1444, Byzantium Resurrects

Chapter 293 Thriller and Terror

At the junction of hills and plains, a cavalry was galloping. The spring sunshine was shining on the world, dyeing the rivers and lakes golden.

In the large fields, winter wheat was jointing and forming ears. The farmers who were working in the fields heard the rumbling sound of horse hooves and unconsciously stuck their heads out, unable to hide the astonishment and panic on their faces.

"Just charge through the fields and kill everyone wearing turbans!"

In the cavalry, a commander in armor waved his saber and shouted loudly.

"Yes!"

The cavalry quickly dispersed, rushed from the wilderness to the fields, crossed the ridges, and chased the fleeing Ottoman peasants.

Sabres flew up and down, bringing up streams of blood, and screams and cries spread across the field.

This is the northwest of the Anatolian Peninsula, located between the cities of Kocaeli and Bursa. The terrain here is low and there are a series of towns and cities including Bursa, Nicaea and Kocaeli. It has always been a densely populated area with fertile land and developed industry and commerce.

In any aspect, Bursa, the capital of the Ottoman Empire in Anatolia, is a good city with convenient transportation and flat terrain. It can serve as a good commercial hub and administrative center and is very close to Constantinople.

However, during the war, this advantage immediately turned into a disadvantage. The Eastern Roman army camped outside the city of Nicomedia could harass the Ottoman core area around Bursa at will. If one person had three horses and traveled day and night, it would only take two days to get from Nicomedia to the city of Bursa.

Of course, Nicomedia was a solid fortress city. In order to prevent being attacked from both sides, the Eastern Roman Empire could not just ignore it and attack Bursa directly. As long as the defense line in the north was solid, the city of Bursa would be safe for the time being.

However, although it was impossible to bypass Nicomedia directly, the Eastern Roman army could still send fast cavalry to infiltrate the enemy's rear, harass the food supply, disrupt production, and intimidate the enemy.

"These are the Greek Emperor's Slavic cavalry, the Mozarabs!"

Some Ottoman peasants saw the cavalrymen's blood-red uniforms, recognized their numbers, and shouted in fear.

During these years of war, the Ottomans had basically figured out the military system of the Eastern Roman Empire and had some basic understanding of each legion.

They knew very well that if the troops who came were the Guards or Purple Guards belonging to the Central Army Corps, their lives could probably be saved. These soldiers of the Central Army were well-trained, well-paid, and had always been arrogant. They did not like to burn, kill, and loot. At most, they would forcibly requisition food and force men to join the army.

It's not that they are kind-hearted, it's just that they are disdainful.

However, the Slavic cavalry did not have much salary or food. Apart from the output of the land, their main source of income was war. They would receive a bounty before the war and a bounty after the war. During the war, they would plunder everywhere and take whatever they could.

Therefore, the Muslim people have always been very afraid of this crazy cavalry who value money more than their lives. They are not afraid of death or sacrifice, but they are afraid of having no war to fight and no money to earn.

Even the Cossack "Locust Army" that has become famous in recent times has not been able to surpass the "notoriety" of the Blood Knights, who have been in existence for more than 20 years.

"Set fire! Set fire! Throw away those kerosene cans in your hands!"

In the cavalry, Slavice centurion Afif roared, rode forward, swung his scimitar, and chopped off the head of an Ottoman farmer.

"Gather them together and let the village's leaders speak out!"

"Food, money, all handed over!"

The cavalry quickly divided into several waves, driving the farmers in the fields towards the neighboring villages and blocking every road out of the village.

After a while, Afif appeared in front of everyone with a bloody knife and a grim face.

Hundreds of cavalrymen gradually gathered around, each with a wanton sneer on their face.

“Who has the final say in this village?”

Afif asked casually in Turkic.

The villagers started pushing and shoving, and a middle-aged man dressed as a butler was pushed out by the crowd with a sad face.

"General, this village belongs to--"

"I have no interest in knowing who your lords are. Since they were all conscripted by Muhammad to fight, they are almost half dead."

Afif smiled, pulled off the butler's turban, and slowly wiped the blood off the scimitar.

"Food, gold coins. We don't have time to capture you. Just hand over everything valuable."

"General, I see you look like a Mozarab. The Greeks don't consider you as their compatriots. Why bother—"

The butler choked back his words, screamed loudly, and covered his bleeding ears.

Beneath him, his bloody ear lay in the dirt, and Afif's scimitar was pressed against his neck.

