Tamerlane's Boys 23

By Pueros

Chapter 23 – Zoroastrians

(Shiraz, Persia, September 1393)

Vissarion, 16 but looking at least a couple of years younger, was attending his first council as one of Tamerlane’s official advisers, as opposed to being merely one of the conqueror’s pretty boy cup-bearers. The latter function was currently being proficiently and picturesquely fulfilled by Nicolai and Rezan, respectively 12 and 10 years old and with both delectable young figures resplendent in their rich colourful turbans and silk shirts and baggy trousers, neatly complemented by ornate slippers, curved upwards at the toe.

Nicolai’s younger brother, Yaroslav, currently safe elsewhere and dressed in Muscovy style, had still not found a function in life. It was too dangerous to attempt to return the 8 years old to his family, who were normally resident in Serpukhov, a city to the south of Moscow, because the boy’s father was the local appanage prince. The journey would have entailed highly precarious passage through the lands of the Mongol Golden Horde, led by Toqtamish.

Yaroslav was instead just tagging along with Tamerlane’s rightly feared army in the company of his older brother and his friends, amongst whom the dreaded 57 years old conqueror was numbered. The 8 years old was biding his time until circumstances permitted him to return safely to Rus.

No-one knew when this might be but everyone assumed that the appropriate situation would arise when Tamerlane and Toqtamish crossed swords again, which was considered by most to be inevitable. Meanwhile, Yaroslav waited, relatively content with his present company and associated interesting travels, despite apparently missing his parents, especially his mother, and his siblings more than Nicolai, who had no intention of returning to his homeland, apart from rare visits to see his family.

Nicolai’s attitude was caused by two factors. First, the boy found his current adventurous life and marvellous friends respectively too exciting and too delightful to abandon, even for family. Second, as a eunuch, the 12 years old now felt that he had no future in Rus, where attitudes to gelded males might actually also make existence unpleasant.

Meanwhile, Teimuraz, was also finding his present life, as squire and occasional bedfellow of Arman, too agreeable to want to move, especially as he was still beholden to his youthful master for his salvation from street destitution. The 10 year-old’s attitude was fortified by now being treated by the young Armenian and his friends, including Tamerlane, as if he was a member of an extended regal family rather than a lowly servant.

In fact, as Teimuraz grew older, he began to appreciate that Tamerlane and his boys were, for all intents and purposes, a close-knit family group. The young Georgian squire also began to feel very happy at, and proud of, his inclusion in the quasi-familial assemblage.

Vissarion himself was also currently very happy and proud. However, the young Georgian’s present emotions stemmed from acting for the first time as a formal adviser on Tamerlane’s large council, members of which were now all sitting, with the conqueror, cross-legged in their leader’s large tent, around a low table. The latter was covered with bowls of exotic fruit and other snack delicacies.

The counsellors, amongst whom the beautiful, but diminutively boyish, young Vissarion appeared rather incongruous until he spoke, had all been given golden goblets by the efficient Nicolai and Rezan. Only the young Georgian newcomer rejected local wine for the filling of the precious vessels, with the 16 years old instead preferring fruit juice.

Vissarion’s attitude was not a critical reflection on the wine produced at the time in the environs of the Persian city of Shiraz because the local viniculture was renowned for excellent quality. The young Georgian’s restraint stemmed instead from the fact that he had determined to remain a lifelong teetotaler, never wanting his wise mind befuddled by alcohol. This objective did not arise because of ascetic sanctimoniousness, but rather because the 16 years old reasoned that his mental processes were already too often disturbed by love and associated sex.

Shiraz had been sacked by Tamerlane five years earlier but never formally absorbed into his domains. However, given continued unrest in Persia, the conqueror had decided to rectify this situation and so had returned once more to demand the city’s permanent submission.

Much of Shiraz had been destroyed, and many of the city’s people killed, during Tamerlane’s last visit because the citizenry had tried to defy the conqueror. In fact, the only reason the metropolis was not completely levelled, as many other resistant communities had been, especially the double-crossing rebellious Isfahan, was because of the existence of one resident.

Shiraz is picturesquely situated [over 200 modern miles] south of Isfahan in a pleasant climate, on a high plain surrounded by the Zagros Mountains. As well as viniculture, the fertile location is conducive to growing a number of other agricultural products, such as cereals and sugar beet. Textiles and rugs remain to this day other famed local products. The city, at times the Persian capital, was also the birthplace of two renowned Muslim poets, Sadi, who lived 1184 to 1291, and Hafiz, who was still alive, albeit a very old man, when Tamerlane last visited.

Tamerlane, although by no means a devout Muslim himself, was interested in Hafiz’s works, not least because some appeared to be highly critical of the conqueror, and so he had spared Shiraz complete devastation in return for a meeting with the great poet and other local men of learning. The conqueror wanted the writer to explain himself, intending to secure either a retraction of any intended criticisms or the old man’s head.

Tamerlane knew that he would have to go about the latter task carefully, as he did not want to upset fellow Muslims, especially similar Islamic scholars and writers who could cause internal religious strife within his growing Empire. However, the conqueror believed that, if necessary, he could organise an acceptable excuse to silence the aged poet through decapitation.

