Clouds of light grey covered the normally bright morning sun of Ghazna. A slight drizzle had been falling since dawn, after a rather balmy night. A light breeze blew, the air suddenly feeling cooler than usual for early autumn.
Shakranta was finishing a long slow breakfast with Sultan Mahmud al-Ghaznavi, king of Ghazna, accompanied by two of the ruler's most trusted commanders, Abdullah Ta'ie and Arslari Jazib, and two fast rising young generals, Ashgar the Persian and Tegrud the Turkmen, in the Sultan's palace. To his surprise, as well as pleasure, Shakranta had been urged by the king to stay on in Ghazna, in a luxurious guest mansion near the palace quarters, for as long as he wished.
The previous day, Shakranta had visited Tapar Sardar, the expansive temple site which comprised a big hilltop stupa surrounded by a row of smaller ones. It had reminded him of what he had heard from travellers about the famed Borobodur of Java, built by Maharaja Samara Thunga of the Sailendra. He had not seen Borobodur with his own eyes yet, and he wished to visit it some time. He had then spent the entire afternoon in deep contemplation before the Pari Nirvana Buddha, a huge reclining statue of the Great Guru close by.
The previous day, Shakranta had visited Tapar Sardar, the expansive temple site which comprised a big hilltop stupa surrounded by a row of smaller ones. It had reminded him of what he had heard from travellers about the famed Borobodur of Java, built by Maharaja Samara Thunga of the Sailendra. He had not seen Borobodur with his own eyes yet, and he wished to visit it some time. He had then spent the entire afternoon in deep contemplation before the Pari Nirvana Buddha, a huge reclining statue of the Great Guru close by.
The merchandise he had brought in several ships from Amdan Negara had been all sold in Gujarat a few months earlier. The ships had sailed back from Gujarat to Amdan Negara laden with goods from Ghazna, Gujarat itself, the Deccan, Bokhara and Persia. The goods would be picked up and handled on their arrival in Amdan Negara by his mother and his two uncles. While he himself had stayed behind to explore further trade opportunities in the region and develop business networks to activate the most viable ones among them.
The Gujaratis had been fascinated by the size and style of Shakranta's ships. His leading ship was a hundred cubits long, its hull comprising several layers of planks assembled without a single nail. Its builders had long and faithfully adhered to that rule as a matter of tradition, with not a small measure of superstition thrown in. Instead, the fastening was achieved by the use of lugs lashed with coconut husk rope.
Devoid of any outrigger, the vessel was rigged with many masts and sails, to enable it to cope with the challenges of sailing straight across the ocean that lay between the Golden Peninsula and India. It was built to carry fifteen thousand pikul of cargo.
Six crates of assorted spices along with five crates of Langkasukan swords and a small crate of keris, the mystical wavy bladed dagger of the Malay people, were kept in a warehouse in Gujarat port, for Shakranta to take along with him to the entrepot city of Gumarun in Persia. The spices and swords would fetch prices many times their original cost there, while at the same time helping position Shakranta, representing the Dharmakusuma family, as a new player in the region. While the keris would be presented to royalty, selected dignitaries, potential business partners and close friends as a special gift.
The spices, especially pepper, had become a highly sought after commodity among the Arabs, the Persians and the Byzantines, the well to do among whom had recently acquired a taste for the exotic foodstuff from Suvarna Dvipa, the Golden Islands of the Far East. So much so that merchants in Arabia and Persia had taken to calling the new merchandise farmed gold, even as the islands themselves increasingly turned into a battleground in the constantly shifting contest for power, influence and resources between homegrown kingdoms, both agrarian and maritime, and foreign trading kingdoms from further afield.
While the swords, forged by Langkasukan Malay swordsmiths using the best grade of steel from the furnaces of Bujang Valley in Kedah Negara, had for centuries been a product of great renown among Arab and Persian traders. The Arabs had called the blade Saif al-Hind, or so called Sword of India, believing for a while that it was a true product of India, since it was the Tamil merchants of Southern India who had been their regular suppliers. By the time they knew better, the name had stuck and nobody seemed to mind, especially since it had functioned more or less like a seal of good quality.
The Gujaratis had been fascinated by the size and style of Shakranta's ships. His leading ship was a hundred cubits long, its hull comprising several layers of planks assembled without a single nail. Its builders had long and faithfully adhered to that rule as a matter of tradition, with not a small measure of superstition thrown in. Instead, the fastening was achieved by the use of lugs lashed with coconut husk rope.
Devoid of any outrigger, the vessel was rigged with many masts and sails, to enable it to cope with the challenges of sailing straight across the ocean that lay between the Golden Peninsula and India. It was built to carry fifteen thousand pikul of cargo.
Six crates of assorted spices along with five crates of Langkasukan swords and a small crate of keris, the mystical wavy bladed dagger of the Malay people, were kept in a warehouse in Gujarat port, for Shakranta to take along with him to the entrepot city of Gumarun in Persia. The spices and swords would fetch prices many times their original cost there, while at the same time helping position Shakranta, representing the Dharmakusuma family, as a new player in the region. While the keris would be presented to royalty, selected dignitaries, potential business partners and close friends as a special gift.
The spices, especially pepper, had become a highly sought after commodity among the Arabs, the Persians and the Byzantines, the well to do among whom had recently acquired a taste for the exotic foodstuff from Suvarna Dvipa, the Golden Islands of the Far East. So much so that merchants in Arabia and Persia had taken to calling the new merchandise farmed gold, even as the islands themselves increasingly turned into a battleground in the constantly shifting contest for power, influence and resources between homegrown kingdoms, both agrarian and maritime, and foreign trading kingdoms from further afield.
While the swords, forged by Langkasukan Malay swordsmiths using the best grade of steel from the furnaces of Bujang Valley in Kedah Negara, had for centuries been a product of great renown among Arab and Persian traders. The Arabs had called the blade Saif al-Hind, or so called Sword of India, believing for a while that it was a true product of India, since it was the Tamil merchants of Southern India who had been their regular suppliers. By the time they knew better, the name had stuck and nobody seemed to mind, especially since it had functioned more or less like a seal of good quality.
“Shakranta,” the Sultan lounged easily on his stately sofa.
“Yes, Your Majesty,“ Shakranta answered.
“We’ve been thinking about visiting Constantinople some time. It’s been quite a while since We went to the place. Would you like to accompany Us on Our trip there?”
“Constantinople?” Shakranta looked surprised. “I've heard it’s a grand city.”
