Tamerlane's Boys 15

By Pueros

Chapter 15 – Manhood

(Persia, July 1392)

It was one of the conqueror’s young officers named Sibur, who was of mixed Mongol/Persian ancestry and had been recently promoted for well-proven loyalty and competence, not least in helping to suppress the recent coup against Tamerlane, who first spotted his master’s boys. The handsome 24 years old observed one clothed and three naked, differently sized and featured, but universally beautiful, youngsters suddenly emerge on the rock face above him, at the rear of the crag on which the Persian warlord’s fortress was located. He knew immediately who the nudes were and recognised that their attired companion, the smallest but apparently leading the little group, wore local apparel.

Sibur quickly issued orders and several of his cavalrymen climbed down from their horses and rushed up the steep sloping narrow stony pathway that the boys were descending. The mounted archers had sheathed their arrows and placed their bows around their shoulders to run rapidly up the incline to greet the escaping foursome. They had withdrawn their short curved sabres from scabbards in readiness to use that weaponry instead to defend the quartet, whilst they held readied spare cloaks in their other hands. Soon, the naked Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai were draped in these garments and were, with Rezan, safely at the bottom of the crag.

Sibur had already proficiently dispatched a messenger to advise Tamerlane of his boys’ surprise sudden appearance and now greeted Vissarion, Arman, Nicolai and their younger unknown friend with welcoming humour as they approached. “Do you know how much trouble your little holiday has caused?” he shouted rhetorically with a broad smile at the safe rescue of the young Georgian, Armenian and Muscovite. However, the young Persian in their company, not knowing the Turkish dialect spoken, could not share the joke.

Tamerlane’s boys, immensely grateful and happy at their sudden happy change in fortunes, reciprocated with sweet smiles of their own. Sibur’s cock, safely hidden under his uniform, twitched at the sight, especially that of Arman’s gladdened face. The young officer, previously a regular in the conqueror’s own bodyguard, had been a distant admirer of the young Armenian in particular for a long time. It was something that the 15 years old had for quite a while recognised from frequently snatching sight of the 24 years old’s supposedly furtive glances.

It was not unusual for Arman to receive admiring looks but the length and frequency of those of Sibur indicated infatuation. The boy was flattered by the interest and attention coming from such a handsome young warrior, noted for his audacity and bravery, and, in different circumstances, would have responded. However, both knew that it was too dangerous a passion to follow-up, even if either felt like undermining Tamerlane’s position regarding the young Armenian, which neither did out of loyalty and love for the dreaded conqueror.

Sibur was as devoted as Arman to the man because he too had been one of Tamerlane’s boys, a relationship sadly ended eight years earlier, amidst many tears, as the uncastrated Moslem had progressed into manhood and soldiery. The young officer’s current sexual tastes related more to young men than boys and his infatuation with the young Armenian actually stemmed as much, if not more, from what the 15 years old was rapidly developing into as his present magnificent shape.

Arman noted again Sibur’s unmistakably clear regard for him, as the young officer’s eyes did not seem capable of straying long from the boy’s delectable form as he approached, now covered by the military cloak. The young Armenian could somehow tell that the young man was trying to visualise what he was hiding under the mantle and, perhaps stimulated by euphoria at his rescue, couldn’t help himself.

As Arman and the others were led close to the mounted Sibur by their protective escorts, the young Armenian, who was holding his cover in place by applying one hand to his throat and another to his midriff, suddenly let go. This was despite the many soldiers surrounding the scene and his usual natural strong aversion to personal public nudity. The garment succumbed to gravity and, although the apparently accidentally shed item was quickly picked up and re-wrapped around the boy again by his concerned guard, many had secured a good close-up view of the 15 years old’s marvellous naked form.

Arman happily recognised that Sibur had enjoyed the shock display because the young officer’s face had become bright scarlet and his eyes were full of undisguised lust. On his part, the young man, who had never seen the young Armenian nude before, apart from a little earlier at a great distance, tried his best to hide his unpreventable reaction. However, he was severely hampered by appreciation that what he had just seen was the most gorgeous vision of his life so far.

