Casca 34: Devil's Horseman (11 page)

“Aye,” Casca nodded. He waved away the offer of kumass, the fermented mare’s milk that had a kick like a mare. He did nod to the offer of wine, however. “He doesn’t like me one bit.”

“It was useful to see who backed him and who opposed him. I need to know the dynamics of my sub-commanders, so as to place them to the maximum effect in a battle. Kuyuk also needed slapping down but I waited till he’d said too much.”

“I wondered why you’d kept quiet at first,” Casca said. The wine was a touch acidic but palatable. He admired the crystal glass; it looked like it had come from Samarkand or one of the Asian cities along the Silk Road.

“I would prefer there was no quarrelling,” Batu said with a sigh.

“Unavoidable, Prince Batu,” Subedei said with a smile. “When you have so many young ambitious men of equal rank together – well it would take a god to keep them from arguing. Cousins of yours they may be, but not all of them hold you in respect, do they?”

Batu shook his head sadly.

“So – to other matters,” Subedei said. “I am told you were attacked in Riazan by four Mongols.”

“How did you know that?” Casca asked, surprised.

“I have an excellent intelligence network,” the fat Mongol said, beaming. “Little goes on without my knowledge. You of course don’t know to whom they followed?”

“No. They died well.”

“Of course; proper Mongols know how to die well. I must impress upon you, Old Young One, to take better care of yourself. Always have a guard.”

“I would probably know who was behind it if you’d allowed Batu Khan here to find out who’d trashed my yurt.”

Subedei pulled a face. Batu shrugged. “I found out little. Mouths are closed.” Batu looked apologetic. “Whether through fear or loyalty I cannot say.”

“Pah.” Casca was disgusted. “It’s someone very close to you,” he said to Subedei.

“I know. It may be someone quite unexpected,” he said cryptically.

Casca looked at him for a long moment, then threw down the last of the wine and stood up. “I shall return to my yurt and have my slave tend my needs.”

Subedei laughed and clapped him on the knee. “At least you’re living like a Mongol! Sleep well.”

“I shall.” Casca nodded to Kaidur who’d been standing close to the way out. They left and paused in the searing cold of the open air. “Interesting meeting,” Casca said. The other guard came up to them and waited, his teeth chattering. “Ah hell, let’s get to the warmth of our yurt.”

Kaidur nodded with enthusiasm. “Have you got any clearer idea who wants you out of the way?”

“Kuyuk of course,” Casca said, his breath billowing in huge clouds ahead of him. “But Subedei threw me a little tasty comment at the end. Did you hear it?”

“About someone unexpected? Yes. Who did he mean?”

“I really don’t know, Kaidur. Was he referring to Batu? And who the hell told him about those Mongols who had a go at me in Riazan?”

Kaidur shook his head slowly. They gratefully entered the yurt and the warmth of the fire crackling away in the center. Tatiana and Ashira tended the two men, and Casca noted the growing attachment between Kaidur and the former slave girl. He grinned and tucked into a slab of goat, spiced with mint.

“You wish for more lessons?” Tatiana asked, kneeling by his side.

“Not yet. You cooked this?”

“No – Ashira did.” Tatiana colored a little.

“Can you cook?” Casca asked bluntly.

She shook her head. Casca grinned and carried on eating the excellent meat. “You should learn,” he said between mouthfuls. “A slave who can’t cook her master’s meals is of no use. You’ll be sold to muck out animals.”

“Oh please, no!” Tatiana said, horrified. “you wouldn’t sell me to one of those – those....”

“Horrible Mongols?”
Casca suggested, a gleam in his eye.

“Yes,” she whispered forcefully, her eyes wide. “I hate them!”

“But not me? I fight for them.”

“You’re different. I’ve heard so much about you, and you saved me from those animals!”

“But I killed your compatriots back in Riazan. Don’t you hate me for that?”

“Perhaps I did at first, but you’ve saved me from rape, and treated me well. I’ve heard of so many brutes
who mistreat their slaves here, it’s terrible!”

Casca grunted. In that, he agreed with her. He could never understand why slaves were badly treated. He’d had slaves many times and always tried to look after them. If a slave were too much trouble, then rather than beating him or her, get rid of them to another. He found if you looked after a slave, then generally they looked after you. “You were a slave owner in Riazan?”

“Oh God, no! Slavery is against the word of God! We had servants, yes, but not slaves.”

“What’s the difference?”

Tatiana hesitated. She frowned, thinking. “A servant can go whenever they so wish; a slave is property.”

Casca nodded. “You’d rather be a servant here than a slave?”

“Oh….. you mean it?”

“Sure. You’d still be here and be my personal servant, but you’d be free to quit if you liked at any time.”

