Chapter 219: A Loving Father, a Filial Son (Part 2)

"Great Emir, my honored father, on this Eid al-Fitr when all things in heaven and earth praise the Most Pure Lord, may the praises of all creation exalt my Lord.

Your son Hamid hopes, at the hunting event soon to be held, to offer the great Emir the most precious of game. Please permit me to leave early, so that I may prepare sufficient quarry for everyone!"

Prince Hamid stepped forward and, under the gaze of all present, made his request to Nasr II.

Nasr II nodded lightly. Feasting together on Eid was of course only part of the festival; to display the dynasty's martial might, a hunting game would be held somewhat later.

And going ahead to prepare sufficient game—leopards, wolves, gazelles, and the like—had always been the duty of the crown prince.

This year Nasr II had originally intended to have Prince Sadid oversee the preparations, the better to spur Sadid on and keep him from shrinking back at the last moment.

But since Hamid had already come forward and volunteered, Nasr II decided to show a little mercy and let Hamid enjoy the final glory of being crown prince.

"I accept your blessing. Go, my child, and remember—the game must be plentiful!" Nasr II rarely displayed such a warm and kindly fatherly side.

Prince Hamid smiled all the more brightly, like a child praised by his father, but from the corner of his eye he glanced toward the North City registrar, Lahore, seated among the ministers.

Lahore had already changed into an uncommon green hat—the secret signal the two had agreed upon.

Once the army of the Gur Khan arrived on time, Registrar Lahore would put on this hat.

At that moment, Prince Hamid was to find an excuse to leave, then rendezvous with General Hussein, who would be leading troops out of the city.

A shadow flickered across Sadid's face, but in an instant it hardened into resolve. He gave a slight nod to an officer in a four-crested helmet standing not far behind Prince Hamid—a Ghulam guard officer he had brought from Herat, and his trusted confidant.

Forgive me, elder brother, but the Samanid dynasty can have only one Emir.

Zhang Zhao had indeed arrived, but not entirely, for he had divided his seven thousand troops into two parts.

The vanguard of one thousand men consisted entirely of light cavalry, led by Bai Congxin, with an additional three hundred-odd knights of the Western Cao who knew the local terrain well.

They wore Ghulam guard robes over their cotton armor and lamellar armor to conceal them, and had now infiltrated to within less than fifteen li of the Ramadan festival grounds outside the city of Bukhara.

The remaining five thousand troops waited in a small village thirty li from Bukhara.

Zhang Zhao was still cautious. He was now deep in enemy territory alone, and in order to cross the Red Desert quickly he had brought only ten days' worth of army rations—one could say he was taking a great risk.

Dividing the army and deploying it separately was to ensure that if a trap or danger appeared, there would be a chance to react.

The final part—one thousand heavy infantry—Zhang Zhao had left outside a small city called Kagan.

This place was also about thirty li from Bukhara, with a population of some seven or eight thousand, and it happened to guard the critical point on the road from Bukhara to Samarkand.

Once fighting broke out, regardless of how things went in the direction of Bukhara or whether there was a trap, they would immediately storm this city.

At the same time, the main army at Khujand, as agreed, was to march out of the pass today. Under the command of Yan Jin and Liu Zaisheng, flying the banners of the Khujand garrison, they would drive straight for Samarkand.

Zhang Zhao had brought seven thousand men across the Kyzylkum Desert directly to Bukhara, so the Khujand garrison could make full use of the disguises Prince Hamid had given them and force their way into Samarkand. If they could enter the city directly, that would be best; if they could not trick the gates open, they would at least surround Samarkand.

This was Zhang Zhao's double insurance. The first was to commit one thousand men first and determine whether it was a trap.

In the end, if there was a trap, or if the plan failed, the whole army would gather enough provisions at Kagan and then retreat toward Samarkand.

The worst outcome would be no more than a standoff with the Samanid Persian army beneath the walls of Samarkand, or even a withdrawal back to Khujand.

Zhang Zhao would not do something like charging in recklessly and placing victory, defeat, and his very life in the hands of others.

Mahmud's heart was full of doubt, because the road Prince Hamid was now taking was not the road to arranging hunting game, but the road toward Bukhara.

As a Ghulam officer from Herat and a trusted confidant of Prince Sadid, Mahmud knew what he was about to do, but he did not care. Although Prince Hamid was the crown prince, he was loyal only to Prince Sadid.

Mahmud warily exchanged glances with the dozen-odd other Ghulams from Herat around him, and all of them reached into their robes at the same time.

Beneath their robes they wore chainmail and had hidden long daggers, and they had already formed a triangular formation with Prince Hamid pinned in the middle.

But after dealing with Prince Hamid here, they would not go back and wait for death as Nasr II imagined.

Instead, they would report the news of Prince Hamid's death to the Bukhara Ghulams. These men, Prince Hamid's trusted followers, would surely fight to the death and go after Nasr II.

When the two sides had fought each other into utter chaos, Prince Sadid would lead them in a sudden turn and strike, killing Nasr II.

Then the Emir would be gone, and the crown prince too. As long as he was willing to hand out offices and lavish money, the Ghulams of Bukhara would surely make the wisest decision.