Sibur’s liking for the brief close sight of Arman’s magnificent bare body was intensified by observation that the boy’s completely smooth genitalia, freshly shaved for the earlier auction, sported a fulsome erection. His pleasure at the delectable, but all too short, scene had also been reinforced by entry into uncontrollable orgasm, with mush sperm despoiling his undergarments. However, the young Armenian’s teasing of the young officer came to an end when approaching horses, galloping at great speed, could be heard and Tamerlane himself came into view.

Tamerlane leapt off his steed, a feat remarkable for someone in his mid fifties, and ran to his boys. Nothing was said as he gathered all three together and hugged them tightly for a prolonged period, amongst simultaneous profuse weeping. The tears of happiness spread to Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai and, in the end, there were few dry eyes amongst the surrounding surprised crowd of hardened warriors, as the moving reunion proceeded. However, Rezan, standing nearby, remained apparently emotionally untouched.

Tamerlane, suddenly remembering where he was and the fact that his boys were publicly unclothed apart from the cloaks, eventually forced himself to terminate the lingering mutual embrace, at least for now. He instead moved aside to allow one of his own bodyguards to step forward with spare clothing for Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai. Sibur had had the proficient foresight to instruct the messenger, whom he had dispatched to the conqueror with the good news about the rescue of the young Georgian, Armenian and Muscovite, additionally to convey advice that the young trio needed garments.

Other bodyguards held the boys’ covering cloaks in place, to shield their bodies from view, and cast their eyes aside, as the grateful threesome dressed in the proffered attire. Because of their earlier careful bathing and grooming for the auction, the young trio eventually emerged from behind their mantles resplendently dressed and looking as dazzling as ever, although it was noticeable to those who knew him well that Arman had grown significantly again since they had last seen him. It was a fact not lost on Tamerlane, whose tears were rekindled by the sight that he had despaired of ever viewing again.

Previously, as his boys were dressing, Tamerlane had noticed the very pretty 10 years old Rezan standing close by, closely guarded by a couple of soldiers because no-one knew the boy’s identity and he wearing local garb.

Tamerlane had approached the young Persian and asked courteously in the local language “Are you Rezan?” and received a positive answer. “I thank you for saving my boys,” he responded before also now giving the 10 years old a hug, although one that was formally light and short, as befitted a greeting to a welcome acquaintance.

Rezan’s military escorts immediately diplomatically withdrew to a more discreet distance, as it was now obvious from Tamerlane’s actions that the boy was an honoured guest, someone to be carefully protected as an important friend as opposed to enemy.

Soon afterwards, four spare horses were produced and Tamerlane’s redressed boys, along with Rezan, were being escorted by the deliriously re-content conqueror and his bodyguards to the huge encampment quickly being established whilst the siege of Reza’s fortress commenced. During the short journey, Arman, without actually noticing, somehow felt the intense glare of the handsome dark eyes of Sibur, riding just behind, focusing on his divine slim frame. The 15 years old’s body excitedly began to tingle and his already hard cock started to throb again at the realisation.

Tamerlane, Vissarion, Arman, Nicolai and Rezan eventually found themselves alone in the conqueror’s large richly adorned tent. The young Armenian’s passion had calmed as a consequence of being out of Sibur’s sight.

“Tell me everything,” Tamerlane asked of his boys in Persian, having elicited that the younger guest was not proficient in their normal tongue, “that has happened to you since I last saw you.” As usual, it was Vissarion for spoke for all three.

A short while later, Tamerlane, unconvinced by the full detail of Vissarion’s report, knowing instinctively when his young beloved was trying to hide something from him, turned to Rezan and enquired “Is that all your father did? Did he really just hold my boys, his unexpected captives, unmolested, whilst considering his options and before finally proposing to return them to me, even before I showed up?”

Rezan, feelings behind his lovely young visage impenetrable, being well used to disguising his true emotions from Reza for reasons of personal safety, answered diplomatically but truthfully “I’m afraid not, great lord. I believe that Vissarion is kindly trying to shield my father from the full implications of his actions for my sake, for which I thank him from the bottom of my heart. However, his compassionate consideration is misplaced.” The 10 years old then proceeded to advise Tamerlane in detail of what actually happened in the warlord’s fortress.