Tatiana beamed widely. It lit up her face. “Oh, you’re wonderful! Thank you!” she threw her arms round Casca’s neck. Surprised at first, he returned the hug and rolled his eyes at the open-mouthed Ashira and Kaidur who were sitting a few feet away.

Later that evening after Kaidur and Ashira had retired to his sleeping quarters, and hadn’t quite kept the noise low enough for Casca to hear what they were up
to, Tatiana slipped out of her small bed a few feet from his and knelt by his side. She had a silk night gown on and shivered as she looked down at him. Casca’s eyes weren’t quite shut and he looked at her for a moment. “Aren’t you getting cold?”

“Would you like me to share your bed tonight?” she asked, trying to keep a tremor out of her voice. She’d decided to offer herself to him as a thank you for his kindness. To her he was all she had now,
and if she could cement his attachment to her, then so much the better. She had a fear he would tire of her and then what would happen?

Casca smiled and lifted the bed sheets. She slipped in and cuddled into his side. “I’ve never been with a man before,” she said quietly, not quite managing to stop the catch in her voice.

“Then I shall be gentle, little Tatiana.”

She felt
a warmth at that. She liked the way he’d said those words. Her gown was pulled off and his hands began to slide over her body, sending waves of warmth and – something delicious – rippling over her body. She didn’t know exactly what she was to do but he put his finger to her lips and whispered for her to just remain as she was, and his exploration of her firm, youthful figure went on.

Casca liked what he was touching. She was fit, young,
athletic but had a full figure. Good child-bearing hips, he’d once heard a woman remark of another in his past. She had breasts to match, and he played with them for a while. Tatiana was moaning softly, writhing gently. Heat was rising from her body and she was in a heaven she never had experienced before.

Moving his fingers lower he massaged her between her legs, seeking for and finding the spot she reacted to the most,
then concentrated on bringing her to a peak. “Oh…ohh….ohhh my God…”

He had over twelve centuries of experience and used them on the girl. She had hoped to cement his feelings to her; what happened was the other way round. She could never leave him. She realized that during the second time he brought her to a climax. But it didn’t worry her. She was happy and wanted to remain so. The sterile life of the family she’d been a part of in Riazan had been swept away. This was living.

And when he entered her, it was beyond even that. She knew she would willingly be his slave even if she were free to leave.

And then he began to teach her how to please him.

The siege of Kolomna was short-lived. Casca remained with the Mongols besieging the city. To the south a river snaked through the forest, and
a thin screen of men were posted along that flank to prevent anyone escaping in that direction. The rest of the force under Mongke and Kuyuk was thrown around the east and west.

To the north Batu, Subedei and the other two princes rode with their men, up the hill and into the thick forest that grew on the lower slopes. Casca’s call to the garrison to surrender was ignored and it didn’t take long before the catapults smashed a hole in the defenses. While waiting for Kuyuk and Mongke to gather their men to assault the city from two directions, he saw the battle in the distance on the hill. The Russians were ambushed perfectly and routed. Most of them fell where they had made a stand but a few escaped to bring the sorry tale to the other cities, which is what Subedei wanted. Word of the Mongol terror was spreading.

Casca refused to take part in the sacking of Kolomna. Before long, another plume of smoke was rising above the trees to mark the death of another city. The principality of Riazan had been destroyed along with the city of the same name. They resumed their march of destruction. The winter was still as harsh and a blizzard descended upon them two days out of Kolomna. But the hardy Mongols, used to severe winters around Lake Baikal and Mongolia itself, were unaffected by the weather.

They had brought along pack animals perfect for the season; double-humped camels from Bactria that could withstand the icy weather. Their thick, matted hides insulated them from all but the most severe conditions. As they made their way deeper into the forest, some of the men began grumbling. They were superstitious and worried about the spirits of the forest. But this stopped once they arrived at the gates of Moscow. This was yet another forest city, surrounded by a wooden wall and defended by archers and pikemen.

The wall didn’t stop the Mongols. It was smashed aside and the wild horseman rode through, wiping out the garrison. This time, however, Subedei ordered the taking of prisoners, and Casca sat on horseback watching as hundreds of miserable looking Muscovites were herded out of the burning city. Many of the slaves whom they’d brought from Persia and Transoxiana had died, through over working, disease or the winter weather. These would replace them. Casca also thought even the Mongols were getting tired of butchering people.

One individual was marched roughly up to the waiting army commander. Casca saw he was richly dressed and wore a clipped beard and a cropped hair style. His rich red tunic was clearly of a high quality. Since Casca by now could speak passable Russian, Subedei had a second use for him. Casca was happy to be the official translator as it kept him in the know about what was going on.

