The Glorious Might of Egypt - MTW write-ups

This PBM was organised by The Emperor. It was a Glorious Achievements game.

econ21 took the first reign, Sultan Al Mustali I:

1087, the Arabian desert

Only the restless sleep of Al Afdal Shahinshah disturbed the peace of the Bedouin encampment. Night falls hard in the sands of Arabia. Temperatures fall precipitously and most creatures of the desert, like the Bedouin themselves, retreat into shelter. But the sound of Shahinshah’s imaginings escaped the muffling walls of his tent and gave a ghostly quality to the moonless night.

In his dreams, Shahinshah saw his Sultan lie dead in a foreign land. The Kingdom of Egypt was ablaze and the Sultan’s son was held captive by infidels.

Then in the vision, the years passed and a new Sultan came to the throne. But the throne was not in the great palace of Cairo, but in a grey merchant house in Antioch. The glory of Egypt was lost, the Kingdom reduced to a single province and the Sultan little more than a petty merchant prince imprisoned in Antioch.

Shahinshah woke from the dream in anger. This vision of the future must not come to pass. Hurriedly, he rose and grabbed his sword belt. The sudden activity woke another warrior sleeping in the tent:

“Captain, what are you doing?”

“I am riding to Tripoli … I must see the Sultan.”

“But at this hour … you will surely become lost.”

“Have faith, Hamid. Allah sends the stars to guide us … as he now sends me to guide our young Sultan.”

With that, Shahinshah left the tent and headed towards the camels. Hamid rubbed his eyes and reluctantly crawled out of his blanket. He and the other men would have to move fast if they hoped to catch up with their captain.


1087, Tripoli

Sultan al Mustali sat forward keenly to watch the tired, sand-baked figure flowing into the throne-room. A fine figure even when covered with dust and dirt, Shahinshah was the Kingdom’s greatest general, as shrewd and charismatic as he was brave. Shahinshah approached the young Sultan and bowed his head as he went down on one knee.

“My Lord, I am grateful for you seeing me at this hour.”

“You need no appointments with me, Al Afdal. What is it that has brought you all the way from Arabia?”

“A vision in the night, my Lord. And the need to light the fires of war.”

The Sultan sat back in his throne. This audience was not going to be brief.

“Tell me everything”


1087, Cairo

Ahmed al Mukawakkil looked surreptitiously around the palace before turning to his fellow conspirator.

“So your men will follow me?”

“Yes, they have no love for the Sultan. He was a fool to leave Cairo. Soon it will be ours.”

Mukawakkil smiled. The Sultan was a fool but he, Mukawakkil, must proceed carefully. “But we need to make sure other provinces will follow us. Send out messengers to each of their leaders.”

Suddenly, there came the sound of approaching heavy boots from the hallway. Al Mukawakkil held up his finger to silence his co-conspirator. As the mailed Ghulams marched into the room, Al Mukawakkil’s hand slid down to touch the hilt of his scimitar. A stern Ghulam captain strode up to the two men and then abruptly bowed before Al Mukawakkil. Perplexed, the plotter stuttered:

“What is this? What do you want?”

The Ghulam held out two scrolls of parchment, both with the Sultan’s personal seal, before bowing again.

“My Lord, allow me to be the first to honour you as the new Amir of Egypt and Qadi-al-Quda. The Sultan wishes you to levy troops for the army and send at once all available soldiers to Tripoli.”

Amir of Egypt? Qadi-al-Quda? Al Mukawakkil gave a dazed smile, before turning to the shadowy figure on his left.

“About that other matter.” he said quietly “Belay my previous order…”.


1087 Tripoli

Sultan al Mustali looked sadly at the proud figure of Shahinshah.

“General, you have persuaded me. You are right - we must strike pre-emptively or our children will not forgive us.”

Shahinshah smiled triumphantly and rose hurriedly.