Tamerlane had understood and completely forgiven Vissarion’s attempt to hide the truth but it was evident Reza would not enjoy similar escape from the man’s dreaded wrath. The conqueror’s face became redder and redder, and his body, particularly his hands, more agitated as the revelations progressed. However, the warlord’s young son was not deflected from his informative discourse.

After Rezan had concluded, Tamerlane, somehow temporarily repressing his intense fury out of consideration for his young Persian guest, asked “What was your motive for sending a messenger with news of my boys’ whereabouts and for revealing these horrors to me now?” “Because, great lord,” the boy unhesitatingly replied, with the usual remarkable maturity that belied his tender age, “I hate my father, and my mother too. Neither like me nor have any real interest in me as an individual. I am the product of their loins, yes, but unloved, regularly abused and produced for only one purpose, to keep our lineage going in their own selfish, despotic and cruel manner. Both my people and I would be much better without them!”

It was not just Tamerlane who was speechless with this answer, but also his boys. However, the ensuing silence was ended by Rezan, who added “The messenger I sent was the only person I could trust to do so. He has been one of those who have looked after me since I was a baby but the only one to show me any real affection. To the others, I was apparently just a chore but, for some reason, this servant has given me much time and kind attention, even to the extent of trying to protect me from my father’s easily riled violent temper at the expense of being severely beaten himself. This once, during my very earliest years, resulted in a violent kicking that rendered him impotent. I sometimes wonder whether the experience actually brought us closer because, as a result, I suspect he subsequently considered me a surrogate son, in need of protection from a wicked overlord.”

“I managed to disguise his disappearance,” Rezan continued to his intrigued audience, “as a visit home to a sick mother, authorised by me, for which unilateral action I naturally received a severe thrashing from my father, from which my bottom still bears the scars. I strongly recommend the presentation of the reward, which, I’m sure, great lord, you have offered for your boys’ safe return, to this man!” The young Persian’s servant, currently under guard elsewhere in the encampment whilst the veracity of his message was confirmed, immediately became enormously wealthy.

“Do you know what sort of vengeance I’ll reek on your father,” Tamerlane now asked the young Persian,” having sufficiently contained his temper produced by the recent revelations to be able to do so, “for kidnapping, torturing and attempting to sell my boys into slavery, to say nothing about the murder of their bodyguards and guides?” “I can guess, great lord,” Rezan replied, “but, in respect of this particular matter, I must seek my own reward for saving Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai.”

(Persia, August 1392)

The conqueror had not liked his eventual agreement with Rezan but his sense of honour ensured that he was obliged to comply with the young Persian’s requested guerdon for saving Tamerlane’s boys. In this, the 10 years old had been resolutely inflexible, despite being offered all sorts of attractive and lucrative alternative rewards.

Nevertheless, Tamerlane’s concession was not granted with any sense of annoyance towards Rezan himself, whose remarkable character only added to the splendid allures of his gorgeous appearance as far as the man was concerned. The conqueror was just disappointed with the fact that he thought the 10 years old’s parents and their cohorts were escaping too lightly for their crimes against his boys.

The siege of the fortress had not taken too long to conclude. Tamerlane, ever careful about the welfare of his soldiers, did not waste men by trying to assault the bastion, even via the revealed secret escape cave passageway, which was vulnerable to the pouring of boulders or boiling oil or water down its many steep steps. Instead, the conqueror simply starved the citadel into quick submission, aware from Rezan, that the food stores were very low because of his family’s recent impecuniosity and how the well, supplying his former home’s water supply, could be located and poisoned.

Naturally, Reza and his wife longed to be able to hold out, hoping against hope that Tamerlane would eventually become bored and, content with the safe recovery of his boys, depart. However, deep down they knew, from the dreaded conqueror’s history and reputation, that such an outcome was most unlikely, even if, as it appeared, their own son had been the traitor who had not only brought terrible vengeance to their gates but also facilitated the escape of their only bargaining chip. Both parents now remembered and regretted their maltreatment of their offspring, but only for their own miserable sakes and not his.

