Shakranta had studiously observed Sultan Mahmud's lead in his choice of procurements. He bought a pair of sturdy looking young Norman war horses from a horse farm at the edge of the city. Destrieres, they were called, a charger breed. Another one hundred suitable ones, maybe more, would also be brought to him, when they become available.
He also purchased three hundred Norman crossbows, a similar number of Saxon longbows, and fifty ballista from an arms merchant. They would be delivered to his ship a day before his departure.
The horses and the weapons would then be taken back by Shakranta back to his homeland. The ballista, which could launch both stone and naphta ball missiles powerfully from a distance, would be an interesting new addition to Amdan Negara's existing arsenal.
The Norman crossbow gave a faster draw and reload. It would be suitable for fast firing of poison arrows, which would cause sufficient damage to the enemy without needing such great accuracy, Shakranta pondered. While the Saxon longbow was good for precision and power.
Shakranta’s intention was to introduce those new designs to his bowmakers back home in Bukit Panau. For them to copy and reproduce, using local materials. If found suitable for use in the conditions at home, those craftsmen would be paid handsomely to make them in large numbers. For use by Amdan Negara's gradually growing army. Maybe the new weapons could also some day help the Dharmakusuma family in regaining the lost throne of Amdan Negara.
Shakranta had also heard from General Ashgar that the Chinese of Northern Song Kingdom had successfully used their own version of the crossbow to slay the war elephants of an invading enemy army from the south. Shakranta wondered if a Langkasukan archer battalion could do the same to those huge beasts of the Palembang armies occupying the Golden Peninsula. With the ballista used as a naphta ball launcher, the rapid fire Norman crossbow and the powerful Saxon longbow, Shakranta now had three new potentially formidable anti-elephant weapons.
Being an avid hunter, the horse breeder was also a competent falconer. Tegrud bought a pair of trained young hawks from him. Ashgar, meanwhile, opted for a pair of two year old Persian ponies.
§
“Lord Basileios,” Sultan Mahmud spoke, addressing the Emperor of Byzantium. “We would like to propose a new two-way cooperation project between Ghazna and Byzantium. One covering both business and political alliances.”
“Tell me what benefits would there be for Byzantium then, Lord Sultan.”
“First of all, Lord Basileios, engaging in direct trade between our kingdoms would increase the profits for both Byzantine and Ghaznian merchants. It would eliminate the extra costs that they now incur, and have to pay, as a result of dealing through the middlemen. The Arabs, the Persians, the Indians.”
“And second?”
“We can also, by acting in concert, both begin pursuing and developing direct trade with the Song Chinese kingdom, as well as the small kingdoms of Suvarna Bhumi, the Golden Continent, and Suvarna Dvipa, the Golden Islands. Instead of going through the Tamils of Chola Mandalam, as we’re doing right now.”
“Yes, the Tamils. They’re quite a concern to us, although right now we have no other choice but to continue doing business with them. About four centuries ago, the Pallava, predecessor of the Chola, totally destroyed a non-threatening Byzantine-Persian fleet carrying a prince of Byzantium, a relative of Our ancestor, escorted by a Sassanid Persian general. The Byzantine prince was on the way to Tang China to marry a Tang princess. It was to have been an epigamia, a political alliance held together by dynastic marriage.”
“We know that story too, Lord Basileios," Sultan Mahmud responded. "The Persian general was also a prince, a close relative of an ancestor of Ours, on Our mother’s side. His name was Pirooz, a name which incidentally, in Persian, means Victorious."
"Pirooz?"
"Yes, Prince Pirooz. He was the youngest son of Yazdegerd III, the last Shah-an-Shah of the Sassanid Persian Empire, whose realm fell to the then newly ascendant Muslim Arabs."
"I thought he was killed along with his father in Turkmenia."
"He managed to escape, actually, thanks to the loyalty and courage of a brave spahbod."
"Oh! How interesting. Carry on then."
