Swords From the East (14 page)

Mingan put away his knife, stealing a glance at the dark stain that appeared on the other's tunic, and folded his arms in his sleeves. By heritage and training, Mingan kept both his dignity and presence of mind.

"We are going in the same direction, 0 Mongol," he said reasonably. "I may not abide here, so you shall ride in my chariot to the place you seek. Meanwhile, shall there be fellowship between us?"

In silence Temujin eyed him. Friendship, to a Mongol, had a deep significance. He made decisions quickly. "Tahil tebihou, the bargain is struck. Drive!"

Mingan would have liked to parley awhile-to know what the son of Yesukai was doing three hundred miles from the Three Rivers, his homeland.

"Your horse," he began-

Temujin stirred impatiently.

"The gray pony will follow, in time. The shadows are turning to the east: we have far to go. Take the reins! "

Although Mingan put the horses to a sharp trot, Temujin was not satisfied until they were whipped into a headlong gallop that set the chariot to plunging dangerously. He watched the road ahead steadfastly. Mingan studied him, when opportunity offered, from the tail of his eye.

"In the ebony box behind you," he ventured, "you will find rice, and fruit and quail meat. You are hungry-"

Promptly Temujin reached down, without shifting his scrutiny. He emptied the box by fistfuls, gulping down the food avidly, as if he had been without a meal for several days. Then he gripped the side of the chariot and planted his legs wide. Presently Mingan saw that he slept, on his feet. It was a cloudy day and the mountain slopes were swept by a chill wind, while a light rain drove in their faces. But Temujin slept on.

After awhile Mingan allowed the horses to slow down to breathe and the boy opened his eyes at once.

"This is not the place. We draw rein to a ravine. The road from the Taidjut steppe runs through it to these hills. In the time milk takes to boil we will be there."

"What seek you in the ravine? If we are to ride together as comrades it is fitting that you should tell me."

Temujin, always sparing of words, explained swiftly, his voice falling into the deeper notes of a Mongol who speaks of vital things.

"Four suns ago a party of Taidjuts came to the tents of Yesukai while most of our warriors were out on the plains hunting. Yesukai, my father, gave them seats at the fire on the guests' side, and milk and mutton and drank with them in fellowship. When they rode off, at dawn, they slew the boys who were guarding the horse herd at the tents and drove off the herd. Yesukai swore by Erlik, but he is old and the chill gets into his bones, so he called for one to pursue the thieves, and slay them."

As Temujin seemed to think this enough said, Mingan prompted him.

"How many were the Taidjuts?"

"Eight or nine."

"Where are your men?"

"I am alone."

"Why did you not rouse up the leaders of your tribes? You cannot cope with so many warriors alone."

Temujin made no answer, and Mingan reflected that the Mongols would have thought it strange if the khan called for others to win back horses stolen from him, or if he had called back the orkhons, the heroes, from the hunt.

"There is peace between us and your emperor, 0 Cathayan," said the boy slowly. "If I had sent the boors from my household to pull down the Taidjuts, they would have become drunk and fallen upon some of your hunting parties. For this is the moon of the emperor's hunt. So said Yesukai, who is old, and wise."

Mingan hid a smile, but presently fell serious. If it became known that he had aided a prince of the Mongols against the Taidjuts, Chung-hi would accuse him of a crime. What was it that the Warden of the Western Marches had said of the Taidjuts? He had prepared some intrigue against Yesukai, with their aid.

"Here is the ravine," quoth Temujin, signing for the Cathayan to draw rein.

The trail they were following dipped sharply down into a wooded glade where it joined another road, marked by many hoofs, running east and west. This, Mingan knew, was the main trail from the Taidjut pastures to the Kinghan Mountains, whither many of the tribesmen had come to aid in the great hunt of the emperor.

The wind had ceased, and with it the mist of rain. Far out on the brown prairie the setting sun cast its rays in among the trees. Mingan saw, about a mile out on the Taidjut road, a mass of moving beasts, and the tiny glints that were the sun's reflection on spear tips.

"We have come in time," he said, and Temujin nodded silently.

II

A Hobgoblin and a Woman

It was the part of wisdom for Mingan to withdraw now, especially as the Mongol youth did not want the chariot to descend into the ravine, where its wheel tracks would be visible to the approaching horse thieves. Especially, too, when after a few moments he heard a neigh, and saw the gray pony trotting up.

