Chapter 668: The Old Man’s Adventure (2)
Apostolos, absorbed in his nightly routine of documenting the day’s events by candlelight within his tent, was jolted by the unexpected noise. With a sense of urgency, he donned his robes and stepped out into the cool air, only to witness the swift justice of the Ottomans already unfolding before him. Two riders approached, their presence commanding attention in the dim light, dragging behind them a figure bound and subdued.
Hamza Bey, emerging from the shadows, presented the captive. "Old man," he began, his voice carrying the weight of authority and expectation, "this man sought escape into the wilderness, armed and desperate. Our men captured him after a skirmish that nearly wounded one of mine. Tell me, what fate befits his attempt?"
The tension in the air was palpable as Hamza Bey fixed his gaze on Apostolos, his eyes reflecting a challenge, probing for a response that would align with the severity of the crime.
Apostolos, maintaining composure, faced the dilemma presented to him. Meanwhile, the prisoner, a man claiming to be a merchant of the Asanes household, pleaded his case through sobs and desperate cries. "I am merely a merchant! I am kin to Lord Treasurer Alexios Asanes! You have no authority over my fate!"
Yet, the gravity of the merchant’s folly weighed heavily upon Apostolos. He articulated the breadth of the merchant’s transgression, outlining the potential catastrophic consequences his actions could have precipitated—a strained diplomatic relationship, the endangerment of their protectors, and the spectre of renewed conflict.
Apostolos sighed. "You joined my convoy, for the humble wish of making money believing that the Anatolian market is a new market to be explored, I only approved your request because of Alexios, and now, because of you, I almost screwed this mission, harmed the relationship between the two states, almost harmed our protectors, and might even lead to another round of war between the two friendly states which might cause the death of another thousand!..."
"You, your actions, have transcended mere punishment," Apostolos concluded, his voice resonating with the gravity of judgment.
"You, you cannot do this to me! I..."
Cutting off the merchant’s plea, Apostolos turned decisively to Hamza Bey, their eyes locking in a moment of profound understanding. "Please, Hamza Bey," he implored with a tone mingled with regret and resolve, "carry out the execution here and now."
Hamza Bey nodded and raised his hand, with one swift slice, the Asanes man is no longer flattering with words, as his head is sent rolling on the floor, with his eyes still bulged up carrying the look of surprise, as his body slowly thumped forward, with blood being splattered right onto the shoes of Apostolos.
Apostolos frowned, as he picked up a handkerchief, and wiped off the blood from his shoes, cursing. "Greedy animal, dirtying my shoes."
Hamza Bey gave the old man a deep look, before dispersing his men and going back to guard.
...
The delegation’s journey towards Ankara continued, undeterred by past missteps, ensuring no further attempts at desertion. They gradually acclimated to life alongside the Ottomans, a testament to the delicate balance of suspicion and necessity that defined their interactions. Particularly under Hamza Bey’s vigilant gaze, the convoy, with Apostolos at its helm, navigated the complexities of Ottoman surveillance, their every move meticulously reported back to Hamza Bey’s brethren.
The geopolitical landscape they traversed was fraught with tension. The ascension of Sultan Abu Al-Nasr Sayf ad-Din Al-Ashraf Qaitbay to the Mamluk throne introduced a formidable opponent, one whose strategic acumen and military prowess posed a significant challenge to Mehmed Bey’s defences. The relentless advance of the Mamluk forces towards Adana, underscored by a succession of Ottoman defeats, signalled a precarious shift in the region’s power dynamics. Mehmed Bey, cornered and compelled to retreat, found his fortitude tested as Adana braced for siege, its outskirts a staging ground for Mamluk war machines amid the uneasy alliance with local Armenian communities long oppressed under Ottoman rule.
The plea for aid sent forth by Mehmed Bey found little solace among his kin; the domestic front was stretched thin, with Ali Celebi embroiled in the east against the Aq Qoyunlu’s onslaught, leaving Hamza Bey as the solitary beacon of support. The burden of command weighed heavily on Mehmed Bey, whose solitary contemplations by night reflected the gravity of their predicament. The territorial ambitions of their adversaries were starkly contrasted: the Mamluks’ focus on strategic locales like Adana, Kozan, and Mersin, and the Aq Qoyunlu’s covetous eyes on Greater Armenia, paled in comparison to the Roman’s expansive aspirations for Anatolia itself.