"Yazdegerd's murder by a common thief who wanted to rob his rich imperial purse, in the Turkmenian city of Marghiana, was an immense trauma to young Pirooz who was only seven years old at the time. But the prince had a stout heart, despite his tender age. Accompanied by his loyal spahbod and a small entourage, Pirooz trekked eastward, eventually reaching the royal court of Tang China, whose emperor had married an elder sister of Pirooz and made her a junior queen many years earlier. After a journey of fourteen years, filled with peril, trouble and struggle, through the vast steppes and desert lands of Central Asia."
"He obtained refuge in the emperor's court then, I suppose?"
"Of course, Lord Basileos. The Tang emperor did what was only good form for a foreign brother in law under siege. He accepted Pirooz wholeheartedly and unconditionally into his family, personally supervising the grooming of Pirooz up into a competent warrior and general. Recognising the famed Sassanian prowess in heavy cavalry, as well as Pirooz' own personal qualities of courage and valour, especially the hardiness of body and mind that he had developed from his fourteen year journey from Persia to China, the emperor eventually appointed Pirooz commander of an elite Tang heavy cavalry battalion stationed in the Talas River Valley, in the Tarim Basin, on the far north-western edges of Kyrgizia."
"Amazing story. So how did it come about that this Pirooz was chosen to lead that Byzantine fleet?"
"Because of his Sassanian background, whose dynasty had for long kept reasonably close political and trade relations with both Byzantium and Tang China, which meant that he could be reasonably trusted by both the Basileios of Byzantium and the Emperor of Tang China. And he also had intimate knowledge of the workings of the Tang court."
"So why was his fleet attacked then, since it was a peaceful, unthreatening one?"
"We believe, based on the best information available to us, that it was because the Pallava wanted to wreck the then budding alliance between Byzantium and Tang China. Because they believed that such an alliance would damage their strategic interests as middlemen in East-West trade.”
"Pirooz?"
"Yes, Prince Pirooz. He was the youngest son of Yazdegerd III, the last Shah-an-Shah of the Sassanid Persian Empire, whose realm fell to the then newly ascendant Muslim Arabs."
"I thought he was killed along with his father in Turkmenia."
"He managed to escape, actually, thanks to the loyalty and courage of a brave spahbod."
"Oh! How interesting. Carry on then."
"Yazdegerd's murder by a common thief who wanted to rob his rich imperial purse, in the Turkmenian city of Marghiana, was an immense trauma to young Pirooz who was only seven years old at the time. But the prince had a stout heart, despite his tender age. Accompanied by his loyal spahbod and a small entourage, Pirooz trekked eastward, eventually reaching the royal court of Tang China, whose emperor had married an elder sister of Pirooz and made her a junior queen many years earlier. After a journey of fourteen years, filled with peril, trouble and struggle, through the vast steppes and desert lands of Central Asia."
"He obtained refuge in the emperor's court then, I suppose?"
"Amazing story. So how did it come about that this Pirooz was chosen to lead that Byzantine fleet?"
"Because of his Sassanian background, whose dynasty had for long kept reasonably close political and trade relations with both Byzantium and Tang China, which meant that he could be reasonably trusted by both the Basileios of Byzantium and the Emperor of Tang China. And he also had intimate knowledge of the workings of the Tang court."
"So why was his fleet attacked then, since it was a peaceful, unthreatening one?"
"We believe, based on the best information available to us, that it was because the Pallava wanted to wreck the then budding alliance between Byzantium and Tang China. Because they believed that such an alliance would damage their strategic interests as middlemen in East-West trade.”
“Any survivors of that attack?” the Emperor enquired further.
“Only the Persian general, Prince Pirooz, plus a handful of lucky soldiers and seamen, as far as We know,” answered the Sultan. "If I'm not mistaken the Byzantine prince and the Tang princess both survived too."
“Wonder what happened to Prince Pirooz.”
“Legend has it that Pirooz and his men eventually landed at the estuary of a river, fronting an imposing mountain, on a coast on the Golden Peninsula. The land where my friend here, Lord Prince Shakranta, hails from.”
