Hope of Earth (59 page)

Ned saw a guard emerge from the royal pavilion. The man beckoned. “What happened in there?” Ned asked. “Where is my wife?”

“The khan has granted you an audience. Leave your weapons here.”

Perplexed, Ned stripped himself of sword and dagger, setting them on the ground to his left. “As you wish.” He approached the door, and the guards let him pass.

The khan was seated on his couch, resplendent in royal robes.

Ned stopped at a suitable distance from the couch and bowed his head, waiting to be addressed.

“Who are you?”

“Lord, I am Ned, of the family of Sam, a sometime scout in the service of Timur.” It was clear that Toqtamish did not recognize him as the one who had found him by the river. Ned was just one of thousands the khan had routinely dealt with.

“My cousin tells me she married you, according to Christian rite.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“She tells me you are a man of honor.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“She required me to give you a position.”

“I did not ask for this, Lord.”

“Will you serve me with absolute loyalty?”

“If you require it, Lord. So long as it does not conflict with my personal code of honor or my prior loyalty to Timur, whom I would never treat treacherously.”

“I do require it.”

“Then I hereby give you my oath.”

“How can you be of best use to me?”

Ned hesitated. “It is not for me to say, Lord.”

“Is this how you honor your recent oath of loyalty?”

“I fear giving offense.”

“Then brave your fear.”

He had to answer with candor. “Lord, I believe I could give you better military advice than you have had before.”

“How so?”

“You have suffered military reverses, so that Timur found it necessary to aid you. I know something of military strategy.”

“A Christian architect? What could you know of military matters?”

“A military architect, Lord. I have had some experience advising a military leader. I believe I could improve your defense—and your offense.”

“I have experts for these things—men who have trained all their lives. You must be a relative amateur. You feel you know better than they?”

“I mean no offense, Lord, but it is possible that they are too set in conventional ways. I have studied some of the campaigns of Timur. He is a military genius. He seldom does what others expect, and so he brings them down.”

Toqtamish was thoughtful. “He does have the touch. He may have lost some battles early in his career, but he suffers reverses now only when a general goes counter to orders and botches it. He has certainly helped me.”

“Yes, Lord. If you could follow similar strategies, you should be similarly successful—without requiring his help.”

“Without again requiring his help,” Toqtamish said. “This has considerable appeal.”

Ned was silent, realizing that the comment was not an invitation to speak further.

“How is it that you did not try to remind me of what you did for me at Syr Darya?”

Ned was startled. “I did not think you remembered, Lord.”

“I told you I would remember. I do not encounter many Christians who are not seeking my blood. Did you doubt my word?”

“Oh, no, Lord! But it was hardly my place to seek favors for doing my duty.”

“Your duty may have saved my life. You brought a party to my rescue when the enemy was about to catch me. Now my cousin swears by you. These are good recommendations.”

Ned was silent. Now he understood that the khan had had reason to interview him, and to trust him. Otherwise Ned might never have made it to the city. It would have been easy for the khan to have a party kill him on the way, rendering his marriage to Wildflower academic.

“That cross you wear—I remembered that, of course. Is it true that the cross is a symbol of the manner your religious leader was tortured to death?”

Ned thought it best not to argue theology. “It is true, Lord.”

“He must have been a brave man.”

“We consider him so. He remained true to his way despite all his enemies could do.”

Toqtamish nodded approvingly. “We Mongols value courage. What is the distinction between your brand of Christianity and the variety the Byzantines practice?”

“It is somewhat technical, Lord. You may not be interested—” He broke off, seeing the khan’s glance of irritation. “I apologize for presuming, Lord. The Byzantines believe that Jesus Christ was either the son of God—that is, Allah—or God Himself. Nestorians believe that Jesus was mortal, and experienced life fully in the manner of a human man. But he also partook of the Godhead, being vested with that eternal spirit. Thus his mother Mary was not the mother of God, but of the man in which God manifested. Jesus died, but God of course continued.”

