Baghdad, 1258. The Mongol hordes are descending on the capital of the Abbasid Caliphate following a series of provocations from its ruler, caliph al-Musta’sim. Led by Hulegu, grandson of Genghis Khan, they are set to sack the city, killing hundreds of thousands and quite possibly bringing the Islamic Golden Age to an end. Two hapless locals, Hamza and Sulaiman, ponder what they stand to lose – and how willing (and able) they are to defend it…
Based on Moldova 2026
Satoshi — Viva, Moldova!
Sulaiman
I’ll tell you one thing, for starters – they’ve opened up the trade routes.
Samarqand… Kharkhorum… All the way to Cathay.
I once tried these white things from somewhere over that way.
Called lishis, or some such. Very nice they were, too.
And then there’s the way they’ve reformed the postal system.
I’ve heard that from Rus or Shangdu or Buqara,
a missive, god willing, will reach us here in Baghdad
in less than three months now. That quickly! It’s unheard of!
Hamza
That’s not what I’ve heard! Or rather, what I’ve heard is much worse.
Quick post and trade partners? Ha! The truth’s much darker.
A caravan from Tabriz was in the souq this morning.
They told me the so-called ‘Pax Mongolica’ is bollocks!
Sulaiman
Huh!
Flashback:
Doom-laden merchant
“Mongol hordes, wielding swords, kill and rape and pillage,
conquer all, level every town and village!”
Sulaiman
I would have thought that, on balance, was taking things a bit far
because of, at most, a minor disagreement.
And surely, in our case, the Mongols will see reason?
Their beef’s with the caliph – not innocent folk like us.
Hot-headed but ham-fisted Hamza strikes a pose.
Hamza
We will give them what for!
And we will go down fighting!
Sulaiman
Steady on, Hamza! Let’s hope the Mongols
rein in their bloodlust and come to their senses.
Who even knows if they are quite that ruthless.
Market-stall gossip! Come now, I pray you.
Geez, you think that blood, devastation,
death, war and horror are what is fated?
It surely won’t be as bad as all that now!
Come on, let’s ask this soothsayer.
Soothsayer
Dead cert: a massacre.
At worst? Genocide.
More likely androcide,
where they kill you guys.
Not you specifically –
all boys and all men.
Either way, here they are now…
And…
Hamza
You yellow bastards shall not pass! You see? I move for no man!
You’ve cut off my arms but I will do you for that!
Is that it, you chickens? You’re done with me now, I see!
You milquetoasts! You cowards! We’ll call it a draw then!
You pansies! You think that by cutting off our legs you’ve
deterred us? We’ve had worse. Nothing more than flesh wounds!
Mere scratches! Have at you! ’Cause we will do our duty
till you’ve had enough of invincible Baghdadis!
The Mongols ride on, slicing and dicing as they go…
Hamza
Come back here, you bastards!
The peaceable Sulaiman surveys the scene glumly.
Sulaiman
Well, I guess that’s told us.