“And then?”
“Allow me to finish the story, if I may, Lord Basileios,” Shakranta now spoke.
“By all means, Lord Prince Shakranta. Do go ahead, please.”
“Thank you, Lord Basileos. That place happened to be the rivermouth port of a kingdom named Kedah Negara, which had then existed without a king for some time,” Shakranta went on, taking over the end part of the story from Sultan Mahmud. “Their royal house had eventually collapsed due to local inter-necine wars, as well as foreign invasions from the Mon kingdoms of Hamsa Vati and Tenasserim in the north.”
“What happened next?”
“Two local leaders, Tun Dharma Dewa and Tun Perkasa, with the assent of the people, appointed Prince Pirooz as the new king. Prince Pirooz then ascended the throne with the title Raja Merong Mahawangsa. It was a traditional title for a king of Kedah Negara, one that had also been held by several previous kings before him.”
“That’s incredible!” the Emperor exclaimed. “Just incredible. Now, what about the safety of Byzantine ships sailing the Indian Ocean?” he continued, turning now towards Sultan Mahmud. “I don’t want any of them to be attacked again by those Tamil hoodlums.”
“Ghazna’s navy can arrange to provide escort ships to Byzantine merchant shipping,” the Sultan offered.
“What if Byzantine ships are still attacked?” the Emperor enquired, his face still looking grim.
“If any ship under Ghaznian escort is attacked, Lord Basileios, Ghazna will consider it as an act of war on Ghazna," Sultan Mahmud assured. "If the Chola ask for a fight, then they shall get a fight. We can promise Byzantium that much, Lord Basileios. As a matter of interest, Ghazna’s soldiers are held in the greatest esteem by our Indian sometimes-enemy, sometimes-ally counterparts. We've actually conducted numerous successful expeditions into India."
“I like what I'm hearing," the emperor's face began to brighten. "Byzantine intelligence has indeed given Us glowing reports on Ghaznian encounters with northern Indian armies. We have to say that We are quite impressed with Ghaznian performances so far.”
“I like what I'm hearing," the emperor's face began to brighten. "Byzantine intelligence has indeed given Us glowing reports on Ghaznian encounters with northern Indian armies. We have to say that We are quite impressed with Ghaznian performances so far.”
"We've repeatedly crushed the armies of Jaya Pala, and subsequently that of his son Ananda Pala, of the Hindu Shahi Kingdom of the Punjab Valley," Sultan Mahmud could not resist trying to impress the Emperor further. "The Jats harrassed us and provoked us on our way back from Soma Natha, but we vanquished them on the Indus River and taught them a big lesson. And when we do take all of the Indus Valley, all the way south to the coast, which is going to happen fairly soon, Ghazna will be building a sea battle fleet more than strong enough to match Chola's naval power.”
“Fabulous!” the Emperor suddenly sounded much more cheerful. “We shall be praying that you succeed."
“Thank you, Lord Basileios. We hear too that the Chola have also begun to earn many enemies. We’ll make arrangements to find out if there’s any way that we can exploit that to our advantage.”
“Splendid! That’s the business part settled then. How about the political part?”
§
"Do you have to go back so soon, Lord Sultan?" Emperor Basileios enquired. "I was hoping you'd stay a while longer."
"Yes I do, Lord Emperor," answered Sultan Mahmud. "I can't be away from Ghazna for too long. My enemies might start getting funny ideas. The most dangerous among them being the invisible ones, the ones hiding within."
"I understand. I believe you have someone trustworthy and capable holding the kingdom in your absence then."
"Fortunately I do. Abdullah Ta'ie the Arab, and Arslan Jazib the Oghuz. My two bravest and most loyal commanders right now. They will die for me if that's what they have to do."
"You're a very lucky man, Lord Sultan. Any king would give an arm and a leg to have men like them in his service. Anyway, about the business cooperation between our kingdoms, how about the arrangements proper then? They're not completely set up yet."
