Swords From the East (29 page)

"Yet he trusted me with the maiden whom he will make his wife-"

"See you not," Mingan said fiercely, "his trickery? He has taken away your men from the castle, placing here his own instead-his cavalry patrols control the city, until his coming. He will hold Tangut, at the river, until the full power of the Keraits can join him, coming through the mountain passes to the castle. The daughter of Podu is to be the bride of Genghis Khan, and Jamuka, aware of her worth as a hostage, has hidden her somewhere within the wall, knowing that none will come to seek her here."

As he spoke the sun left the valley and passed from the great plain, so that the oncoming horsemen and their pursuers were blotted out in the shadow of the mountain. And, plainly to be heard, the bells of the city sounded the alarm, while from the lower valley came the faint fanfare of trumpets.

Prester John faced the city as if striving to behold the truth of what was happening with his blind eyes. Mingan and the Kerait warrior were no more than two voices to him, and their words were the knell of his hopes. Yet his hand did not tremble and his lean, brown face was impassive.

"My people are in danger. I will go down to them."

To go down into the city, a blind man in the center of pandemonium, would be to reveal his affliction to the multitude. His world was, in very truth, falling about his ears. There was stern stuff in the old king, and briefly he explained what must be done.

With Chepe Noyon he would descend the stair and summon Jamuka to him, to judge whether the Master of Plotting had deceived him. If so, Prester John would take over the command of the warriors in Tangut and hold the defenses at the Turkish end of the city by the river long enough to arrange a truce with Genghis Khan. The war must be stopped and the slaying of the Keraits ended before the city fell and was given up to sack by the Horde.

To Mingan, who knew that Jamuka must keep the Keraits in the fight to save his own skin-and who had seen the remorseless anger of Genghis Khan when aroused-this seemed impossible.

"Who are you, to question the ways of God?" responded the king sternly. "He who divided in twain a river and brought forth water from a rock can quiet the quarrels of men, aye, though my blind eyes cannot see the road before us."

"And yet," pointed out the Cathayan, "there be two armed men-three for the captain of archers has come up the stair-at the gate, and my companion and I are weaponless."

"Come with me."

Prester John issued an order to one of the boys who ran ahead of them, and in the hall brought to the king a cuirass of steel bands sewn upon a leather tunic, a helmet, brightly polished, bearing for crest the steel im age of a crouching lion. The other page hastened up with a cloak of red velvet and a long sword of iron with edges of keen steel.

Over these objects Prester John passed his hand with a quick sigh and ordered his retainers to arm Chepe Noyon.

"This is the armor and the sword of the king, my sire," he explained, "and it is known to my people. My son, if your words against Jamuka have been false, you will not live to take off this armor."

To Mingan it seemed that, though Chepe Noyon had told the truth, there was not much hope for the Tiger. But Chepe Noyon's teeth flashed under his mustache and he whirled the long brand above his head.

"Meanwhile," ordered the blind man, "do you, Cathayan, seek out the captive. Guard her from harm and bring her to my side."

Mingan watched the strange array go down the path from the castle door to the gate-the tall form of the blind man followed by the glittering figure of the Tiger, the two retainers and the mastiff bringing up the rear-and shook his head. Then, as he turned aside with Mukuli to the terraces, he caught his breath.

It was the brief space of full sunset, and in the flames of the western sky there stood out a single star. Before now Mingan had watched the evening star appear, yet he fancied it had never been so brilliant as now when it gleamed into the shadows of the garden of Prester John.

IX

The Fight on the Stair

In the half-light of sunset it startled the captain of the Turks more than a little to behold the approach of the blind man and his companion in strange armor. Peering at them, he took his stand in the path inside the closed portal of the wall, the two negroes on either side of him.

"Stand and advance not," he challenged.

But Prester John went forward until he reached the bar of the gate and felt that the door was closed. "Open!" he commanded sternly. "I am the king."

The Turk shook his head. "What king? Jamuka commands in the city, and by his order none shall leave the castle, nor shall the gate be opened until he comes." He thrust the blind man's hand from the bar. "Harken to yonder outcry below, graybeard, and flee to your hall. The Mongol dogs are crossing the river, and Jamuka will abandon the city streets, drawing hither his men to defend the stair. Nay, the angel of death walks below us-listen to his voice!"