Nevertheless, like many in such desperate situations, Reza and his wife remained inappropriately optimistic to the end, such self-deception reinforced by much consummation of wine, the existence of which, along with secreted food, was initially carefully hidden from the other defenders. However, the eventual detection of their secret supply, as their recurring drunkenness finally caused them to become careless, led to their downfall.

The discovery of the hoard of provisions by the other starving defenders, clan warriors and members of the household, provoked mutiny and soon Reza and his wife were prisoners of their own people, as the fortress gates were opened to Tamerlane’s forces. However, neither experienced the expected and dreaded audience with the vengeful conqueror.

“Hello, father,” said Rezan, as he advanced into what was formerly his own chamber within the tall fortress, shortly after access to the citadel had been gained. The bound Reza was sitting huddled on the floor, his clothing filthy from having not changed in many days and made worse by having recently urinated and defecated into his trousers, terrified at what Tamerlane would now have in mind for him. The warlord expected to take days, if not weeks, to die horribly, something the conqueror had indeed intended until someone intervened.

“My son, my beloved son,” Reza fawningly shouted, hope for continued life reinvigorated by Rezan’s unexpected appearance, even though the boy was accompanied by two of Tamerlane’s most merciless-looking soldiers, their appearance actually a true reflection of their inherent ruthlessness.

Reza tried to stand up but was told not to bother by his son, who then sat cross-legged next to his father whilst managing to hide his disgust at the localised smell. “I know what you’ve done,” the warlord whispered to Rezan, “but I forgive you. Can you forgive me as well for some of the things I’ve done to you. They were all perpetrated at your mother’s insistence, you know. I didn’t want to do any of it but she insisted, wanting to toughen you up to lead our people. She was also behind the treatment to Tamerlane’s boys. I really meant them no harm. I didn’t want to keep them, torture them or sell them. I wanted to follow your advice and treat them well before returning them. Please believe me, my beloved son, and go tell the conqueror. It was your mother behind the evil all the time. She’s the one who should suffer. Secure my release and, without that witch, we’ll live together as a father and son should. Please, my beloved son, save me!”

Copious tears now flowed from Reza’s eyes but his son, having patiently and knowingly listened to his father’s lies, detected many crocodiles within each lachrymose droplet. He therefore had no hesitation in quickly disillusioning his parent about salvation.

“I’m afraid that you are to die,” Rezan announced authoritatively and apparently impassively, “and the best that I can do for you is to make it quick.” His father’s tears cleared up immediately and his quick temper surfaced instead. “You treacherous brat,” he declared, whilst trying to lunge at his son, despite the fact that his hands were tied firmly behind him. However, his clumsy attempt to head-butt his young offspring was efficiently thwarted by the boy’s two guards, who not only restrained the squatting man but also rendered him quiescent through a kick in the groin.

Afterwards, as the guards waited for their victim to recover from his genital agony, one of them withdrew a sharp curved knife from his scabbard and held it at the man’s throat, advising “Listen to Master Rezan here or I’ll cut your jugular now!” The petrified and genitally anguished Reza, now subdued, complied reluctantly, his deep-seated anger towards his son now intensified by hearing him termed ‘Master’ by Tamerlane’s men. His viper of an offspring had obviously quickly acquired honoured status in the enemy camp.

“Father,” Rezan commanded, seemingly unconcerned by his parent’s fury and attack, something he had seen many times previously, “look at that window over there. Do you remember hurling my puppy out of it?” Reza’s earlier puzzlement as to why he had been brought to this particular chamber began to clear, as he fearfully obeyed his son’s instruction. “Well,” the 10 years old informed, “that is your route to avoid Tamerlane’s full wrath and I suggest you take it. Now!”

Reza looked back at his son. “Please no,” he begged, with genuine tears now flowing, “I can’t. Please no. Please save me, my beloved son.” He then completely dissolved into rambling incoherent entreaties, amidst much cowardly sobbing and whilst pressing his forehead on the ground in a demeaningly submissive gesture.