"That won't be a problem, Lord Emperor. General Ashgar and General Tegrud will stay back in Constantinople for a while yet. They shall do all the things necesssary to establish a Ghaznian trading base here. A small one to begin with, just enough to enable our merchants to conduct their trading activities smoothly. Then we'll take things further from there."
"Sounds great. What about you, Lord Prince Shakranta?"
"I shall stay behind to help General Ashgar and General Tegrud with their work, Lord Emperor. It ties in with what I'd like to do for Amdan Negara, and perhaps the entire Langkasuka. But first I'm keen to develop a platform for my family's trading interests in this region. For bringing in goods from Amdan Negara, the other kingdoms of the Langkasukan Federation, as well as the entire region around it. And for bringing out suitable merchandise from Byzantium and nearby areas back home to Amdan Negara."
"Fantastic. Now we have something solid to build upon. You can start with the spices and the Langkasukan swords. Maybe camphor and sandalwood as well. And tree resin too. On our side, we can offer you weaponry, figs and olives. You might like to consider our horses also. And, oh, one more thing. While you're here, I'd like you to share, that's if you don't mind it, those uniquely brilliant fighting skills of yours with my soldiers. Maybe beginning with the generals among them."
§
"Zvietta, koshka,” Shakranta pleaded. “Come with me, to Langkasuka, to Amdan Negara. You'll like it there. My people will love you, too. I know they will."
“Shakranta, lyubimi,” Zvietta looked deeply into his eyes. “You know I’d love to. It breaks my heart to part with you. But alas, my kingdom needs me. My body and my soul is pledged to Kievskaya Ruska.”
“Even at the price of love?”
“Lyubimi, this is tearing me apart.”
“Then come with me. We’ll be happy together.”
“Shakranta, lyubimi. Maybe I'm pushing my luck now, but would you forsake Amdan Negara and Langkasuka for me? And go away with me to Kievska?”
“I can’t, koshka. Without me, both the Dharma Kusuma Dynasty ... and Amdan Negara ... are as good as dead. I won’t be able to live with myself.”
“I knew it. And that’s not what I want for you, lyubimi. I wouldn’t want you living and breathing any other way ... but as the strong, fierce, proud and fearless warrior that you are.”
“If only the fate of my motherland did not depend so much on my return … koshka.”
"Oh, lyubimi. Come, hold me. I want to feel the bliss of being in your arms one more time. Please."
"Of course, koshka."
"I shall treasure our love forever, Shakranta."
"So shall I, Zvietta."
Zvietta, Alonna and Demetrea eventually returned to Kievskaya Ruska at the end of that summer, escorting the entourage of their king and his new bride. Leaving behind sweet, unforgettable memories of fun, friendship and love for Shakranta, Tegrud and Ashgar.
“True love is sometimes encountered in the strangest or most unexpected of places. Still, if one is fortunate enough to meet with it, one must embrace it, guard it and cherish it. For there is nothing nobler or more beautiful on this earth than a love that springs true from the heart.”
Thus, Shakranta recalled, went the wise words of his Persian scholar friend Abu al-Ghasim al-Ferdowsi. The great man whom he had met and befriended at the court of Sultan Mahmud in Ghazna. Who had taught him so much about the world and all its beauty and magnificence.
§
Shamira gazed at the mountains to the northeast, in the direction of her ancestral homeland, Volzhkaya Bolgariya, a small kingdom around the central region of the Volga river valley, to the east of the lands of Kievskaya Ruska. It was from where her ancient Bolgar forebears, one of many tribes among the populous Tatar nation, had travelled gradually southwestward, eventually founding a new Bolgar kingdom, Bolgarsko Tsarsvo, just north of Byzantine lands.
She wondered what life would have been like for her in Bilyar, the home city of her parents in Volzhkaya Bolgariya, had they not left their homeland when she was a child. Had it not been for them, she would not have met Uzulmez in Bolgarsko Tsarsvo, married him and bore him a son.