"We have no right to control what they think, but their emperor is also our emperor."

Afif looked at him grimly.

"You are an educated person, so you should know the rules of war. As a conquered person, you talk too much."

"Yes! Yes! Sir!"

The severe pain made the butler unable to care about anything else.

"We have some money and some food! You came at the right time. If you were any later, the Sultan's officials would have come to collect the food!"

The butler pointed to the granary not far away.

Afif nodded, and several Slavic cavalrymen stepped on their horses and ran over.

Other cavalrymen began to patrol the village, breaking into every house and pocketing hidden valuables.

Afif admired the Turks' terrified look and asked for a torch to light his cigarette.

"I'll only wait half an hour. If you fail to satisfy us, your lives will not be guaranteed."

Afif took out the pocket watch from his chest and looked at it casually.

"General, you are all North Africans and were once followers of the Prophet. Why can't you let us go?"

An old man dressed as a scholar asked tremblingly.

"It's really interesting. When you were fighting the Karamans, did you let them go just because of your common beliefs?"

Afif smiled contemptuously.

"Besides, most of my young men have been Christians since birth. After more than 20 years, who would remember the faith of their ancestors?"

Afif glanced at the old scholar.

"By the way, since you are a scholar of religious law, you can't stay here. Come, drag him away."

Two ferocious cavalrymen rushed into the crowd, dragged the scholar aside with a grin, and chopped off his head with a knife amid the screams of horror from the crowd.

Afif ignored the villagers' noise, smoking his cigarette and thinking about his own things.

He was indeed of North African descent and had been a slave in the town of Lindon in the Sirte region. He converted to Christianity at an early age and became a Slaves.

Slightly different from his fellow comrades, Afif was considered a progressive. He could speak four languages ​​and had received literary and theological education within the legion. Although he had no interest in the self-important old Romans, he always regarded himself as the emperor's confidant and his living habits tended towards those of Roman aristocrats, such as the pocket watch he bought at a high price, the cigarette in his mouth, and his two daughters who were married to merchants from Constantinople.

He did not care that the Greeks called them Mozarabs. In his opinion, he was loyal only to the emperor and his successor, not to those self-proclaimed noble nobles of Constantinople.

The Palaiologos monarch was the emperor of the Greek Orthodox Christians and the emperor of the North African Orthodox Christians. No matter what they thought, this was an indisputable fact.

"Captain, there is a lot of food, but we didn't find much valuables."

The first few cavalrymen trotted back and reported to Afif.

"Well, take some of the food with you and burn the rest. Don't leave it for the Ottomans."

Afif nodded slightly and looked towards the villagers.

"My brothers have to eat and support their families, so they can't be without money. If they don't have anything valuable, then I'm sorry."

Afif spoke calmly, tapping the hilt of the knife slowly with his knuckles. With each tap, the wolf-like soldiers dragged out a villager and killed him on the spot.

"My Lord! We still have some! Please let us go back and get them!"

The villagers wailed and knelt down begging for mercy.

"As soon as possible, we have to fill this bag."

Afif dropped a cloth bag.

"Go quickly!"

The villagers immediately ran home and, under the watchful eyes of the cavalry, took out their family savings from hidden corners and threw them into cloth bags with reluctance.

Afif smoked leisurely and looked at the sun in the sky.

As the noise spread through the village, Afif sat upright on his horse and took out his pocket watch again.

"It's about time—"

"Captain, it's ready!"

A cavalryman came over dragging a cloth bag and laughing.

"Okay, let's go, remember to set more fires!"

Afif put away his pocket watch and turned his horse around without saying a word.

"You're lying! We agreed not to kill you if you pay!"

The villagers shouted.

"Indeed, no killing."

Afif nodded, spurred his horse, and rushed out of the village.

Behind him, a huge fire broke out, burning down the houses, warehouses and food.

The Ottoman peasants, who had lost everything, cried bitterly and watched their homes being engulfed in flames.

Afif knew that these people would join the ranks of refugees and rush to the city, impacting the already fragile Ottoman grain market.

By then, they will realize that their Sultan does not care about their life or death and cannot protect them at all. They will either continue to wait for death or completely lose the desire to resist in despair and become second-class citizens of the Eastern Roman Empire.

"Hurry up, we have to reach the city of Bursa before sunset and set fire to their kuriye!"

Afif laughed.