“Yes, it is,” Mahmud continued. “Constantinople. The grandest city right now, by Our estimation, in the whole of Christendom. It used to be called Byzantium, after King Byzas. It was later renamed Constantinople by Emperor Constantine. But many people still refer to the entire kingdom under its rule as Byzantium. The Arabs though, for reasons known only to them, still call the whole realm just Rum.”
“Your Majesty, this invitation is a most fantastic one. I would be most happy to accept. This would be a very important mission then, I guess.”
“Of course. Because Byzantium is a very important power. Not only politically, but also in trade and commerce. If Ghazna can make friends with Byzantium, it would lead to many great benefits for Us. As well as, We believe, for Byzantium. For example, Ghazna and Byzantium could cooperate directly with each other to enhance trade between them, as well as trade with others, such as China, as well as the many small kingdoms in Suvarna Bhumi, the Golden Continent and Suvarna Dvipa, the Golden Islands.”
“That’s very interesting, Your Majesty. But then, would not being friends with Byzantium somehow compromise Ghazna’s relations with Persia?”
“We believe that’s a risk Ghazna will have to bear. Oh, just a small one, anyway. On the other hand, just because Ghazna is a close ally of Persia does not mean that Ghazna cannot be friends with any other kingdom that’s a rival of Persia. It's always good for a man to have another friend. Likewise, it's always good for a kingdom to have one more ally. Having just one good friend is never a good idea. Just like Byzantium and Persia each has their own many allies, so must Ghazna. It’s always good to have many friends and few enemies. Anyway, Ghazna must always act in the best interests of Ghazna.”
“A most prudent view of things, Your Majesty,” Shakranta had to concur with the Sultan.
“Our intelligence has reported to Us that Emperor Basileios will be hosting a grand ceremony for the wedding of his sister, Princess Anna, to Vladimir the Great, the king of Kievskaya Ruska. Now, therefore, would be a very opportune time for Us to visit.”
“Have Your Majesty received a formal invitation to attend?”
“Unfortunately, We have not. But We won’t allow such trivia to cloud Our judgement on much bigger matters. Perhaps, Byzantium does not yet consider Ghazna of enough significance. That’s something Ghazna has to make an effort to change. We shall arrive in Constantinople with plenty of time to spare. We shall make Our presence known, by some indirect means, as soon as We get there. Hopefully, that will eventually be enough to get Us an invitation.”
“You keep astounding me with your wisdom, Your Majesty. I still have so much to learn from you.”
“We also want to look at new merchandise which might have become available there. New weaponry, like the Norman crossbow and the Saxon longbow, and the powerful fortress smashing ballista. New breeds of war steeds. I hear the Normans have bred a huge, brave and fierce charger. The destrier, they call it. Could suit Our requirements for Ghazna.”
“Normans?” queried Shakranta. “Who are they?”
“The Normans are a new tribe. The result of mixing between the Skandi and the Varangi, from the far northwestern shores of the White Continent, with the Franks and the Gauls from further south in the centre and the west. Guys say they also carry some Roman blood in them. They have, quite suddenly, emerged as a most formidable power in the White Continent. And that power is said by many to be founded upon their magnificent war horses.”
“And what’s a charger, Your Majesty?”
“A big, strong and fierce war horse especially bred and trained to fight and kill. They say it's so huge that it dwarfs a tall man in height at its shoulders, and it can grow to a weight heavier than twenty big men.
"Great Lord! That's really massive."
"It is. It can charge, bite, kick, trample and crush enemy fighters to cause severe injury or even death. In addition to carrying its own heavily armoured rider, of course. Created for brute strength and sheer ferocity, a well trained, well equipped cavalry force, comprising mostly the destrier, has been known to cause such fear and despair in the enemy army that victory was obtained, effectively, without a fight.”
"Great Lord! That's really massive."
"It is. It can charge, bite, kick, trample and crush enemy fighters to cause severe injury or even death. In addition to carrying its own heavily armoured rider, of course. Created for brute strength and sheer ferocity, a well trained, well equipped cavalry force, comprising mostly the destrier, has been known to cause such fear and despair in the enemy army that victory was obtained, effectively, without a fight.”
Mahmud’s words hit Shakranta like a bolt. He went quiet for a while. Retreated into a brief private contemplation. His family's own Kambhoja war steeds, brought by his late father from Bhangala and Singhala years before, were certainly much smaller. So were those Mongolian horses of Sujita Raja, king of Nagara Sri Dharma Raja, bought from Pagan, capital city of the Bhama kingdom of Arima Dhana, as well as the horse markets of Champa Nagara. He had never imagined that horses could be bred to such gargantuan size and be used effectively as such formidable weapons of war.
Could this be the elusive answer he had been looking for all this time? Could those big Norman chargers provide the new potent weapon a future united pan-Langkasukan force could use to defeat the vast armies of Palembang? And to overthrow those Sumatran imperialists from the kingdoms of the Langkasukan Federation, or even the entire Golden Peninsula? Shakranta almost drooled at the thought. If there was even the slightest likelihood of that, then there could only be one answer to Mahmud’s offer.
“If that be the case, Your Majesty, then I shall definitely go along with you.”
§
Shakranta stood facing his opponents, his eyes looking calm but firm and focused. He bounced, danced and shimmied for a short while to warm up, then stretched his torso, his arms and finally his legs. Having inherited the imposing height of one grandfather and the powerful build of the other, he was big and tall for a man from the Golden Peninsula.
The fight started ... and ended in a few heartbeats ... such was the speed with which it occurred ... that General Ashgar and General Tegrud found it hardly possible to believe what they had just seen before their very eyes.
The fight started ... and ended in a few heartbeats ... such was the speed with which it occurred ... that General Ashgar and General Tegrud found it hardly possible to believe what they had just seen before their very eyes.
Shakranta jumped and spinned in one movement towards two of his opponents who were nearest to each other, his two swords spinning along with his body like they were just parts of himself. As he completed one full circle, his right foot shot out sharply, landing right on the face of one man, sending him staggering backwards. Barely had Shakranta touched the ground again when he twisted in the opposite direction and thundered his right elbow into the other man’s right temple.
The first man groaned in pain and went into a swoon rightaway. The second looked dazed and confused, tried to sit down slowly, but keeled over and fainted before he succeeded. A third adversary, to Shakranta’s left, lifted his sword high for a downward cut that would split Shakranta’s head in two. But just a heartbeat before it reached maximum height, Shakranta surged forward to deliver a massive head butt that shattered the man’s nose and all but broke his face into pieces. Crimson liquid oozed out of the man’s flaring nostrils.