Volzhkaya Bolgariya had for a long time been vassal to the kingdom of the Khazars. After a visit by Amir ibnu Fadhlan, special envoy of Caliph al-Muqtadir of Baghdad, during the time of Shamira’s great great grandparents, the Khan of Volzhkaya Bolgariya, Almaz Iltabar, and his people had converted to Islam en masse.
Iltabar subsequently proclaimed Islam as the official faith of his kingdom. Ibnu Fadhlan had offered Volzhkaya Bolgariya the status of protectorate of the Abbasid Caliphate, thereby ending Khazar hegemony over Volzhkaya Bolgariya.
Bolgarsko Tsarsvo, now called simply Bolgaria, had traditionally held the upper hand over Byzantium. Sixteen years earlier (986), as a young king, Basileios had been decisively defeated by Tsar Roman of Bolgaria at the Gates of Trajan and barely made his escape. Fourteen years later, however, Basileios turned triumphant and captured Bolgarian border cities Pliska and Preslav, subsequently getting himself into the habit of yearly campaigns against the lands of his old adversary, who had by then been succeeded by a new Tsar, named Samuil.
It was in one of those campaigns, eventually, that Uzulmez had fallen in battle leading a Bolgarian mercenary battalion. A battle that had ended in a crushing defeat for the Bolgarians. How the fortunes of kingdoms rise and fall, like the tides of the sea.
“Isabelle,” the Bolgar woman spoke to her young friend, as the girl sat next to her in the open air auction area of the slave market in Constantinople. The slaves were allowed some rest time after having spent the entire morning working on the Emperor’s vast olive groves as temporary farmhands, their day’s wages paid directly by court officials to their owners, the slave merchants.
“Yes, Shamira,” the girl answered. “What is it?”
“Can I have a word with you?”
“Of course you can, Shamira. Go ahead.”
Shamira’s six year old son, Ozalan, was running around nearby, his long, thick, jet black curls bouncing about freely in the cool breeze of an early autumn afternoon. He was playing with some other slave children of similar age as he.
“Zibâ Baji! Zibâ Baji!,” the little boy cried out in glee as soon as he saw Isabelle.
It was a name he liked to call Isabelle by. It meant Beautiful Sister in Persian, or rather mixed Persian-Oghuz, a dialect that he had picked up recently from some older kids.
“Hi, Oja!” Isabelle responded. “Looks like you’re having a great time.”
“Yes I am, Zibâ Baji”, the child answered merrily. He came running over towards Isabelle immediately. He clambered onto her lap, then sat down, rocking himself happily in Isabelle’s affectionate embrace. Isabelle stroked and tickled his ribs and tummy, making him shriek, laugh and squirm in her arms.
“Oja, behave yourself,” Shamira admonished her son mildly. “You’re hurting Zibâ Baji.”
“It’s all right, Shamira,” Isabelle assured her. “I’m having fun.”
“You know, Isabelle,” the woman continued. “I haven’t been feeling so well lately.”
“But you look just fine to me right now.”
“Well, it comes suddenly, sort of. Without warning. Then it goes again.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. I wish there’s something I could do.”
“It’s all right. Now, it’s about this little medallion here,” Shamira continued. “It belonged to Uzulmez, my late husband.” She placed the object in Isabelle’s hand for her to look at it.
Isabelle studied the medallion carefully. It was made of gold of the highest quality. Engraved on it was the image of a powerful fierce looking eagle about to pounce on its prey. It looked extremely elegant, Isabelle thought.
“Oh! It’s beautiful,” Isabelle said, approvingly.
“The Eagle of Oghuz,” Shamira explained, as Isabelle continued to run her eyes over the object in apparent admiration. “The revered emblem of Uzulmez’ family. As well as the entire Oghuz tribe. It’s the last of our family heirlooms left on me. Fortunately, I have somehow managed to hide it from the Byzantine soldiers who captured us. And from Kolanos, since we became his property.”
“What would you like me to do with it, then?” Isabelle asked.
