Much Fall of Blood-ARC (56 page)

"We do not sell those. Now, go back to the mountains. And leave any of our people you see there in peace, or we will follow and wreck a vengeance that will be talked about among your tribe for a thousand years."

So the women and children—and possibly some of the men had been sent to take shelter in the mountain foothills and the dense forest, the great Codrii Vl siei that still had not been cleared up there.

"We do not fight women and children," said Vlad stiffly.

"Why not?" asked the Hawk Commander. "They are fitting foes for you."

And on this casual insult he turned and rode off.

Vlad felt the black fury rising in him. He would dismember the upstart . . .

Except that the man was already several hundred yards away, moving back to the column of horse at a rapid canter.

Vlad took a deep breath, and tried to calm himself, with limited success. Primore Peter waited until he done so. "Which way will have us go, Drac? I think closer to the mountains might be a good idea, for all that roads are not so common."

"We just give up? We go home?" asked Vlad incredulously.

"We don't have a lot of choice, sire. We really do not want to get caught up in their inter-clan warfare, Drac. That has been what has stopped them pushing west for the last hundred years. It settled down under the last khan, but he was set on re-uniting his people south and east. The fights between clans are vicious. They'll kill us just for being there, most likely. We might as well turn around. There is no sense in making them angry."

Vlad found himself furious, let alone them being angry, but not knowing what else to do. They began to turn in a wide curve, and headed northwest. The column of men and horses were soon a mere dust trail.

Worryingly, several hours later, they could see another dust column. "Maybe the attackers will sell us some horses." said Vlad, still irritated. "We'd better make a circle and get the cannon and pikes ready. They are not likely to give us a chance to trade."

So they did. They had found a slight rise with a boggy stream behind them.

* * *

"So what has happened to the Hawk clan?" asked Bortai as they rode, surrounded by a the bulk of the two Jahguns, who all, it seemed, did not want to let them out of their sight, "since that night at the kurultai?"

"Much that needs to be put right, Princess Bortai," said Banchu. "We lost less men than we'd thought at first. It was chaos. I think Gatu's plans went wrong too. But without Kildai and with out you . . . the clan was coming apart. Most of the subclans . . . have gone their way. They have not formally renounced ties . . . but no men come to take their place in our regiments. We've called. We just hoped to hold our own. We expect Gatu Orkhan to ride across the Irit soon. He will conquer all he does not have make submission to him. He is promising rich rewards to those who do. He seems to be awash with gold, Princess. That much we have heard. The clan itself is divided. Gatu is showering wealth around—no one knows quite where it has come from. Gold is tempting: But most wish to resist. The anger about the attacks at the kurultai . . . that has not happened in centuries. He was shamed by that. We expect him to extract a heavy-vengeance price for it. We will make them pay in blood for doing so."

"We will," she said with grim certainty.

He nodded. "Things will be different now that you and the young Khan are back."

He paused, coughed. "Who are these foreigners? And why are we bid to treat them as if they were royal envoys?"

"Because that is what they are."

The officer blinked. "But they are foreigners. I mean, we owe them a great debt for sheltering our young Khan . . . and they fight well, it seems. We had scouts out, watching, from early this morning. We watched, we saw your flag . . . They are formidable for a small group of foreigners . . . But Princess, they are not Mongol."

"No," she paused. She knew that although she was speaking to Banchu, at least ten other horsemen in earshot were taking in every word. She took a deep breath. "They are not without honor. Their code seems . . . nearly as deep as our own. And Tulkun and Kildai will testify—they make war differently to the Mongol, but they are, at their own place of choosing, as effective as our people. Their discipline is very good. And they force their enemies fight on their terms. And the big man is a noble among them. So is their Orkhan."

Banchu rubbed his jaw. He plainly did not wish to disagree with her. She could almost read his mind: she was a woman, yes, but a noble and respected one. Moreover she was one of the best wrestlers that you could wish to see. A few men had been foolish enough to wager they could beat her . . . "Maybe against Gatu's men. Not the Hawk clan."