"The emperor gave each of us three horses. The Ottoman Sultan's poorly clothed and poorly fed cavalry can't catch up with us!"

The Blood-Cloaked Cavalrymen spurred their horses and rumbled towards the snow-capped mountains in the southwest.

At the foot of the snow-capped mountains, a magnificent city is trembling.

In the spring of 1471, the Eastern Roman Empire changed its strategy and no longer stationed tens of thousands of troops under the city of Nicomedia. Instead, it chose to send a large number of cavalry to infiltrate the enemy's rear, burning farmland and houses along the way, triggering a wave of refugees and driving them to attack the major cities of the Ottoman Empire.

The infantry did not stay where they were. Legions began to occupy small towns and villages from Nicomedia to Bursa, eliminating banditry and small groups of Ottoman remnants.

On March 3, three Slavic cavalry units arrived at the Ottoman capital of Bursa one after another. They used the high mobility of one man and three horses to shake off their pursuers and buried several kuriyas outside Bursa in a sea of ​​fire in front of the soldiers defending the city.

On that day, the alarm bells in Bursa city rang one after another. From citizens to wealthy businessmen, from Islamic scholars to Turkish nobles, everyone panicked, hugged their belongings, dragged their wives and children, and hid in the basements of their homes.

On that day, the soldiers on the walls of Bursa looked angrily at the Blood-clad Cavalry outside the city looting everywhere, but they were ordered not to leave the city.

On that day, the Ottoman nobles in Bursa finally recalled the horror of being burned in Galata and the shame of being driven out of the Balkans.

What is puzzling is that perhaps because of the slow speed, insufficient food and fodder, or communication difficulties, the Ottoman troops hiding between Nicaea, Nicomedia and Bursa all withdrew into the cities, never responded to the provocation of the Eastern Roman cavalry, and turned a deaf ear to the suffering of the people.

……

At the same time, on the Anatolian Plateau, a large army was slowly moving westward.

This army was large in number, including a large number of cavalry, driving herds of cattle and sheep.

The sound of horses' hooves hitting the ground was like thunder, and the flags fluttered like clouds covering the sky, stretching endlessly across the loess.

Most of the cavalry were poorly equipped and dressed in a messy manner, and each of their flags represented a tribe.

In the center of the army, a group of heavily armored cavalry were gazing eagerly. They were equipped with more horses and better weapons. During wartime, both the cavalry and horses would be equipped with the best armor. When they charged in groups, they were like a pack of wolves descending the mountain.

Compared with the high spirits and arrogance of the cavalry, the siege troops following behind seemed much more lonely. Under the coercion of the supervisors, the slave laborers struggled to push the old battering rams, siege towers and catapults. The few artillery pieces were also very backward, and there was no sign of a new era war at all.

Above the army formation, a large flag fluttered in the wind, with the emblem of the Aries Dynasty painted on it.

Obviously, this army belonged to Uzungol Hasan of the White Sheep Dynasty. This legendary conqueror had already dealt with the issues of Karaman and Ramazan, collected sufficient food and fodder from the rear or locally, and officially set foot on the central plateau of Anatolia.

Not far from the army, a large city of considerable size came into view. To the northwest of the city flowed a large river. The soil was relatively fertile, and farmlands and pastures were embedded in the vast continent.

This is Ankara, a city standing on a semi-arid plateau. It is one of the few large cities on the Anatolian Plateau and an important hub for commercial exchanges between the East and the West.

Under the White Aries banner, Uzon Hassan looked toward the distant city, jumped off his horse, stomped the ground beneath his feet, and couldn't help laughing out loud.

Seventy years ago, also on this wasteland, two armies fought fiercely. The legendary conqueror from the East, Timur "The Lame" who called himself Gulegan, led a coalition of 140,000 troops to defeat the 80,000 troops led by the Ottoman Sultan Bayezid "Lightning", captured the arrogant Bayezid I on the spot, and returned to the capital.

After a hundred years of accumulation, the dream was shattered in one day. The Ottoman Empire, which spanned two continents, fell into a great interregnum that lasted for ten years, while the Eastern Roman Empire hiding behind the Theodosian Walls continued to survive.

However, Timur's death caused his dynasty to fall into decline, but Bayezid's death did not keep the Ottoman Empire silent for too long. Timur's meteoric dynasty was brilliant but short-lived, and Osman's descendants continued to dominate Europe and Asia.