“Take it with you. For safekeeping, on my behalf. For my son, Ozalan. He’s still too young to keep it safely by himself.”
“What if we’re to be separated?”
“Keep it with you, still. I’ll tell Ozalan to go look for you when he grows older. I’ll tell him you’re keeping for him something bequeathed to him by Uzulmez.”
“But would he really come looking for me? What if the distance separating us is too far then?”
“Oh! He will. I know he will. Ozalan worships his father. He will do anything if I tell him Uzulmez wanted him to.”
“All right, Shamira. I shall do it then. For you. And for Ozalan.”
“Thank you, Isabelle. If something happens to me, please take care of my son. To the best that you’re able to. As far as it’s within your power, take him with you wherever you go. You’re my best hope for him.”
Both realised that they were now mere slaves completely at the mercy of others. Neither of them had much control over their own life. The two went quiet for some moments.
"You know, Isabelle," the young Bolgar mother continued, her face now looking pained. "There isn't much hope for a young slave boy, even less an orphaned one. Ozalan might end up being castrated, doomed to the saddest and most dreadful of lives, the life of an enek (eunuch). That is my worst nightmare."
"You know, Isabelle," the young Bolgar mother continued, her face now looking pained. "There isn't much hope for a young slave boy, even less an orphaned one. Ozalan might end up being castrated, doomed to the saddest and most dreadful of lives, the life of an enek (eunuch). That is my worst nightmare."
"Then I shall do everything I can, Shamira," Isabelle vowed, despite knowing full well that it would not be up to her whether she could take Ozalan with her or otherwise.
"Keep this secret with you, Isabelle, whether Ozalan remains with you or otherwise. If he does stay with you, which is what I dearly hope for, keep it until such time that he is ready for it. As to when that time would be, I leave that to your own good judgement."
§
"Oh dear," Tegrud sighed, with the beginnings of a provocative tone. "You reckon so? I bet she’s got another man now. More like several. Considering that sheer beauty and boundless energy of hers. I would run over to Kievska after her if I were you, before she gets hitched to another fellow."
“Well, what else would you expect from your Goddess of Fertility? You think she’s only got eyes for you? What an idiot you still are. After all these years,” Tegrud continued needling him. “She’s probably having some great fun with another handsome warrior in Kievska right now. A Varangi, a Skandi or perhaps a Frank. Maybe all three.”
“Hey you! Mind your mouth! Or you’re going to regret it very soon.”
“Hold it, guys!” Shakranta’s voice boomed. "Hold it just there!" He had to step in firmly before those two good friends of his came to blows over nothing.
"Oh, yes! The Ice Princess," Ashgar sneered. "You know, sometimes I just wonder, how did you ever manage to warm her up, aye? Being as cool as she always was."
"Don’t you start, jerk!” Tegrud warned. Now it was the Oghuz getting warmed up.
“Hey, hey!” Again, Shakranta had to intervene with a loud bellow. "Cool it, you two!"
“Well, what did you think of your Zvietta then, Shakranta?” Ashgar asked, turning his attention to Shakranta now. “She looked like the type who always likes being in charge. You know what I mean. The Queen Commander.”
Tegrud and Ashgar roared with good humoured laughter, their little near quarrel now forgotten as quickly as it had begun.
“How about we three all go to Kievska for a while,” Tegrud suggested, not altogether too seriously. “Pay our lady friends a little surprise visit. Oh yeah, they’ll love it.”
“Or they might not,” Ashgar countered. “Naaah. We don’t have that luxury of time. And we can’t afford any distraction from our work here. And Sultan Mahmud is not going to like it either.”
“I can sense that the stress of boredom and inactivity is beginning to get to you two,” Shakranta said. “Or maybe you’re both already starting to miss Ghazna, for all its faults. I say, how about we go for a walkabout around the city for a bit? Maybe go browsing through merchandise in the market stalls. You do want some souvenirs to take home, don’t you?”
“Sounds great. I’m with you there,” Ashgar chirped.
“Me too,” Tegrud went along, agreeably.
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