Where can the four of them go, if Anatolia, their home, is lost?
The existential quandary faced by the Bey siblings underscored the dire stakes at play: the loss of Anatolia not only threatened their sovereignty but posed a fundamental question as to their very survival and legacy in the face of encroaching powers.
Mehmed Bey harboured deep reservations about Apostolos from their very first encounter. It was unthinkable for him to divulge sensitive information to this stranger from afar. Nonetheless, Apostolos’ persistence in visiting Mehmed Bey daily eventually led to a relaxation of the stringent restrictions previously imposed on the Rumelian delegation. Granted permission to engage in trade, these Rumelian merchants became trailblazers, representing the first such group to conduct business deep within Ottoman territories after decades of mutual embargoes.
The goods they brought—exquisite silk linens, refined silverware, and delicate glassware—swiftly captured the admiration of the Ottoman populace. Their quality and abundance propelled these items to the pinnacle of market demand across every region they visited. This success ignited a trend in the marketplaces, prompting local Ottoman entrepreneurs to contemplate the long-term benefits of establishing ties with these foreign merchants. With elite Ottoman guards ensuring their safety and maintaining order, or at least in the eyes of the locals they are, these Rumelians presented a unique and potentially recurrent opportunity for local collaboration and partnership.
What if these merchants come back in the future? What if they need local partners when doing business here? Only the quick minded folks can make money first.
Mehmed Bey observed these developments with a mix of emotions. While he harboured suspicions about the true intentions of the Rumelians, he was also mindful of his brother’s directives to not jeopardise any chance of fostering peace between their nations. He reassured himself, considering the rarity and potential benefits of having foreign merchants introduce new goods and ideas to his compatriots, longing for a taste of the outside world.
...
As the caravan ventured deeper into Anatolia, Apostolos etched his name in history as the first high-ranking Roman official to penetrate so far into what was once Roman territory in nearly a century. Contrary to his predecessors who had marched through these lands with military might, Apostolos arrived bearing the fruits of Western manufacture, a testament to his peaceful intentions and the overarching goal of his mission.
Apostolos was acutely aware of the constant vigilance Mehmed Bey exercised over him and his entourage. Throughout their journey, Apostolos maintained a low profile, predominantly confining himself to his carriage or tent and only venturing out sporadically under the watchful eyes of Ottoman guards. His behaviour was deliberately understated, in keeping with the agreement to project an image of modesty and diplomacy. Mehmed Bey, for his part, remained unyieldingly cautious, extending his scrutiny to every member of the Rumelian convoy. Yet, the activities of these Rumelian visitors did not deviate from typical merchant conduct; they were there purely for the purposes of peace and commerce, engaging in the sale of sought-after commodities like silk linens, non-alcoholic beverages, glassware, and various metal goods.
Such merchandise turned out to be exceptionally popular in Anatolia, a region that had been ravaged by centuries of conflict and had seen its industry and craftsmanship, particularly from Greek and Armenian communities, severely diminished. What remained was a predominantly agricultural and pastoral economy, ill-equipped for the mass production of even basic tools like iron hoes.
Mehmed Bey articulated his unease regarding these trading activities in a letter to his younger brother. He questioned the wisdom of Muslims indulging in luxuries offered by infidels and raised alarms about the potential military implications of selling metalwork to a region that could repurpose it into weapons and supply the Ottoman army, in turn using it to attack the Rumelians.
Ahmed Çelebi, in response, posited that allowing the Ottoman Raiyah populace access to such goods could serve as a much-needed outlet for years of accumulated stress and war fatigue, for the Raiyah are already on the verge of uprising, potentially stabilising the nascent rule of the four brothers. As for the trade in metal products, he shared his brother’s reservations but pointed out the strategic disadvantage their state faced regarding iron reserves. Key mining regions were either engulfed in conflict, controlled by rival factions, or produced insufficient quantities for the state’s needs.
His conclusion was to maintain the status quo, suggesting a pragmatic acceptance of the situation as it was, balancing the immediate benefits against the potential risks.
