Lost Love Found (42 page)

The mounted man replaced his mask, then departed as mysteriously as he had come.

Valentina stared, shocked. Who had Temur Khan’s executioner been? The condemned man had recognized him. She was living in a nightmare.

Then her bonds were being cut. Before she could fall, for her legs were far too weak to sustain her, she was swept into strong, familiar arms. As she looked down, she saw the Tatar, Kusala, lying dead on the ground, a knife protruding from his back. Even as she looked, one of Devlet Khan’s men bent over the body and, casually retrieved his knife, wiping it on the dead man’s clothing before replacing it in his belt.

Lord Burke winced at the sight of his beloved’s bruised and beaten body. He and Murrough had been terrified for her. “ ’Twill be all right now, sweet love,” he assured her, kissing her brow. He carried her across the encampment to where a group of horses were tethered. Wrapping his heavy cloak securely about her nakedness, he placed her on the mount as gently as he could. “We must await the Great Khan’s judgment on those remaining, Val,” he explained. Mounting behind her, he guided their horse into the center of the camp.

From the ranks of women and children, Esugen pushed forward. Falling to her knees, she wailed forlornly, clutching the body of her master as his crimson blood covered her.

Devlet Kahn nodded to one of his lieutenants, who leaped quickly forward and, pulling a garrote from his belt, strangled the unfortunate slave woman. “Her first reaction was grief,” said the Great Khan dryly. “Her second would have been revenge, for she loved him.”

He turned to another of his men. “Take my brother’s head. This time Temur Khan will not escape his just retribution, nor will I allow any legends to grow up about him. Quarter his body. Give each quarter to one of my soldiers. Each warrior will ride ten leagues in the direction of a compass point and dispose of his section of the body. Each part must go to a different compass point. The body must be left in the open for the wolves and the carrion birds, if they will have it.

“Bury the woman and raise a cairn of stones over her grave so that the beasts do not dig her up. She was a loyal woman and she deserves that much honor.”

The Great Khan gazed at the huddled group of women and children. “You will be divided among my men, but no woman may be separated from her children. Girls over the age of twelve will be considered women. Boys seven and over will be given to families within my camp to be raised as loyal warriors of our people. Let all be done now as I have ordered!” He signaled to his men and they rode back to their own camp.

Mounted behind Valentina, his arms about her to keep her from falling, Padraic felt her shudder, and his heart contracted. “It’s all right now, Val,” he said softly.

She turned her beautiful face toward him, looking at him directly for the first time since her rescue. Her eyes were haunted, filled with emotions he did not recognize. “I am not certain that it will ever be all right again, Padraic,” she said to him in a curiously hollow voice, then turned away from him.

Temur Khan’s encampment was burned to the ground, for the Great Khan wanted nothing of his brother’s property. A black silk night covered them as the Great Khan’s party rode back across the steppes to their camp. A blindingly white quarter moon had risen, casting more than enough light for them to see their way easily. Behind them, the last evidence of Temur Khan’s existence blazed scarlet and gold against the darkness. Ahead of them, heralding their advance, the head of the half-mad renegade rode upon a pike.

For the Geray Tatars it was both an ending and a new beginning.

Chapter 9

B
orte Khatun did not weep for her eldest son. Her tears for Temur Khan had been shed long ago. The sight of his head upon its pike was a relief. He could no longer threaten them with his evil.

Her main concern was for Valentina, and she was shocked at the cruelties inflicted on the beautiful young woman during the few hours in which she had been in Temur Khan’s power.

At the first sight of the Englishwoman’s face, Borte Khatun saw that she was in shock. “Bring her into the yurt,” she directed Lord Burke. “My women and I will care for her.”

Padraic carried Valentina inside, laying her gently on a pile of pillows. She turned her face away from him.

Borte Khatun sent him away firmly but kindly, letting fall a heavy brocade curtain that shut off the women’s section of the yurt from the men’s. Pulling the heavy cloak away, she gasped at Valentina’s body. The fair white body she had examined only that morning for her family’s birthmark, that exquisite blemish-free skin, was now crisscrossed with whip marks, painfully scorched by the sun, and covered with bruises and teeth marks.

“My child, you must tell me,” she said quietly. “Were you raped? Do not be falsely modest with me, for if you were, I can prevent further complications from destroying your life. Do you understand?”

Valentian nodded. “No,” she whispered. “They did not rape me. Temur Khan intended to this night, but what they did to me was just as terrible. The memory will be with me for the rest of my life!” Then, haltingly, she told Borte Khatun of her nightmare.

When she had finished, Borte Khatun, said, “Tatars can be cruel, my child. I know it. When my sister and I were captured, so many years ago, we were forced to watch as our mother was raped by my husband’s men. We were to observe this, we were told, so that we would understand our own fate. When they finished with Mama, she was barely alive, for they had savaged her cruelly, so they cut her throat. Our father, driven to insanity by what he had been forced to observe, was beheaded in front of us.

“That night, my sisters and I were raped by the men who were to become our husbands. We were raped publicly, together, before the other men, so we would not think that any of us was being singled out for favor or for abuse.”

“H-how could you come to love a man who would do such things to you, madam?” Valentina sobbed.

“I was fifteen, child. My sisters were thirteen and twelve. When you are young, you want to live. Indeed, you believe you will live forever! At first I hated my husband. My memories of what had happened to my family, of what had happened to me, of my home in France, were strong. When I became
enceinte
I denied the existence of my child until one day I felt life quicken within me. The child was innocent of its father’s sin, and so from that time I hated my husband a little less. I have often wondered, though, if my hate toward my husband was responsible for my eldest son’s behavior.