A fourth attacker, now coming at an angle from around Shakranta’s right, ran straight at him, sword held straight out, aiming it at Shakranta’s belly. Shakranta shimmied a bit to his right and caught the man’s sword wrist with his left hand, twisted it hard, then swung a mighty slap on the man’s face around the base of his ear with his right hand that completely stunned his opponent. The man’s sword slipped down from his right hand.
Shakranta then slipped his right leg under the man’s arm, brought that leg back up and hooked it over that arm. He then pressed his leg downward, bringing the man down heavily face first to the ground. As his foe lay spread eagled, Shakranta lifted his leg and struck down with his heel on the back of the man’s head, just hard enough to knock him out cold.
Shakranta then slipped his right leg under the man’s arm, brought that leg back up and hooked it over that arm. He then pressed his leg downward, bringing the man down heavily face first to the ground. As his foe lay spread eagled, Shakranta lifted his leg and struck down with his heel on the back of the man’s head, just hard enough to knock him out cold.
Rising quickly, with his back to a fifth opponent about to slice his head off from behind, Shakranta swung his sword overhead robustly in a graceful arc that carried it toward’s his enemy’s face. The man’s downward slicing stroke suddenly turned into an upward parry in order to counter Shakranta’s totally unexpected move. Shakranta followed up immediately with a powerful back thrust kick at him. Shakranta’s heel landed smack bang right on his attacker’s solar plexus, stopping the man dead in his tracks, his sword sliding off from his hand.
With another lightning fast movement, Shakranta struck a hesitant sixth man with a jumping spinning reverse roundhouse kick, hitting the side of the guy’s head with his heel. The man collapsed with a hoarse groan, tumbling down heavily to the ground like a rotten tree.
A huge warrior came charging with a massive club, screaming his gut out, his eyes blazing with murderous fury, seemingly bent on bashing Shakranta to a pulp. Shakranta remained still to the last moment, then bounced a bit as the man came near striking distance. Whipping the whole length of his right leg up and across, Shakranta's entire shin slammed onto the man's broad chest like a pole with a loud thud. The man collapsed like a log, without another sound.
An eighth man came straight at Shakranta, his sword held up high, just about to begin its downward arc which would split Shakranta’s face in two. Shakranta’s riposte was a sharp, swift straight front thrust kick to his groin. The man’s face contorted in pain, the sword still in his arms forgotten momentarily.
Shakranta followed through with three quick flick kicks with his left foot to the man’s ribs as his sword slipped from his hands. Bouncing and shimmying, he made a soft, deft, low, circular sweeping tap with the same foot on his opponent's right ankle, which completely unbalanced him, lifting the man's feet off the ground for a heartbeat. With a loud bellow, making use of the fellow's moment of awkwardness to the full, Shakranta finished his last attacker off with a jumping spinning roundhouse kick with his right foot to the left side of the man’s face.
§
"Greetings, champion," a tall, elegant looking female warrior, mounted over a magnificent Norman charger, approached Shakranta as he surveyed the ships berthed at the port, making him turn around. As she spoke her luxuriant mane of long, thick, wavy, yellowish brown hair, cascading all the way down to her back, bounced about gloriously on her head and shoulders.
"Well, well, well!" Shakranta looked surprised. "Look who we've got here! Greetings to you, fair lady."
“That was a dazzling display of far eastern martial arts you gave, yesterday," the woman continued. "Simply scintillating. I just loved it."
"Did you? Really?"
"Oh yes. Really, I did. You fought even better than a druzhinnik. And the way you dealt with those sword attacks ... both daring and decisive … would worry any droyaska. It was just magnificent."
"Well, it was all prearranged, Milady. Rehearsed again and again."
"Yes, I know. But still, it was brilliant. And those sword strokes were still dangerous."
Shakranta had been chosen by the Byzantines, with Sultan Mahmud’s approval, to lead a demonstration of martial arts from all over the known world. The choice was made after a long series of bruising auditions, in the form of a tournament. Shakranta had emerged the overall individual champion, with the first runner up a young Greek commander from the Byzantine army.
A druzhinnik from Kievskaya Ruska and a Varangi fighter from the ranks of the Emperor’s recently deployed Royal Varangian Guards came through as joint second runners up. While a Gaul, a Saxon and a Frank, adventurer mercenaries all of them, made it into the tournament record books as the most exciting new talents.
Ashgar and Tegrud, meanwhile, had both been instructed by Sultan Mahmud to decline from participating, citing injury, in order to avoid the possibility of an awkward matchup between the three men escorting him.
"Well, well, well!" Shakranta looked surprised. "Look who we've got here! Greetings to you, fair lady."
“That was a dazzling display of far eastern martial arts you gave, yesterday," the woman continued. "Simply scintillating. I just loved it."
"Did you? Really?"
"Oh yes. Really, I did. You fought even better than a druzhinnik. And the way you dealt with those sword attacks ... both daring and decisive … would worry any droyaska. It was just magnificent."
"Well, it was all prearranged, Milady. Rehearsed again and again."
"Yes, I know. But still, it was brilliant. And those sword strokes were still dangerous."
Shakranta had been chosen by the Byzantines, with Sultan Mahmud’s approval, to lead a demonstration of martial arts from all over the known world. The choice was made after a long series of bruising auditions, in the form of a tournament. Shakranta had emerged the overall individual champion, with the first runner up a young Greek commander from the Byzantine army.
A druzhinnik from Kievskaya Ruska and a Varangi fighter from the ranks of the Emperor’s recently deployed Royal Varangian Guards came through as joint second runners up. While a Gaul, a Saxon and a Frank, adventurer mercenaries all of them, made it into the tournament record books as the most exciting new talents.
Ashgar and Tegrud, meanwhile, had both been instructed by Sultan Mahmud to decline from participating, citing injury, in order to avoid the possibility of an awkward matchup between the three men escorting him.
“Thank you, Milady,” Shakranta replied. “You are too generous with your words. But a compliment from a beautiful woman is always sure to gladden a man’s heart. And you weren’t so bad yourself. I was watching you. You were clearly a class above the rest.”
“Thank you in return,” replied the lady. “Apparently, you’re not only a formidable warrior ... but also a gallant gentleman. Someone like you, I am sure, would have many female admirers.”
The women's tournament, meanwhile, had ended a day before the men's. It was won, rather decisively, by a striking, long limbed, athletic looking warrioress from the north. Now, Shakranta found himself gazing intently at the same woman. She appeared even more stunning than the day before. Good heavens, Shakranta thought. She could have been the Goddess of War herself! She looked absolutely awesome.
