Swords From the East (30 page)

So quiet were they that the roar of conflict welled up distinctly from the town beneath. It was quite dark now, and Mingan, a stone's throw from the group under the torches, was invisible. Chepe Noyon, in his strange armor, lay face down among other dead.

"Have you seen aught of the Tiger and Mingan?" Genghis Khan asked Jamuka. "The two palladins rode hither seeking Burta, and here they should be."

Out of the corner of his eye the Master of plotting glanced at the body of Chepe Noyon that lay without semblance of life. Mingan, he believed, was long since dead of hunger and madness in the Gobi sand.

"Nay, my cousin," he made answer, trying to read the face of the Mongol. "Your heroes have not crossed my path."

Jamuka's life hung by a hair, and before anyone else could speak, he made a last attempt at trickery. It was as bold as it was clever. With his foot he turned over the body of the blind king so that Genghis Khan could look down at the hacked breast and bloodied features.

"Here, 0 my Khan, have I slain your greatest enemy, Prester John the Christian. It was he who plotted against you without cessation, who hunted you from place to place like a ferret. Of his skull I will fashion you a drinking-cup set with diamonds and covered with gold.

"I yield myself captive to you."

Stooping, he plucked some blades of grass and set them between his teeth in token of submission.

"By Allah," Jamuka continued, "I fought against you, obeying the command of this king. But when he took the maiden Burta, to hold as hostage, my heart turned from him, and forcing my way into his walls I slew him. At your feet I place my life. I have spoken."

"And falsely."

Mingan appeared, walking toward them out of the darkness, the Gipsy girl in his arms. In a few words he related how he had found Burta under guard of one of Jamuka's slaves. As he held the girl, her head fell back from his elbow and her tresses hung to the earth; she seemed without life. Mingan himself did not know whether she breathed or not, so heavily had she been drugged.

For a second the deep-set eyes of Genghis Khan searched the face of the woman, and the fingers of his right hand closed into a knotted ball. He looked inquiringly at Jamuka, who had started back in dismay.

The Turk was too wise to deny Mingan's charge.

"All this is true," he admitted. "At the command of Prester John was it done. To him the blame, to me the fault that I obeyed him. Now I would serve you."

On the ground near his feet a man stirred. Iron armor clinked, and Chepe Noyon raised himself on an elbow arduously. The first thing that became clear to the Tiger's hazy sight was the thin face of Jamuka. The next was the body of Prester John.

"Ha, Jamuka! Brave Jamuka-Podu in his sleep, and now a blind man slain by your hand! Dogs could not have sired you-dogs are faithful, and you betrayed the blind who trusted you! A sword-give me a sword. Ho, Mingan, are you near me? Help me to go up against this snake-"

The eyes of Genghis Khan glowed, and he held back the wounded man who was struggling to rise. Peering up, Chepe Noyon recognized him and sank back.

"A boon, 0 my Khan. Never have I asked a boon until this time. Let me finish my quarrel with Jamuka, but first do you cry a truce that the lives of the Keraits in the city below be spared. They were deceived by this Thing that walked out of a dunghill. They are no foes of yours. 0 my Khan, this that was Prester John is slain, and I ask of you what he came forth to beg-"

"The Keraits withstand me with weapons in their hands. Let them die so!"

The mask of anger did not fall from the grim countenance of the Master of the Horde. Motioning the half-frantic Tiger to silence, he strode among the Jelairs to confront Jamuka.

To do this it was necessary for him to step over the blind man, and Mingan saw him glance downward a single time, a little contemptuously. A weakling, this, the glance related plainly, as so many words-was this graybeard who could not save even his own life the Prester John of Asia? In this way, Genghis Khan greeted and said farewell to the friend of his father, for thereafter he thought no more of him, save to consent to Chepe Noyon's request that the body be buried under the altar of the cross in the castle.

"Jamuka, my cousin," his deep voice proclaimed, "you are like the partridge that hides in the brush-like the horned owl that strikes at night. From afar my falcons have looked down upon your work of blood. I am not blind. I followed the tracks of the riders who raided the Mongol ordu during the snow season, and I saw that after a long time they led back to the Jelair lands. I looked for the branding marks on the ponies that rushed into my camp at Podu's feast, and they were Jelair marks. The Turkish wrestler who would have slain me with a dagger was your servant-as I knew when I advanced to meet him."