Tamerlane prepared for this eventuality by having his own Islamic scholars analyse Hafiz’s works to identify controversial passages, which might be used against the poet to discredit him in the Muslim world. They eventually provided the conqueror with a number of contentious phrases that could be interpreted as blasphemous.

In the event, recording the meeting with Hafiz was one of Vissarion’s first scriptural commissions for his master, when the beautiful young Georgian was just 11 years old but had recently become capably literate in Tamerlane’s Turkish dialect. The conqueror had never seen the importance for himself of being able to read or write, especially when his beautiful boys could perform such tasks for him.

(Shiraz, Persia, over 5 years previously, early 1388)

Vissarion’s account, which was inscribed on parchment in his very neat handwriting and has survived into modern times, begins with Tamerlane formally welcoming Hafiz, or more correctly Shams al-Din Muhammad Shirazi, to his tent in his army’s vast encampment outside Shiraz. In essence, the subsequent discussion, after the preliminary formalities, including the supply of fruit juice to the principal guest by the young Georgian, centred on the poet’s defence against allegations that his works were not only libelous towards the mighty conqueror but also blasphemous in disgracing the Almighty.

Vissarion accurately recorded for posterity that, at that time, Hafiz was advanced in age, possessing a bent body and very weak eyes. Tamerlane started his diplomatic prosecution by concentrating first on the accusations of blasphemy, not wanting to put his own personal grievances before those of God. The conqueror began by asking the poet “Did you compose the verse that reads….” The young Georgian eunuch, in his high boyish tones, then completed the question, being the one capable of reading the relevant quotation from a scroll. “‘Sakinan-i haram-i sitr-u 'afaf-i malakut ba-man-i rah nishin bada-yi mastana zadand’?” the 11 year old said.

Vissarion wrote that Hafiz responded “O Amir, my eyes are weak, and I cannot see you properly but I can hear well your voice, and that of your young servant. Yes, I composed that poem.”

Tamerlane responded “You have uttered blasphemy in this poem, because you have spoken of God as if He has a haram-khanah [harem]! Besides this sacrilege you also have disgraced the Almighty by saying that His women, having abandoned His harem, have joined you on the side of the road in drinking and revelry.”

Hafiz answered “O Amir, there is nothing that is blasphemous in what I have said, neither have I disgraced the Almighty. In the first misra' of this bayt, I have talked about ‘sakinan-i haram-i sitr-u 'afaf-i malakut’. The two words ‘sitr’ and ‘'afaf’ indicate that, by a harem for God, I am not referring to an ordinary harem but rather I am referring to a mysterious harem. I am talking about a harem the mystery of which is not known, one in which only chastity rules. Besides, I have not said that there are women in the harem of God. In fact, I have not made any mention of women. I have talked about the ‘sakinan-i haram’ [residents of the harem] and not the ‘zanha-yi haram’ [women of the harem]. I have made no reference to a haram-khanah in a secular sense. I have talked about a haram as a place that is so holy no stranger can gain entrance. I composed this poem, on a midnight in spring. The weather was pleasant and I could smell the scent of the flowers in the air. My heart was filled with ‘wajd’ [ecstasy] and I could hear the nightingales sing. At the time of the composition of this poem, I was so engrossed in ecstasy and joy that I felt that I was participating in the very existence of the universe. It was as if heavenly angels were living within me, and I was transformed into an angel. It was under the influence of this moment of wajd that I composed this verse.”

A frustrated Tamerlane, clearly defeated on the opening topic, then changed subject by asking “Why in your second misra' did the ‘sakinan-i haram-i sitr-u 'afaf-i malakut’, or, as you put it, the ‘heavenly angels’, drink wine with you? You well know that drinking wine is forbidden!” With this question, the conqueror was actually being very hypocritical because he regularly personally indulged in the product of the grape.

Hafiz replied “O Amir, drinking wine is a Sufic idiom. It does not refer to drinking wine in the general sense. It alludes to the acquisition of knowledge from the perfect ones. However, in the same way that ordinary wine, the drinking of which is not allowed, causes intoxication, the acquisition of knowledge from the initiate also induces a similar drunkenness for the seeker. For the Sufi, the may-khanah [tavern] is a place where this type of wine is used. The tavern is a place where one acquires knowledge of the unknown. In that spring midnight, I was so overwhelmed by ecstasy that I felt the presence of heavenly angels as they talked with me. It was as if they were disclosing the secrets of creation to me. Thus, when I say that they were drinking wine with me, I am merely expressing my feelings at that moment.”