“You are staring at me."
“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to."
"Perhaps you haven’t yet seen a woman from Kievskaya Ruska before.”
“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to."
"Perhaps you haven’t yet seen a woman from Kievskaya Ruska before.”
"I have, actually, Milady. But not at such close range as right now. And none of them anywhere near as stunning as you.”
“Thank you again. I am Zvietta, daughter of Mikhail, of the family of Lukaschenko … from the city of Kievska ... in the kingdom of Kievskaya Ruska ... far yonder in the north. I am pleased to meet you.”
“The pleasure is much more mine, Milady,” said Shakranta. “I am Shakranta … son of Prabhava and Kembang Seri Wangi … grandson of Adhi Vira … of the family of Dharmakusuma ... from Amdan Negara ... in the lands of the Langkasukan Federation ... in the Golden Peninsula ... even farther yonder in the east. So ... what business brings Milady to Constantinople then ... if I may?”
“We came here as escorts of His Majesty Vladimir the Great, our king. As part of the expedition accompanying him on his trip here to marry Princess Anna, younger sister of Emperor Basileios. And then to take the princess to Kievska.”
“Sounds fabulous.”
“So what does the name of your kingdom … Amdan Negara … mean, exactly?”
“City of the Valiant."
“Wow! What a name!
"Of course, in those days a big city also had a king, who then exercised authority and power over a certain swathe of territory around that city, which essentially formed his kingdom. So you could also say that it means Kingdom of the Valiant.”
“Wow! What a name!
"Of course, in those days a big city also had a king, who then exercised authority and power over a certain swathe of territory around that city, which essentially formed his kingdom. So you could also say that it means Kingdom of the Valiant.”
"What about Langkasuka, what does that mean?”
“Land of Happiness.”
“Amazing!”
“So … tell me about your king.”
“Vladimir has only just become a Christian. He had sent his chamberlains and boyarin to visit and survey centres of Judaism, Christianity and Islam throughout this region. But it seemed they all went back most impressed with Christianity ... after gazing in utmost admiration at the breathtaking beauty of Hagia Sofia.”
“Hagia Sofia? Oh. Yes. Such a beautiful name.”
“It means Divine Wisdom.”
“As I’ve heard. So, your King Vladimir decided to choose a new faith based merely on the aesthetic finesse of a stone building. How fascinating.”
“Ummm … I guess it had also partly to do with our kingdom’s trade interests. You see ... Byzantium controls the sea routes of the Black Sea ... thereby also the riverine routes via the River Dnieper which flows to its shores. And ... I hear ... Vladimir is also an ardent admirer of Byzantine high culture.”
“So what was the faith of your people before, then ... if I may know?”
“Our ancestors worshipped various gods and goddesses, who they believed guarded the elements of nature. Do your people keep the Islamic faith ... as do the Arabs, Persians and Turks?”
“Not so, actually. In Langkasuka, our people have only recently started hearing about the teachings of Islam. In the main, we are still comfortable with our old ways. Beliefs that blend the teachings of Gautama with the worship of Shiva or Vishnu. My friend, Lord Sultan Mahmud of Ghazna, and the people of his court have indeed often been preaching to me about the goodness of Islam.”
“Sounds like you’re thinking about it,” Zvietta continued.
“It does sound like a fabulous faith. But for the moment ... I feel that I myself ... as also, I would guess, the majority of my fellow Langkasukans ... we’re not yet ready for such a drastic change.”
“It seems that your people do not like to decide on something important in a rush. That’s good, I think."
"Is it? Oh well. Anyway, I hear there's a grand show on by the palace grounds tonight."
"Yes. There'll be lots of singing ... and dancing ... and all that stuff."
"Are you coming?"
"Umm ... I don't know ..."
"Is it? Oh well. Anyway, I hear there's a grand show on by the palace grounds tonight."
"Yes. There'll be lots of singing ... and dancing ... and all that stuff."
"Are you coming?"
"Umm ... I don't know ..."
“Go on. Please do. I'd like you to."
"I thought you'd never ask."
"Oh yes. Of course I would. I'm not going to let you get away so easily."
“That silky eastern charm again. Is there no end to your chivalry? But I just love it. Give me more,” Zvietta teased.
"I thought you'd never ask."
"Oh yes. Of course I would. I'm not going to let you get away so easily."
“That silky eastern charm again. Is there no end to your chivalry? But I just love it. Give me more,” Zvietta teased.
“I shall, Milady. I certainly shall. You can bet your last drachma on it,” Shakranta answered, bringing a girlish chuckle from her.
“Can I? Wow! Alright, alright. That’s enough. For now,” Zvietta smiled.
“Splendid,” said Shakranta. “We’ll meet at the main arch then, shall we? Just after dusk?”
“Splendid,” said Shakranta. “We’ll meet at the main arch then, shall we? Just after dusk?”
“All right. I'll see you there. Would you have any friends coming with you?”
“Yes, I think. Ashgar and Tegrud. I don't think they can stand just sitting around at home moping while the whole city is having a carnival.”
“Great,” said Zvietta. “Amazing. I’ll see you all later then. Doh svidaniya, smoothtalker.” She left him just standing there, in absolute thrall, the smile adorning her face rich with promise.
“That’s me,” Shakranta concurred, rather proudly, smiling back in response. "Doh svidaniya."
What a woman, Shakranta thought. Her casual easygoing style, contrasting with her imperious good looks, totally captivated him.
Shakranta started trudging home to the residence he shared with his two friends, General Ashgar and General Tegrud. The people of this city were so friendly, Shakranta thought. And their girls were so beautiful. Especially the ladies from Kievskaya Ruska. Well, that’s if Zvietta was a typical Kievskaya lass, he noted. Ashgar and Tegrud would surely be delighted with the latest developments.
§
The moon glowed in its fullest glory, its shape as perfectly round as in a painter’s piece, its gilded rim as sharp as the edge of a Byzantine warrior’s sword. The clouds parted before it, like court maidens parting before a princess. The city bathed in brilliant silver light.
The crowds milled and thronged, as new arrivals kept coming in. The place seemed to swell and grow before Shakranta’s very eyes.
“The Goddess of Fertility!" replied Ashgar immediately. “We must all be so blessed today. So are we to meet you. Well, greetings to you, Goddess. And it’s been a very long time since I’ve been fortunate enough to meet a lady as beautiful as you.”