Now, the Ottoman Empire was in an unprecedented crisis. Another conqueror from the East set foot in the wilderness of Ankara, and another Bayezid of the Ottoman family hid in the city and lived in fear.

Due to the Ottoman Empire's "first west, then east" strategy from the beginning to the end, and the Ottoman family's long-term neglect of the Turkic tribes in the border areas, the Aries King Uzung Hasan did not encounter much obstacles when he marched into Anatolia. Along the way, more and more Turkic tribes voluntarily followed him. Wherever the Aries army went, the people welcomed it wholeheartedly, which was really a good opportunity.

"Why is father laughing?"

Beside Uzon Hassan, his son Khalil Mirza asked with a smile.

"Haha, I laugh at Bayezid, who is young after all, and actually allowed us to come here without any hindrance and be trapped in the isolated city."

Uzon Hassan's smile became more intense.

"Scorched earth policy, destroying bridges and water sources... Haha, it's just an unorthodox approach after all."

"My territory is vast and my soldiers are numerous. How can he stop me?"

"You are right, father."

Khalil was obviously quite happy too.

"Bayezid is helpless. His last bit of wealth can't stop us at all. The eastern border is not their core area anyway."

After saying this, he looked at Uzon Hassan again with some hesitation.

"Father, according to the treaty, the east of Ankara belongs to us, and the west belongs to the Greeks, but they are still fighting a bloody battle with the Ottomans and have not been able to make a breakthrough."

"Do we still need to abide by the agreement?"

"A treaty?"

Uzon Hassan shook his head disdainfully.

"Forget about the maritime alliance. The land blessed by Allah cannot accommodate a Christian emperor!"

"After nearly two years of fighting, they have not captured anything except a small peninsula, which fully exposes their weak nature."

Wuzun Hasan climbed onto his warhorse and continued his journey westward.

"As for the navy, even one hundred of us are no match for the Greeks, but when it comes to land warfare, the Greeks' weakness is well known."

Uzon Hassan waved his whip proudly.

"If he can bring his warship ashore, I will absolutely abide by the agreement."

The guards surrounding Uzung Hassan laughed loudly, and the army was filled with a joyful atmosphere.

"Okay, wait here for a while and let the soldiers set up camp!"

Uzon Hassan selected a plain and gave his orders.

After a while, a team of light cavalry came galloping, raising gusts of wind and smoke.

The leader, fully armored, jumped off his horse and knelt before Uzung Hassan.

"Father, I'm back."

"Well, what's the situation in Ankara now?"

Uzon Hassan looked at the scout.

This is his other son, Jacob, who is from the same mother as Khalil.

"I explored Ankara's city defenses and garrison conditions and found many peculiarities."

Jacob said in a deep voice.

"I found that the number of defenders in Ankara was small, and most of them were elderly, weak, women and children. It was almost an empty city."

"That's nonsense. I think your victory has gone to your head, my dear brother?"

Khalil snorted.

"Father, please believe me, I am not some idle loser."

Jacob ignored his brother's provocation.

"you--"

Khalil was furious.

"okay!"

Uzon Hassan frowned and glanced at his two sons who were hostile to each other.

"Jacob, if you say that, you must have your reasons."

"Yes, father, I caught a few refugees and asked them some questions."

Jacob looked at Uzon Hassan with gratitude.

"According to them, Bayezid gathered all the food and grass and all the able-bodied men in the spring, and led his army westward not long ago, leaving the city to us."

"Oh?"

Uzon Hassan was a little surprised and smiled slightly.

"How many people did he take away?"

"Almost all the troops, about 15,000, claiming to be 100,000."

Jacob said.

"But most of their soldiers were conscripted men with low combat effectiveness."

"Well, I'm afraid he was driven into a corner by our Greek emperor."

Wuzon Hassan nodded, his expression somewhat gloomy.

Jacob looked at his father's face and lowered his head.

He knew his father's thoughts very well. This extremely proud monarch had always looked down on others and always regarded the Eastern Roman Empire as a weak country in terms of land force.

But now, the Ottoman Empire used almost all its wealth to deal with the Eastern Roman Empire, and obviously did not regard him as its number one enemy, which made him feel a little depressed.

"Then let's attack the city."

Uzon Hassan said calmly.

Just as everyone was stepping up preparations for the siege, the gate of Ankara suddenly opened, and an old man walked out leading a child.

"Father, are they going to surrender?"

Khalil's eyes sparkled.