Tamerlane now enquired “What were the secrets that they told you?” Hafiz advised “O Amir, during that late night, I imagined that the heavenly angels were disclosing the secrets of the universe to me. However, that was merely a feeling invented by my imagination and, because it was impossible for me to verbalise the images that crossed my mind, I versified those feelings. Every 'arif [mystic], when he is immersed in deep thought, experiences certain feelings that he cannot verbalize, and some of these feelings are inexplicable. One cannot describe these feelings in words, be it in poetry or in prose, because one can describe only such senses as coldness, softness and roughness. When discussing these sensations, people can easily understand what is being said. However, inner and metaphysical feelings are not describable in the same way. If we attempt to describe these, our very intent will remain a question for the hearer. I think that anyone, even one who is not an 'arif, upon hearing late in the night the singing of the nightingale, and the sound of the adhan [call to prayer], at that time of the night, when the air is redolent with the scent of flowers, experiences certain feelings that he cannot put into words. This is why, at that time, I could not describe what those imaginary angels were telling me and this is why now I cannot express what the secrets that they were discussing with me were. Otherwise, I would have put all that, too, into verse.”

It was already evident to the young Vissarion that Hafiz was too clever to be trapped into self-incrimination, either for blasphemy or libel, and so it proved. Fortunately, Tamerlane did not become angry in frustration at his inability to pin a successful charge on the poet. Instead, as he heard the old man’s ingenious, eloquent and profoundly earnest defensive arguments, the dreaded conqueror’s original chagrin at the Muslim scholar’s accusatory works became subsumed by admiration for the person who had formulated them.

Tamerlane’s fundamental change in attitude occurred despite recognising that Hafiz would undoubtedly continue, for as long as he could, to exercise a right to free speech to be critical of the conqueror. However, Vissarion helped to overcome any residual acrimonious and potentially fatal reservations, to which his master might have clung in respect of the poet, to aid the transformation.

As the straight-faced Hafiz had proceeded with his various defensive verbal acrobatics, Tamerlane began to hear muffled chuckles coming from the direction of his beautiful young eunuch. This then induced the conqueror to glance frequently towards Vissarion, who was now to display a broad grin on his sublime face throughout the remainder of the debate. The disarmingly sweet smile would also occasionally be accompanied by a titter whenever the old poet devised a particularly adroit retort to accusations, despite the boy’s attempts to subdue what might be construed as rude disrespect, although the chortles actually conveyed the opposite.

In response, Tamerlane’s anger at Hafiz collapsed and he now only prolonged his meeting with the great poet to enjoy, in tandem with Vissarion, more of the old man’s nuncupative ingenuity. By the eventual end of the meeting, the conqueror’s admiring smirk was as broad as that of his gorgeous young catamite.

Accordingly, Tamerlane and Hafiz departed on good terms, with the former now generously agreeing to cause no more harm to Shiraz and accepting that he would simply have to tolerate occasional poetic reproach by the latter. It was one of the first times since the destruction of Isfahan that the dreaded conqueror’s originally dark intentions were to be influenced for the better by one of his boys. It foreboded the future and was also a development that had not gone unnoticed by the aged guest.

Vissarion had the dutiful responsibility to guide Hafiz out of Tamerlane’s tent, after the two men had made their now genuinely respectful farewells. Before the old poet advanced to the waiting horse-drawn wagon, which would take him back to Shiraz, he turned to the young Georgian and said “Thank you, boy, not only for your kindness in serving me with your master’s munificent hospitality and recording our meeting, but also for saving my life!”

“What do you mean, sir?” enquired a puzzled Vissarion, who was unaware of the role he had just played in changing Tamerlane’s attitude. “Oh, don’t you know?” Hafiz asked rhetorically before advising, with a little sarcasm intended to tease rather than insult, “I’m sure that my head and body would have left your master’s tent separately if you hadn’t shown such friendly regard for my responses to the conqueror’s questions!”

The bent, almost blind, old poet then shuffled off towards his wagon. He was guided most of the way by some of his literary disciples, who rushed forward to greet him. They had earlier fearfully accompanied their hero to this potentially fatal rendezvous with the dreaded Tamerlane and had awaited his re-emergence from the conqueror’s tent with due anxiety.

Later, one of these pupils returned to the huge encampment of Tamerlane’s army to deliver a present from Hafiz to Vissarion. It was a scroll, inscribed with one of the great poet’s greatest works.

Despite being a Christian, reading the scroll caused Vissarion to shed some tears. When a concerned Arman, a very new acquaintance at that time, asked “What’s wrong?”, the young Georgian answered “The words seem to reach into my very soul!” The young Armenian could not verify the truth of his new friend’s declaration, because he could not yet read the language concerned, and so tried to show empathy instead by giving his fellow 11 years old a hug.

Hafiz died of natural causes soon afterwards and he was interred in Shiraz within a splendid tomb, extant today.

The scroll given to Vissarion by Hafiz was to remain amongst the Georgian’s closest possessions until the day that he too died, with the poet’s words gripped in his left hand. His right hand was occupied by something else.

(Shiraz, Persia, over 5 years later, September 1393)

Tamerlane had been displeased that, on this second visit to a rebuilt Shiraz, the gates of the city had not been opened to greet his arrival. Instead, before being so obliging, the local princely ruler had despatched an emissary to seek certain guarantees about the safety of his metropolis, his people and himself, an order that did not necessarily reflect his priorities. This request was now the first item on the agenda of the conqueror’s council meeting.