Faintly below them a rush of sound came up from the valley-a buzzing that grew into a roaring burst of men's voices, clashing weapons, and screaming of horses. The Turk put his ear to the gate.

"Jamuka will be here in the space of an arrow flight-"

"And will find your body if you open not the gate," Chepe Noyon's voice menaced him as he turned angrily.

"Ho, this should be the minstrel! With a goodly array of children and dogs and prating graybeards-"

The Turk leered and, as he spoke, drew his scimitar and cut at the warrior. Chepe Noyon parried with his sword and sprang aside to strike down one of the mutes who rushed at him with javelin upraised. Before he could face the other warder the captain of archers was on him, slashing at throat and legs.

The Tiger knocked the scimitar aside and thrust with his heavy blade, through the beard of his adversary over the coat of mail, and, wrenching free his weapon, was aware of the other foeman who circled, dagger in hand, to strike him. Then Prester John loosed the mastiff that he held by the collar with a swift word of command.

The great dog rose from the ground, leaping against the chest of the mute and knocking him from his feet. Chepe Noyon stunned the fallen man with a blow of his sword, caught at the bar, and drew open the gate.

Over his head came a flutter of wings and a shrill voice that cried out of the air: "Prester John goes forth-pray, ye who are faithful-Prester John goes forth!"

It was the parrot, attracted by the clash and gleam of steel, crying one of the phrases that it had learned from the servants of the castle.

Chepe Noyon strode out to the edge of the steps with the king and halted with an exclamation. By the caravanserai fires were springing up, revealing masses of horsemen moving through the streets of Tangut toward the upper end of the valley. On each side of the lake barriers were being erected across the side-alleys by throngs of Kerait warriors. Fighting was in progress in the plaza. Halfway up the stair, with a score of warriors at his heels, a man who wore the skin and head of a bear was climbing toward them.

"Jamuka is on the steps, 0 king," he explained quickly, "and his men with him. We cannot go down-unless even now you have trust in the scheming dog."

Prester John bent his head.

"God's will be done. Nay, the guard at the gate was proof that Jamuka tricked me, who am unworthy of my high place. Let us defend the stair against him, for one of us must live to reach the Mongols and make peace."

"Go back, then, 0 king, into the castle! "

"Not so. This is my place."

Prester John leaned a moment on the shepherd's crook that he carried for a staff, his lips moving in prayer. The two boys collected the javelins and took their stand beside the warrior who watched Jamuka win to the last flight of steps and start up the steep ascent, his men panting after him. Then Chepe Noyon lifted his head and smiled. He took off the heavy helmet and flung it clanging down the steps, among the Turks.

"Tear off your mask, Jamuka," he called. "This time you cannot hide your face."

Mingan's actions on leaving the castle hall were peculiar to say the least. He whistled up Mukuli and began to run with the brown dog around the buildings in widening circles, urging his four-footed ally to seek out something. If the king had heard Burta's voice last night, the Gipsy must have been within ear-shot of the castle.

Near the flock of sheep the dog stopped, nosed around, and set off barking into the wood. Mingan followed, running hard to keep up, but using his eyes nevertheless in the failing light.

Burta would be guarded by some of Jamuka's men, and the Cathayan was not the one to fall into an ambush blindly. It was impossible, however, to silence Mukuli. Now, as he went, his long legs carrying him swiftly, Mingan was aware of a ponderous shadow that lumbered after him, and of a spotted form that slipped through the brush at his side.

The dog's harking had brought the bear and the leopard on the same quest. A chill chased up the man's spine, for he had not even a stick in his hand. It was nearly dark among the trees, and the Cathayan had no great faith in the gentleness of Prester John's pets.

He emerged into a lighter clearing and approached the pond where the kiosk stood. Mukuli headed directly toward the bridge, but half-across stopped with a growl. From the garden house came a man tall as he was broad-a burly, turbaned servant with a drawn dagger. As Mingan set foot on the narrow bridge, the Turk walked toward him rapidly, angrily motioning him away.

For a moment the two faced each other. Then, as Mingan did not give ground, the Turk lifted his knife and took a step forward. Experience had taught Mingan the danger of moving backward over uneven ground, and he poised on his toes, ready to grapple with his heavier opponent. He felt certain that Burta was in the kiosk, and he owed his life to the Gipsy.