“And I to meet a gentleman as good looking as you,” Demetrea responded with her usual calm confident tone, taking the Persian man's obvious admiration for her in her stride. Born of a Byzantine Greek mother and a Kievskayan Rus father, she had that arresting look of a woman from a mixed marriage.
“Ooohh, I see exciting times ahead,” Zvietta gave her friend a playful poke in her rib, then turned to her right. “Well then, Shakranta, don’t just stand there. Let’s introduce your other friend. He looks rather quiet and shy.”
“Ummm … I like to pretend sometimes,” Tegrud murmured with a smile.
“Oh, I’m sorry, girls,” Shakranta finally spoke. “This is Tegrud, my Turkmen friend. He’s the strong silent type. Well, at least initially. But when you get to know him better, he can be as boisterous as any young man.”
“And meet this equally reserved friend of mine, Alonna,” Zvietta continued.
“Hello, Alonna,” Tegrud ventured.
“Hi, Tegrud,” Alonna answered.
“Hey, Shakranta. They look like they’ll make a nice pair, what say you?” Zvietta started teasing.
“I think so too, actually,” replied Shakranta, concurring.
Ashgar and Demetrea seemed to fall under each other’s spell from the moment their eyes met. So strong was the attraction between them, it was almost palpable.
Alonna and Tegrud, meanwhile, appeared content to keep chatting constantly, subtly sizing each other up, generally getting to know each other gradually. Nevertheless, the warmth between them was no less strong and kept growing steadily, inevitably pulling them closer and closer together.
§
§
The six quickly became fast friends, spending many days away from their homes, sleeping outdoors in the hills, in the emperor's vast fruit groves and on the beaches, whenever they obtained leave from duty. Ashgar and Tegrud, both of them master archers and riders, taught the girls how to shoot an arrow while riding at speed. Zvietta, Demetrea and Alonna were just delighted to learn from the two men, gamely taking their share of tumbles and falls in the process.
While Shakranta trained them in the most basic moves of silat, the fighting style of the Golden Islands, spei leth, the four limb boxing technique of Amdan Negara, and kalari payattu, the warrior art from the Kerala region of southern India which his Bhangali father had taught him. The girls were especially impressed with Shakranta's deftness with the keris. They were delighted when he presented each of them with one and taught them how to wield it.
While Shakranta trained them in the most basic moves of silat, the fighting style of the Golden Islands, spei leth, the four limb boxing technique of Amdan Negara, and kalari payattu, the warrior art from the Kerala region of southern India which his Bhangali father had taught him. The girls were especially impressed with Shakranta's deftness with the keris. They were delighted when he presented each of them with one and taught them how to wield it.
"Zvietta, koshka. Come with me, to Langkasuka, to Amdan Negara. You'll like it there. My people will love you, too. I know they will."
“Shakranta, lyubimi. You know I’d love to. It breaks my heart to part with you. But alas, my kingdom needs me. My body and my soul is pledged to Kievskaya Ruska.”
“Even at the price of love?”
“Lyubimi, this is tearing me apart.”
“Then come with me. We’ll be happy together.”
“Shakranta, would you forsake Amdan Negara and Langkasuka for me? And go away with me to Kievska?”
“I can’t, koshka. Without me, the Dharmakusuma Dynasty ... and Amdan Negara ... are as good as dead. I won’t be able to live with myself.”
“And that’s not what I want for you, lyubimi. I wouldn’t want you living and breathing any other way ... but as the strong, fierce, proud and fearless warrior that you are.”
“If only the fate of my motherland did not depend so much on my return … koshka.”
§
Zvietta, Alonna and Natalya eventually returned to Kievskaya Ruska at the end of that summer, escorting the entourage of their king and his new bride. Leaving behind sweet, unforgettable memories of fun, friendship and love for Shakranta, Tegrud and Ashgar.
“True love is sometimes encountered in the strangest or most unexpected of places. Still, if one is fortunate enough to meet with it, one must embrace it, guard it and cherish it. For there is nothing nobler or more beautiful on this earth than a love that springs true from the heart.”
Thus, Shakranta recalled, went the wise words of his Persian scholar friend Abu al-Ghasim al-Ferdowsi. The great man whom he had met and befriended at the court of Sultan Mahmud in Ghazna. Who had taught him so much about the world and all its beauty and magnificence.
§ § §
Shamira gazed at the mountains to the northeast, in the direction of her ancestral homeland, Volzhkaya Bolgariya, a small kingdom around the central region of the Volga river valley, to the east of the lands of Kievskaya Ruska. It was from where her ancient Bolgar forebears, one of many tribes among the populous Tatar nation, had travelled gradually southwestward, eventually founding a new Bolgar kingdom, Bolgarsko Tsarsvo, just north of Byzantine lands. She wondered what life would have been like in Volzhkaya Bolgariya for her if her parents had never left their home. Had it not been for them, she would not have met Uzulmez in Bolgarsko Tsarsvo, married him and bore a son with him.
Volzhkaya Bolgariya had for a long time been vassal to the kingdom of the Khazars. After a visit by Amir ibnu Fadhlan, special envoy of Caliph al-Muqtadir of Baghdad, during the time of Shamira’s great grandparents, the Khan of Volzhkaya Bolgariya, Almaz Iltabar, and his people had converted to Islam en masse. Almaz subsequently proclaimed Islam as the official faith of his kingdom. Ibnu Fadhlan had offered Volzhkaya Bolgariya the status of protectorate of the Abbasid Caliphate, thereby ending Khazar hegemony over Volzhkaya Bolgariya.
Bolgarsko Tsarsvo, now called simply Bolgaria, had traditionally held the upper hand over Byzantium. Sixteen years earlier (986), as a young king, Basileios had been decisively defeated by Tsar Roman of Bolgaria at the Gates of Trajan and barely made his escape. Fourteen years later, however, Basileios turned triumphant and captured Bolgarian border cities Pliska and Preslav, subsequently getting himself into the habit of yearly campaigns against the lands of his old adversary, who had by then been succeeded by a new Tsar, named Samuil. It was in one of those campaigns, eventually, that Uzulmez had fallen in battle leading a Bolgarian mercenary battalion. How the fortunes of kingdoms rise and fall, like the tides of the sea.
“Isabelle,” the Bolgar woman spoke to her young friend, as the girl sat next to her in the open air auction area of the slave market in Constantinople. The slaves were allowed some rest time after having spent the entire morning working on the Emperor’s vast olive groves as temporary farmhands, their day’s wages paid directly by court officials to their owners, the slave merchants.