“My Lord, this is a most wise decision. Syria is like a dagger at the throat of our kingdom. I will muster my warriors at once…”

“I am sorry, my friend, there is something I have not yet told you. You must prepare for disappointment … You cannot lead the invasion.”

Shahinshah stopped suddenly and turned, his eyes rounded in surprise and puzzlement.

“I know your skills as a commander far outmatch my own. And I know that as a consequence, more of our soldiers will fall in the battles to come than if you were at their head. But you must understand – I have to lead by example. My young sons must see what is required from our family and I can only teach by showing them.”

The captain lowered his head in assent.

“Your majesty, it is proper that you should lead us into battle. I only ask that I be given a frontline command, to protect another part of our kingdom.”

The Sultan nodded gently – he would have to make his own mistakes on the battlefield, but he could not hope for a safer pair of hands to hold another part of the front.

“I will lead the march into Syria. You will garrison Antioch. I can spare only a few peasants. But under your command, I am sure they will fight like veterans.”

Shahinshah acknowledged the compliment, but wondered if the Sultan understood how closely the Turkish army matched that of Egypt. While Egypt should be able to take Syria in a surprise attack, whether it could hold on to it and to Antioch during the ensuing war was another matter.

http://homepage.ntlworld.com/simon.appleton1/Syria.jpg

In AD1088, Sultan al Mustali I leads the invasion of Syria


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1098, Syria

The years following the seizure of Syria had been a tense time for Sultan al Mustali. Shahinshah, now Amir of Syria, had been correct – al Mustali had gone to war with Turkey without realising that he had no numerical superiority over his enemy. Fortunately, the Turks had been stunned by the unprovoked attack and did not respond aggressively. Nonetheless, it took almost a decade of steadily training more soldiers before Sultan al Mustali felt confident enough to renew his attack. In that time, al Mustali tried in vain to court first the Almohads and then the Byzantines into an alliance. But Egypt remained alone. Undaunted, al Mustali led an army into Edessa in 1097. The Turks did not oppose the invasion, but instead sent an emissary offering terms.

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“Opinions, gentlemen?” Sultan al Mustali asked his counselor's.

“We should accept, your majesty” opined the greasy figure of Mutawakkil, Amir of Egypt and Qadi-al-Quda. “We have much building work to be done at home and have made important gains at little cost.”

Amir Shahinshah broke in: “The Qadi-al-Quda is right. We should accept … if we wish to be a people that scavenges in the desert for gains that come at little cost.”

With relief, Sultan al Mustali turned from the unctuous figure of Mutawakkil to Shahinshah: “And what kind of people do you wish us to be?”

“The kind that is prepared to sacrifice for the greater good. The kind that is not swayed by petty titles and minor gains. The kind that is focused on the prize and relentless in its pursuit.”

“The prize?”

“To escape the desert … to defy the crusaders … to spread Islam throughout the known world. In a word, the prize is Europe.”

Mutawakkil scoffed: “The desert sun has gone to your head, general. Or perhaps it is one too many of those strange draughts drunk in this occupied province of yours.”

“That is enough, gentlemen. I value and respect your advice. But this offer of a ceasefire confirms that at last we have the Turks on the run. Qadi-al-Quda, compose a suitably ambiguous reply to the Turkish Sultan. General, ready an army for me to lead into Armenia.”


1099, Armenia

Sultan al Mustali looked around him at the force Shahinshah had mustered for him to command. With nearly 1400 men, it was four times the size of the army he had led into Syria eleven years ago and even now dwarfed the Turkish army that Sultan Kaikosru had gathered to oppose him.

