were led by the Sultan's
sons. Suleiman, the eldest, was in the centre of the camp; whilst the
two wings, consisting of Turcomans and Tartars, were commanded by Isá
and Múza. Amongst these troops were the people of the Khan of Aidin.
Mustafa, another of the sons of the Sultan, led the heroic Arab troops;
and Mohammed, yet another, was in command of the reserve. Timur Lenk's
sons, Mirán Shah, Chalit Shah, and Mirza Mohammed, were also in the
camp. Fathers fought against fathers, sons against sons, and women
against women! Mirza Mohammed Khan led his own troops, and each
detachment was dressed in different colours--some, for instance, in red
uniform and red bucklers, with red standards, red saddles, &c., others
in blue or yellow, white or black. When they moved in square, it seemed
as though figures were moving on a chess-board!
The name of the place where the two opposing forces met was Csibuk Abad.
It is an historic spot. Here Pompey and Mithridates fought a decisive
battle! At the back stand the celebrated Stetta cedar-forests, and
facing it are the endless plains where the tall oriental reeds grow in
line from which the people cut stalks to make the stems of pipes,
calling them from the place, Csibuk.
Towards the eastern horizon the towers of the citadels of Angora were to
be seen, whence Timur might be observed approaching. He was engaged in
bombarding this place against the Bey Yakab, when the approach of his
opponent caused him to raise the siege.
Between the two forces was only one well (Miral) which supplied the
district abundantly with water. The inhabitants were, therefore, right
to call it the Sainted Well. Bajazet hastened to seize this before his
enemy. He knew very well that he who secured it would have the advantage
of tiring out his opponents, who would be forced out into the desert.
Sheik Trzlan, an old Dervish, at one time an adherent of Timur Lenk, was
the guardian of the well. As a follower of Shi he possessed magic power
over the people.
Bajazet rode to this Sainted Well, and asked the Dervish for a drink of
water out of it. He filled the jug, and gave it over to the Padishah
with the usual blessing, "Glory be to Him who created clouds and
wells!"
The Sultan threw a golden piece to the Dervish. Sheik Irzlan picked up
the money and looked at the portrait. Then he returned it, saying, "Oh!
my Lord, of what use is this money to me, when Timur Lenk's head is
engraved here?"
The Sultan dragged the coin out of the Dervish's hand and threw it with
horror into the air, wondering how his enemy's money could possibly have
found its way into his camp. Then he took out another gold piece, upon
which he first looked earnestly; then, seeing his own likeness engraved
upon the coin, he threw it to the Dervish. Sheik Irzlan picked it up,
and then, with marks of the greatest respect and reverence, he handed it
back to him again.
"Why here, my master, on this piece also is engraved Timur's portrait!"
And so indeed it was.
Bajazet, who was now furious, took out a third coin, which he threw to
the Sheik, who, on picking it up, showed him that again it bore the same
superscription.
"You scoundrelly magician!" shouted Bajazet in despair, "it is your
delusive magic!" and he slashed the Dervish across the face and breast
with his whip.
"Thank you for your gracious kindness, mighty lord," said the Dervish,
putting his blood-stained face into the dust.
Timur Lenk would not have acted like this. He allowed blood to flow in
streams, but never in his life did he hurt a scholar or a Dervish.
Afterwards when the infuriated Sheik ran bleeding from the breast
through the streets of Chorazan, Timur Lenk, looking at him, smiled and
said: "This is a sign that Chorazan itself, which is the breast of Asia,
will fly to me voluntarily."
And so indeed it came to pass.
Bajazet was so certain of having obtained possession of the Miril well,
that the next day he organised a hunting expedition to the ancient
forest of Stetta for Maria's amusement. Whilst half of his troops were
pursuing the stag or shooting game, and he himself was shooting wild
peacocks, the enemy, at a distance of trumpet-call, commenced to pull
down the stakes of his camp. In the evening, when the party returned,
tired out, from the chase, Bajazet's son, Suleiman, who had been left
behind with the rest of the forces, came to him in a furious state, and
said:
"To-morrow we shall have to face the enemy."
"Why?" asked the Sultan, with surprise.
"Because we have no water!"
"Surely the well has not dried up in one night?"
"It has not dried up, but it is contaminated. The Dervish whose face you
struck yesterday hung heavy stones round his neck last night and jumped
into the well, where this morning he was found drowned. You know that
when a man has been found dead in a well no one will touch its waters
until the new moon. So the camp has been parched with thirst throughout
the whole day!"
"Oh! cursed Dervish!"
"Ah! the Dervishes were all devoted to Timur. Beware, for he who was
capable of killing himself might yet kill you! And now you had best
decide whether you will retreat or make an advance to-morrow, for in
this place it is impossible for us to remain longer."
Bajazet angrily pointed to the watch-fires of Timur Lenk, and exclaimed,
in hot fury, "Advance!"