Rezan stood up, disgusted at the way in which his father had so rapidly degenerated into a cowardly wreck. However, he was not surprised. He had always thought that bullies were cowards at heart, only picking on those over whom they had some physical or positional ascendancy. His attitude towards this particular specimen was reinforced by the rumours that he had overheard over the years from servants. These had suggested that the misnamed warlord, although nominally leading his clan’s warriors, was always careful never to be at the forefront in any skirmish and was ever eager to order retreat in the event of the slightest reverse in battle.

Rezan took one last look at the disgraceful excuse for a man, loudly quivering at his young feet, and then nodded to the two muscle-bound soldiers. They immediately picked up the loathsome heap of humanity and dragged their shrieking load remorselessly towards the open window, which looked down to sharp rocks far below. “Noooooooooooooooooo….” Reza shouted as his fetid form was lifted off the floor.

“Goodbye, father,” Rezan said, as he turned to leave the chamber, never to return.

Rezan felt that he had performed his duty towards his father, having secured him a quick rather than lengthy and agonising death, as Tamerlane’s gratitude towards the boy did not extend to allowing the warlord to live. As it was, the conqueror thought that Reza was being granted too much leniency but had been persuaded to grant the young Persian his request by a young Georgian, Armenian and Muscovite, whose entreaties invariably led to the defeat of the bewitched man’s original intent.

Tamerlane and his boys were at the foot of the crag, waiting for the deed to be done before themselves advancing up to the fortress. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhh,” was heard loudly, as a body fell from a window high above before only the usual noises of standing cavalry returned to the quartet’s ears.

“Let’s go,” Tamerlane commanded, “it is done and Rezan might need some comfort.” The large mounted troop comprising the conqueror, his boys and his bodyguard then climbed the winding vertiginous path leading to the main gates of the citadel, where their leader appeared to be proved wrong in his assumption about the young Persian’s probable distress. The 10 years old displayed no emotion at all at his father’s recent demise or his mother’s dispatch, along with that of her closest female servant, to a completely illegal and sacrilegious but well-known brothel in Kashan.

Rezan, wise beyond his years, had correctly believed that the shame of entering the profession of prostitution, allied to their strong lesbianism and dislike of males, would make the women’s future existence there a most suitable punishment. It was also an idea that the young Persian was comfortable with, being unconcerned about the shame that it would bring to his lineage, because it would save the females from the swords that Tamerlane originally proposed to behead them with. However, the boy, having fulfilled a duty to his mother by at least securing her life, chose not to try to thwart the conqueror’s desire to decapitate those of his father’s warriors who had participated in the shameful murders of the bodyguards and guides of Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai.

That left only two more miscreants to deal with, Rezan having successfully pleaded for the rest of his people, suggesting that they had been badly guided and would become Tamerlane’s loyal subjects if properly led. The boy declined the position himself, even when it was offered with a wise council to advise him through his minority, citing other objectives in life. He instead suggested his now very rich former servant, who proved to be a most suitable choice for the clans were indeed subsequently amongst the conqueror’s most reliable subjects.

Rezan led Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai into the grim torture chamber that all now knew so well. However, it was not Tamerlane’s boys who were currently painfully suspended naked from the ceiling but the young Persian’s terrified former female servants.

The four boys could not help but smile as they slowly walked round the attractive but petrified nude 15 years old girls, both displaying small but pleasant partially grown breasts and tiny tufts of vaginal hair, before picking up various items of chastisement. They started playing with the implements teasingly before the young females’ petrified eyes, prior to rubbing wooden canes and leather crops gently up and down the vulnerable feminine bottoms.

During the whole time since the young male quartet’s arrival, apparently eager for revenge, the girls begged incessantly for mercy. “Why should Tamerlane’s boys oblige you,” their former young master eventually asked, “why shouldn’t they enjoy beating you as much as you did caning them?” The pair of young females was momentarily silenced, unable to produce a reasonable answer. However, they soon resumed their entreaties with simple pleas designed to play on hoped-for generosity towards the feminine gender from the masculine foursome. They knew that offers of compliant sex in return for compassion might not be welcome, given that two of their vengeful tormentors were eunuchs.

