Tamerlane's Boys 16

Chapter 16 – Emotions

(Persia, November 1392)

Tamerlane departed Rezan’s homeland, with his boys and his vast army. One of the last sights Vissarion, Nicolai and Arman, the latter now riding happily alongside his new mentor in both love and war, Sibur, saw in the locale was the skulls on stakes of twelve Arabs, incongrously still attired in white head-dresses. It seemed that the would-be purchasers of famous young catamites would no longer have much further use for their riches.

Tamerlane first returned to the scene where Rezan’s late father had captured Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai. Here, he recovered the bodies of the murdered bodyguards and guides from the secret burial site to where his boys could now lead him. He then progressed to Kashan, where the men were re-interred with full honours and from where pensions of much gold were dispatched to their families back in Transoxonia.

Tamerlane subsequently went to inflict appropriate punishment on a city that had treacherously repudiated a previous very generous peace treaty with the conqueror, killing many of his soldiers in the process. More horrendous towers of thousands of skulls were to appear once again on the Persian landscape.

Despite their inherent decency, Tamerlane’s boys felt little sorrow for most of the victims. It was not only a cruel age when massacres of whole municipal populations were not unusual but also there was little sympathy for rebels who had blatantly defied the conqueror’s suzerainty, knowing full well, from earlier examples, what the consequences could be. It was not as if the people concerned had been forcibly cajoled into revolt by unwise leaders, for the bloody uprising, like others in similar cities, had been pursued with popular nationalistic zeal.

Despite the terrible scenes to which they were witnesses, Tamerlane’s boys, now officially comprising just 15 years old Vissarion and 12 years old Nicolai, with 10 years old Rezan a currently peripheral presence, only experienced compassion for the Persian children, innocent victims of their parents’ folly. Accordingly, the young Georgian led the way in using all his well-practised charms on his master to persuade him to alter his early intent. The young Muscovite had been happy to assist his friend and so the conqueror had stood no chance in maintaining his original stance. As a consequence, most of the rebel offspring were enslaved rather than decapitated and a not inconsequential minority actually enjoyed better lives than previously.

The pretty brown haired and eyed Rezan watched the awful sights outside the city walls whilst displaying no feeling. He also observed his new friends’ loving manipulation of Tamerlane with apparent disinterest. However, inside his pretty slim frame, the young Persian was suffering an intensity of conflicting emotions not experienced for many years, ever since he had learnt to hide his true passions.

Rezan desperately wanted to love and be loved, emotions he was seeing at first hand being enjoyed fulsomely by Tamerlane and his remaining pair of boys. The young Persian now shared the conqueror’s resplendent large new tent, compartmentalised to allow separate accommodation for the three young occupants and their master. However, the 10 years old was not stupid and had recognised that Vissarion and Nicolai rarely occupied their own beds.

Although the young Georgian and Muscovite, out of diplomatic consideration for the newcomer, had always tried to creep secretly to join the conqueror, Rezan had noticed their supposedly furtive moves. The young Persian had previously become accustomed to listening for the sounds of the night in case they heralded the dreaded approach of his father or mother, usually to beat him for no real reason other than their own drunkenness or anger with some unconnected person or matter. The 10 years old also realised what happened under the huge bearskin that adorned his new overlord’s bed.

Rezan really wanted to join his young friends, worry about becoming the object of attention for Tamerlane’s lusts being overwhelmed by his intense desire for love. However, his inner terror of trying to become too close to anyone was too great and restrained him from following Vissarion and Nicolai into the conqueror’s waiting arms. The 10 years old feared either rejection or later betrayal of any approach, just as he had suffered years earlier at the hands of his parents. After hearing the young Georgian and Muscovite make their nightly way, quickly followed by discreet sounds of pleasurable passion, the young Persian would invariably just cry himself to sleep.

Rezan’s attitude was maintained despite Tamerlane’s clear interest in him. The conqueror treated the young Persian not only with honoured respect, as befitted someone who had saved his boys, but also with affection and kindness.

In fact, Tamerlane tried his best to handle Rezan as a father would, although both man and boy, the latter from the constant look in the eyes of the former, secretly appreciated that the adult would prefer to indulge in a sexual role. However, the conqueror was too respectful towards the saviour of Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai to make the first move and the young Persian too reserved and afraid. The situation obviously needed the intervention of someone else to break the deadlock and, not uncommonly, it was the young Georgian who not only astutely perceived the situation and need but also took it upon himself to try to end the impasse.