Many of the advisers who spoke first appeared to Vissarion to be playing on their leader’s clear anger at the apparent distrust of the local ruler, evident by his unneeded solicitation. The young Georgian perceptively decided that they were doing so for one of two motives. The first was simple obsequiousness, whereby the counsellors concerned just agreed with Tamerlane’s apparent attitude, whatever that might be, whilst the second was greed. After all, it was the violent sacking of cities rather than their peaceful surrender that led to most profit for the dreaded conqueror’s chief lieutenants.

“What do you think?” Tamerlane eventually asked of his newest and youngest adviser, having already heard a number of unanimous opinions suggesting the besieging, and subsequent pillaging and devastation, of Shiraz. Vissarion had remained quiet so far whilst the others had made their cases for violent action because of understandable reserve at attending his first council amongst the many adults, either grizzled generals or long-serving officials. However, the 16 years old now summoned up the courage to disagree with all of the previous speakers.

“I understand,” the young eunuch propounded, in his high-pitched boyish voice, “that an immediate assault on Shiraz is not advisable because much of our specialist siege equipment, being so slow to transport, not only hasn’t yet arrived here but won’t be here for many more days. I therefore suggest that, given that we have the time and before we commit ourselves to any other action, we should send a return emissary to advise the city’s prince that Tamerlane gives no guarantees to any city. The conqueror’s treatment of any metropolis will entirely depend upon its treatment of him.”

“I would ask the emissary also to appraise the local prince,” Vissarion proceeded, “that Tamerlane already feels insulted by Shiraz and to ask the local ruler whether he wants to compound this affront by continuing to withhold the city’s hospitality from the conqueror. It is my humble opinion that not only will the city gates soon be opened but also the reception afforded to our master will be bounteous indeed.”

“I give this advice,” Vissarion added, with what he cleverly perceived would be the clinching argument with Tamerlane, “whilst recognising that Shiraz is the city of Hafiz and houses the tomb of the great writer, whom I know is revered by our master. Despite our understandable annoyance at the local prince’s impertinent attitude, I believe that we should temper our response, if we can, out of respect for the late renowned poet.”

Tamerlane pondered Vissarion’s sage advice for a few moments before bursting into laughter. However, the conqueror’s reaction was not one of insult at puerile counsel but rather one of delight at receiving such mature, considered and well-expressed wisdom.

As Tamerlane subsequently accepted Vissarion’s advice and declared that the only other issue to be resolved in respect of the subject was the identity of the emissary, many adult faces round the table furtively looked with fury at the young eunuch. Many of those not in the conqueror’s closest inner circle knew little about the intellectual capabilities of the young Georgian and already resented the fact that someone, who looked little more than 14 years old and was, in their prejudiced eyes, a mere bumboy, was amongst their supposedly learned number. The fact that the catamite had now dashed their hopes for a nice bit of highly profitable rape and pillage only reinforced their resentment, which nevertheless was carefully disguised as no-one wanted to anger the short-tempered conqueror by undiplomatically attacking his young male whore.

Unfortunately for Vissarion, one of the most embittered counsellors was not going to let the matter rest. This was the reason why the quick-thinking general concerned, a middle-aged man by the name of Qazagh, nominated the young Georgian to be the emissary to Shiraz, announcing that it was only right that the purveyor of such wise counsel be given the honour of carrying out the agreed policy. Although the beautiful 16 years old was delighted to agree, Tamerlane was very unhappy with the suggestion, not wanting to endanger his beloved young eunuch. However, the conqueror also appreciated that denying his catamite the commission would be to demean him in front of the other counsellors and so, with undisclosed reluctance, he agreed to the appointment.

Within a few hours, after the conclusion of his first council meeting, Vissarion, escorted by his normal cavalry bodyguard, was riding on his splendid steed towards Shiraz. The city was a good distance away because Tamerlane had, as usual, sensibly encamped his forces beyond the range of effective surprise excursions by cavalry from the metropolis, which was a possibility despite the fact that no siege had commenced and negotiations about submission were being undertaken.

Unfortunately for Vissarion and his mission, a lone horseman had already been secretly despatched to Shiraz by Qazagh. The general’s aim was to nullify the message and eliminate the messenger.

(Yadz, Persia, same time)

Yazd, [almost 200 modern miles] northeast of Shiraz across the Zagros Mountains, is one of the oldest cities in the world. The metropolis, through which Marco Polo once passed on his way to China, is located on the Silk Road, at the edge of the Dash-e-Kavir desert.

Yazd has long been an important centre of Zoroastrianism, a gentle religion that pre-dates most other faiths and which exerted significant influence on Judaism, Christianity and Islam. Nevertheless, adherents were regularly attacked and persecuted over the centuries by followers of other doctrines, so much so that worshippers were sadly pitiful in number by Tamerlane’s time, a situation that remains to this day.

Arman, in line with his perpetual interest to learn more about other faiths, had sought and obtained Tamerlane’s permission to visit Yadz, an arduous journey from Shiraz that took four days to complete in the company of his squire and some of his cavalrymen. The young Muslim Armenian had great respect for the other main religions of the known world, not least because he now recognised the links between them all and firmly believed that they all sought to serve, in their own way, the same God.