“Just as Mohammed, the prophet of Allah, died, but Allah remains eternal.”

“Yes, Lord.” Again, it seemed better not to quibble.

“And for that trifling theological distinction, the Christian pope banished your sect as heretical?”

“Yes, Lord.”

“It is similar with Moslem sects. I think politics occur within religion as well as outside it.”

“Yes, Lord.”

The khan came to a decision. “I will give you a try. Now understand, I can’t give you an official position, because you are a Christian. My ancestors were indifferent to religion, but the people here are Moslem, and it would foment dissension in the ranks. I may privately find it a nuisance, but I have to acknowledge the passions of the people. Have you a way around that?”

“I agree, Lord. I shall be satisfied if you listen to what I have to say, and give my notions what trial you deem fair. I need no official position. Could you make me your body servant?”

“To tend my clothing? To dump my chamber pot? These functions are fulfilled by slaves, not free men! Wildflower would never forgive me for demeaning her husband so.”

“Maybe if you put a better title on it. Chief valet, perhaps. To ensure that your slaves do not err, perhaps causing you embarrassment. Then we could converse at your convenience, and you can send me away when you tire of me.”

“I will try it. But understand this: if your advice puts me into difficulty, I will banish you to another city.”

“Of course, Lord.”

“One other detail. You will have to convert to Islam.”

Ned was amazed. “Lord, I thought you accepted me as adviser as I am.”

“Yes. As adviser. But not to marry my cousin. A Moslem woman may not marry outside the true faith.”

“But we are already married!”

Toqtamish stroked his beard. “That does complicate it. Then I shall have to execute her for violating the word of the prophet. That will free you from that awkwardness, so you can serve me as a Christian. Too bad; I rather like her.”

Ned realized that he was being put to a test. “If one of us must die, it should be me. Wildflower is blameless.”

“No, I need you. You did not violate your honor; she violated hers. So it must be her.”

Was the khan bluffing? Ned was much afraid he wasn’t. The Mongols were famous for solving problems with brutal efficiency. Wildflower could indeed die. “I will convert.”

Toqtamish pulled on a cord, not even acknowledging his victory. Ned heard nothing, but in a moment a commander appeared. “I am appointing this man chief of my personal arrangements. He will be with me often, and will have complete freedom of my presence. If he speaks to you with a message from me, honor it.”

The man nodded respectfully, and backed away. It would be done.

“Have you any questions?”

“Lord, I know little of royal Mongol attire, let alone the requirements of the Moslem faith. If there could be someone to instruct me, at first—”

“It will be done. Anything else?”

“No, Lord. I shall be happy to rejoin my wife now.”

“That is not possible.”

Ned stared at the khan, not knowing what to make of this.

Toqtamish smiled. “No, nothing has happened to her. Nothing will. She must be married according to Moslem rites. She has therefore gone into seclusion until the wedding. You will see her then.”

Ned realized that any protest would be dangerous. He nodded.

The khan snapped his fingers. A servant appeared. “Conduct this man to my apartment and see to his comfort.”

The servant nodded, and waited for Ned. Ned bowed again to the khan and backed away. When the khan averted his gaze, tacitly recognizing that the visitor was now beyond his awareness, Ned crossed to the servant, and followed him out the back. He wasn’t sure what would happen to his sword and dagger, but knew that they would be attended to.

The servant brought him to an elegant tent suite in the city. The Mongols simply didn’t use buildings the way others did; they were always ready to move on at short notice. But that did not mean that the royal ones suffered privation. This tent was the virtual equivalent of a palace wing. “Sahara will see to your needs,” he said, turning away.

A strikingly lovely young woman of Mongol stock appeared. “You are the new valet?” she inquired in a dulcet tone.

“Yes. You are Sahara? I will need instruction in that office, and in the Moslem faith.” Ned remained bemused at his sudden conversion, but with Wildflower’s life at stake he had had no choice. Now he would have to follow through, for he would not cheat in this, however forced the decision had been.