“Yes, Shamira,” the girl answered. “What is it?”
“Can I have a word with you?”
“Of course you can, Shamira. Go ahead.”
“Zibâ Baji! Zibâ Baji!,” the little boy cried out in glee as soon as he saw Isabelle.
It was a name he liked to call Isabelle by. It meant Beautiful Sister in Persian, or rather mixed Persian-Turkmen, a dialect that he had picked up recently from some older kids.
“Hi, Oja!” Isabelle responded. “Looks like you’re having a great time.”
“Yes I am, Zibâ Baji”, the child answered merrily. He came running over towards Isabelle immediately. He clambered onto her lap, then sat down, rocking himself happily in Isabelle’s affectionate embrace. Isabelle stroked and tickled his ribs and tummy, making him shriek, laugh and squirm in her arms.
“Ojaaa, behave yourself,” Shamira spoke, admonishing her son mildly. “You’re hurting Zibâ Baji.”
“It’s all right, Shamira,” Isabelle assured her. “I’m having fun.”
“You know, Isabelle,” the woman continued. “I haven’t been feeling so well lately.”
“But you look just fine to me right now.”
“Well, it comes suddenly, sort of. Without warning. Then it goes again.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. I wish there’s something I could do.”
Isabelle studied the medallion carefully. It was made of gold of the highest quality. Engraved on it was the image of a powerful fierce looking eagle about to pounce on its prey. It looked extremely elegant, Isabelle thought.
“Oh! It’s beautiful,” Isabelle said, approvingly.
“The Eagle of Oghuz,” Shamira explained, as Isabelle continued to run her eyes over the object in apparent admiration. “The revered emblem of Uzulmez’s family. As well as the entire Oghuz tribe. It’s the last of our family heirlooms left on me. Fortunately, I have somehow managed to hide it from the Byzantine soldiers who captured us. And from Kolanos, since we became his property.”
“What would you like me to do with it, then?” Isabelle asked.
“Take it with you. For safekeeping, on my behalf. For my son, Ozalan. He’s still too young to keep it safely by himself.”
“What if we’re to be separated?”
“Keep it with you, still. I’ll tell Ozalan to go look for you when he grows older. I’ll tell him you’re keeping for him something bequeathed to him by Uzulmez.”
“But would he really come looking for me? What if the distance separating us is too far then?”
“Oh! He will. I know he will. Ozalan worships his father. He will do anything if I tell him Uzulmez wanted him to.”
“All right, Shamira. I shall do it then. For you. And for Ozalan.”
“Thank you, Isabelle. If something happens to me, please take care of my son. To the best that you’re able to. As far as it’s within your power, take him with you wherever you go. You’re my best hope for him.”
“I shall do everything I can, Shamira.”
“Keep this secret with you, Isabelle, whether Ozalan remains with you or otherwise. If he does stay with you, which is what I dearly hope for, keep it until such time that he is ready for it. As to when that time would be, I leave that to your own good judgement.
§
Shakranta had studiously observed Sultan Mahmud's lead in his choice of procurements. He bought a pair of sturdy looking young Norman war horses from a horse farm at the edge of the city. Destrieres, they were called, a charger breed. Another one hundred suitable ones, maybe more, would also be brought to him, when they become available.
He also purchased three hundred Norman crossbows, a similar number of Saxon longbows, and a hundred ballista from an arms merchant. They would be delivered to his ship a day before his departure.
The horses and the weapons would then be taken back by Shakranta back to his homeland. The ballista, which could launch both stone and naphta ball missiles powerfully from a distance, would be an interesting new addition to Amdan Negara's existing arsenal.
Shakranta had listened most attentively as General Tegrud regaled him with first hand accounts of the previous year's battle in the Punjab, a couple of months before Shakranta's arrrival in Ghazna, between the Ghaznian army and the vastly more numerous forces of Ananda Pala, ruler of the Hindu Shahi kingdom based in Kabul, and his Hindu allies. Sultan Mahmud had commanded six thousand archers to the front to provoke the enemy and also soften them up.
Mahmud's attacking vanguard, including his archers, were confronted by thirty thousand of Ananda Pala's fiercest and meanest fighters, the barefooted, bald headed, curly moustached, heavily armed Ghokars of the Kashmiri highlands. That stage of the battle had quickly descended into a slaughter, Mahmud's army losing five thousand fighters in fairly short order.
Partly out of desperation, the Ghaznians had then tried their indigenous missile launcher to attack Ananda Pala's mighty elephant battalion from the flanks, launching balls of clay and mud mixed with dry hay, grass, weed and leaves soaked in naphta at the enormous beasts, then lighting them aflame with fire arrows. The result was devastating.
The massive beasts had eventually all bolted in confused fright, trampling and crushing to death hundreds of Ananda Pala's soldiers in the melee. Ananda Pala's own leading bull had freaked out first, a big oily ball hitting it smack on its backside, rapidly bursting into flames on contact with a fire arrow.
The fire had seared its anus and genitals, its loud screams of pain as it fled away triggering a mass panic-stricken flight by the rest of the herd from the battlefield. Ananda Pala's entire army then fell into complete disarray and retreated in total chaos.
General Abdullah Ta'ie, leading a battalion of six thousand Arab and Persian cavalry on their agile desert stallions, and General Arslari Jazib, commanding a combined infantry of ten thousand battle hardened Turkmen, Afghan and Khilji, pursued and harrassed Ananda Pala's retreating soldiers with not the briefest respite. Abdullah's fast mounted fighters would chase and round batches of stragglers among the fleeing enemy and strafe them with arrows, spears and javelins, then Arslari's footmen would pounce on those still standing to deal the final blow, seizing weapons, horses and belongings from their stricken foes.
Many infantry, being the highly adaptable soldiers that they were, then simply took horse and changed into mounted warriors, merging into the cavalry and swelling its size even more. The same cycle would then be repeated over and over again.
Twenty thousand soldiers of the Hindu Shahi army were slain. Thirty of their elephants and much gold, silver, jewellery and other booty were brought to Sultan Mahmud as spoils. Amazingly, what had at one stage threatened to end in a crushing defeat for the Sultan had instead turned into a decisive victory.
"Fabulous, just fabulous," Shakranta had said. "I hope that the forces of a future army of Amdan Negara could one day do the same to an enemy army."
The Norman crossbow gave a faster draw and reload. It would be suitable for rapid firing of poison arrows, which would cause sufficient damage to the enemy without needing such great accuracy, Shakranta pondered. While the Saxon longbow was good for precision and power.