It would not do for the Taidjuts to see him with Temujin, to bring word of what they had witnessed to the Cathayan Court. That they would reach the hunting pavilion safely, he had no doubt. They must be bound thither with the captured horses, to sell to the Cathayans. And how could one boy-or two for that matter-armed only with a bow and knife overcome eight men full grown, well mounted and armed?

Temujin guessed what was in his mind.

"Blood will be spilled here," he said, "and Erlik, the lord of the underworld, will welcome new souls to his court of darkness before night falls on the ravine. Turn to the left, and seek the road below you when you have gone three arrow shots, and you will reach the assembling place of the Taidjuts at the pavilion, if that is your wish."

As Mingan made no move to go, he added shortly-

"No man will know you have been with me."

But Mingan found that he did not wish to go. He was curious, and desired to see how Temujin would strive against the tribesmen. The boy's eyes were sunk in his head from weariness, yet the mist of sleep had cleared from them. He was not mad; still single-handed he was preparing to attack his enemies. Mingan's pulse began to throb, and he felt a thrill stealing through his veins that was more than the exhilaration of driv ing a racing-chariot or the excitement of the chase. For the first time he stood where men would slay each other.

To Temujin, he knew, this feeling was an old experience. Born in the heart of the feuds of the great plain of the Gobi, the Mongol was older in experience than he, who had been weaned on books. And Temuj in's quarrel was just.

"I will stay," Mingan said, under his breath.

And in a moment he was glad he had chosen so; he felt a great liking for the Mongol boy; at the same time his hands quivered, and his lips twitched.

Temujin looked at him sharply, grunted, and swiftly set to work tearing strips from his girdle to bind the muzzles of the chariot horses so that they would not neigh at the approach of the Taidjut beasts.

"What is your plan?" Mingan spoke in a whisper, involuntarily.

Temujin shook his head impatiently and signed for him to follow. Making sure that the three horses were screened by bushes from the trail below, the two boys scrambled down the bank and sought among the willows until Temujin found what he was looking for-a clear spring, about which were the ashes of former campfires. He glanced out at the sun, now close to the horizon.

"Can you write words, 0 Cathayan?" His eyes were on the miniature silver jar of India ink, and the brush tied, as always, to the girdle on the prince.

As Mingan nodded, he continued.

"Then write these words: Under this tree" -hastily he ripped the bark from the hole of an aged chestnut with his knife, exposing the gray un- der-surface-"will die the khan of the Taidjuts, a thief."

Swiftly Mingan dipped brush and ink fragment in the spring and traced the six Mongol characters, a hand's length high on the bare bole of the tree. As he did so the last rays of the sun passed from the branches over their heads, leaving the ravine in obscurity.

Temujin raised his head, hearing the hoofs of many horses drawing nearer, and pulled Mingan back through the willow clumps until they were hidden from the spring and the message on the tree. Then he strung his bow, tested the gut, and squatted down, placing between his knees the quiver he had taken from the saddle of his pony. Mingan had to make two attempts to fit the silk string of his bow into the notch.

Then he found that he had no arrows. Temujin gave him two and whis pered: "Some of the dogs will be out of sight, at the rear of the herd. We must not suffer them to escape, or the whole tribe will be raised against us, and our graves will be dug not far from here."

Mingan saw a rider trot up to the spring, dismount, ward off his pony from the water with a blow, and kneel to drink. He was a broad man with massive shoulders; a sword as long as his leg, and wide at the head as a battle ax, hung from his belt.

Five others came up in a group, and four of them followed the example of the leader. The fifth, who carried a bow ready strung and wore the eagle feather of a chief in his fur cap, glanced around keenly as if he had seen or heard something suspicious. He sighted the writing on the tree, moved closer to peer at it, and called for a torch.

Mingan felt Temujin touch his shoulder restrainingly. The boys held their breath while one of the Taidjuts kindled a light leisurely and ignited a torch taken from his saddle. When he had waved it around his head and the flames spluttered up brightly, he handed it to the chief of the Taidjuts.