The girls’ tactic initially went unrewarded when a particularly keen Nicolai struck one female bottom and then another harshly, despite his diminutive size, with one of the crops. Loud feminine yelps resounded round the chamber as the blows were successfully applied, leaving vivid red stripes on the respective posteriors. Meanwhile, this time, it was male giggles that accompanied the anguished noises.

Arman, cock rigid within his trousers, gathered the stool on which Rezan had reluctantly stood two months previously to apply cruel clamps to each of the nipples possessed by Tamerlane’s boys. He carried a pair of the same devices and now presented them simultaneously to both rosy tits, upright from chill and fright, of one of the girls. “Please don’t,” she sobbed, as tears flowed down her pleasant cheeks. “But I remember how keen you were to see me castrated,” the young Armenian retorted.

This remark just caused the girl to break down completely into uncontrollable sobs, incapable of begging for pity anymore.

“I think that’ll do,” Vissarion commented and Arman, agreeing, stepped off the stool, unattached clamps still in his hands.

The intent of the four boys from the start had never been to hurt the girls seriously but to scare them sufficiently so that they would not be inclined to repeat their sadistic behaviour again. They had previously successfully dissuaded their master from executing the young females, having cited misguided youth as the main reason for the earlier errant feminine ways.

The boys' compassionate strategy worked for the girls, having been let off so lightly, given that they feared for their very lives, were not only never tempted to treat others so harshly again but also emerged shaking from the chamber, with just one red stripe apiece across their buttocks, changed people.

The girls had been so terrified of the circumstances to which their previous conduct had brought them that they successfully determined that consideration for and not cruelty towards others was the best attitude in future. Within weeks, now redundant from their previous posts and with no family to return to, they had been married to some of Tamerlane’s worthier young soldiers, introduced via Arman, with the help of the boy’s secret admirer, Sibur.

The girls were to become good mothers to large broods, as well as excellent nurses when required for wounded warriors, within the substantial community of camp followers that loyally pursued all contemporary armies. They and Tamerlane’s boys often exchanged smiles and indulged in brief conversations whenever they came across each other in the years ahead.

Tamerlane and his boys, along with Rezan, eventually left the fortress to return to the army encampment. Here, once alone together in the conqueror’s tent, all sat on couches surrounding a low table, bedecked with goblets of fresh juice and bowls of the finest fruit.

Tamerlane now enquired of Rezan what he now wanted to do. He received a similar reply to the one Nicolai had given when the young Muscovite was asked the same question 15 months before, albeit for different reasons.

Rezan stated that he would like to travel with Tamerlane to learn at first hand the skills of a great general and statesman. He did not add that this would also enable him to remain close to Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai, whom he now considered friends, such relationships with young peers being denied him previously. However, the perceptive conqueror suspected the additional motive.

Rezan gave no indication of knowledge of, or willingness to participate in, the sexual activities of Tamerlane and his boys. The conqueror therefore presumed that the 10 years old was thinking of a close platonic association, entered into to learn about the wider world and military and political affairs, perhaps with a view to returning someday to rule his own people. However, it was not because of the possible lack of sex in the relationship that the man tried to dissuade the young Persian from the notion.

This was evidenced by Tamerlane’s verbal response, which he addressed as much to the startled Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai as to Rezan. “I’d like to accommodate you,” the conqueror advised, “but I don’t propose to have any boys close around me in future. I’ve decided that women are preferable!” The young quartet was at first rendered speechless at this sudden, totally unexpected, change in attitude, which the young Georgian, Armenian and Muscovite found hard to believe was genuine, knowing their master much better than the young Persian.

It was the perceptive Vissarion who broke the silence and he did so with such brave honesty that he shocked his young companions. “Great lord,” he started politely before continuing with bluntness, “you’re lying!” Tamerlane had never lost his temper with any of his boys but none had ever accused him of untruthfulness in this manner previously and so none, including the young Georgian, knew how he would react, given the well-known volatility of the man’s temper. However, the conqueror, looking at the beautiful courageous and obviously knowing face of the 15 years old, simply asked “Tell me, my wise young friend, why do you suggest that?”