Shakranta’s intention was to introduce those new designs to his bowmakers back home in Bukit Panau. For them to copy and reproduce, using local materials. If found suitable for use in the conditions at home, those craftsmen would be paid handsomely to make them in large numbers. For use by Amdan Negara's gradually growing army. Maybe the new weapons could also some day help the Dharmakusuma family in regaining the lost throne of Amdan Negara.
He also purchased three hundred Norman crossbows, a similar number of Saxon longbows, and a hundred ballista from an arms merchant. They would be delivered to his ship a day before his departure.
The horses and the weapons would then be taken back by Shakranta back to his homeland. The ballista, which could launch both stone and naphta ball missiles powerfully from a distance, would be an interesting new addition to Amdan Negara's existing arsenal.
Shakranta had listened most attentively as General Tegrud regaled him with first hand accounts of the previous year's battle in the Punjab, a couple of months before Shakranta's arrrival in Ghazna, between the Ghaznian army and the vastly more numerous forces of Ananda Pala, ruler of the Hindu Shahi kingdom based in Kabul, and his Hindu allies. Sultan Mahmud had commanded six thousand archers to the front to provoke the enemy and also soften them up.
Mahmud's attacking vanguard, including his archers, were confronted by thirty thousand of Ananda Pala's fiercest and meanest fighters, the barefooted, bald headed, curly moustached, heavily armed Ghokars of the Kashmiri highlands. That stage of the battle had quickly descended into a slaughter, Mahmud's army losing five thousand fighters in fairly short order.
Partly out of desperation, the Ghaznians had then tried their indigenous missile launcher to attack Ananda Pala's mighty elephant battalion from the flanks, launching balls of clay and mud mixed with dry hay, grass, weed and leaves soaked in naphta at the enormous beasts, then lighting them aflame with fire arrows. The result was devastating.
The massive beasts had eventually all bolted in confused fright, trampling and crushing to death hundreds of Ananda Pala's soldiers in the melee. Ananda Pala's own leading bull had freaked out first, a big oily ball hitting it smack on its backside, rapidly bursting into flames on contact with a fire arrow.
The fire had seared its anus and genitals, its loud screams of pain as it fled away triggering a mass panic-stricken flight by the rest of the herd from the battlefield. Ananda Pala's entire army then fell into complete disarray and retreated in total chaos.
Many infantry, being the highly adaptable soldiers that they were, then simply took horse and changed into mounted warriors, merging into the cavalry and swelling its size even more. The same cycle would then be repeated over and over again.
Twenty thousand soldiers of the Hindu Shahi army were slain. Thirty of their elephants and much gold, silver, jewellery and other booty were brought to Sultan Mahmud as spoils. Amazingly, what had at one stage threatened to end in a crushing defeat for the Sultan had instead turned into a decisive victory.
"Fabulous, just fabulous," Shakranta had said. "I hope that the forces of a future army of Amdan Negara could one day do the same to an enemy army."
The Norman crossbow gave a faster draw and reload. It would be suitable for rapid firing of poison arrows, which would cause sufficient damage to the enemy without needing such great accuracy, Shakranta pondered. While the Saxon longbow was good for precision and power.
Shakranta’s intention was to introduce those new designs to his bowmakers back home in Bukit Panau. For them to copy and reproduce, using local materials. If found suitable for use in the conditions at home, those craftsmen would be paid handsomely to make them in large numbers. For use by Amdan Negara's gradually growing army. Maybe the new weapons could also some day help the Dharmakusuma family in regaining the lost throne of Amdan Negara.
Shakranta had also heard from General Ashgar that the Chinese of Northern Song Kingdom had successfully used their own version of the crossbow to slay the war elephants of an invading enemy army from the south. Shakranta wondered if a Langkasukan archer battalion could do the same to those huge beasts of the Palembang armies occupying the Golden Peninsula. With the ballista as a naphta ball launcher and the Norman crossbow, Shakranta now has two new potential anti-elephant weapons.
Being an avid hunter, the horse breeder was also a competent falconer. Tegrud bought a pair of trained young hawks from him. Ashgar, meanwhile, opted for a pair of two year old Persian ponies.
§
“Oh, I miss Demetrea,” Ashgar sighed. “I wish she were here. You know, I was beginning to think of her as a potential bride. My mother would have loved her.”
“Oh yeah? You reckon so?” Tegrud responded, with the beginnings of a provocative tone. “I bet she’s got another man now. More like several. Considering that sheer beauty and boundless energy of hers. I would run over to Kievska after her if I were you, before she gets hitched to another fellow.”
“Hey! She’s not like that!” Ashgar retorted.
“What? You think Demetrea’s only got eyes for you, huh? What an idiot you still are. After all these years,” Tegrud continued needling him. “She’s probably having some great fun with another handsome warrior in Kievska right now. A Varangi, a Skandi or perhaps a Frank. Maybe all three.”
“Hey you! Mind your mouth! Or you’re going to regret it very soon.”
“Hold it, guys! Hold it!” Shakranta’s voice boomed. He had to step in firmly before those two good friends of his came to blows over nothing.
“Oh, heck. I miss Alonna too,” now it was Tegrud’s turn to whine.
”Oh yes! The Ice Princess,” Ashgar sneered. “Sometimes I just wonder, how do you manage to warm her up, aye? Being as cool as she always was.”
“Now, don’t you start, jerk!” Tegrud warned. Now it’s his turn to get warmed up.
“Hey! Hey! Cool it, you two!” Again, Shakranta had to intervene with a loud bellow.
“Well, what do you think of your Zvietta then, Shakranta?” Ashgar asked, turning his attention to Shakranta now. “She looks like the type who always likes being in charge. You know what I mean. The Queen Commander.”
“Oh yeah. She is. Absolutely. Except when she’s with me. Then she likes to yield and let me be in charge,” Shakranta replied, tongue in cheek. “She does get into that dominant mood of hers once in a while, though. Those times, I just let her take charge.”
Tegrud and Ashgar roared with good humoured laughter, their little near quarrel now forgotten as quickly as it had begun.
“How about we three all go to Kievska for a while,” Tegrud suggested, not altogether too seriously. “Pay our lady friends a little surprise visit. Oh yeah, they’ll love it.”
“Or they might not,” Ashgar countered. “Naaah. We don’t have the time. Sultan Mahmud wants to return to Ghazna soon. He’s been away from Ghazna too long. In any case, the wolves outside the fence could be feeling tempted already.”
