Harold Lamb

“ The finest cavalry of the sultan was encamped a league behind the town, apart from the rest of the army. Angora was continually a-throng with merrymakers, as if the fast of Ramazan had just been broken.
Knowing the inexorable discipline of the Ottoman army and the merciless cunning of Bayezid, Michael doubted the evidence of his senses. This was no idle laxity or sport such as the Thunderbolt was accustomed to use in pleasuring his men.
Even when Tatar horsemen were seen, swooping about the plain across the river, there was no sign of any preparation made to meet Tamerlane. ”

“ His pulse quickened, for he knew the strict discipline of Bayezid's army—despite the appearance of revelry—and was aware that every precaution was being taken, now that the battle with Tamerlane was impending.
“You are no true follower of the prophet,” said the sentry sharply. Michael's curls, escaping from under his loose cap, revealed that he was not one of the orthodox Moslem peoples.
“Your wisdom is fine as a rare gem,” acknowledged he. “I am a Christian who has not seen his own country for many years. ”

“ The arrow was plainly of Tatar make and Michael guessed that some man of Tamerlane's, hidden in the rushes across the lake, had sent it as a warning to Bayezid. He thrust the shaft under his cloak, and, hearing footsteps approaching, made his way down the gully.
For several days thereafter Michael was very busy. He frequented the bazaar, heard the news of the preparation for the sultan's hunt, and out on the plain of Angora behind the town saw regiments of Janisseries drilling constantly. ”