Blonde, blue-eyed Vissarion, whose impeccable youthful beauty had only become more dazzlingly refined as he grew older, undertook the project not to satisfy Tamerlane’s lusts but to help break Rezan’s emotional shell, realising that this had to be done if the boy was to achieve both contentment and fulfilment in life. It was obvious to the young Georgian, although to few others, that the young Persian was not only unhappy inside but also in great inner turmoil, and the 15 years old eunuch had correctly guessed why.

Vissarion had secretly been sad at observing Rezan’s apparently unemotional front, knowing it to be a false façade designed to hide his true feelings. Although the young Persian was a pleasant enough companion, in a quiet reserved manner, the young Georgian instinctively knew that this did not reflect the 10 years old’s true inner character. The perceptive soon-to-be 16 years old was determined to bring the latter to the fore, believing that otherwise his new friend would not display his full true worthiness and could grow to be psychologically scarred. However, he particularly needed and so enlisted Arman’s help in order to achieve his aim.

Arman might have been bigger in physical stature but he was otherwise similarly featured to Rezan, not only having brown hair and eyes but also possessing testicles. It was the latter anatomical feature, and the young Armenian’s highly proficient and considerate lovemaking skills that went with them, that particularly recommended him for the cause to his Georgian friend.

Arman, although now clearly the happy sexual companion of Sibur, had by no means forgotten his deep affection for Tamerlane, Vissarion and lately Nicolai. In fact, despite his new passionate relationship with the cavalry officer, the young Armenian still considered the young Georgian to be not only his best friend but also foremost lover, an attitude that was reciprocated.

Arman frequently returned to Tamerlane’s canopy to spend early evenings with his friends in both conversation and play, although the latter was now more adult than previously. Gone were the children’s games, with greater concentration given to pastimes such as chess and, regularly with Vissarion and Nicolai, sex. The latter usually diplomatically happened when the conqueror was engaged on time-consuming business elsewhere.

The young Georgian and Muscovite still greatly appreciated the young Armenian’s ability to entertain their prostrates with careful skill. Much sublime pleasure was thereby acquired by all three parties within the tent compartments belonging to Vissarion and Nicolai.

They had the full blessing of their master for these activities, for he was happy to keep his remaining boys content whilst he was busy. Sometimes, the conqueror would unexpectedly return early and inadvertently walk in on such liaisons but he would always then discreetly depart to his own bedroom, where his unoccupied catamite would invariably be considerately waiting.

Sibur was also not displeased by Arman’s alternative lovemaking because he appreciated that the objects of such attention still held a very special place in the young Armenian’s heart, which the cavalry officer knew could never be displaced, even if he wanted to see that occur. However, he had no such ambition, for he recognised that his young lover's wellbeing needed the continued association with Vissarion and Nicolai.

Sibur was instead content to see Arman happily enjoy the company, in all senses of the phrase, of his two oldest friends and to accept whatever the young Armenian had left for him, both in terms of time and energy. Happily for the unselfish cavalry officer, the latter were still substantial in both quantity and quality.

One evening, Vissarion had, as usual, just lost at chess to the more expert Arman, whose highly skilful strategic proficiency would eventually prove to be more wide ranging than just the game board. The variation of the pastime played by Tamerlane and his boys used an uncheckered board of 112 squares, with ten rows and eleven columns, plus two extra squares, one left of the ninth row and one right of the second row. These two extra fields were called the ‘citadels’ and played a special role. Each player possessed a king, a vizir, a general, two giraffes, two pickets, two knights, two rooks, two elephants, two camels, two war engines and eleven pawns. The latter were of special types, such as a pawn of kings, of vizirs, of generals and so on until a pawn of pawns. Different rules applied when each type of pawn promoted.

After the young Georgian’s rear was afterwards again impregnated with much Armenian sperm, the naked friends held each other tightly in post-coitus respite before whispering to each other about Rezan. Vissarion’s permanently hairless chin rested close to Arman’s shaved equivalent whilst they debated their plan to encourage the young Persian out of his shell, by lovingly bringing the younger boy's emotions to the fore through careful seduction.