“Who are you?” Subedei barked as the man was thrown to his knees in front of him.

“I am Prince Vladimir of Suzdal. I demand I be treated with respect as a prince of the Russias!”

“You will be treated as a subject of the Khan of all the Mongols, dog. Do not presume to demand anything. You are not in a position to do so!” Subedei glared down at the captive.

“I plea for mercy, in that case.
We have been vanquished. Please show mercy!”

“Mercy?”
Subedei stared hard at the kneeling man. “I only let you live because you are useful as a hostage to me, and your people can serve my army. You will come with us to the city of Vladimir where your Grand Duke resides and persuade him to surrender the city to us. If you do so, you and your city of Vladimir, which you appear to have been named after, will be spared. If not, then the city – and you – will be erased from the land.”

The miserable prince was hauled up and shoved on his way to captivity. Casca studied the column of prisoners before speaking to Subedei. “The Grand Duke won’t be easy to take. I doubt he’ll wait at Vladimir for our arrival.”

“Agreed,” Subedei said, not taking his eyes off the line of Russians. Every so often he clicked his fingers and pointed at a particular prisoner. The guards would then step in and take the one Subedei had pointed out away to a separate pen. “But he is now isolated and cut off from help. We will corner him and finish off the dog. Once that has been done we can march on our next victim. These stupid princes still remain divided, jealously guarding their own principality as much from their neighbor as from us. It will be their ruin.”

“And if the Mongol people fall into such petty rivalries?”

“Yes, you and I know what would happen, Old Young One.” Subedei looked sadly at Casca for a moment. “We both know it will come. But before I die I wish to spread the Empire as far as the sea. Tell me, how far does the land stretch until we come to the seas?”

“Oh,” Casca grinned. Here was something he could easily tell the aged general. “To the west lie many kingdoms; Poland, Hungary, Germany, France. Beyond France is the ocean.
You seriously thinking of getting that far?”

“If I can.
Do you think we can be stopped?”

“Yes, but only if Europe unites.
I’ve not been to Europe for a long time, and maybe it’s time I returned. There are heavy cavalry – armored knights – that can cause you problems, but their infantry isn’t worth spitting at, at least most of it wasn’t when I last saw Europe. You could stand off them and shoot them to pieces with your archers. Some countries like to use the crossbow, but you can outshoot them easily.”

“It is as I thought,” Subedei grinned, “it is destiny. A weak and divided enemy is easy prey. My soldiers will sweep them aside.”

“Winning a victory is one thing,” Casca said, “taking advantage of it is another.” He shivered; he’d read those words once, long ago. His mind whirled, thinking back to his days as a Roman soldier. The wax tablet he’d held in the barracks of the tenth legion in Jerusalem swam into his vision; he’d been reading an account of Hannibal the Carthaginian. His own brother Hasdrubal had said as much of him. Hannibal could win a battle, but not know how to take advantage of it.
Funny how I use the words I read long ago at times,
he mused.

“Do not worry about that,” Subedei said, “I have a clear strategy in mind.”

“But will your successors? How will Batu cope with the gains you make? Once this is all over where will he rule from?”

Subedei sighed and sank in his saddle.
“Old Young One. I feel old and tired, and at night I ache in places I never knew existed. I do not have much longer in this world, so all I can do is to present Batu with a gift of lands that will make the other princes envious. I hope this envy translates into them directing their energies at extending the Empire against other peoples, but I fear they may try to take land from him instead. Batu is still learning the art of warfare, and you and I should take this opportunity to teach him before it is too late.”

“Do you think he will try to succeed Ogedei?”

Subedei looked at Casca in surprise. “He will not be allowed to. He’s from the House of Jochi, and therefore tainted with illegitimacy. Nobody from his line will ever be allowed to be supreme Khan.” He held up a hand as Casca opened his mouth. “I know what you are thinking, Old Young One, and in your place I would think the same. But believe me, he is not the one who is causing you so much trouble. Look to the other lines, the Houses of Ogedei and Tolui, and Chaghadai. Your enemy is within one of those.”

“One from six candidates, then?
But how did they learn so fast that I have the Stone?”

“That I do not know, but I would presume that they have spy networks such as I do. Beware; watch your back. I’m safe, particularly now I don’t have that damned Stone. I’m just a fat old general who will soon die, and not connected to any of the Houses.”

Casca gave the general a long hard stare. “So that’s why you really gave me the damned thing? To make sure you were safe from assassination?”

Subedei shrugged. “I’m truly sorry, Old Young One. But think on this matter. I’m important to this campaign, more so than you. I’m mortal; I can feel it in my bones! You are not. I have to stay with the army and so am always in the company of the rival princes. You do not need to be so. Just make sure you do not hand it to one who is unworthy of the succession.”

