1453: Revival of Byzantium

Chapter 270: Sultan's Horse

"I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear."

-        Nelson Mandela

"How opportunite and coincidental is that!"

""

The Sultan felt like his verbal offensive is met with completely no resistance and instead it seems like this ambassador has lured him in to a trap forcing them to be on the same grounds.

With this plan failing too making the Sultan even more agitated, he moved on to the third plan of direct displaying his martial strength threatening this annoying prick in to submission. He doesn't believe that there can be any one in this world who will not pee in their pants facing his army. And thus, he invited Abdullah again to inspect his Sultan's Mamluk guards, a division of five hundred most elite Mamluk Calvaries all from his home town In Circassia, accompanied him through decades of combat striking terror in the enemies in Levant making them tremble in fear the moment they see their yellowish war banner, and now, he needs to use them again, but this time only for one man. 

Abdullah happily agreed with the Sultan to inspect the national forces of the Mamluk Sultanate on behalf of the admiral, and then they rode out of the city on horse back towards the Sultan's personal hunting ground near Azhar, where the five hundred Mamluk elite cavalries have already prepared themselves with their lances, Mamluke curved blades and equipped with bronze chain mail armours reflecting rays of sun light in to their foe's eyes making them unable to see properly shined by this moving mirrors on the battle field. 

The Sultan led Abdullah standing in a broad plain of dried grass which is completely enclosed to the outside world of civilians guarded by soldiers every where and patrolled regularly by horse men. The two men, one young and one old, just stood there facing the five hundred Mamluk Cavalries fully loaded with weapons. The Sultan repeatedly peeked to the side of the shoulder at the face of Abdullah hoping to see a bit of scare or fright on his face, but he got disappointed again and again as it seems like the muscles on the ambassador's face are suffering from facioplegia not moving by an inch. 

Actually, Abdullah has diverted his attention away thinking about all the local Egyptian delights and delicacies trying not to look directly at the cavalries before him. After a while seeing his boys are ready, the Sultan gave a cold humph and gave the hand sign signaling his boys to carry on.

The Mamluks, grouped in the finest arrays, formed up in three lines- a practice of the Mamluks to charge three times. They moved in a slow pace initially on the dried grass plain, but gradually they accelerated applying pressure on to the saddle and stirrup fluently making the horse go faster and faster drawing near to the position of Abdullah holding their horse lances forward parallel to the ground pointing towards the ambassador as if they are going to pierce this man in to countless pieces. 

As the cavalries came nearer and nearer, they burst in to a thunderous and unified battle cry out of a sudden, another combat technique giving the enemies a sudden fright making their hands soften and knee cap losing strength, which finally woke Abdullah up from his day dreaming session. With an irresistible force and vehemence, the three lines of cavalries dashed forward with full speed to a point where their lances can almost reach where their Sultan and the ambassador is. 

However just as the tragedy is going to happen, the Mamluk calvaries took an abrupt turn with strict discipline and highly trained mounting skills away from the two men dispersing in to the two sides, same for the other two waves. They moved in a unified manner just like they are duplicates from each other. This kind of highly trained and disciplined army can be said to be invincible in any part of the world in this era, when it is still a time most armies still have a large composition of drafted farmers, unruly mercenaries of gold, pampered noble men and barbaric knights. 

The Sultan himself too felt a layer of cold sweat forming up on his back and fore head as his own cavalries charged past him. The seventy plus years old Sultan whistled and chortled applauding for the splendid performance put up by his boys, every time when the Sultan watches this kind of shows being put up by his men, he feels a strange sense of accomplishment which is added up as a booster to his self esteem and mentality of triumph, especially when the boys successfully made his guest or ambassador standing beside him pee in his trousers. 

It seems like our dear old Sultan's head is not only a vacuum in Economics, but also a vacuum of diplomacy.

So, did Abdullah pee in his pants today?

The Sultan tilted his head eagerly towards Abdullah, and indeed the later showed no difference than the others with his face already flooding with perspiration making his collars wet, gasping for air gaping blankly at the front yet to recover from that level of shock he received that even surpassed the menacing fire outside the coast of Anatolia. Seeing this it made the Sultan even more complacent grinding that thought no one can stand a chance in front of his cavalries deeper in to his mind. 

"HahahahaHa!Hahahaha"

The Sultan turned around about to comfort the ambassador, but all of a sudden Abdullah beside him broke in to a chain of mad uncontrollable laughter surprising the old Sultan making him almost jump on the ground thinking whether this young man's mind has been totally destructed by the immense power of the cavalry turning in to a psychopath. Though he is worrying too much, as before he realised it the ambassador turned looking at him grabbing the crinkled hands of the Sultan with his pair of wet hands and shouted out in a trembling voice. 

"Congratulations! Sultan! Honour to you! Sultan! What a breath taking demonstration of strength!" 

The Sultan quickly gained his mind from the startled state and asked back by instinct. "What do you mean?" 

"Congratulations! Sultan! Now I can firmly believe that you, the over lord of Eygptus and Levant, leading such a force that is able to overwhelm any one in your path, has the potential to be the one and only supreme magnus sovereign of the world, supervising over the various smaller states in Rumelia and Anatolia. And I firmly believe that with such a standing army the Armenian cities of Adana and Tarsus in Cilicia shall be even less than a piece of cake for you. Sultan! I, on behalf of my admiral, here by invites you to get involved in the messy situation of Rumelia and Anatolia!" 

The Mamluk Sultan scrutinized Abdullah from upside down. Trembling hands, perspiring cheeks dropping on to the Earth beneath, moving pupils in the eye socket, shaking feet all symbolizing that this man, is in a state of being petrified and anxiety stricken. But still this man still managed to retain his diplomatic stance keeping his knees firm without kneeling down, trying to lessen the stress in his mind by holding his hands and shouting his diplomatic request out loud, faking to the Sultan that he is unmoved by the threat of the cavalry charge a while ago. 

The Sultan even felt like he saw the shadow of the younger self behind this young man with many traits and grounds in common. Accompanied by the words of appeasement like "supreme magnus sovereign", deep in his heart the Mamluk Sultan suddenly felt an unmanageable appreciative fondness for this valorous persevere young man. And most importantly, the last sentence the ambassador spoke just now touched his heart. Adana and Tarsus, the gate way to Anatolia, the two cities the Mamluk Sultanate is longing to take after the past Sultan expanded their territories into Syria. 

With an one hundred and eighty degrees change in attitude the Mamluk Sultan laughed back at this young man grabbing his hands and replied with the eyes of appreciation. "Young man! I like you! Tell me your name!" 

"Abdullah, Sultan." The later hurriedly answered back. "Abdullah Miralai, a humble student from a humble family in Bursa." 

"Abdullah Miralai, Abdullah Miralai" The Mamluk Sultan repeated Abdullah's name twice grinning until his eyes became like two curved lines barely invisible. "Come, Abdullah, I shall now warmly invite you to my palace, and there I shall treat you with a grand national feast with the best chef of all faithful Muslims, using the finest meat in the all of Levant, and then we shall talk together. Hussein! Go tell the kitchen, that if our honourable guest says one word of dislike towards the meal tonight, I shall have the head of the chef responsible for it.

"Now, son." The Mamluk Sultan pulled Abdullah's hand. "Come with me." 

Fahim and followers. "AAchoo!..."