Swords From the East (34 page)

Genghis Khan entered, cast a glance about the hall, and walked over to the chair where Mingan sat. His clumsy walk-he was better accustomed to a saddle than his feet-and uncouth fur garments made him as out of place as a bear in the dwelling of a man.

Resting the end of his scabbard on the step where the executioner lay, he leaned on the wide hand-guard and studied the man in the chair until his brows drew down and he growled-

"Mingan!"

"Aye." The Cathayan prince stood up. "I am in command of the palace and city that you have conquered."

The opinion, evidently, that the conqueror entertained of the manner in which the city had been defended was too contemptuous for words. He spat toward the south.

"Thither went your dog of an emperor. Mingan, you are chief of the northern people. Why do you serve the dynasty of Cathay? Are you Chunghi's man?"

"Aye, Genghis Khan. My fathers have been faithful to the Dynasty, and I am not otherwise. To the utmost I strove to hinder your victory. Know that and do with me as you will."

The eyes of the chieftain gleamed with sudden feeling, and, strangely enough, with satisfaction rather than anger.

"One who served another so will serve me well," he exclaimed.

Mingan pondered and shook his head a little.

"You have conquered an empire in the saddle; you cannot govern it so. You know naught of Cathay save to trample it under the hoofs of your horse; I cannot stand by and see such a thing."

Saying this, he fully expected the Khan to draw his sword, but the conqueror still leaned on it thoughtfully. Presently he nodded in agreement.

"Kai-I am a wild boar of the steppe. They call me the man-slayer, and it is a good name. Certain things I cannot do, and must, at a time like this, call upon a wise man, a magus such as Prester John. He, being dead, can no longer aid me."

Whereupon, having spoken many words-a thing most unusual in him-the conqueror signed to the gur-khan, gave him some orders in a low tone, and beckoned to Mingan.

"Go with this man to the place whither he will lead you. There await my command and, when it comes, decide what you will do. Take this, as a token to protect you, in your Cathayan dress."

He held out the gold tablet, token of a Mongol hero, and raised his hand, dismissing Mingan.

When the two had left the audience hall, Genghis Khan turned over with his foot the jewels scattered on the step. He glanced casually at the dying slave who, propped upright against the wall, gripped the shaft of the spear with both hands. He remembered now that the work of the past months was ended and, to his satisfaction, that he was hungry. So he felt in his pockets and drew out some shreds of meat and dried milk-curds and began to munch.

Presently, catching sight of the official's chair vacated by Mingan, his lips widened in a smile and he chuckled noiselessly.

Meanwhile, Mingan and his guide passed out of the city through the cordon of Mongol guards. Amid lines of sleeping camels, a pavilion tent glowed with light. About it slumbering warriors, seated on the ground with the reins of their ponies in hand, looked up at their approach, but seeing the gur-khan, slept again. Stooping under the entrance flap, Mingan found Chepe Noyon and the Buffalo busily engaged in refreshing themselves at a well-laden table-at least Subotai was stuffing himself. The Tiger sipped the rare white wine of Yen-king and picked at the strings of a gold lute taken from some Cathayan palace.

The two palladins started up at sight of their friend, and Mingan waited to learn how they would receive him.

"Mingan!" cried Chepe Noyon, the first to recognize him in his state dress. "What mummer's garb do you wear now? Hai-your coming has saved us a mighty labor. We were ordered by the Khan to search Yen-king and find you within a day and night if we had to turn up the earth of the graves or the mud of the river."

For the first time he noticed the white streaks in the hair of his friend and the lines about Mingan's eyes. "Ah, they say Chung-hi bedded you down in darkness. The swine! A captive we took at the river, a captain of the Liao-tung regiment, told us that his prince had appeared in Cathay and had been quartered in a dungeon. His comrades of the north were disgruntled at this treatment of you, and they soon left Chung-hi for their homes, therefore. But enough of this-here are the three palladins united, and our goblets are dry."

Subotai, his mild eyes shining with pleasure, patted Mingan on the head and shoulders and quaffed a beaker of wine with an open throat. In Mingan's heart was a glow that came not from the wine. He was glad to be with the palladins, to stand in a wind-swept tent, listening to the sounds of the camp.

"Truly," he said gravely, "I am no longer your equal; Subotai is commander of a division and you are chief of the Keraits."

Subotai merely grunted, but Chepe Noyon laughed.

"Is it not honor enough, Mingan, that we used your trick to overcome the Cathayans who were numerous as fleas on a nation of dogs?"

"My trick?"

"Aye, so. But I forgot you were in gyves and fetters at the time. Why, the trick of the horse race. Genghis Khan gave to the Buffalo and me barely two tumans. Then he sent us against the strongest of the Cathayan armies, so that we were beaten and forced to flee with naught but our shadows. So, he matched his weakest division against the strongest of the emperor, willing to lose that while he and old Mukuli with the main power of the Horde bit into the weaker armies of Cathay like camels chewing a nose-cord. Thus it was that you matched ponies against the Gipsies and won."