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Sultan al Mustali brings his rival to battle

The Turkish army was composed mainly of horse archers, while the Egyptian army was largely on foot although with a sizable number of camel-mounted Bedouins as well. Al Mustali struggled to control his large force as it advanced over a wooded hill that stood between him and the enemy. The desert archers became strung out and were left without protective screens of Nubian spearmen; the spearmen themselves became mired in the woods while the Bedouins lagged behind in the rear. By contrast, the Turks employed their skirmishing tactics brilliantly, raining arrows down on the spearmen and over-running unsupported Egyptian foot archers. Egyptian casualties mounted, but their army was too large, and their opponents too lightly armed, to be stopped. As the Egyptians moved down off the wooded hill and into a valley, the Turks in desperation launched a charge with all their Ghulam cavalry.

http://homepage.ntlworld.com/simon.a...1/Armenia2.jpg

The Turkish ghulams charge the advancing Egyptians, as the horse archers rain death from afar.

As the Egyptian spearmen struggled to join the fray, only Mustali’s personal escort and some accompanying Bedouin could be found to meet the charge of the Turkish ghulams. Mustali fought with valour born of desperation as, one after another, his bodyguard were slain. Soon only one of his companions was left. In the chaos and confusion of battle, Mustali found himself trading blows with his rival, the Turkish Sultan Kaikosru. A great warrior, the enemy Sultan pulled back when he recognised Mustali’s crown and paused to laugh at the spectacle of Mustali, frantically parrying blows from the Turkish ghulams.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, great Sultan? Blood and death? What else do you fight for, if not the pleasure of it? I, I fight for my land and my people who you have attacked. But you, do you even know what you are fighting for?”

By that point, the Turkish ghulams around Mustali had also halted, to allow their Sultan to speak. Mustali found himself embarrassed and without words. The silver-tongued Shahinshah would have had a fine retort, Mustali thought. But the general’s words about sacrifice, destiny and conquering Europe seemed rather hollow when away from the man’s considerable charm. The awkward silence was interrupted by the approach of the lagging Egyptian spearmen. Kaikosru turned his horse, shouting to Mustali:

“This is not over yet” and then pulled down his visor, before heading his horse away from the battlefield.

Mustali spurred his own mount in pursuit, but was unable to catch his adversary.

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Sultan al Mustali pursues his Turkish counterpart from the field of battle in Armenia.

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1101, Rum

“My Lord, I still think this offensive is a mistake.” protested Amir al Mutawakkil, the Qadi-al-Quda. “Our workshops in Egypt and Arabia have not produced enough mail to equip our infantry. Even my own personal company is unarmoured. We should consolidate and wait until we have trained armoured Saracens to carry the battle.”

“Have faith, Amir. We have driven the Turks to this last redoubt and now we merely need to finish things.” Sultan al Mustali said wearily. “And, as you know, Amir Shahinshah has managed to secure the services of some armoured foot from Europe to aid us in the battle.”

“But two years ago we suffered heavily at the hands of the Turks despite outnumbering them nearly three to one. We lost more men than they did then. My spies inform me that, for their last stand, they have mustered an army that outnumbers ours. If tomorrow’s battle goes as badly for us as the last, we will be defeated.”

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The denouement of the war with the Turks

Al Mustali hoped he could conceal the momentary doubt he felt. Mutawakkil was right – tomorrow, there was the potential for disaster for the kingdom.

At that moment, Prince Nasir staggered into the tent, lurching unevenly in a dazed stupor.

The Sultan’s eyes flared and he said quietly:

“Qadi-al-Quda, would you please excuse us?”

The rotund Amir bowed and slinked out of the tent, although once outside, he loitered just close enough to hear the angrily exchanges within.

“Nasir You shame me And on the eve of battle”

“What does it matter, father? Unlike my brothers, you have given me no independent command. All you require is my body on the battlefield, not my mind. And my body will be there.” Nasir slouched down onto a couch, mumbling. “Even Amir Shahinshah gets to lead his own army, but not me, not your third-born.”

Al Mustali tried to control his temper as Nasir continued his rant.

“He is not who you think he is, father. Shahinshah consorts with the Old Man of the Mountains.”