Casca glanced in the direction of Batu and his brother Siban, the two nearest princes. They were out of earshot. “Very well, but you owe me a big, big favor. And count on it that I’ll collect it before we part.”

“Of course.
Do not mistake my reasoning, nor the fact I am very grateful to you.”

Casca grunted and wheeled his mount away from Subedei. He was fed up with their self-interest. He needed to get into a fight. It would help his growing frustration and temper.

From Moscow they turned east. Casca thought it a good move anyway, whether the next city on Subedei’s shopping list was there or not; their path had been generally north westwards, and if anyone was going to raise an army to take them on, then it would look like they were heading for Novgorod, the powerful northern Russian principality. But to swing round the other way gained them time and allowed them to descend upon lonely, isolated Suzdal and its capital, Vladimir.

One hundred miles east of Moscow the forests parted to reveal the huge city of Vladimir. Golden onion-shaped domes of the cathedral rose highest from the many buildings that greeted their eyes, and the walls looked stronger and thicker here than in the other cities.

Casca and Kaidur were once again given the task of demanding the surrender of the city, but this time Subedei gave them a bigger escort from his personal retinue, plus the hapless Prince Vladimir who was to add his voice to the call to give up. Casca of course was there to make sure no treachery occurred.

The land around the city had been cleared for nearly half a mile.
Across a frozen river that snaked in huge meanders to the south stood a very thick forest. The city itself stood on a slight ridge that dominated the river. Soldiers were packed on the ramparts and banners fluttered in the chill wind that came from the east, a knife-edged breeze born in the vast wildness of Siberia.

Casca was frozen, but the Mongols with him seemed unaffected. Small wonder they were campaigning in mid-winter. Muffled in their fur clothing they seemed impervious to the cold. He led the group to just within bow shot range, and filled his lungs. “I come from the mighty Mongol general Subedei, commander of the army of Batu Khan, subject of the Universal Khan Ogedei, ruler of the World.”
Shit, that sounds pompous
. “You are ordered to open your gates and surrender this city to the Khan. You will become his subjects and pay him taxes. You will be permitted to worship what god or gods you so wish, and carry on with your normal lives, provided you acknowledge him as suzerain and pay him taxes. You are also to surrender unto his representatives the Grand Duke and the princes of this city. What say you?”

One of the men on the ramparts stood up higher and leaned forward. “I am Prince Mstislav of Vladimir, and I refuse to bow to your outrageous demands. Go away, scum of the world!”

“We have your brother, Prince Vladimir here with us.” Casca took hold of the Russian. “Look, your life depends on you persuading them to give up. Give it your best.”

“They won’t surrender,” Vladimir said. “I wouldn’t in their position. Once you have all of us you’ll execute us. You think us stupid?”

“Find out where the Grand Duke is.”

Vladimir shrugged. He called out to his brother. “Hail, Mstislav! As you can see these dogs have captured me. They want the Grand Duke. I suspect they want him to put him to death.”

Casca sighed. Kaidur looked at him; the Mongol knew enough Russian to know Vladimir wasn’t being co-operative.

“Tell them he’s not here; he’s raising an army to whip these curs back to their kennels.”

“Where?” Casca snapped.

“Go back to Tartarus, you devil’s spawn! We don’t negotiate with the agents of Satan.”

“I’ll give you hell, you stupid Russian peasant!” Casca yelled. “Now surrender or your brother gets it.” Mstislav’s words had reminded him of what the Brotherhood of the Lamb often called him. It didn’t make his temper any better.

“My brother is prepared to enter Heaven.” The prince turned and spoke to someone. A tall-hatted priest appeared, dressed in long black robes, and began waving a smoking brass incense burner in the direction of Vladimir, chanting some liturgical words.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Casca exploded, “I haven’t time for this nonsense!” He waved at the waiting Mongol guard who was holding a particularly large looking sword. “He has failed to co-operate,” he said heavily.

The Mongol’s face lit up with glee. He stepped forward one pace, struck Vladimir in the back, causing him to fall to his knees,
then raised his sword high above his head. Casca looked away. There came a thud, and the head of the prince rolled across the ground. A howl of anger rose from the Russians. Casca stepped forward, as much to get the headless figure of Vladimir out of his vision than anything else. “Then look upon what will happen to you all. Heaven does not await you; Hell does, and I’m ready to dish it out in spadefuls.”

“You talk big, you traitor,” Mstislav said tightly. The callous murder of his brother had shaken him to the core. “I shall personally cut your head off and mount it from the gates of this city.”