Vissarion would lead the way by gradually enticing Rezan, whom he perceptively knew admired him, and not just for his impeccable personality, into bed with him. There, the young Georgian would use his hands and mouth to show how much he cared for the young Persian, an emotion that would not be false. Naturally, it would have to be Arman, with his intact testes, who would later have to introduce the youngster to the pleasures of other forms of submissive sex, a duty the young Armenian was more than happy to attempt and not just from altruism. His task was thought achievable because the 10 years old was recognised as liking his particular variety of 15 years old boyhood as well.

The whole idea was that such intimate physical relationships would also cause Rezan to be mentally more open and honest, at first with his two young admirers and sexual partners and later with all, to everyone’s benefit, not least his own. Nicolai was acquainted with and agreed to the plans, accepting a minor facilitating role. Vissarion’s scheme would probably have worked too, if grievous personal tragedy had not intervened.

(Edirne, Ottoman Empire, same time)

Edirne is, to this day, the main southeast Balkan land connection for travellers going west into Europe and east into Asia. The city is located in a picturesque forest of poplar trees at the confluence of the Tunca and Meric rivers and was founded by the Roman Emperor Hadrian, who named it Hadrianopolis, or Adrianople.

The city was in the Byzantine Empire until 1361, when it was conquered by the Ottoman Sultan Murat I, who made it his capital. By 1392, most of Edirne’s Orthodox Christian churches had been converted into mosques. Much other construction work had been undertaken to build or improve other religious complexes, bridges, bazaars, caravanserais and palaces. In one of the latter, 3½ years old Mehmed, first son of the present ruler, Bayezid I, played on his own. However, the infant would soon have a new, similarly aged, playmate.

Vladimir was a Christian Slav, recently captured during one of Bayezid’s Balkan campaigns. The blue-eyed fair-haired 3 years old had been bought at public slave auction by the Sultan’s chief eunuch. The infant had been selected for his beauty because his much later duties might be sufficiently manifold to include his new adult owner’s bed. However, the petrified youngster was currently unconcerned about his future because he was more worried about the present.

Vladimir had been strapped, naked and spreadeagled, to an old table, discoloured over the years by the spilling of much blood on its smooth surface. The infant was too young to appreciate that the grim cellar he was in, and the table he was on, had now been the scene for a couple of decades of the creation of the Sultan’s many white and black eunuchs. However, the 3 years old was mature enough to know, as an ancient blade was applied to the middle of his tiny scrotum, that something awful was about to happen.

(Kashan, Persia, December 1392)

Tamerlane was tall and still strongly built for a man in his mid-fifties. His body was well proportioned, although he possessed a large head and broad forehead. His complexion was ruddy, his beard long and his voice full and resonant.

Tamerlane’s army was wintering outside Kashan. The conqueror spent much of the daytime without his boys, the sad circumstance being necessitated by their need for education. He had sacrificed the very pleasant daylight company of Vissarion and Nicolai, as well as of Rezan, so that they could be with their tutors, although all concerned knew that the young Georgian and Muscovite, at least, would prefer to be with their master. Meanwhile, Arman was rapidly and very efficiently learning the arts of cavalry warfare from Sibur.

Tamerlane usually spent much of this winter’s daytime either in audience or counsel, ruling his lands and planning the military campaigns that would start the following spring, or out hunting with his bodyguard. However, he appreciated, from their joyous nighttime company, that his boys were up to something in relation to Rezan. He had decided not to interrogate them over the matter to discover what was going on, although he knew that he would easily be able to elicit the information from Nicolai. He would not have required his torturer for the task, even though the young Muscovite would try his best not to be a traitor to the cause. Instead, the conqueror could simply have resorted to his usual practice when he wanted the boy to confess to something, for the 12 years old was readily intimidated by tickling.

Tamerlane was therefore unaware, as he slept soundly with Vissarion and Nicolai under the huge bearskin that kept out the winter chill, that his boys had not yet put their plans into action, although a start was imminent. Rezan, slumbering alone in his adjacent compartment, also did not appreciate the fact that he was the centre of a conspiracy. However, the plot was to be foiled before it even began.

Rezan, always a light sleeper, was woken by low strange noises, apparently emanating from just outside the tent entrance. He then heard more sounds, unusual not for what they represented but for where they were now originating.

Rezan perceived the undoubted noise of footsteps in Tamerlane’s bed compartment, although there was a clear attempt to mute the sound. The young Persian knew that no one should be creeping into the conqueror’s normally well guarded tent at any time, let alone the middle of the night. The 10 years old therefore stole from his own lonely bed to peek through the separating flap that represented the door between his sleeping compartment and that of his overlord.