“I can sense that the stress of boredom and inactivity is beginning to get to you two,” Shakranta said. “Or maybe you’re both already starting to miss Ghazna, for all its faults. I say, how about we go for a walkabout around the city for a bit? Maybe go browsing through merchandise in the market stalls. You do want some souvenirs to take home, don’t you?”
“Sounds great. I’m with you there,” Ashgar chirped.
“Me too,” Tegrud went along, agreeably.
§
“Lord Emperor Basileios,” Sultan Mahmud spoke, addressing the Emperor of Byzantium. “We would like to propose a new two-way cooperation project between Ghazna and Byzantium. One covering both business and political alliances.”
“Tell me what benefits would there be for Byzantium then, Lord Sultan Mahmud.”
“First of all, Lord Emperor, engaging in direct trade between our kingdoms would increase the profits for both Byzantine and Ghaznian merchants. It would eliminate the extra costs that they now incur, and have to pay, as a result of dealing through the middlemen. The Arabs, the Persians, the Indians.”
“Second?”
“We can also, by acting in concert, both begin pursuing and developing direct trade with the Song Chinese kingdom, as well as the small kingdoms of Suvarna Bhumi, the Golden Continent, and Suvarna Dvipa, the Golden Islands. Instead of going through the Tamils of Chola Mandalam, as we’re doing right now.”
“Yes, the Tamils. They’re quite a concern to us, although right now we have no other choice but to continue doing business with them. About four centuries ago, the Pallava, predecessor of the Chola, totally destroyed a non-threatening Byzantine-Persian fleet carrying a prince of Byzantium, a relative of Our ancestor, escorted by a Sassanid Persian general. The prince was on the way to Tang China to marry a Tang princess. It was to have been an epigamia, a political alliance held together by dynastic marriage.”
“Yes, we know that story. The Persian general was also a prince, a close relative of an ancestor of Ours, on Our mother’s side. His name was Ardavaz. The fleet was attacked, We believe, because the Pallava wanted to wreck the then budding alliance between Byzantium and China. Because they believed that such an alliance would damage their strategic interests as middlemen in East-West trade.”
“Any survivors of that attack?” the Emperor enquired further.
“Only the Persian general, Prince Ardavaz, plus a handful of lucky soldiers and seamen, as far as We know,” answered the Sultan. "If I'm not mistaken the Byzantine prince and the Tang princess both survived too."
“Wonder what happened to Prince Ardavaz.”
“Legend has it that he and his men eventually landed at the estuary of a river, fronting an imposing mountain, on a coast on the Golden Peninsula. The land where my friend here, Lord Prince Shakranta, hails from.”
“And then?”
“Allow me to finish the story, if I may, Lord Emperor Basileios,” Shakranta now spoke.
“By all means, Lord Prince Shakranta. Do go ahead, please.”
“Thank you, Lord Emperor. That place happened to be the rivermouth port of a kingdom named Kedah Negara, which had then existed without a king for some time,” Shakranta went on, taking over the end part of the story from Sultan Mahmud. “Their royal house had eventually collapsed due to local inter-necine wars, as well as foreign invasions from the kingdoms of Pegu and Tenasserim in the north.”
“What happened next?”
“Two local leaders, Tun Dharma Dewa and Tun Perkasa, with the assent of the people, appointed Prince Ardavaz as the new king. Prince Ardavaz then ascended the throne with the title Raja Merong Mahawangsa. It was a traditional title for a king of Kedah Negara, one that had also been held by several previous kings before him.”
“That’s just amazing!” the Emperor exclaimed. “Now, what about the safety of Byzantine ships sailing the Indian Ocean?” he continued, turning now towards Sultan Mahmud. “I don’t want any of them to be attacked again by those Tamil hoodlums.”
“Ghazna’s navy can arrange to provide escort ships to Byzantine merchant shipping,” the Sultan offered.
“What if Byzantine ships are still attacked?” the Emperor enquired, his face still looking grim.
“If any ship under Ghaznian escort is attacked, Ghazna will consider it as an act of war on Ghazna. If the Chola ask for a fight, then they shall get a fight. We can promise that much, Lord Basileios. As a matter of interest, Ghazna’s soldiers are held in the greatest esteem by our Indian sometimes-enemy, sometimes-ally counterparts. And right now Ghazna is building up its sea battle fleet to counter Chola's naval power.”
“Fabulous!” the Emperor suddenly sounded much more cheerful now. “Sounds good enough for me. Incidentally, Byzantine intelligence has also given Us glowing reports on previous Ghaznian encounters with northern Indian land armies. We have to say that We are most impressed with Ghaznian performances so far.”
“Thank you, Lord Emperor. We hear too that the Chola have also begun to earn many enemies. We’ll make arrangements to find out if there’s any way that we can exploit that to our advantage.”
“Splendid! That’s the business part settled then. How about the political part?”
§
"Do you have to go back so soon, Lord Sultan?" Emperor Basileios enquired. "I was hoping you'd stay a while longer."
"Yes I do, Lord Emperor," answered Sultan Mahmud. "I can't be away from Ghazna for too long. My enemies might start getting funny ideas. The most dangerous among them being the invisible ones, the ones hiding within."
"I understand. I believe you have someone trustworthy and capable holding the kingdom in your absence then."
"Fortunately I do. Abdullah Ta'ie the Arab ... and Arslan Jazib the Turkmen. My two bravest and most loyal commanders right now. They will die for me if that's what they have to do."
"You're a very lucky man, Lord Sultan. Any king would give an arm and a leg to have men like them in his service. Anyway ... about the business cooperation between our kingdoms .... how about the arrangements proper then? They're not completely set up yet."
"That won't be a problem, Lord Emperor. General Ashgar and General Tegrud will stay back in Constantinople for a while yet. They shall do all the thing necesssary to establish a Ghaznian trading base here ... a small one to begin with ... just enough to enable our merchants to conduct their trading activities smoothly. Then we'll take things further from there."
"Sounds great. What about you, Lord Prince Shakranta?"
"I shall stay and help General Ashgar and General Tegrud with their work, Lord Emperor. I'm also keen to develop a platform for my family's trading interests in this region. For bringing in goods from Amdan Negara, the other kingdoms of the Langkasukan Federation, as well as the entire region around it. And for bringing out suitable merchandise from Byzantium and nearby areas back home to Amdan Negara."
"Fantastic. Now we have something solid to build upon. You can start with the spices and the Langkasukan swords. Maybe camphor and sandalwood as well. On our side, we can offer you weaponry, figs and olives. You might like to consider our horses also."