Suddenly, watching his adversary's face, he saw the protruding eyes widen, heard the whistle of indrawn breath. He was aware of two eyes on one side that glowed green, and on the other side a shuffling form that rose up on its hind legs with a snort. Mingan knew that the leopard and the bear were looking on, but the Turk was startled. For an instant his attention wavered, and Mingan sprang at him, thrusting low, and striking the man's knees with his shoulder. The big slave was knocked back against the low parapet of the bridge, lost his balance, and fell into the pond, splashing through the water lilies and losing his dagger as he did so.

When he gained his feet-the pond was shallow-he beheld the green eyes blazing down at him from the bridge, and the long tail of the leopard twitching excitedly down from the other side. The slave quailed and turned toward the shore. But there in the last of the twilight, he was confronted by what seemed a fat man watching him closely. When the manshape dropped to four feet and growled, the slave yelled aloud and went splashing back, to flee from the far side of the pond.

Meanwhile, Mingan had found Burta lying in the kiosk. He picked her up, carrying her easily in his arms back over the bridge and along the path that led to the castle gate. She was in a heavy sleep, induced by opium or hashish, probably administered by the hand of the guard following her cry of the night before.

As he neared the entrance to the wall, Mingan heard the clashing of weapons and the low voices of men. In the open gate stood the blind king, arms outstretched. In front of him the Tiger was fighting desperately, giving back when he was hurt, ringing himself with the slashes of the long sword. Several men-at-arms engaged him while others held torches. On the blood-stained landing were the bodies of the two boys and the mastiff. And from the open muzzle of a bear's head peered the face of Jamuka, wet with sweat and twisted with rage and impatience.

Mingan stooped to lay Burta on the ground and ran to the side of his companion. But from the stair below the struggling men came a shout of triumph:

"Hai, ahatou! Mongku-hai, Mongku-ho!"

Mingan knew that voice.

The Turks redoubled their efforts; a poleax smote Chepe Noyon on his mailed chest. The Tiger fell heavily, lying where he had fallen.

"Through the gate! Close it!" cried Jamuka thrusting forward.

As he ran to enter the portal, there confronted him the tall form of Prester John, hands uplifted, the shepherd's crook barring the way. With a snarl of rage, the Master of Plotting whipped out his scimitar and passed it into the body of the blind man. In a frenzy, Jamuka hacked again and again at the falling form of the king until Mingan turned his eyes away.

He heard the men-at-arms tumbling through the portal into the safety of the wall. Mingan looked and saw them trampling over the two bodies in the path, and heard the gate creak as Jamuka sought to close it after them.

Then a figure in rusted and blood-stained armor rose above the steps and leaped into the gap between door and gate post. A torch thrust into the eyes of the nearest Turks, and a great ax swung wide at them. It was a figure topped by flaming red hair, grimed and slashed almost beyond knowing, but nevertheless Subotai, the Buffalo, the sword-bearer of Genghis Khan. Behind the giant climbed into view other warriors, panting and grinning with triumph.

"Ho, foxes," laughed the Buffalo. "We have run you to earth."

The man-at-arms who held the poleax that had struck down Chepe Noyon lifted his weapon and stepped toward Subotai, who did not raise his ax. Instead, the right arm of the Buffalo snapped forward with a flick of the wrist. His broad-ax flew forward, striking the Jelair in the face and cracking open his forehead.

By now the oncoming Mongols were crowding through the door. Jamuka turned as if for flight, thought better of it, and cast down his sword. He motioned his score of men to do the same. The Master of Plotting actually smiled and took his stand over the dead Prester John. Bewildered by the calm of his foe, Subotai scowled and motioned back his men. He peered into the surrounding shadows distrustfully. Behind him voices called out: "Temou, 'way for Genghis Khan!"

The ranks of the Mongols opened and the chieftain came through the gate.

He was helmetless, and his black eyes gleamed in the torchlight; his gaunt cheeks showed that for days he had not left the saddle. Mingan saw that, although now leader of a hundred thousand riders, he wore the same stained armor of rude iron plates, hacked to pieces in many places. He looked around unhurriedly-he could move quickly enough when necessary, as those watching him knew. For that reason a silence fell on the men at the gate of Prester John.