Tamerlane’s bedroom was a myriad of dark shadows, with the only light provided by a small night oil lamp located on a table in one corner. However, the illumination was sufficient for the sharp-eyed Rezan to spot a reflection on the metallic blade held by the adult male intruder, which also appeared to be shedding liquid droplets onto the floor. The young Persian immediately put two and two together and shouted, as loud as he could, “Assassin!”

The startled would-be killer, a bearded middle-aged cavalryman of Tamerlane’s own army, stopped his furtive advance towards the conqueror’s bed and turned to see who had raised the alarm. He seemed satisfied that it was only a young unarmed boy, a factor that should enable him still to proceed to accomplish his knowingly suicidal mission before effective help could be summoned. He had already disposed of the two guards on watch outside the tent, who had thought him a friend until he stabbed them, causing his knife now to drip with their blood. The assassin therefore returned to his original progression but now speeded by the realisation that his intended victim would be stirring.

Tamerlane was indeed waking up but only very slowly because he had been in deep sleep. However, Vissarion, nearest on the bed to the would-be murderer, was roused instantly by Rezan’s call and observed the assassin’s now rapid approach, knife ready to plunge into the conqueror. The young Georgian knew that there was only one way that he could save his master’s life and he took it, bravely moving his own gorgeous naked body in the way of the thrusting blade. The metal penetrated deep into the boy’s chest.

The would-be killer, now kneeling on the bearskin and furious that his first attempt to murder Tamerlane had been thwarted by the catamite, then withdrew his knife from the collapsed Vissarion’s limp form to launch another strike. However, he had fatally ignored the boy who had been sleeping on the other side of the conqueror.

As the assassin’s blade was about to plunge into the correct, still sleep-befuddled target, the man’s eyes suddenly glazed over and he was dead before, with a neatly timed push, his own killer shoved him onto the floor. Nicolai looked with contempt at the body on the ground, with the boy’s own knife squarely embedded in the middle of the would-be murderer’s back, the young Muscovite having always kept such a weapon close to him, ever since his escape from Mongol captivity. However, the 12 years old’s attention quickly refocused on the unconscious Vissarion.

(Kashan, Persia, the next morning)

The whole of Tamerlane’s vast army encampment was very subdued. News of the attempted assassination had quickly spread but that was not the reason for the unusual quiet, for the lack of success in perpetrating the deed would normally have been celebrated. Instead, the general tranquillity that pervaded the atmosphere existed because of universal sorrow at what had happened to the highly popular Vissarion. It was an all-embracing attitude that was mixed with both great appreciation and admiration for the young Georgian’s selfless act of courage, which looked like costing the boy his life. The assassin’s dagger had thankfully just missed the 15 years old’s heart, but the conqueror’s physicians had confirmed everyone’s worst fears. The weapon had been smeared with a slow acting but undoubtedly deadly poison.

The poison had apparently originally been contained in a small distinctive phial carried by the assassin but no one could identify the toxin and therefore an antidote. “Are you telling me you can’t do anything for him?” Tamerlane screamed at the large retinue of doctors that had attended Vissarion in the conqueror’s tent. None immediately answered, being too fearful of the consequences.

Vissarion’s deep chest wound had been proficiently tended and bandaged but he had not regained consciousness since the assassination attempt, perpetrated by the aggrieved brother of a general beheaded earlier in the year for plotting against Tamerlane. The young Georgian’s temperature had also risen to fever point and his breathing was becoming shallower and shallower. His ashen face was matched by those of Arman and Nicolai, who lay on the conqueror’s bed, either side of their fallen friend, with each holding one of his hands. Tears also regularly dropped from the visages of the young Armenian and Muscovite onto the bearskin below.

It would have been Vissarion’s 16th birthday the next day but it did not look as if the young Georgian would now live that long.

(Edirne, Ottoman Empire, same time)

Vladimir was finally presented to his young master. The 3 years old slave was dressed appropriately for his new rank in exotic colourful court attire, comprising rich silken baggy buttoned shirt and trousers, bejewelled turban and slippers with curved toes.

“Lord Mehmed,” the chief of the castrated Ottoman servants announced, “this is your own eunuch, come to serve you!”

(Kashan, Persia, same time)

Tamerlane’s anguished and angry face grew redder and redder and everyone thought that his temper was about to explode, with unknown but possibly fatal consequences for many present. However, a small hand suddenly clasped itself to the conqueror’s much larger right palm, causing him to look to see who had the effrontery to touch him so. The man’s fury was somehow immediately dissipated when he both saw and heard the culprit.