“Because,” Vissarion advised, boldness encouraged by Tamerlane’s continued calmness, “I know, I just know, that you love Arman, Nicolai and me above everyone and everything else. You’re just trying to get us out of harm’s way, believing that our current status and proximity to you is too dangerous for us. After all, we’ve now been kidnapped three times, twice specifically because we were your boys.”

“Well it simply won’t do,” the young Georgian continued more loudly and forcefully, this time startling his master, as well as his friends, by thumping his right fist into his left palm to reinforce the earnestness of his point, “I’m not going to leave you. If you try to make me, I’ll keep coming back.” Suddenly the 15 years old’s emotion at Tamerlane's whole terrible suggestion, which had frightened him more than anything before in his life, barring nothing and he had suffered much, caused him to burst into tears.

Tamerlane had appreciated that he would probably upset his boys but Vissarion’s honest and ardent reaction, completely correct in its accusation, was not at all anticipated. The conqueror was instantly profoundly saddened and guilty about the distress he had obviously caused, not only to the young Georgian but also to the young Armenian and Muscovite. The formerly immaculate faces of the latter now displayed only deep misery and intent to erupt imminently into tears, just as their friend’s had done.

Tamerlane, utterly defeated in his noble aim, therefore approached Vissarion and hugged the crying young Georgian once more, whilst beginning to sob in unison. “I’m sorry,” the conqueror announced, “and yes I was lying. I only wanted my boys to be safe. I won’t send any of you away, I promise, unless we all agree that it’s for the best. Manhood isn’t far away for any of you, you know, and you’ll then want to be doing other things and be with other people, rather than be confined to my boring company.”

“Never,” exclaimed Vissarion vigorously, whilst returning Tamerlane’s tight hold, as he slowly recovered from his emotional outburst, restitution helped by securing victory. However, the watching Arman was not so sure that his friend was correct, despite being as equally loving and loyal and initially upset at the conqueror’s proposal as the young Georgian.

Arman, balls still in situ, knew that he was growing fast and would soon not have the physical form to please his master, with the onset of true manhood possibly being delayed for the similarly aged but gelded Vissarion but not much longer for himself. He also now realised, from Sibur’s reciprocated interest in him and his own growing new attraction to girls, that there were pleasing alternatives for him. The young Armenian had finally recognised that eventual separation, at least for him, although undoubtedly profoundly sad, was not only inevitable, and probably imminent, but also might be for the best for all concerned. The 15 years old additionally comprehended that Tamerlane appreciated all this as much as anyone and he experienced both sadness and excitement at the prospect of soon leaving his master's tent for another existence.

Meanwhile, the silent unemotional Rezan sat expressionless and seemingly unaffected by the devoted antics of Tamerlane and his boys. However, deep inside, he was intensely moved for he had just seen true love openly exposed for the first time in his previously closeted, lonely and unhappy life.

After making his tearful apologies to all his boys, Tamerlane eventually managed to dry his eyes, compose himself and return to the subject of what Rezan now wanted to do. The young Persian’s answer was the same.

Tamerlane responded by asking Rezan “But am I not more loathsome than your late father, as many would suggest that I am? If you did not welcome the upbringing that he gave you, why do you think that you’ll experience better with me?” However, the young Persian answered as if he had been anticipating such a question, whilst also taking Vissarion’s example and being unafraid to do so with honest blunt conviction.

“I believe, great lord, that your acts of apparent barbarity in war are actually no such thing,” Rezan declared, “ as they’re perpetrated only on those who wilfully defy or betray you and to prevent, by terrible example, similar recurrences elsewhere. Also, I know from your boys, and from what I’ve experienced and observed since I met you, great lord, that your private demeanour does not match your public façade. I wish to learn from you, for one day I wish to be a great leader too, although, I have to confess now, that that doesn’t necessarily mean that I’ll copy your ways. Nevertheless, please, great lord, grant me my request.”

Tamerlane mulled Rezan’s wish over in his mind, unable to prevent himself from smiling as he did so in appreciation of the young Persian’s astounding maturity, which was allied to a lack of doubt that the youngster would ultimately attain his aim in life. However, the 10 years old still seemed ignorant of the sexual nature of the conqueror’s relationship with his boys. This was the reason why, in the tent they shared, there was only one, albeit huge, bed, still covered in cold weather by a splendid bearskin secured by Vissarion and Arman in the Caucasus.

