Timur

And the man responsible for all of it, the man watching those regiments desert toward his own banners, is somewhere in his mid-60s, Still lame from arrow wounds he took decades earlier as a jobbing commander in a broken-up Central Asian Khanate, and he's about to become, however briefly, the single most powerful ruler in Asia.

His name is Timur.

And this is the day it all comes together, right before it starts, in its own strange way, to come apart.

To understand why Bayezid's army is dissolving on that field, you have to remember who Timur was, and more importantly, who he could never be.

We've spent a few nights now on this.

The emir who could never be Khan, the man from the Barlas clan who married into the family of Genghis Khan without ever gaining the right to sit on a Khan's throne himself.

Because that throne, by a century of custom nobody was willing to break, belonged only to Genghis Khan's actual descendants.

Timur solved that problem the only way it could be solved.

the strangest men that ever nature made i know not how to take their tyrannies my bloodless body waxeth chill and cold and with my blood my life slides through my wound my soul begins to take her flight to hell and summons all my senses to depart the heat and moisture which did feed each other for want of nourishment to feed them both are dry and cold and now doth ghastly death with greedy talents gripe my bleeding heart and like a harpy tires on my life theridemus and tamburlaine i die and fearful vengeance light upon you both

dies tamerlane takes kisroi's crown and puts it on his own head

not all the curses which the furies breathe shall make me leave so rich a prize as this theridemus ticheles and the rest who think you now is king of persia Though Mars himself the angry god of arms, and all the earthly potentates conspire to dispossess me of this diadem, yet will I wear it in despite of them as great commander of this eastern world, if you but say that Tamburlain shall reign.

Long live Tamburlain, and reign in Asia!

ENTER THE SOLDEN OF EGYPT, CAPOLINE, LORDS AND A MESSENGER.

awake ye men of memphis hear the clang of scythian trumpets hear the basilisks that roaring shake damascus turrets down the rogue of volga holds anacletae the soldan's daughter for his concubine and with a troop of thieves and vagabonds hath spread his colors to our high disgrace while you faint-hearted base egyptians lie slumbering on the flowery banks of nile as crocodiles that unafrighted rest while thundering cannons rattle on their skins

nay mighty soldan did your greatness see the frowning looks of fiery tamerlane that with his terror and imperious eyes commands the hearts of his associates it might amaze your royal majesty

villain i tell thee were that tamburlaine as monstrous as gorgon prince of hell the soudan would not start a foot from him but speak what power hath he

Towards the end of the 14th century, the Ottomans became the unquestioned hegemon of southeastern Europe following victories against Serbian-led coalitions at Maritsa in 1371 and at Kosovo in 1389 and then against a large crusader army at Nikopolis in 1396.

The first major drawback for the Ottomans was not caused by Europeans but by Tamerlane, the ruler of the Timurid Empire.

At the Battle of Ankara in 1402, the Ottoman Sultan Bayezid was captured and later died in captivity.

Central authority was lost and the empire descended into civil war.

On the Lord Bacon.

Not long since the trite and frivolous question following was debated in a very polite and learned company, that is, who was the greatest man, Caesar, Alexander, Tamerlane, Cromwell, etc., etc.? Somebody answered that Sir Isaac Newton excelled them all.

The gentleman's assertion was very just.

For if true greatness consists in having received from heaven a mighty genius, and in having employed it to enlighten our own mind and that of others, a man like Sir Isaac Newton, whose equal is hardly found in a thousand years, is the truly great man, and those politicians and conquerors, and all ages produce some, were generally so many illustrious wicked men.

But there are many races which appear to be so incapable of improvement that we can never hope to get a good government out of them.

What is to be done, then? The former device of Providence in such a case was extermination by some more virile stock, an Attila or a Tamerlane pruned off the weaker branch.

Now we have a more merciful substitution of rulers, or even of mere advice from a more advanced race.

That is the case with the Central Asian Khanates and with the protected states of India.

As we drew together, I was struck by the familiar appearance of the stranger, and we changed our course a bit to try, if possible, to overhaul her before she reached Braddock.

As we bore down on her, our suspicions were confirmed, for she proved to be none other than the good old Tamerlane, which at one time I had thought of buying, and which had influenced us to some extent in laying out Typhoon.

Designed by Larry Huntington as a straight sailing craft, she carries more sail in proportion to her size than does Typhoon.

She is seven feet shorter on deck, but her bowsprit is much longer, and her jigger extends well over her counter.