Tamerlane's Boys 3

By Pueros

Chapter 3 – Tears

(Isfahan, Persia, October 1387)

“Stop!”

This one word, shouted by the unmistakable voice of Tamerlane, immediately brought the brutal voluminous executions in front of one of the gates of Isfahan to a halt. Fortunately for Vissarion and Arman the angry bellow was heard where they were located.

The soldiers holding the hair of the two boys lowered their scimitars, dripping with blood, but not to behead the 11 years olds. They instead returned the sanguine weapons to their sides, let go of their next intended victims and turned round to see the dreaded conqueror, seated on his impressive black Arabian stallion and surrounded by his mounted bodyguard. The man’s face was also purple with fury.

The soldiers, petrified at the sight of their enraged leader and wondering what was amiss, dropped their swords, walked forward, fell to their knees and bowed their heads. Nearby colleagues stopped what they were doing to adopt a similar stance whilst Tamerlane dismounted from his steed. Fear had now transferred from Vissarion and Armar to their would-be killers as the incensed conqueror loudly asked, as he approached the large pool of blood that marked the murderous scene, "Why are you trying to kill my servants?” The two men responded by laying themselves on the bloody ground in prostration whilst, with one speechless in fright, the other shouted “Sorry, Lord, we did not know that the boys were yours!”

Unfortunately for the soldiers, this entreaty did not seem to carry any weight with Tamerlane as he withdrew his own scimitar from its scabbard and proceeded to decapitate with speedy expedition the two prostrate executioners. There was complete shocked silence all around until the conqueror, now calming, ordered other soldiers to “Untie the boys and take them to my tent. Place the heads of these two,” he continued, referring to the executed executioners, “on the tower with the others as a warning that no-one threatens my loyal attendants!”

Vissarion and Armar were as shocked as anyone at the turn of events. However, the boys, faces stained with drying tears, were also mightily relieved that the places on the grisly tower intended for their heads were now to be taken by those of the men who had proposed to decapitate them. The 11 years olds additionally experienced a sudden feeling of pride when they heard Tamerlane’s words, especially his description of them as ‘loyal’.

The young Georgian and Armenian were quickly but carefully raised to their feet by the bloodstained hands of four of the soldiers who had been engaged in transporting heads and bodies to their respective resting places. The men untied the lads’ own hands before leading them away from the terrible scene. However, they had advanced only a few paces when the conqueror again shouted “Stop!”

The soldier escorts were quaking in fear as their leader approached. Tamerlane came to Vissarion first and gently took hold of the boy’s chin. “Who did this to you?” he asked, examining the cuts and bruises on the 11 years old’s pretty face. The young eunuch answered by advising the conqueror about the beating he and Arman had received after their capture whilst trying fruitlessly to explain who they were. Their master did not respond directly to the explanation but instead lightly brushed away some of the tears on the face of the young Georgian with his fingers before doing the same to that of the young Armenian and quietly saying “Return to my tent to where I shall send a good doctor whilst I address this matter.”

As Vissarion and Armar finally and gratefully left the shadows of the gruesome tower, both were amazed for they could have sworn that they had seen dampness come to the dreaded Tamerlane’s eyes before he turned to go back to his horse.

Tamerlane returned to his tent six hours later when darkness was descending, with his encampment now illuminated by many fires. Emasculated replacements for the slain attendants of Vissarion and Armar had seen to the boys’ welfare. The eunuchs, both former catamites of the conqueror, had followed the doctor’s suggestions for mending the 11 years olds’ wounds, which were all luckily superficial, and had bathed, groomed and redressed them so that they were returned as closely as possible to their former immaculate forms.

Tamerlane ordered the captain of his bodyguard to fetch Vissarion and Armar from inside his tent. As the boys emerged, they saw people they recognised for kneeling in a line on the dusty ground was the group of eight soldiers who had caught and beaten them in Isfahan. The dumbfounded and terrified men’s hands and feet had been bound and their mouths had been gagged. The eyes of some were shedding tears.

Tamerlane, holding a sabre in each hand, approached the 11 years olds and gave each of his surprised young catamites one of the swords before guiding Vissarion to one end of the kneeling line and Armar to the other. The conqueror then invited the boys to take their revenge by decapitating the aghast soldiers, whose heads were presented for the blade by attendant bodyguards.

The shocked and hesitant Vissarion and Armar looked at each other before the young Georgian led the way by raising his scimitar, which was closely followed in the air by the one possessed by his friend. The boys had never used a sword but that was not the reason for further delay in demonstrating their weaponry skills as the blades remained resolutely aloft. The 11 years olds had also never spilt the blood of others and were appalled at the prospect of doing so now, even in vengeance, but were afraid of Tamerlane's reaction if they declined his invitation. It was the young eunuch who eventually again took the lead.

Vissarion threw his scimitar to the ground and in a low quaking voice informed Tamerlane “Please, Lord, I cannot take revenge on these men!” Armar’s sword also quickly fell into the dust and the young Armenian ran to stand by the young Georgian to show support for his friend. There was almost complete silence all around, disturbed only by the muffled sobs of some of the kneeling soldiers, as everyone waited for the reaction to the boys’ defiance of the conqueror, notorious for his sudden rages, often fatal for the objects of his displeasure.

Tamerlane looked at his beautiful young catamites standing defiantly side-by-side and pondered awhile before quietly asking “Why not?” Such muted response surprised everyone, not least the boy to whom the question was addressed. Vissarion, encouraged by the conqueror’s apparent mild calm, replied “Lord, the men do not deserve to die for they were only trying to serve you loyally.”

“Did they deserve to die?” Tamerlane queried, pointing to the distant dark forms that were some of the putrefying towers of heads. Vissarion contemplated the question, knowing that his answer probably represented a defining moment in his relationship with the conqueror, if not his life, before finally giving his honest opinion. “Yes, Lord,” the young eunuch said, “they deserved to die for they were disloyal!”

Something totally unexpected and unprecedented now occurred. Tamerlane smiled. No-one had ever seen the conqueror do so in public previously.

“You have bravery and wisdom beyond your tender years,” Tamerlane, with clear pride in his eyes, advised Vissarion, “and I am happy to accept your judicious forgiving counsel.” The conqueror then ordered the kneeling soldiers to be released and returned to their unit before entering his tent, gesturing to his two deeply relieved young catamites to follow.

Tamerlane sat on a chair and signalled Vissarion and Arman to him. The conqueror looked again at the boys’ beautiful visages before placing an arm around each of the 11 years olds and drawing them to him. The young Georgian and Armenian had not been hugged by their master in this way previously and both realised that it was an expression of his happiness at their safe return.

Something else totally unexpected and unprecedented now occurred. Tamerlane cried. No-one had ever seen the conqueror do so in over 40 years.

Vissarion and Arman were astonished but, at that instant, both somehow managed also to assign forgiveness on the man who held them whilst his tears flowed profusely. The former forgave his castration and both forgave the massacres of their families and the subsequent debauchery of their young bodies. Instead, the boys began to reciprocate Tamerlane’s now evident deep love for them. The dreaded conqueror had invaded and successfully conquered their young hearts.

(To be continued in chapter 4 – ‘Mongols’)