'Clip-clop-clip!' Before Mahmud could act, Prince Hamid suddenly, without warning, spurred his horse and charged straight ahead.

A Ghulam from Herat hurriedly drew his long dagger, but in a flash of blade-light, one of Prince Hamid's personal guards suddenly pulled a short sword from the side of his horse and with one stroke cut off the Ghulam's long dagger along with his wrist.

"Strike!" At the same moment as his comrade's scream, a strange language rang out—one Mahmud had never heard before.

The guards beside the two princes suddenly drew out small, compact hand crossbows and fired at the Herat Ghulams blocking the prince's path.

Amid the sharp whistle of bolts through the air, two Herat Ghulams were struck and tumbled to the ground.

Seizing this gap, four guards escorted Prince Hamid and charged out of the encirclement of the dozen-odd Herat Ghulams at top speed.

Cold sweat broke out on Mahmud at once. He let out a great shout, spurred his horse, drew the riding bow hanging at the horse's side, and drew the string to shoot.

At that moment, the roadside bushes rustled, and more than a hundred Bukhara Ghulams in their distinctive chainmail burst out, every man holding a longbow aimed at them.

The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind!

If Mahmud had known this Chinese idiom, he would surely have sighed with it before he died. Unfortunately, he did not.

Dense arrows came flying at them like raindrops. Of the dozen-odd Herat Ghulams, apart from a few who wheeled their horses and fled, most were shot into hedgehogs.

"Light the wolf-smoke, notify the Gur Khan!" Prince Hamid shouted to the guards beside him, then spurred his horse and charged straight into the city of Bukhara.

At that very moment, in the Ghulam barracks of Bukhara, hoofbeats thundered and voices surged.

General Hussein, who had long since infiltrated here, first assembled over a thousand of the most loyal troops, and at the same time gathered all the officers of the Bukhara Ghulams above the rank of centurion into the barracks.

"Loyal officers of the guard! You are all the bravest warriors of the kingdom, yet you have not received the treatment warriors deserve, because that traitor, the Grand Vizier Balami, has embezzled all the treasure and land.

At the same time, the worthless nobles of the Diwan council have colluded with the palace guards of the Ark Citadel to control the Emir. Those so-called palace guards do not deserve their pay, which is three times yours each year.

Follow me, all of you! Let us go together to rescue His Highness the Emir and purge the treacherous ministers around him!

I, Hamid, hereby swear: as long as you are willing to follow me, the gold, silver, and land of Bukhara and even the entire kingdom shall be shared between you and me!"

Prince Hamid's speech was blunt and highly inflammatory.

As the Bukhara Ghulams under his command, they had inevitably suffered cuts to their pay and treatment at the hands of the Diwan council controlled by the Grand Vizier, and the fire of resentment had long filled the heart of every officer.

"Your Highness, we are willing to follow you, rescue the Emir, and slaughter the treacherous!"

Soldiers, after all—few of them were afraid of stirring up trouble. Only by stirring up trouble could they gain power and wealth.

Prince Hamid's words had barely fallen when the officers began to stir. In the chaotic assembly, a dozen or more officers planted by Balami were hacked straight into mincemeat. Then, under Hussein's direction, the officers split up and began mustering their troops.

A little over ten minutes later, more than fifteen thousand Bukhara ghulams had assembled.

Prince Hamid left his son in the city to hold it and sealed Bukhara's main exits. Then twelve thousand men marched out of the city in a vast, surging column toward the Eid al-Fitr celebration grounds outside the walls.

Almost at the same moment the wolf-smoke was lit, Nasr II sensed that something was wrong.

He had just summoned the myriarch of the imperial guard to send someone to investigate, when wolf-smoke rose from the direction of the Alka Citadel. That meant the Alka Citadel was under attack.

Nasr II's face instantly turned ashen. As an emir who had ruled the country for more than twenty years, he truly had not expected anyone to dare rebel against his rule, nor had he imagined that his cowering, obsequious son Hamid would dare rise in revolt.

"Kill them all, withdraw into the city, and send men to the surrounding towns. Have every iqta arm themselves and come to the ruler's aid!"

Nasr II swiftly gave his orders, pointing at the cannon fodder Prince Hamid had left behind in the assembly grounds as he shouted.

These men were all petty officials attached to Hamid. Nasr II had originally been unable to understand why Hamid had brought them along, thinking he merely wanted to swell his numbers. He had never expected they were a screen, meant to let Hussein slip back to Bukhara unnoticed.

The Eid al-Fitr celebration grounds lay at the foot of a small hill, with the broad Nami River on the left.

On the hilltop stood a stone fort, built long ago precisely as a precaution against this kind of event.

In past years, when Nasr II was in good spirits during Eid al-Fitr, he would even rest a night in this stone fort.

The iqta was the land system of Samanid Persia. Those who could be called iqta holders were mostly landlords with anywhere from a hundred to a thousand mu of land.

The standing army of Al-Sariya was drawn from among them. At present, there were still several thousand iqta households around Bukhara, and under extreme mobilization they could still raise ten or twenty thousand men.

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