Swords From the East (20 page)

"There will be another race," observed Burta. "Harken to the dogs!"

A clamor of yapping hunting dogs resounded from behind Podu's pavilion, and presently he heard the muttering of kettle-drums drawing nearer on horses, and the clangor of cymbals. He rose and peered out.

Dust was rising behind a cavalcade of riders at the head of whom advanced the yak-tail standard of the Horde, escorted by two youths in brave attire, one very tall, the other slender and small. Behind the standard rose Temujin, in hunting dress, carrying only a light spear beside the sword at his girdle. Podu concealed his surprise and pushed through the throng that gathered to stare at the small body of Mongols, who had announced their arrival by the drums and cymbals.

"Dismount," said the Gipsy heartily, taking the reins of the gray pony himself, "and sit at ease in the shadow."

He called for attendants to bring more wine, fruit, and meat, and others to care for the horses of the heroes, and more to set up three-score tents near the Gipsy camp. "Are your herds fat? Is your health good, 0 my Khan?"

"Fat-and good," nodded Temujin, stooping under the pavilion, and, after a quick glance, taking no heed of Burta. "Have cushions brought for these two orkhons, 0 Khan of the black tents, and take your place behind them. They have each the rank of commander of a tuman, and you are no more than leader of four thousand."

Podu quivered at the reminder, but after a moment's hesitation obeyed. His complacency was ruffled. With Temujin in the camp and in no conciliatory mood, trouble was a certainty between him and the other khans, and Podu fared best when he hitched his wagon to one of the brighter stars. Now his position of host would make it necessary to struggle to keep peace, and, in any event, he would suffer from a quarrel in the Horde. And there was Burta.

He writhed as Mukuli and others drifted in to share the refreshments and pay their respects, in duty bound, to the chief of the Horde. Only Jamuka was absent. And Temujin calmly allotted all who came places behind his two heroes.

Stimulated by several cups of hot liquor, Podu addressed Mingan, whom he failed to recognize as the Cathayan prince who had come with Temujin to the death tent of Yesukai, owing to the orkhon's beard and long hair worn Mongol fashion, coupled with his rawhide armor, faced with silver trimmings.

"Where is your tuman, 0 hero?"

"Where it can be summoned at need."

Mukuli was regarding Chepe Noyon with disfavor as the Tiger sat in the place formerly occupied by the Tatar, at Temujin's left hand.

"And where is yours, 0 maiden cheeks?" he growled.

"I left it at Tangut, by the palace over the sands, 0 bear's paws," smiled the youth, who was not at all slow-witted.

The feasters looked up with interest, and Podu fingered his earrings thoughtfully. He knew Chepe Noyon for a Kerait; the sudden honor shown the youth by Temujin must mean that the Mongols were allied in some fashion to Prester John, and Tangut held the balance of power in the Horde.

"Verily," he asked, "do you draw rein toward Tangut, my Khan-with how many warriors?"

"You have already counted them," responded Temujin quietly, and Podu turned the talk to the absorbing topic of racing. He suggested that Temujin match his beasts, and the Mongol assented.

"Yet, my Khan," the Gipsy pointed out craftily, "your animals are tired from a half-day's travel. So we will shorten the course to the length of six li."

This was about two miles. The usual race of the Mongols covered twenty miles, being a test of stamina, both of rider and horse; three ponies started for each contestant, matched in pairs, and the ride took several hours before the winner of each pair crossed the line in front of the khan's tent. It was customary to allow a few minutes between each pair, to prevent any confusion as to the order in which they were matched.

"As you will. My ponies are strong and fresh."

Temujin called for three boys to lead from the horse lines the gray pony, the sorrel mare that now bore his tango-branding mark-and a piebald horse of unusual endurance that had won many events in the past.

Podu on his part entered two black ponies, and a small gelding that had not appeared on the course as yet. The khans scanned this curiously, struck by its unfamiliar marking-white with blackish streaks rising from the fetlocks. It had dainty, small-boned legs, and carried its intelligent head high; its tail was sweeping.

The horse was an Arab, secured by Podu on one of his trading ventures into India, and the Mongols had never seen its like.