“And you know this how?” said Al Mustali, quietly. “No... don’t answer that. Has it not occurred to you that the Amir may consort with Hassan but still have my interests at heart?” Al Mustali then added, looking pointedly at Nasir. “As no doubt do any others of my house who also visit the Assassins.”

Nasir did not answer, but shuffled uneasily with glassy eyes, so the Sultan continued in a conciliatory voice:

“Dear Nasir, you are precious to me and will always have my love. Surely it is an honour that you, of all my sons, are the only one to ride at my side into battle? I need you with me tomorrow for the same reason as Hassan seeks your loyalty – for your killer instinct. Now – rest my son. We rise at first light.”

The Sultan lay the drugged form of his son down on the couch and tenderly covered him with a cloth.

Outside Al Mutawakkil scuttled away, watched from the shadows by a wiry man with a spear.


The final battle

Amir al Mutawakkil shifted uneasily. The arrows from the Turkish horse archers were raining uncomfortably close to his unarmoured Nubians. The Sultan had learnt from his last battle and made sure his desert archers were closely supported by heavier troops. So far, the desert archers were taking the brunt of the enemy’s barrage and so far, they were giving a good account of themselves as, one by one, Turkish horse archers were felled by the Egyptian volleys.

Al Mutawakkil raised his eyes to the wooded hill that overlooked their position in the valley. The enemy was on that hill, with many archers, and storming it was not a prospect that appealed to the rotund Amir. But to this point, Sultan al Mustali was fighting cleverly – refusing to advance up the hill and instead engaging in archery duels on the plain. And for now the Egyptians were getting the better of this contest.

“Over there, my Lord” one of the Amir’s men shouted. Al Mutawakkil turned to his left, seeing a troop of Turkish bedouin’s emerge from the wood on the hill and charge down toward the Egyptian archers. The Amir was reassured to see armoured spearmen hired from Europe marching to intercept. Then a second flurry of movement caught Al Mutawakkil’s eye. With mail glinting in the sunlight, a troop of fine Ghulam cavalry was charging straight toward the Amir’s position. Already, Egyptian archers were scattering.

http://homepage.ntlworld.com/simon.appleton1/Rum2.jpg

The last charge of Sultan Kaikosru of the Turks

On a hill overlooking the contest, Sultan al Mutali watched the charge of the Turkish ghulams. The charge was led by none other than the Turkish Sultan Kaikosru himself. But it was unsupported. The bloodbath in Armenia had at least drained the Turks of most of their heavy cavalry.

“Send the Italian infantry to meet the charge.” Al Mutali ordered.

Soon the ghulams were entangled in a forest of spears – armoured Italian infantry to the front, followed by companies of Nubians charging in from the rear. With a slow inevitability, the fine mailed horseman succumbed to the mass of infantry around them until in the end there remained only one lone rider – a great figure in the finest armour, lashing at those around with lethal blows of a heavy mace.

From afar, Sultan Al Mutali watched his brave Turkish counterpart. “Pull back the Nubians.” he ordered. “Send word to Prince Nasir, now is his hour.”

Slowly, the unarmoured Nubians pulled away from the melee, as Prince Nasir’s own troop of ghulams trotted at a leisurely pace around to the rear of the embattled Turkish Sultan. Prince Nasir lowered his lance and, with a thunder of hooves, a wave of death engulfed the valiant Turkish sovereign.

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Prince Nasir rides down the valiant Sultan Kaikosru

Amir Al Mutawakkil dusted himself off the ground. He was lucky to have survived the charge of the Turkish ghulams, he thought. But his relief was short lived. Sultan al Mustali had ordered a general advance. The Egyptian spearmen were to storm the wooded hill to their front, leaving their archers to fend off the remaining Turkish horsemen.

The Amir puffed up the hill, breathlessly. Few Turkish arrows hampered the Egyptian advance, but through the trees the Amir could see dense formations of Turkish spearmen advancing to meet them.