For example, Arman had concluded that Islam was just a development of Christianity, which in turn had evolved from Judaism. The young Armenian now wanted to see whether all three faiths actually owed their origins to more ancient Zoroastrianism. However, the 16 years old knew that his visit to Yadz had to be brief because his military duties necessitated a quick return to Shiraz in case Tamerlane was forced to take that city by force.

Arman had taken the opportunity of the brief respite, afforded by the negotiations between Tamerlane and Shiraz’s prince, over the terms of the city’s submission, and the delay in arrival of the vital siege equipment, to make his visit. The young Armenian’s decision to travel was aided by appreciation of the fact that, even if the necessary assault apparatus arrived and the conqueror resolved to attack the southern metropolis forthwith whilst the youth was away, many days of preliminary technical manoeuverings would be required before the fighting started. The 16 years old intended to return in time for the latter. He might be a devout worshipper of a God but his beliefs did not extend to wanting to fail in his duty to the conqueror or miss out on exciting military action.

Arman received a marvellous welcome and excellent hospitality from Yadz’s Zoroastrian community, who were very happy to tell the very friendly and obviously interested young Muslim about their beliefs. The 16 years old soon began to realise that Zoroastrianism was not only probably the oldest world religion but also possibly had achieved more influence on mankind, directly and indirectly, than any other single faith.

The faith was founded in Persia, sometime between 1500 and 1000 BC, by Zarathushtra, known locally and in India as ‘Zarthosht’ and in Greek as ‘Zoroaster’. He preached monotheism, including beliefs relating to God and Satan, heaven and hell, the soul, a saviour, resurrection and a final judgment, in a land that then followed aboriginal polytheistic beliefs. He was originally attacked for his teaching but finally won the support of the king, with his creed eventually becoming the state religion of various Persian empires until the 7th Century AD.

When Muslim Arabs invaded Persia in 650 AD, and converted most of the population to Islam, some Zoroastrians fled to India. Most Zoroastrians are now concentrated in this latter country in the modern era, although about 18,000, of the estimated 140,000 worldwide adherents, still reside in what is now Iran, chiefly in Yazd, Kernan and Tehran.

The Zoroastrian holy book is called the ‘Avesta’, which includes the original words of Zarathushtra, preserved in a series of five hymns, known as the ‘Gathas’. The latter represent the core text of the religion and are abstract sacred poetry, directed towards the worship of the One God, understanding of righteousness and cosmic order, promotion of social justice and individual choice between good and evil. They propound a three-fold path, best summed up in the motto of the faith, namely ‘Good thoughts, good words, good deeds!’

Arman was currently studying the Avesta in the comfortable home of a kind rich Zoroastrian merchant, and in the present company of a young 10 years old named Rashu. The pretty boy, an orphan and distant relative of the host, who was his guardian, had been allocated as a de-facto servant to the young Georgian, to ensure that the guest was afforded every consideration. The mutual language spoken was Persian.

Arman was sitting crosslegged, under a shady tree in his host’s large exotic garden, whilst he read the Avesta, with Rashu situated similarly nearby, ready to fetch anything the young Georgian wanted or attempt to answer any questions the 16 years old guest might wish to ask. Meanwhile, the visitor’s official servant, his squire Teimuraz, was elsewhere.

The energetic Teimuraz did not want to study the Avesta quietly but wanted to indulge in more adventurous activity. The 10 years old boy was certainly to achieve his aim, after Arman had given him permission to practise his horsemanship once more.

Teimuraz was aware that he was still far from being as proficient as Arman at riding a horse and, as he felt that it was his duty as a squire to keep up with his young master at all times, he took every opportunity to practise the skill. The boy also currently believed that being on his steed, indulging in this exhilarating pastime, was better than sitting reading a religious tome, regardless of how worthy the latter might be.

Arman had told Teimuraz to take some of the cavalrymen as guards on his ride with him and not to stray too far from Yadz. Naturally, as many active 10 years old boys, seeking fun and adventure, would have done in similar circumstances, the young squire complied with neither command.

Accordingly, Teimuraz was currently riding alone, in the desert about five modern miles away from Yadz, and close to the Silk Road as it headed east from the city, when his horse once again managed to find a small hole in which to stumble and become lame. The last time that similar had occurred, the boy had ended up sharing a bed with Arman and Vissarion, whilst his very pleasant smooth genitalia were pleasurably entertained by the young Armenian and Georgian. Unfortunately for the 10 years old, on this occasion, he was to end up somewhere far less pleasant, where his delightful sexual organs were to be the focus of much less gratifying attention.

(Shiraz, Persia, same time)

Vissarion was allowed entrance through the huge sturdy wooden gates of Shiraz on condition that the young emissary entered alone without his bodyguards. The young Georgian’s protective cavalry were very reluctant to let their charge comply. However, the 16 years old, confident of both his safety, within the city’s walls, and the ultimate success of his diplomatic mission, eventually persuaded his concerned men to let him go on without them.

The result was Vissarion’s immediate arrest and incarceration in a dingy dungeon cell of the local prince’s internal citadel. The 16 years old did not yet know, but Qazagh had not only compromised the young emissary’s mission but also endangered his life.