Temujin instructed his boys to start the piebald first-it being the worst of the three-the mare second, and the gray pony last, in the customary order, reserving the fleetest for the last. Podu arrayed his beasts and sent one of his gur-khans off with them to the starting point, a rocky knoll barely visible on the plain. While the visiting warriors, hearing that a race was on, flocked to kneel by the course, the Gipsy turned to Temujin after sizing up the opened loads of the Mongol's pack-camels.

"You are the Master of the Horde and bring no gifts to me. It is fitting that we wager worthily on this race. Do you place two camel loads of musk on the first race, a dozen tarkaul, white camel's skins, on the second, and on the third-" he pondered a moment-"enough weapons, gold-inlaid, and of good steel, to cover this carpet."

It was a valuable stake, and about covered all the riches Temujin had brought with him.

"I will place against your goods," Podu concluded, "silver bars and gold ornaments enough to equal your stakes."

"So be it." Temujin was no quibbler.

A ball of dust out on the clay flat showed that the first pair of ponies were off. The khans crowded forward to see the better, and Burta clapped her hands. The dust rolled nearer and two black specks grew into the forms of ponies, saddle-less, two boys urging them on with heel and whip.

When they reached the lines of spectators it was seen that Podu's black horse had the lead easily. It finished a half-dozen lengths in front of the piebald, which coming on in a long stride seemed to be hardly in the race as yet, while the black was sweating.

Chepe Noyon grimaced and turned to Mukuli.

"My scabbard against your sable cloak that the mare finishes first in the coming pair." They were still distant, in the dust.

"Agreed!"

Podu smiled and suggested to Mingan that they also make a wager. The Cathayan's eyes twinkled and he shook his head. Barely had he done so than the black pony of the Gipsy crossed the line of the tent a length ahead of the sorrel mare, which was closing the gap at each stride. It was clear to Mingan that Podu had trained his beasts over the shorter course, while the Mongol horses were unable to strike a pace that would win in two miles. There was, however, the gray pony, coming between the two lines of men.

Podu shaded his eyes and called to Mukuli-"My jeweled hunting-sad dle against the gemmed scabbard you have just won, that my white horse conquers the gray."

The Tatar nodded eagerly. More than once he had seen the pace of the swift little pony that Temujin prized, and he had observed that the two beasts, for the first time, were reaching the finish abreast. Even the cupbearers crowded the khans to see the end of the last race.

Temujin's boy was stroking his whip against the mane of the gray, for the pony was trained to do its best without the lash; and Podu's rider leaned low over the arched neck of the Arab. An arrow's flight from the finish, the white pony seemed to take wings-at least it pressed low over the ground and fairly skimmed across the line ahead of the gray.

Temujin clapped his hands.

"Bear the goods to Podu," he ordered his few attendants.

The Gipsy smiled. He liked a good loser almost as well as a liberal giver, and he bowed acknowledgment of Chepe Noyon's tender of his scabbard.

"In your camp," said the Tiger, "I will need no sheath for my sword."

After the feasting was over that night, Temujin came to the orkhons' tent, chagrined by the defeat of his best ponies.

"It was an ill thing to make a remark such as yours," he told the Kerait, "to stir up ill-will before the time of sword blows is at hand."

"0 my Khan, that is true; yet in my country we strike a thicket with a stick before lying down to sleep near it, to rout out snakes. Yet Podu is not the enemy whose face you seek to uncover."

"Why is that?" Mingan was interested.

"He who thinks of slaying will not have his blood stirred to fever by the racing of swift horses."

Mingan assented to this. He was beginning to realize that the brain which directed the attacks on Temujin was of a higher order than the intelligence of Podu or Mukuli. And he suspected the unknown king, Prester John.

"If you will have Podu race again on the morrow, I can win for you two of the three races," he offered, noticing his friend's moodiness.

Both Temujin and the Tiger were lovers of horseflesh, while Mingan had not this leaning, and they grunted incredulity.

"Have you better horses than mine, 0 my orkhon?"

"Nay, I will race your three ponies and win twice. Ask of Podu naught save that I be allowed to start your horses as I please."