“When hate no longer became my reason for being, I suddenly looked around me. I quickly saw that the Tatar way was indeed different from the French way. They had not mistreated and murdered my parents for any reason other than it was their way of life. In all my years as a Tatar woman, I have never come to accept that kind of cruelty, but at least I understand it. And believe me, my child, the Tatars have softened over the years. All except my eldest child, at whose hands you suffered such abuse. For that I am sorry, but you will survive. Now, let me tend your wounds lest they become infected.”

“You came to love your husband,” Valentina said. It was a statement.

“Aye, I did. Cruelty is but one side of the coin. The Tatars can be kind as well. It was our children that brought my husband and me together. He adored his children, and did not take another wife for several years after Javid and his brother were born. First we became friends. Later I came to love him. This was not the civilized world of France. Here, one needed to be strong to survive, and, believe me, my child, here, only the strong do survive. Much of what I first took as cruelty, I soon learned was only a means of survival. Yes, I came to love my husband, and he came to love me, even giving me the name of the beloved wife of his famous ancestor, Temuchin, who, in the West, was known as Chingis Khan.”

She fell silent, and Valentina remained silent as well. Slowly, with great care, Borte Khatun bathed the younger woman’s battered body. Valentina blushed shyly as the Great Khan’s mother delicately cleansed her most private parts using a bag made from the skin of an unborn kid. Attached to the bag was a cured length of the animal’s intestine to which had been attached a narrow, hollowed piece of polished ivory filled with tiny holes. Borte Khatun inserted the ivory length within her patient and began to knead the bag.

“Within this bag is a mixture of warm water, medicinal herbs, and powdered alum. The herbs will ensure that no evil humors harm you, and the alum will make your passage as tight as a virgin’s once more. Your betrothed husband is obviously very much in love with you and will gain much pleasure from you when you are wed,” Borte Khatun said with a smile.

Valentina said nothing, embarrassed by this very intimate cleaning and the old woman’s words. She remained silent until it was all finished. A young serving girl brushed and brushed Valentina’s hair until it was free of all dust. Then her long dark tresses were washed in perfumed water, brushed again, and toweled dry. Borte Khatun spread clean-smelling salve over Valentina’s wounds.

“I want you to sleep without a garment tonight, my dear,” the Great Khan’s mother said. “You will be quite comfortable beneath the down coverlet. Are you hungry?”

“No, madam, only thirsty.” Though Valentina had not eaten since morning, her appetite was gone.

Borte Khatun ordered a cup of flavored water brought to her patient. “I’m going to put herbs in the cup to help you sleep,” she said. “A good night’s rest will be the best healer of all. I know you are anxious to return to Kaffa, but you will have to remain here for several days in order to heal and regain your strength. At least you know there will be no danger from Temur Khan on your return trip. For that, I am thankful.”

Valentina took the cup and drained it. Then she lay back on her bed of pillows.

Borte Khatun drew the coverlet over her and withdrew from the small, curtained chamber. “Sleep well, my child,” she said.

Valentina lay staring up at the willow staves that formed the roof of the yurt. Despite her newly bathed body, her freshly washed hair, she would never be clean again. How could she be? They might cleanse her skin, but they could never cleanse her memory of the foul and degrading ways in which she had been used, the hands and mouths that had manipulated her helpless body. Her mother had been right. The East was a dangerous place, but she had never imagined in her wildest dreams that a woman could be violated so brutally without actually being violated. She shuddered with the too recent remembrance. Tears rolled down her face even as Borte Khatun’s herbs took effect. Finally she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

She slept until the following evening, waking slowly, her body aching. The alcove in which she lay was comfortably warm thanks to the small charcoal brazier near her bed. A little bronze lamp burned from its place on a flat-topped chest. Its light cast a pale gold light over the little space. Turning, Valentina saw a man seated near her bed. Her heart leaped.

“Wh-who are y-you?” she whispered.

“My name is Javid Khan,” the man replied quietly.

“Am I dead?” Valentina asked. She didn’t feel dead. Indeed, she felt warm, and she hurt horribly.

The man’s stern features softened and he smiled at her. His hair was snow-white, his eyes a clear light blue. “No, Valentina, you are not dead. You are very much alive, as am I. How do you feel?”

“Awful,” she admitted. “I thought you were dead. My mother was told you were dead. If you were alive, why then did you leave my mother to the
tender
mercies of Sultan Murad? My mother loved you!”

“And I loved her, Valentina! Do not, I beg you, believe otherwise. I only thank Allah that she was not there the morning my brother attacked the Jewel Serai. She would have been killed.”

“But you were not, my lord.” She sounded bewildered. “Yet the sultan’s janissaries said you were dead. I do not understand at all.”

“Why should you, my innocent English lady? This world of mine is far different from yours, or so I have been told. Let me explain so you will not think Javid Khan a cruel and unfeeling Tatar prince who deserted your sweet mother, and left her to a cruel fate in the arms of the sultan.

“That morning your mother awakened me to kiss me farewell. I wanted to make love to her, but she laughingly chided me that there was no time. Thank God I heeded her, or she would have died at my brother’s hands. I remember telling her I would have my revenge on her that evening. With a smile, she departed. It was the last time I ever saw Marjallah.

“I arose, dressed, and went to the stables, for it was my habit to ride each dawn. At the stables I was struck down. I never saw my assailant, and my wound was so severe that he assumed me dead and hurried on to continue his carnage. I never really lost consciousness, for I knew instinctively who my enemy was. It was my twin brother.

“Temur and his men destroyed everything they could and fired the buildings. They took heads in the ancient manner of our people and piled them by my estate gate. I was allowed to keep my head because my brother wanted me to be found intact, so there would be no question about my being dead.