(Silk Road, east of Yadz, Persia, same time)

As Teimuraz began his long walk back to Yadz along the Silk Road, with his horse hobbling behind, he noticed a large caravan, of many covered wagons with outriders, coming the other way. As the boy advanced towards the obviously mercantile procession, he noticed that all of the men associated with the convoy were dressed in a colourful manner he had not seen before. As the 10 years old came even closer, he then saw that the adults also sported unusual facial features.

In fact, Teimuraz was about to encounter his first Chinese merchants. Unfortunately for the boy, the traders were of the more unscrupulous variety.

By now, both Teimuraz and his steed were desperate for water in the desert surrounds. Consequently, as they finally encountered the Chinese caravan, the boy asked, in the best local Persian that he could muster, given that he had only recently been introduced to the tongue, the merchant on the leading horse if he could be supplied with a small amount of liquid refreshment.

This man obviously could not understand what Teimuraz was requesting, because he summoned another rider whom he hoped could interpret the boy’s words. Fortunately, this merchant did indeed know something of Persian, as he had traded in this part of the world for decades.

As the requested water was fetched, the interpreter, whilst carefully eyeing Teimuraz’s delectable slim form, currently covered by simple garb, suitable for horse-riding but nevertheless well made from obviously expensive material, asked the boy what he was doing alone, in this lonely inhospitable location. The 10 years old, grateful to be given a leather canteen of water, was pleased to answer, although, as it turned out, he was too truthful for his own good.

Teimuraz, graciously supplying his own horse first with water from his cupped hands palms, despite his own intense thirst, described the circumstances of his expedition from Yadz for the Chinese merchant. As the large dried tongue of the boy’s steed eagerly lapped up the liquid from the 10 years old’s palms, the young squire also bemoaned the fact that his master would worry about his late return, especially as the youth did not really know where his servant had gone riding.

Teimuraz wondered at first why this latter revelation induced a broad smile on the interpreter’s face, followed by a number of words in Chinese to his mounted companion. The boy’s puzzlement intensified when the latter, apparently the leader of the caravan, seemingly shouted orders to more of the mercantile outriders. However, the 10 years old’s mystification at the turn of events soon became shocked recognition when several of these traders jumped down from their own steeds to grab the young squire and his lame horse.

“What are you doing?” Teimuraz desperately asked, although he believed that he now already knew the appalling answer. The boy’s assumption was proved correct when the interpreter replied “You can come with us to China!” The man then followed up this revelation by instructing his colleagues, in his own native tongue, to “Strip and bind him!”

Teimuraz subsequently struggled and shouted fruitlessly, as he was forcibly disrobed and his hands were then bound tightly behind his now bare back with cord. The naked boy’s lovely body was subsequently held firmly whilst the smirking mercantile leader, himself dressed in colourful silks and sporting a traditional Chinese hat and long drooping moustache, also dismounted and approached.

Teimuraz’s wondrous form shivered in fright and shame as the senior trader carefully appraised the gorgeous young nude in front of him, before moving his right hand towards the 10 years old’s hairless genitalia. The young squire then exclaimed, whilst his smooth sexual organs were being intimately manually and visually inspected, “You can’t do this. Let me go. I’m a servant to one of Tamerlane’s boys!” However, his entreaties were simply ignored.

Meanwhile, Teimuraz’s cock expanded in response to the public attention being afforded to the boy’s most private parts until the member, substantial for a 10 years old, was fully erect and throbbing. Fortunately, the manual molester ceased his fondling just before the young squire would have been brought to deeply humiliating dry orgasm.

“Attach him to the others!” the mercantile leader then commanded in Chinese and, in response, the reluctant naked Teimuraz, still displaying his fulsome erection, was dragged towards the middle of the caravan. It was only now, from the boy’s fresh perspective, that he saw that the procession did not just comprise mounted horses and wagons.

The tremulous Teimuraz, still uselessly shouting “You can’t do this!”, now espied the long single column of approximately twenty similarly naked and bound beautiful young boys, positioned between a central pair of wagons. They were all aged between about 7 and 11 and their invariably delightful young bodies were somehow shimmering in the strong sunlight.

Each of the boys’ slim necks were connected by rope to youngsters in front and behind, unless they were in the leading or trailing positions, when the lack of a young nude human either before or aft would be rectified by attachment to one of the wagons. Teimuraz, raging thirst temporarily forgotten, quickly found himself attached to the rear of this sad column of young recently purchased slaves, destined for the distant Chinese market where particular types of servant from the west were considered exotic and therefore much sought after.

Teimuraz’s neck was attached to that of the naked boy in front, who was a beautiful 11 years old Persian, whose body had apparently been smeared with oil, and to the horse of the wagon behind. The 10 years old Georgian’s continued repeated suggestions that “You can’t do this!” were then rapidly terminated. One of the men, who had fixed the boy in place, withdrew a small leather crop from his belt and smashed it across the lustrous curves of the noisy newcomer’s bottom, terminating the annoying entreaties with a final anguished squeal.

Teimuraz immediately understood the intended message and, after issuing his pained bellow, fell silent. The traumatised boy’s marvellous naked body was then covered, from head to toe, in some form of oil, which turned out to be a very necessary and efficient sun blocker that caused his wonderful form to glisten in the bright light.