Now Subotai folded his arms and stretched his mighty legs in front of him.

"A thought has come to me, 0 my friends." He paused to gather together words to express his idea. "Genghis Khan has tried each of us in turn. The Tiger he raised to a high place in the world. He knew that Mingan's heart was divided like a broken goblet when the Horde turned against Cathay. He was aware of the hero's flight, but stayed it not, wishing to test him-knowing that the Cathayans would meet him with dishonor. And now-what has the Khan in store for Mingan?"

A guard entered, conducting one of the councilors of the Mongols and a tall Cathayan in quilted armor, weapon-less, with the emblem of Liaotung sewn on his shoulder, and a helmet bearing a captain's crest. At sight of Mingan, the Northerner threw himself on his knees, pressed his head against the ground, and joyfully craved permission to speak.

"Live for a hundred years, lord of the hills and forests. I, an unworthy captive, serving as interpreter, bear tidings from Yen-king that the grandees of Cathay, the nobles and councilors are assembling at the palace to salute the new governor chosen by Genghis Khan. Attend, 0 Bright One, prince of our race, for the northern provinces have need of your wisdom."

At this the Mongol stepped forward and confronted Mingan.

"By order of Genghis Khan-chief of chiefs, lord of the men of the earth-you, Ye Lui Kutsai Mingan, are appointed governor of Cathay under the Khan. Do you accept or refuse?"

Mingan started. He looked down at his countryman of Liao-tung. Then his voice failed him, and he could only nod assent. Chepe Noyon gave a delighted shout and announced that he would compose a new verse for his "Lament of the Doleful Officer"; Subotai threw his goblet crashing on the ground, seized the bowl of wine, and set it down empty.

As Mingan, followed by the two who had come to seek him, went forth from the tent, he heard the voice of the Tiger raised in song:

He was Ermecin, the strong man. But that had not always been his name.

When he was a boy, he had raced with the other Buriat youths-and a Mongol horse race is no brief gallop along leveled land. And when he did not win, which was seldom, the Ermecin-to-be took from the winning youth by force the horse that was victor in the race.

In so doing the boy anticipated the practice of shrewd Chinese tao-tai (governors).

Yet when Ermecin lived, two hundred years ago, the sinister authority of the Chinese, the "men of the hat and girdle," had not spread over the upper Mongolian plain where the fertile edge of the Gobi touches the green slopes of the Syansk.

This was the land of the free Buriats. They were hunters and herders, these Tatars, and the stranger was welcome within their tents. The youths wrestled and fought and vied with bow and arrow.

Ermecin was the strongest of the youths. Somewhere among his fathers had been a Chukchee, of the fisherfolk from the North. And in Ermecin appeared the flat, high shoulders, the massive, swinging arms, and the small, quick eyes of this ancestor.

Among the Buriat men was a batyr, a proved warrior. He had fought in the wars of Muscovy. Once in an inn during a horse festival, he drew his sword on Ermecin. The boy, now nearly at his full growth, twisted the weapon from the warrior and broke the man's neck with his hands.

The sword Ermecin kept. It was a heavy affair, a foot broad at the head. Its hilt had space for two hands. But the Buriat youth could swing it, whistling about his head, with one hand.

With the bow he was more deadly, for that was his natural weapon. He could keep a bowstring of reindeer gut twanging in the air like a min strel's fiddle-string, while he buried a half-dozen shafts in the splintering trunk of a sapling.

After Ermecin had killed the batyr, men looked at him before they spoke. They began to chuckle when he threw visiting wrestlers crashing to the earth in the bouts at the horse festival.

It was noticeable that when Ermecin returned one day afoot to the yurts of the Buriats where the camp was clustered by the clear water of Ubsa Nor, no one laughed at him. Now a Mongol likes to make fun of a comrade, and to walk back horseless from a hunting venture, is a predicament that invites fun-making.

Ermecin had gone after bear in the Syansk gullies among the peaks to the North. His closest friend had accompanied him.

One of the small savage bears had attacked the other Buriat, frightening the lad's horse, which threw him to earth. The bear had killed the hunter and made off. When Ermecin reached the spot, he cut the throat of his own horse without hesitation.

This was so the spirit of the horse could accompany the soul of his friend on the long journey through the sky where walking would be weary work. Ermecin hunted out rabbits and an antelope, hanging up their flesh as offerings to the spirits who flocked out of the sky to the spot where the soul of a man went from the body.

Concerning all this Ermecin said nothing. He was little given to words anyway; but the gossips of the yurts invested him with a stain of blood, because the two had gone hunting together and only one returned.

Over this Ermecin brooded. When there came to Ubsa Nor a caravan of Torgut brigands and many horses were stolen, he led the enraged Buriats in the battle that followed.

From it he gained many horses. Those who had seen him, his long mustaches flying in the wind, his shoulders hunched and his sword hacking through flesh, did not raise a voice against his possession of the bulk of the spoil taken from the slain enemies.

"He is Ermecin," they said, "the strong man. He is the strongest of us all. Hereafter what he wills to take he will take."