"We will see. But now . . . I must tell you of treachery. Of a breach with the ancient tradition. Of honor—from these foreign Knights, from this man of the Ilkhan—and of black dishonor." She gestured to the warriors who rode near her. "Come closer. I will tell this tale many times. But you will be first."

Bortai had been trained in the story-teller's art. It was a noble and respected, and, indeed, much loved art among the Golden Horde. And she had a story that she could see would become even more widely known and loved than that of Khan Ulaghchi and Khutulun. Even if they lost the day, and Kildai and the whole of the Hawk clan was hunted down and killed, this story would endure. The Hawk clan did not have gold to match that of Gatu. But they had honor and tradition. And she would weave that into a story that would be worth more than any tainted gold to the people of the Golden Horde. And so, to a spell-bound audience she wove a tale of magic and treachery, of the hand of the ancestral Tengeri, of heroism and blood. Interspersed with some laughter. The Hawk warriors loved the tortoise story as much as she had. It was to be hoped that they would not encounter any foes soon, or some of the men were going to be in no state to fight.

But by the end of the tale they were in no mood to laugh.

And Erik was being referred to as Orkhan tortoise. It was appropriate, in some ways. The armor. The determination. And the vicious bite. But they would learn he was faster than most tortoises, she thought, laughing a little to herself.

* * *

David had watched the two Golden Horde Nobles career off to join their people. Kildai's abrupt action in mounting and departing had taken him by surprise. He'd scrambled to find another horse, and then just stopped. He'd thought . . . well. He was wrong. He took out the wheel-lock pistol from his boot and marveled at the mechanism of it. In Jerusalem he would have been executed for even being in possession of such a thing. Well . . . He must get more ball and powder, learn to reload. And to actually shoot at something. Sometime. The way things had gone on this expedition he would.

Then one of the two knights that had been assigned to guide and escort them to escape came riding back. "The boy says you are to come. But to wear your cloak with a hood. At least that's what I understood from Tulkun." The knight looked at the pistol in his hands. "What are you doing with that thing? It's dangerous."

"Kari gave it to me. He said I'd chop my ears off with a sword."

"As likely to blow your foot off with that gun." The knight rubbed his eyes. He was a big solid man. "I nearly cut my own head off with my first sword, let alone my ears," he said seriously.

"Will you teach me?" David nearly bit his own tongue off. But that burial and the honor shown . . . it had stirred something he had not known existed inside him.

The knight looked equally startled. "Why? I mean, boy, a sword is a knight's tool. Not the first choice . . ."

"Of a thief," said David, shocking himself with his own honesty. "But no thief would choose to be here . . . I saw my first real fighting yesterday, Ritter." He bit his lip. "I was there when Ritter Kalb died. It was horrible. I had never seen a man die before. Then . . . they put his sword on his chest. And the Prince himself saluted him. And said that he was with God. "

"I was Kalb's squire when I entered the order," said the knight, his voice rough with emotion. "And if any man . . ." He stopped. "Wait here."

It was an order. David had never been much good at obeying orders. This time he stood. The knight rode down onto the field of combat, dismounted and picked up a Mongol sword. David had seen just how hard it was for an armored knight to get into the saddle. He could only marvel at the athletic strength of this man, who got back up without help or a block.

The knight rode back. "Here," he said, handing the blade to David. "This will have to do until we can get you a decent straight Christian sword. Bear it with honor. Now mount up, and see that you take good care of my gear. Squire."

"But . . . I am not nobly born."

The Knight shrugged. "There have been a few commoners accepted into the order over the years, boy, in cases of heroism, or exceptional peity. We swear an oath of poverty and equality before God. Mind you. Abbot Störer will probably have my guts out and chase me round a tree. I'll make you no promises, boy. But while we're here, away from the Chapter House, you can serve as my squire."

* * *

Erik rode beside Manfred as they splashed across the Iret. "Well, this is a more friendly reception," said Manfred. "What do you think, Eberhart?"

The old diplomat looked surprised at being addressed. "I think we are lucky to be alive, Prince Manfred. And I have been utterly wrong about the Mongol treatment of diplomats and envoys. So I am reluctant to say what I think until we see a little more. But they are smiling at us."