Still Temujin did not move, and Mingan studied the brown, seamed faces and the evil, glittering eyes that peered around under bronze helmets and sable hats. Suddenly the khan gave a shout of rage, as he grasped the meaning of the writing. At the same instant Temujin stirred, and an arrow sped between the willow stems, thudding into the neck of the chieftain.

The stricken man rose in his stirrups, the torch still gripped in a rigid hand. Twice more Temujin loosed shafts, while Mingan fumbling with cold fingers missed his first shot. His second shaft, better directed, pierced the chest of one of the warriors. Then the torch fell to earth, and the body of the khan slumped down on it, casting the glade into deep shadow.

Two of the Taidjuts were dead and two sorely hurt. Temujin began to creep away on hands and knees. Mingan had stood up, to loose his arrows, and now a shaft whizzed past his ear. He saw the first comer, the Taidjut warrior who had drunk from the spring, advancing toward him, gripping with both hands the hilt of the sword-the weapon that now seemed to Mingan to loom large as the warrior himself.

Tapering to a hand's breadth at the hilt, it widened to the length of a man's forearm at the tip. It rested on the Taidjut's right shoulder, curving down over his back. Mingan could see the small, black eyes of his foe fixed on him, and hear the grating of his pointed teeth as he snarled in rage. His two arrows being sped, the boy cast aside his bow and drew his knife, standing his ground.

The skin of his back prickled ominously and his muscles were rigid for action, yet what to do he knew not. The Taidjut leaped forward, letting the ponderous blade slide down behind him, while both fists raised the hilt over his head. Up came the blade and down at Mingan, who leaped aside.

His heels caught in the roots of the underbrush and he fell, while the warrior raised his weapon for a second stroke, grunting in triumph.

Then was heard the whistle of an arrow-a shaft that thudded into the knotted chest of the man as if into a wooden drum. A wheezing of air from pierced lungs, a bubbling of blood in the throat; the Taidjut staggered, yet took another step forward grinning in a ghastly fashion at Mingan.

"Dog-Cathayan!"

A second arrow from the underbrush buried itself in the side of his head and he went down in his tracks. Mingan had not thought that a bow could be as powerful as that of his Mongol ally. He took up the sword of the dead man and looked around. The last of the six Taidjuts had mounted his pony and was riding off toward the horse herd.

Temujin left his cover and jumped on one of the best of the horses moving restlessly beside the spring. Leaning down in the saddle, he caught up from the earth a lasso dropped by one of his enemies-a stout bamboo pole to the end of which was attached a cord terminating in a running noose. Wheeling his pony, he started after the fugitive, leaving Mingan breathless, with the great sword in his hand, but not a man on foot to face him.

He watched the two riders disappear into the gathering twilight. Then, half-disbelieving the reality of all that had passed in the last two or three minutes, went to the Taidjut khan, whom he found to be stone dead. So little time had elapsed in the fight that Mingan was able to light a fresh torch from the smoldering one on the ground.

Trailing the sword, he stooped over one of the wounded riders, and found him mortally hurt. Turning to the other, who still breathed, he started. In the dim light he had not seen that this was not a Taidjut warrior, but a Cathayan, and, by the feathers in his square cap, an imperial courier.

The man's sight was failing, but he made out the glitter of the yellow robe of the prince, and the peacock feather.

"Lord," he panted, striving to grip the edge of Mingan's dress, "you are of Cathay, not of the Horde. Know that I, an unworthy servant of the planets around the sun, have fulfilled my mission."

"What mission?"

The man peered at Mingan vainly, passed his hand over his eyes.

"I cannot see your face, lord of the Dragon brood. But you wear the robe of the Dynasty and bear a warrior's sword-I was sent by him who stands behind the Dragon Seat -Chung-hi -who bade me give order to the Taidjut khan to see that Ye Lui Kutsai Mingan, a young prince of the north, was slain if he came alone to the hunting pavilion. Make it known, honorable sir, to Chung-hi that I-"

He coughed and fell back on his side.

"It shall be known that you delivered the message."

Mingan spoke mechanically, while he wondered if this were the rider that passed him last night. A swift courier, and faithful to Chung -hi. So the prince who stood behind the Dragon Seat was seizing already his heritage-issuing commands that should come only from his father! The aged emperor could not protect the youths of royal blood who came to his court from the outlying provinces.