“First you must dress appropriately. The khan must not be seen in the company of a peasant.”

“These clothes are all I have with me.”

“I will attend to it. This way.”

He followed her through several corridors walled off by hanging carpets and tapestries until they came to a huge bronze tub decorated with the stylized Mongol representations of predators and birds of prey. Ned looked into the hot water, uncertain where to go next.

“This is for you,” Sahara said. “I will take your old robes.”

“But this—this must be the khan’s bath,” he protested.

“It is. So you had better be finished before he returns.”

“But I can’t use his bath!”

She eyed him. “I suppose I could wash you standing beside it, but that would not be as effective. I prefer to wash you in it.”

“Wash me in it!” he exclaimed. “I don’t want you present.”

“Khan’s orders,” she said. “It would not be wise to evade them.”

“You’re sure? That he wants this?”

“Quite sure, Lord Valet.”

Still he hesitated. “Who are you? I mean, what is your position?”

“I am one of the wider pool of women who serve the khan in whatever manner he wishes.”

“A concubine?”

She frowned. “Unfortunately, I did not achieve that honor. I am a dancer who learned the necessary arts, but was chosen for other purposes. But I am glad to serve in whatever other manner he chooses. Now he has decreed that I prepare you and instruct you in the rudiments of the position to which you have been appointed.”

“Rudiments? I should learn it properly.”

“There is no need. His regular staff will attend to it.”

“But—”

“You are of course aware that you hold this position in name only. The khan wishes merely to converse with you when he finds it convenient.”

Evidently the instructions had been a good deal more detailed than had seemed possible. “Then I must trust you to guide me correctly. But is it really necessary that you attend to me in this particular fashion?”

“Yes.”

It occurred to him that the khan was testing him. Did the Mongol want him to be diverted by this comely woman, and change his mind about remarrying Wildflower? That would be a convenient way to salvage a princess from marriage to an infidel. But the very notion of hurting Wildflower that way appalled him. So he would brave the khan’s temptation and remain true.

He stripped his clothing efficiently and stepped into the huge bath. He had to admit it was a pleasure, for he was grimy from travel, and unlike many, he did prefer cleanliness. It was probably a legacy of Flo’s attitude in that respect. He sank into the water, reveling in its comfort. There was a broad stone bench set at a level to allow him to sit with the water up to his chest.

Sahara disappeared with his old clothing, then reappeared with what looked like a costly robe. She set this on a counter. Then she stood before the bath and began to remove her own clothing.

Ned was about to ask her what she was doing, but feared she would give an honest answer, so stifled it. He proceeded to wash himself, staying mostly submerged.

Sahara stood directly before him, stripping to the waist so that her large and well formed breasts were prominent. Then she stripped the rest of the way, and turned around so that he could see every part of her. He looked, determined not to give her or the khan the satisfaction of making him retreat, figuratively. She was as appealing a figure of a woman as he had ever seen. Even Wona had not been this generously endowed. The khan was certainly able to get the best.

“Now I will wash you,” she said, and stepped into the bath with him.

How far would she take it? Just as far as he allowed, he suspected. So he tried to ignore the provocation and act as if this were routine.

She stopped before him, her breasts floating. She reached out and massaged his shoulders and neck. Her touch was expert, and the sensation was wonderful. Then she moved around behind him and went over his back.

“You know your business,” he murmured.

“Yes.” She drew herself close to him so that her slick soft breasts pressed against his back, and reached around to massage his chest. She lifted her legs and sat behind him on the bench, her firm thighs embracing his hips.

Ned had controlled his reactions somewhat up till now, but this contact overwhelmed him, and he was suddenly fully aroused. Fortunately the water concealed his state.

Her hands worked down to massage his belly. He remained still and silent, determined not to protest.

Then her hands found his member, and grasped it with authority. Now there was no secret; she knew what she had accomplished. “Would you like to face me?” she inquired in his ear. “I will do whatever you wish.”

“I wish simply to finish this bath and get dressed.” It required effort to keep his voice level.