The caravan then restarted its relentless journey towards the east under the remorseless overhead desert sun and Teimuraz, cock rigidly pointing in the direction of his new destiny, suddenly remembered that he was still very thirsty.

(Shiraz, Persia, same time)

Vissarion’s grubby gaoler brought some bread and water to the young emissary’s dark dank cell. The young blonde blue-eyed Georgian, immaculately groomed and formerly dressed for his assignment, took the opportunity to demand that he be allowed to fulfil his commission by meeting the local princely ruler.

“No chance,” the gruff smelly middle-aged gaoler replied, “as his majesty knows that your mission was perfidious, designed to hand Shiraz easily to Tamerlane for his men to loot and destroy. The prince has no intention of wasting any of his precious time on you. Instead, he’s told your master to go away, and take his army with him. Otherwise, if the so-called conqueror attacks the city, your horribly mutilated body will be the first object that one of our defensive catapults will hurl at him!”

“But my mission’s genuine,” Vissarion desperately pleaded, “and peace will reign, with no harm to Shiraz, if the city opens its gates to Tamerlane.” However, the gaoler retorted “That’s not what one of our spies tells his majesty and he prefers to believe him than you. Enjoy your bread and water, as, if your master fails to comply with the prince’s demand, it may be your last.”

Despite attempts to plead his case further, the despondent Vissarion was soon left alone in the cool dark solitude of his tiny cell.

(Silk Road, east of Yadz, Persia, same time)

Despite his mental and physical distress, Teimuraz noticed, through the open rear of the covered wagon, which preceded the group of naked walking boys, some more youngsters, apparently resting within the cart. However, they were not completely naked, as their loins seemed to be covered. The 10 years old was sufficiently intrigued by the sight to conjure a question in his newly-acquired Persian.

“Who are they in the wagon ahead?” Teimuraz enquired of the similarly nude young Persian just in front of him. Fortunately, despite his only very recent acquaintance with the local language, the 10 years old’s query was understood by the 11 years old.

“Same as us,” the young Persian answered, in a sad whisper similar to the one in which the original question had been delivered, “only they’ve already been nullified and are currently recovering from the experience.” The original enquirer did not like the sound of the word ‘nullified’, even though he did not know what the expression meant. It was therefore with great trepidation that he quietly requested clarification of the phrase.

“They’ve had their genitals cut off,” the young Persian announced, with morose resignation, “just as we’ll have ours severed soon!”

“What do you mean by ‘just as we’ll have ours severed soon’?” an appalled Teimuraz not unnaturally now asked. “I’m sorry,” the young Persian replied, “but I didn’t realise that you didn’t know how the Chinese like to alter attractive boys from the west. They have a lucrative home market for eunuchs with our features and whose genitals have been completely shaved away. The merchants who now have us seem to prefer to prepare their goods in advance, presumably for quick retail turnaround once their eventual destination is reached. I think the only reason why all of us haven’t been nullified at the same time is the lack of room in the recovery wagon. However, I’m sure more of us will lose our sexual organs as soon as some of those in the cart ahead can resume their feet and walk again.”

A mixture of shock at the young Persian’s dreadful revelation, thirst and the almost overwhelming heat, as the caravan made its gradual progress east across the desert, now caused Teimuraz to become light headed. However, the naked boy’s resulting faltering progress was corrected by the rope, attached to his neck and dragging him forwards, and another blow of the leather crop from a vigilant attendant outrider. As a consequence, another red stripe formed across the boy’s sublime smooth buttocks.

(Yadz, Persia, four days later)

Arman was distraught. Not only was there no sign of the adorable Teimuraz, after an intensive search by the young Armenian, his cavalrymen and many of his Zoroastrian hosts, but also the 16 years old had just received a messenger, who advised him about Vissarion’s awful plight back in Shiraz.

Arman’s choice was simple but stark. The young Armenian could remain in Yadz to continue the search for Teimuraz or he could return to Shiraz to try to help Vissarion escape from his alarming predicament.

In the event, Arman knew that there was really only one choice. Despite the young Georgian’s affection for his new young squire, the youth could not abandon his oldest and dearest friend to the mercy of the prince of Shiraz. The 16 years old’s decision was assisted by consideration of two important factors.

First, the grieving Arman had to accept that Teimuraz was probably already dead, having encountered, four days earlier, some terrible misfortune in the desert around Yadz, where no-one could survive for long. Second, the youth owed his beloved Vissarion, for rescuing the young Armenian from previous personal perils.

Nevertheless, it was with a reluctant and heavy heart that Arman left Yadz, and the delightful Rashu, to take the road southwest, back to Shiraz.

(Silk Road, east of Yadz, Persia, same time)

As Teimuraz’s dreadful journey east proceeded relentlessly, the boy stopped praying to his Christian God for Arman to come to rescue him from his appalling situation. The 10 years old had realised that the time lag was now such, and the distance of the Chinese caravan from Yadz so great, that the young Georgian would never think of trying to find him in such a situation.