“Charge” the Amir shouted, as his men crested the hill and crashed into the thick undergrowth that topped it.

The Amir kept at a safe distance, but the conflict was confused, with no clear battlelines. Hopefully, the sheer numbers of the Nubians and the armour of the few European mercenary foot would give the Egyptians the advantage, the Amir thought. Out of breath and trembling, he rested against a tree but then heard a faint sound of movement coming from the behind it. He turned slowly and was shocked to see a wiry man pointing a spear at him. The Amir noticed the man wore the golden colour of Egypt, rather than the olive green of the Turks.

“Oh, praise be to Allah - you are Egyptian” Al Mutawakkil said with relief.

“Amir Shahinshah sends his compliments” the warrior said, before plunging his spear into the appalled Amir’s chest. “He said to say, you may consider yourself relieved of those posts of office you were so undeservedly awarded.”

No others learnt of the Amir’s death until his body was found after the battle. The Egyptians eventually drove the enemy out of the wood. The second wave of the Turkish army merely consisted of more horse archers and companies of peasants who, deprived of their Sultan, were easily driven away. With the death of Sultan Kaikorsu, the Turkish dynasty ended – his heirs having perished two years earlier in the bitter fighting in Armenia.

http://homepage.ntlworld.com/simon.appleton1/Rum4.jpg

The Egyptian infantry drive the Turks out of the woods and into oblivion.


1113, Rum

Amir Shahinshah looked sadly at the dead Sultan Al Mutali.

“You would not listen to me.” he shook his head. “I implored you. I told you – you must fulfil your destiny. The road to Constantinople was clear. After storming Rum, you should have waged war on the Roman Empire. You could have bequeathed your son a fabulous estate, but instead – what have you to show for the last decade of your rule?”

http://homepage.ntlworld.com/simon.a...Shahinshah.jpg

Amir Shahinshah, eminence grise of the Egyptian kingdom.

“Instead of fighting, you contented yourself with building. Well, in the end, people must be true to their nature. And you were first and foremost a builder, not a warrior. But you have allowed the people to grow fat. Why, look at your last born - the chinless wonder, Muhammad He cannot compare to those you raised during your campaigns … great warriors like Mustali and Baybars.”

“But while you were true to your nature, you betrayed our destiny. I will make sure your son and heir Mustali is not content with mere building, trade and farming. Each year, armoured companies of Saracens march out of my stronghold in Arabia while troops of fine Armenian horse are mustering here in Rum. Our warships already guard the coast and soon will enter Roman waters.”

“I must leave you now, old friend. I must once more ride to my new Sultan and light the fires of war.”

As the aged Shahinshah turned to leave the Sultan's lifeless body, he saw Prince Nasir standing in the doorway.

“Don’t worry, old man. I have not been here long. Just long enough to hear your crack-brained ranting.” Nasir smiled.

“Nasir, I have always liked you. Do not cross me now.” Shahinshah warned.

“Or what? You will do to me what you have done to my father?” Nasir snorted. “By the way, what did you do to my father? Our physicians are sure he died of natural causes. Still, I suppose if the Old Man of the Mountains can make a severed head talk, he can pull off a trick like this.”

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Long after its formation, the cult of the Assassins will continue to exert a sinister influence over the fate of Egypt.

“Nasir, you are high on hashish again. No one will listen to you. Now out of my way.” Shahinshah pushed past Nasir and exited the room, leaving the young man staring blurry eyed at the dead form of his father.

“Rest, father, rest.” Nasir said gently. “Pay no heed to the ravings of that deluded old warrior. You have started our family on a path to glory and have earned your peace.”

Nasir made to touch the hand of his dead father, but then – preferring to remember the warmth of their contact in life – stopped, bowed his head one last time and took his leave.

http://homepage.ntlworld.com/simon.a...Egypt_king.jpg

All hail the new Sultan of Egypt, al Mustali II