Tamerlane, immensely grateful to Rezan for his boys’ salvation, did not want to force the young Persian, despite his obvious attractions, into his bed or make him feel obliged to do so. However, if he shared the conqueror’s tent, which he probably wanted to do to be close to his newly acquired friends, the man wondered what other option there would be. A different canopy or incongruously separate sleeping arrangements for the newcomer might make him feel left out.

Tamerlane did not want to make a mistake with his eventual solution to the quandary, as his misjudgement of Nicolai in similar circumstances had caused the young Muscovite to seek castration. The conqueror did not believe that Rezan would follow that same extreme action to show his determination to be part of the man’s most intimate entourage but he might be stimulated into some other harmful course if he felt unhappy with the final decision. However, he was at a loss as to what to do. Not uncommonly, it was Vissarion who perceived his master’s dilemma and provided the answer.

“Great lord,” the young Georgian suggested with his usual sweet and completely disarming smile, “it’s about time you ordered a larger tent!”

The order for the manufacture of a massive new canopy, with separate diplomatic compartments for each of the now five occupants, although those intended for use by the young Georgian, Armenian and Muscovite were to be mainly for show and storage of personal effects, was soon dispatched to Kashan. Meanwhile, Rezan was awarded a temporarily separate luxuriant tent just for now, which he was happy to accept, given that he would soon join the others. However, Tamerlane and his boys then disappeared into their own and did not reappear for a day and a half. This situation provided cause for the young Persian to investigate and consider his position further.

(Persia, November 1392)

Arman’s growth and development into manhood continued apace, in marked contrast to that of the similarly aged but gelded Vissarion, whose stature was changing far less and whose maturation was only refining not eradicating his gorgeous boyish looks. The young Armenian, soon to be 16 like his oldest friend, was also having to shave his chin and body daily to maintain the appearance desired by Tamerlane. However, both he and the conqueror knew that he was fighting a losing battle. His sombre master therefore summoned his boys, now platonically including Rezan, to a private conference to discuss the situation, knowing what the sad outcome would undoubtedly be.

“Have me castrated,” Arman selflessly offered at one time during the debate but Tamerlane, although appreciating his beloved’s preparedness to sacrifice his testicles to prolong his direct service for his master, instantly dismissed the proposal. However, the conqueror rewarded the young Armenian with a long lingering hug of thanks for making the suggestion before restarting the discussion.

As with Sibur eight years earlier, Arman later terminated his occupancy of Tamerlane’s tent amidst many tears. These were liberally shed by not only the conqueror and the 15 years old himself but also Vissarion and Nicolai, with the young Georgian, who had known the young Armenian longest and considered him his best friend, particularly sorrowful and lachrymose. However, the young Persian, as usual, exhibited no emotion.

Arman was to remain nearby for now, amongst the conqueror’s closest entourage, but it was the symbolism of the occasion that affected Tamerlane and his boys most, with the apparent exception of Rezan. The only consolation for the young Armenian, as he finally reluctantly managed to extricate himself from the tight holds of Vissarion, Nicolai and his master, to walk to his new life, was the identity of his new mentor.

Arman had announced his desire to be a cavalryman and Tamerlane had at first proposed that he be posted to the staff of his best general to learn the role. However, the young Armenian demurred, suggesting an allocation to another younger less senior officer. His master was no fool and correctly surmised the reason behind the proposition but he was not displeased either by the identity of the changed mentor, as he knew him very well indeed, or the idea.

After all, Tamerlane knew that his beloved Arman would, probably now literally, be in the best of hands. The conqueror actually experienced a tinge of envy at the thought of the two young men together, wishing that he himself was thirty years younger.

It was with an understandable mixture of sadness and excitement that Arman eventually approached another tent, formerly only catering for one but which was also now going to be the young Armenian's new home. The owner was already eagerly waiting.

Sibur welcomed his new young charge with a formal and polite hug. However, soon afterwards, in the privacy of the tent, the embraces were to be a lot more passionate.

(To be continued in chapter 16 – ‘Emotions’)