He put his right hand on the Turk's shoulder, gravely.

"You would have slain me. When you failed, you won over the Keraits by deceit so that you could overcome me and sit in my place. You have been faithless to one master; how could you be faithful to me?"

"I-" began Jamuka and said no more.

He stooped for the sword he had dropped and felt the hand of the Mongol slip under his chin. He was lifted from his feet, thrust higher, until the small of his back was on the shoulder of Genghis Khan, and legs, head, and arms dangled helplessly.

Once more the throng of men divided as the Mongol, walking heavily, moved through them to the head of the steep, granite stair. The arms of the chief tightened around Jamuka's head. A quick tensing of muscles, a heave of the powerful body, and Jamuka flew out into the air, seen for a second in the torchlight before he dropped a hundred feet upon the stone steps, his neck broken before the hands of Genghis Khan released him.

The Master of the Horde stood quietly on the landing, his broad figure outlined against the glow that was rising from the town beneath where thatched roofs were beginning to flare up. The followers of the slain Jamuka quivered as if a cold wind had struck them. Then all at once they caught up their discarded weapons and turned to run despairingly into the darkness, whither Subotai and his warriors pursued them.

Genghis Khan however returned to where Burta lay, and put his hand over her heart. He started, feeling that she lived. Brushing back the tangle of hair from her eyes, he saw that she was conscious and that she knew him.

The mask-like immobility of the man softened a little, and for the first time Mingan saw his eyes shining with exultant happiness. Burta saw it too-indeed she had been watching, fearfully, for just that.

"Temujin," she whispered, "you have come and you have not altered. You are Temujin, even though they call you conqueror and Great Khan."

Genghis Khan remained silent, only signing to his followers to carry the girl down to the ranks of his men. Out of sheer despair the Tiger gave utterance to his plea once again, seeing that the anger of the chief had lessened. Genghis Khan looked at his two palladins with something like satisfaction.

"Aye, Chepe Noyon, you have done well. Go down to my turn an and command that their swords be sheathed and their bowstrings loosed. If the Keraits will submit to my rule and aid me with horses and men, I will number them among mine."

So the Tiger departed down the steps, and in time the tumult died. Then Genghis Khan gave order to Subotai and Mingan to bear the body of the dead king into the castle and see that it was honored.

The wasted form of the blind man was placed gently on the table before the altar. New candles were lit in the candelabra, and the living took up places in nearby chairs. They talked together, soft-voiced for the reason of the emptiness of the great hall and the whispering of the wind against the hangings, until the Tiger rejoined them. He moved wearily, but the knowledge that the truce had been struck fired him with satisfaction.

As the three palladins greeted one the other, Chepe Noyon held up his hand, calling for silence. From the high windows of the hall came, above the rustle of the night wind, the flutter of wings and a crying voice that grew fainter until it passed from their hearing: "Prester John goes forth-pray ye who are faithful-Prester John goes forth from the castle."

X

Mingan's Ride

No song of birds is heard in the vines on the walls; only the wind whistles through the long night, where ghosts of the dead wander in the gloom.

The fading moon twinkles on the falling snow; the fosses of the wall are frozen with blood and bodies with beards stiffened by ice. Each arrow is spent, every bowstring broken-the strength of the war-horse is lost.

Thus is the city of Cathay.

-Song of a Chinese minstrel

The whisper began in the east, at the Wall of Cathay, and crept out across the Mongolian steppe. Spring came early, that momentous year the tenth of the twelfth century of Our Lord. And, traveling with the harbingers of spring, mounted couriers rode west and south with the message that began at the Great Wall.

The riders went to the tundras at the edge of the frozen regions where snow hemmed in the dark camps in wet ravines; sleds drawn by reindeer moved out upon the snow to the settlements of Subotai's people, and other riders passed swiftly south over wet, wind-whipped prairies, stopping only for a change of horses at the ordus of the tribes.

And wherever the pony-couriers had passed there sounded the clang of hammers in the huts of the smiths, the murmur of subdued talk in the winter-tents of the warriors, the shrill outcry of herd boys sent to round up horses.