It was Rezan’s beautiful face that peered up at Tamerlane, whilst the boy’s hand maintained a firm grip on that of the conqueror. “These men,” the young Persian quietly suggested, whilst again displaying maturity beyond his tender years, “cannot help Vissarion without the antidote. I have a proposal as to how the potion might be secured!”

It was Sibur and Arman who were charged with the commission to find the antidote and, in order to do so, they had moved to the middle of the main central square of the adjacent city of Kashan. They stood behind a trellis table on a hastily erected low wooden platform, surrounded by some of Tamerlane’s own bodyguard. On one side of them on the dais rested a large open chest, full of gold and silver coins and jewels, extracted from Tamerlane’s mobile treasury and representing enormous wealth. On the other side, was a bloodstained block of wood, used previously in the decapitation of many victims of the conqueror's displeasure.

The governor of Kashan, recently appointed by Tamerlane, had proficiently spread news of the conqueror’s offer throughout his city, using his full complement of military and civilian officers and servants. The new ruler of the metropolis had no intention of being called to account for any lack of effort on his part to save his master’s catamite. Meanwhile, Sibur had unsheathed his sabre in order to demonstrate to the huge crowd, rapidly gathering around him and Arman, his intent to fulfil one aspect of the issued challenge.

The desperate Tamerlane had liked Rezan’s suggestion and had had it immediately implemented, whilst he went to replace Arman in performing the vigil on his own bed. However, a young Persian maintained a firm grip on one manly palm whilst the conqueror’s other hand held that of a young dying Georgian.

Rezan’s plan was simple. He reasoned that the assassin had likely acquired the poison in Kashan and that an antidote, if there was one, and there usually was if only to rectify mistakes, should be available there too, probably from the same provider. The latter would therefore have to be advised that, for supplying the toxin, he would be given amnesty, an act justified because he almost certainly would not have been told what it was to be used for, even if he wanted to know, which would be debatable. He would also need to be told that there was a great reward ready to be collected for the required corrective substance, demonstrated by the chest on the platform. However, to save not only precious time but also Vissarion from absorbing useless palliatives, wastrels needed to be discouraged.

There was a fear that the immense reward could attract apothecaries willing to guess at the antidote. These would be dissuaded from such action by the presence of the chopping block and Sibur’s sabre, for the price of prescribing an unsuccessful potion would be decapitation. Nevertheless, a large line of people formed to examine the little phial, the sole item placed on the table positioned on the platform. The queue comprised those who hoped to identify, from sight or smell, the earlier contents of the small container. Many of these personages could not be deterred in case someone could indeed recognise the poison and cure, although their numbers were efficiently lessened by some of the city governor’s staff who asked questions about their qualifications for such a task.

In the event, no one took the risk of suggesting an antidote until, after several hours, an old wizened woman reached the front of the queue and took one look and sniff at the phial. Arman somehow knew instinctively that she had the antidote and this was confirmed by the production from her pocket of a similarly distinctive small container, along with a broad grin that revealed her gross black teeth.

Arman grabbed the new phial and leapt from the platform onto his horse. Escorted by waiting cavalry, the young Armenian rode out of Kashan to the nearby army encampment as fast as he could. Sibur remained behind with the old woman, ready to enrich her if the potion proved effective or use his sword if her prescription was false.

As Arman and his mounted escort speeded out of Kashan’s gates and through Tamerlane’s vast crowded camp, the surrounds were even more eerily quiet than before. However, in his rush, the young Armenian took little notice until he jumped off his horse outside the conqueror’s tent. It was then that the boy realised that something terrible had happened.

There was hardly a dry eye amongst the experienced fighting men who encircled Tamerlane’s canopy, from where sounds of loud wailing emerged. However, it was the sight of Nicolai, crying profusely as he stepped out into the daylight from the tent, that caused Arman’s heart to sink. Nevertheless, the young Armenian shouted hopefully to the young Muscovite, as he speedily approached his 12 years old friend, “I have it. I have the antidote!”

Nicolai’s lovely blue eyes, besmirched by tears, looked up into Arman’s rightly deeply apprehensive face.

“You’re too late,” the young Muscovite replied, between sobs, “for our beloved Vissarion is dead!”

(To be continued in chapter 17 – ‘Wisdoms’)