"They were laughing like madmen earlier," said Erik. "Bortai had them in stitches. I thought some of them were going to fall off their horses."

"Probably telling them how well you speak the language," said Manfred. "And how you make her laugh. Next thing you'll have her big brother and an axe, asking you what your intentions are."

"Don't be silly, Manfred. I can see you are overdue some fencing practice. Or a bit of wrestling."

Manfred grinned. "Why don't you go and wrestle with her? I'm not the one making them laugh."

"Don't be ridiculous, Manfred," said Erik, blushing.

* * *

The problem with the Iret was that it was no barrier. The Hawk clan had men and horses as a barrier, not a deep river.

The only detail was right now they did not have many men. Riders had been dispatched. The clan had managed to field nearly fifteen hundred men . . . a far cry from the thousands that made up the Tumens of yesteryear. Looking back to the south, Bortai could see dust.

That could only be a lot of horses. And the heavily armored knights and their steeds simply did not have the stamina that the Hawk riders did. Nor did they have several changes of those huge horses of theirs. Yes, they could ride smaller ones, borrowed from the Hawk clan, but they were big heavy men, in big heavy armor.

They were going to have to stand and fight, again. And this time there would be a lot more troops coming against them, and not much in the way of natural help from the terrain. It was flat and open.

If Gatu dared to cross the Iret, he must have some thousands of men at his disposal. He must also have an idea of just how weakened the Hawk clan and all their allies and sub-clans were. And, Bortai realized, an awareness of just how much he had to lose if Kildai's survival and the story of the treachery began to circulate.

Vlad looked out from that fragile fortress of carts and wagons. It was clear now that there were at least three large groups of riders on the plains. One smaller group ahead. One very large group trailing them and, off on far flank to the east, another group. Probably the Hawk Clan regiments that had told them to get off their lands.

"How long until they get here?" Vlad asked the Székeler Primore.

The man shrugged. "The are riding hard. We have enough time to dig our own graves if we start now," he said, morosely. Yet his actions belied his tone. The Székely had a chance, if they fled. Most of Vlad's men did not. Yet they showed no signs of running. Vlad decided that he could come to like and depend on these men, despite their odd ideas about hereditary overlordship. It was worth putting up with it, for their support. "Let us dig graves then," he said. "We will dig them outside the wagon-square. We can decide on who is buried in them later."

The Primore nodded. "They might fall in them. It'd slow the horse charge."

So they dug a trench along the edge closest to the oncoming men. And when they still had time, on the second side too.

* * *

Erik had been scanning the horizon for a suitable piece of terrain to take advantage of and hold. He'd talked to Manfred about it. In theory Manfred was in command. And if it came to strategy of war he would command. But for the details of day to day tactics, Erik managed the men with Von Gherens and Falkenberg. This alluvial plain was flat and had been cleared of trees. They were riding again toward rising ground, but the mountains or even the woodland was far off. But what was that? He rode across to the fringe of the accompanying Mongol and asked, in his best attempt at the language.

The man bowed respectfully, and smiled. He too squinted at the white structures ahead but off a little to the southern side. "I don't know, Orkhan Tortoise." He put his heels to his horse and rode forward. Erik could see him pointing, while he pondered on what the man had called him. That horseboy! Still, he though, his ears red, the man had seemed a lot more respectful and communicative than the ones who had escorted them from the edge of Iskander Beg's lands. He had noticed that Tulkun's friendship stemmed from the original incident. Perhaps being laughed at was worthwhile sometimes.

The Mongol came back, accompanied by Bortai, Kildai, Tulkun, Banchu and another officer. Erik noticed how much taller young Kildai sat. Today no-one would have suggested that he needed someone to help to keep him in the saddle. Plainly being among his own people had done the boy a great deal of good.

"We think it is some traders," said Bortai. "They come down from the mountains sometimes. We will go that way. Gatu's troops may stop to loot. To the east are more men we think from the Hawk clan," she pointed. "The traders will perhaps buy us a little time."