Like a giant awaking from a long sleep, the steppe threw off its inertia of the winter and became a living thing. For the first time in its history the Mongolian steppe was under the rule of one man, and there was peace throughout it-except at the Wall.

So, too, when the pony-couriers-the messengers arranged by Genghis Khan for just such an event as this-had left the post-stations in the Gobi, long caravans of camels forged into motion over the high prairies and the sandy bottoms. They were going east.

Spring had come, and with it the message of war.

Around their fires the nomad Gipsies and the desert-men nodded wisely. They had known the tidings before the couriers of the khan rode past. How? Well, that was their affair. They laughed and gambled with open hand, fighting among themselves, counting the horses, the gold, and jade they would bring back as spoil from Cathay. How would they overcome the Wall, the barrier that had not been broken down since it was built hundreds of years before? Well, that was Genghis Khan's affair.

Beyond the Gobi the couriers rode. They covered a hundred and fifty miles a day through the fertile valleys of the west. They clattered into Tangut, still drowsy under its mantle of winter, its castle-uninhabited except by birds and an aged bear that limped out of its retreat to sniff the mild air-looming black against the blue sky, massive and forbidding as the tomb that it was.

Over more valleys, through populous settlements of hunters and herders of the streams that were now freshets racing down from the moun tains, the couriers followed their course until they came to the Roof of the World. Here, by order of the conqueror, broad roads had been opened up to the vicinity of the Horde itself. It lay encamped by a lake that reflected the mighty buttresses of mountains, where messages were delivered to the palace tent of Genghis Khan.

Chung-hi was now the Dragon Emperor. He had sent an army out from the Wall of Cathay to the land of the Three Rivers, hoping to strike a blow at the home of Genghis Khan while the Horde and its master was absent.

Mukuli was in winter camp, and the old Tatar-left in command of some fifty thousand riders-had not been caught napping. He had drawn the invaders out into the open plain, had defeated them, and pressed the pursuit until he now held the districts of Cathay as far as the river Hoang-ho and the Wall. Aware that the gage of battle had been flung down between the Dragon and Genghis Khan, the Manchus, kindred of the Tatars, had marched with their bowmen around the gulf of Liao-tung to join Mukuli. The old warrior, pleased by the mistake of Chunghi, was now at the head of more than a hundred thousand men. He plundered the towns on the far side of the Wall, seizing arms, captives, and supplies, asking only that Genghis Khan come with the Horde and break down the Wall for him. Mukuli was too wise to try that himself.

"The Dragon has stretched a claw over the Wall and has had it nipped," laughed Chepe Noyon. "Chung-hi must be a fool. Ohai! The Buffalo has been given the gold tablet of an orkhon and sent out of Tangut with the center of the Horde. Genghis Khan is making ready the rest of the Horde at Tangut and sends for me to take the standard of the Keraits. A hundred and twenty times a thousand riders will follow me. And what will you do?"

"I am summoned to the palace tent, to the Khan," replied Mingan.

"The Cathayans are your people," mused the Tiger, who seldom waxed thoughtful. "What will you do?"

"I do not know."

"Well, you must go with me, and we may not stop to drink by the wayside. These times are good times. Ten years ago we were youths and mockheroes-appointed to rank when Genghis had no more than his shadow to his name and needed palladins to make a showing at Podu's tents. Now, elder chiefs dismount to hold our horses. We have cup-bearers a score and slaves a hundred to rise up when we clap our hands. Women-"

"Talk less than you. Come, if we must!"

"These times are good times, but dull," assented the Tiger, who was attired in the choicest silks of India. He was heavier in his tread, but restless as ever-more arrogant with the power that had come to him, yet devoted to his first friends, Mingan and Subotai. "I have never seen the courts of Cathay, Mingan. Have they really palaces high as hills and chairs of pure gold, and women with eyes like black opals? "

Mingan stroked his beard, frowning.

"Be not so sure that you will see the courts of Cathay that lie beyond the Wall. First you must win through the Wall, and that no army has done."

The summons had reached them a week late, for the two palladins had been hunting in the mountain passes.