"Then I'll go--"

"No hurry, let them come over."

Uzon Hassan rejected Khalil's proposal.

The old man and the young man walked closer and closer, passing through rows of fierce-looking soldiers, ignoring their jokes and hostility.

"Respected Uzon Hasan, descendant of Bayandur Khan, great ruler."

The old man was wearing simple clothes and bowed slightly to Uzon Hassan.

"Welcome to my tent, Grand Mufti."

Uzon Hassan recognized the Grand Mufti of the Ottoman Empire, stopped smiling, and returned the greeting.

The Aq Qoyunlu and the Ottoman Empire were certainly military enemies, but they both belonged to the Sunni sect of Islam, and Uzungol Hassan would still maintain the most basic respect for religious personnel.

"I have brought you a letter on behalf of Prince Bayezid."

The Grand Mufti sighed and handed a letter to Uzon Hassan.

Uzon Hassan took the letter, opened the wax seal and glanced at it.

After a while, Uzon Hassan put down the letter, was silent for a moment, looked at the Grand Mufti, and waited for him to speak.

"The demons from Constantinople have landed in Bithynia. His Majesty the Sultan's army cannot stop them. Prince Bayezid can only lead his army back to provide support."

The Grand Mufti spoke slowly.

"Your Highness said, no matter what you think, we are all the people of Allah. If you don't want the Greeks to occupy the richest coast of the Aegean Sea, please show mercy to your brothers."

"What does he want me to do?"

Uzon Hassan turned his gaze toward the northwest corner of the sky.

"We hope to sign a peace treaty with you and shed no more tears for Allah."

The Grand Mufti looked towards Uzon Hassan.

"We will give you the land east of Ankara, and the land west of it will still belong to Osman's descendants. Sultan Mehmed and Prince Bayezid will block the Greeks for you to prevent them from invading your territory."

"Haha, I captured this originally, how can I say it's a gift to you?"

Uzon Hassan smiled and shook his head.

"Do you want the Greeks to reap the benefits?"

The Grand Mufti asked back.

"They have already taken a lot of advantage. If it weren't for your attack, we could have collected more food and recruited more soldiers. Our fortresses are very complete, and the Greeks couldn't have landed on the coast so easily."

“I can say with certainty that if there is peace and stability on the eastern border, we can fight the Greeks for a long time.”

"We are now on the verge of collapse, and the descendants of Osman are already on the brink of life and death. Even if Prince Bayezid leads his army back to support us, we may not be able to win."

"What else do you want to do?"

Uzon Hassan was silent for a moment and gently folded the letter.

"not enough."

The Grand Mufti was stunned and gritted his teeth.

"His Royal Highness said that if you are willing to lend him a helping hand and send troops to defeat the Greeks, he is willing to make you his suzerain and the king of kings!"

"You can't control too much territory. It is definitely the right choice to retain the Ottoman family's rule over western Anatolia."

"You will receive a tax every year, and when you go to war, we will send troops to accompany you."

A smile broke out on Uzon Hassan's face, which turned into laughter.

"Is this what the Sultan meant, or what the Prince meant?"

After laughing, he looked at the Grand Mufti again.

“In Ankara, Prince Bayezid has the final say.”

The Grand Mufti stared into Uzon Hassan’s eyes.

"Haha, what a strong-minded prince you are. You are indeed a descendant of the Ottoman family."

Uzon Hassan said sarcastically.

"That is to say, it is Bayezid who pledges allegiance to me, not your Sultan. If he turns his back on me, I will get nothing."

"You have secured the core areas and recovered from the war, but we will still go to war."

"His Majesty the Sultan is in poor health, and Prince Bayezid is his only heir."

The Grand Mufti said without changing his expression.

"Is there a difference?"

Uzon Hassan shook his head, ignored him, and turned his gaze to the child standing nearby.

"Is this the proton Bayezid mentioned in the letter? A nice kid."

"This is Selim, the youngest son of His Highness Bayezid."

The Grand Mufti introduced.

"He will grow up in your court, and it would be best if he could marry your daughter, which would be a testimony to the friendship between our two countries."

Surrounded by a group of unfamiliar faces, the young child did not cry but stood aside calmly.

"You guys go back first, I need to think about it carefully."

Uzon Hassan waved his hand and drove the two men back to the city. He asked the army to set up camp for the time being, then returned to his tent and locked himself in darkness.

(End of this chapter)