Tears flowed down Teimuraz’s gorgeous face as he finally resigned himself to his fate, just as the young Persian on the trail in front of him had already done. Meanwhile, the first nullified eunuchs had taken the places of the boys at the front of the walking column, with the replaced youngsters now in the recovery wagon.

Teimuraz now appreciated that the Chinese perpetrated their horrifying agonising deed when the caravan rested overnight and they had surmised that previous victims were ready to return to their feet. The 10 years old’s recognition of this fact was helped by hearing the muffled screams of the gagged boys, as they were deprived of their sexual organs before having the resultant frightful wound cauterised.

From the sight of the ugly scabs where boys’ genitalia should have been, on the naked bodies of those now leading the sad column of young slaves, Teimuraz also appreciated what his own loins would soon look like. As the 10 years old walked towards his undoubted destiny, he could not help but glance down frequently at his doomed boyhood, incongruously regularly displaying a rampant erection.

On the current rate of progress, Teimuraz estimated that his endangered genitalia had another week to live at most.

(Shiraz, Persia, one week later)

“Well, boy,” Vissarion’s gaoler advised the now disheveled and malnourished young Georgian, whilst bringing more unappetising bread and water, “Tamerlane and his army have finally agreed to leave the area and Shiraz is safe. You’ll be kept here as hostage to make sure the so-called conqueror never returns.”

“You’d better get used to your surrounds,” the ugly smelly man continued, whilst looking round the tiny dark dank dirty cell and displaying a broad sneer, “as this’ll be the only world you’ll ever now from now on. However, in return for a few favours, I might be able to make your existence a little more comfortable.”

The apparently abandoned Vissarion knew full well, from the gaoler’s suddenly lecherous eyes, what such favours would entail. The young Georgian presumed that the man had only desisted from making earlier approaches through fear of the consequences if Tamerlane had somehow prevailed and rescued the beautiful 16 years old eunuch. However, the turnkey probably now felt secure enough to seek compliant sexual pleasure from a young prisoner who had to be accustomed to providing such services, given that he had been one of Tamerlane’s bumboys.

Vissarion also recognised that the gaoler would probably have friends who would like to share his enjoyment of the young Georgian’s divine body, and that they would undoubtedly be prepared to gain their pleasure forcibly if needed. For a normal 16 years old in this position, life’s immediate prospects would certainly have led to anguished despair. However, the young eunuch was not such a person, and not just because he lacked testes.

In fact, Vissarion possessed balls, but ones of character rather than genital physique. The young Georgian also had Arman constantly in his thoughts. He somehow knew that his oldest friend would not abandon him to rot in this terrible place.

Vissarion, of course, rejected the gaoler’s initial verbal sexual approach. However, the young Georgian realised that staving off the second was going to be more difficult when the man returned with two equally grubby acquaintances.

“Now, boy,” the gaoler asked, “are you going to be a good boy and strip to entertain my friends and me or are we going to have to rip your clothes off you. I can assure you that, if we’re forced to do the latter, you’ll never wear anything again!”

(Silk Road, east of Yadz, Persia, same time)

The petrified naked Teimuraz had been tied, in a spreadeagled standing position, between two sturdy posts. The boy’s magnificent nude body had earlier been washed of accumulated grime and its protective oil, and his small ball sac had already been tied tightly with thin leather cord to help to stem the later blood loss. The 10 years old’s desperate pleas not to suffer the same fate as all the other youngsters had then not only been ignored but also stifled by an effective gag.

Teimuraz could see the cauterising iron glowing red-hot in an adjacent brazier, as well as blood on the ground beneath him. The sanguine stain had been formed when the young Persian had previously been nullified at this horrendous moonlit scene, with the 11 years old’s casually discarded severed genitalia still resting nearby on the reddened desert soil. The older boy’s lost penis was strangely still rigid and oozing cum.

Teimuraz also noticed the bloodstained emasculating knife in the hand of the smirking mercantile leader as he approached. When the man knelt before the terrified tearful 10 years old and pulled the imminent young victim’s doomed genitals harshly downwards to stretch and expose the youngster’s scrotum in readiness for severing at the base, several small drops of white seminal fluid began to emerge from the endangered cockhead.

Teimuraz had entered intense orgasm, whilst his threatened genitalia were viciously manhandled, and his sublime body visibly reverberated within the tight constraints of his bondage, as he produced his first ever, as well as undoubtedly last, sperm.

Teimuraz’s mind, caught between the two opposite worlds of pleasure and pain, now felt the cold steel of the Chinese merchant’s bloody knife come to rest against the left side of the base of his ball sac. The boy then uttered a muffled squeal, when the man who was to emasculate him squeezed and pulled down further on his 10 years old testes.

Whilst yet another little drop of semen spilt in response from Teimuraz’s cockhead, there was to be no rescue from nullification for the boy by Arman. The young Armenian was currently almost two hundred modern miles away and firmly of the somber belief that his young squire was dead.

As the Chinese trader readied himself to perform the quick slice that would sever Teimuraz’s boyhood, the 10 year old Orthodox Christian began to panic and pray for salvation from any God that might help him, even that of the Zoroastrians.

(To be continued in chapter 24 – ‘Beliefs’)