On the morrow, after the dawn trumpet had sounded and the khans of the Horde had assembled, Podu acceded willingly enough to this request, but asked again for a good wager. It was unexpected luck, as he saw it, that Temujin should want a return match-although it was like the Mongol not to sit at ease under a defeat.

In fact the young Khan did not change countenance under the prospect of a second heavy loss.

"So be it," he nodded. "I will stake my three ponies against yours, that the Mongols win two of the three starts."

"The distance must be the same."

"Aye, the same."

Podu hesitated only a moment. His racers were trained in the shorter dash, and each one was swifter than its Mongol adversary. He would send along his official to the starting point to see that the ponies were given a fair break-how could he lose?

"The bargain is struck!"

So Mingan led off his cavalcade to the point of rocks, where they dwindled to specks in the plain. This time the khans who were watching made no bets among themselves, believing that Temujin's ponies could do no better than before. The Master of the Horde himself had no great hopes, but he had never known Mingan to make a promise that he did not redeem.

It was hard for him, however, to sit on the carpet and watch the first pair draw nearer on the course without shading his eyes and peering to see which was ahead. He would rather have lost an arm than the gray pony that he had broken in with his own hand. Harder still, when Mukuli swore vehemently, and Podu chuckled-"I have drawn the first blood, 0 Mongol."

In truth it was not so much a race as a pursuit, Podu's pony being a hundred yards in front of the laboring Mongol horse. Chepe Noyon leaned forward and shaded his eyes against the level rays of the rising sun.

"My saddle and cloak against the jeweled scabbard you won from me yesterday that we win two races," he offered quickly. "I may need the sheath-after I have left the dust of this camp behind me."

"The bargain is struck," nodded Podu eagerly. Then, as the ponies came into full view at the finish line he looked puzzled, perceiving what the sharp-witted Kerait had seen before, that the winner was his prized Arab, and the loser Temujin's plugging piebald that could encompass no faster pace than a loose canter.

Still, he reasoned, his second entry had scored over Temujin's new mare, and-Podu was a race in hand.

All at once he sprang up with an exclamation, and subsided into a tense silence. The second pair were entering the stretch close together, but Podu, alert now, saw that Temujin's swift gray was matched against the better of his pair of blacks. He watched the shaggy pony of the Mongol drive forward with drumming hoofs under the touch of the stick its rider carried and sweep past him two lengths ahead of his second entry.

Temujin's face revealed no emotion, but he took up a cup of wine and emptied it with relish. He could not have been better pleased if his heroes had conquered in all the coming games that were so vital a part of the life of the Horde.

A few moments later the sorrel mare won the third race, finding her speed in the last quarter and getting her neck ahead of the tiring black pony. Podu snarled and his hand crept toward his belt, but fell to his side, feeling an empty scabbard-the weapons of the khans were stacked outside the pavilion carpet.

"Trickery!" the Gipsy raged. "You matched your poorest horse against my Arab, and so, undeserving, won the last races."

Temujin had not been unobserving of Podu. He signed to Chepe Noyon to answer, which that youth did right willingly by ripping the scabbard out of the Gipsy's girdle.

"0 small of wit," he mocked, "yours was the trick, for you persuaded the Khan to race over a course on which your horses were swifter. Did I hear you grant him the privilege of starting the ponies as he pleased?"

Being wise, Podu swallowed his anger, or rather took it out on the skin of the hapless officer he had sent to the starting point, beating the man with a stick until he howled. Mingan would have dismounted and taken his seat unobserved. The trick of the ponies was a small matter to one who had played at chess with the sages of Cathay; but Temujin signed to him as the racers were led up to be delivered.

"Henceforth," said the Khan, "you are the master of the gray pony. Cherish him, and strike him not with the whip. It serves to stroke his mane to gain his best speed. Mounted and afield, you can overtake any man; no man can overtake you."

Mingan bowed respectfully as Temujin with his own hand placed the reins of his steed in the grasp of the Cathayan. To Chepe Noyon, the Khan gave the mare, saying that the youth had ridden her in a good cause once, and was privileged to do so again. The Arab he kept, being a judge of horseflesh.

Of those who watched enviously, perhaps only Temujin guessed how important it would prove to the Mongols to have at hand the four best horses in the Gobi.

V

The Masked Face