Whitefire (37 page)
Authors: Fern Michaels
“Where is the man we wait for? Time is growing short, and we have a four-hour ride to the city of Moscow,” his deep voice boomed.
“He will arrive within the hour,” the Khan said reassuringly to the chief.
The Tatar leader was impatient and in no mood for further delays. “My men are ready to ride now. Our slave trade works on arrangements also, and promises have been made to deliver girls to ships that wait on the Black Sea. You see the baskets my men have placed on each side of their horses? Those baskets will each hold a young girl. When we attack Moscow, we steal the girls, and then we ride back to our village by the sea, where the ships wait. It will take us three days of hard riding to get back to Crimea, but my men will ride straight through, stopping only to rest their horses. My arrangements with the captains of the vessels and other slave traders were for the arrival of the girls three days from now. If your man doesn't arrive within the hour, we'll ride ahead and storm Moscow alone.” Angrily he jerked the reins of the horse, turned his back on the Khan, and rode to wait at the head of his army.
The Khan's eyes were furious. Why hadn't Banyen arrived? Something must have happened to him.
Suddenly a guard shouted from a distance, “Prince Banyen is coming! That cloud of dust you see in the distance is the prince!”
Katerina's heart raced madly, her anger forgotten. Thank God he was safe! Once again she would see her love. Her eyes never left the speck of dust. She watched, her heart pounding, as the speck grew larger and larger, until Banyen and his black stallion stood before them.
Time was crucial. There wasn't a moment for anything but the discussion of the plan. Banyen drew a map in the dirt, representing the wall around Kitai Gorod and the Kremlin, as the Khan, the Tatar chief, and Katerina watched and listened. He explained that the boyars would be stationed at the points he circled, ready to open the gates at the first chime of the bells at sunset. He explained about dividing up the army to surround the walled cities and the charge down the main road through the Wooden and White Cities. When he finished, he looked up and smiled at Katerina. With that smile, all was right between them once more. There was no need for words. The Khan and the Tatar chief decided on the disposition of the men who would surround the walls and those who would lead the charge down the main road. Katerina asked if she and her men could join those who would ride through on the main road. The Khan and the Tatar agreed. It was decided that Banyen and a division of the Khan's men would make up part of the same contingent.
Plans finished, each leader aware of his part, they assumed their places at the head of their armies. All was in readiness. The signal was given, and the earth shook under the thousands of hooves that pounded it, carrying death and destruction toward Moscow, just as the first snowfall of winter began.
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The soldier trembled as he reported to Ivan the news of a spy in the city. He waited, a feeling of dread settling over him, hoping, wishing the Czar would dismiss him. Instead, Ivan's face closed in rage.
“Spy? Spy? Possible attack? What are you talking about? You must be mad! No one can spy on me! No one can attack me! My Oprichniks see to my safety.” He wrung his hands, and his eyes rolled wildly in his head as saliva with bits of chewed food dribbled from his mouth. “Spy! Be gone, soldier, before I have you beheaded before me for such a stupid story. Take him out of here. Get him out!” the Czar shouted insanely. Ivan pounded his gold staff on the floor in a frenzy as the soldier ran for his life.
The boyars and nobles whispered among themselves with the news. Could it be so? Tales of a spy in Moscow were an everyday happening. What could one man do? Their bellies full of breakfast, and in a rush to escape from Ivan, they paid their homage to the Czar and left the room, deciding Moscow and the Kremlin were not in any peril.
Several boyars among them smiled knowingly to themselves as they left the room and continued with their affairs of court.
Chapter 24
T
he population of Moscow's five cities were relaxing around their evening meal as the sun set in the west. Without warning, thousands of men on horseback stormed through the City of Wood. Everything and anything that stood in the path of this well-honed machine of destruction was slaughtered. The city became a tinderbox blazing across the night skies as the Mongols, Tatars, and Cossacks rode into the White City. Within an hour, it too was leveled, all killed and the buildings set aflame. While the city crumpled, the second segment of the massive army reached Kitai Gorod. The boyars, at their appointed spots, opened the gates for the thousands of Tatars and Mongols who poured into the Kremlin and Red Square. The battle raged as they fought on the streets, on the walls, and in the palace.
he population of Moscow's five cities were relaxing around their evening meal as the sun set in the west. Without warning, thousands of men on horseback stormed through the City of Wood. Everything and anything that stood in the path of this well-honed machine of destruction was slaughtered. The city became a tinderbox blazing across the night skies as the Mongols, Tatars, and Cossacks rode into the White City. Within an hour, it too was leveled, all killed and the buildings set aflame. While the city crumpled, the second segment of the massive army reached Kitai Gorod. The boyars, at their appointed spots, opened the gates for the thousands of Tatars and Mongols who poured into the Kremlin and Red Square. The battle raged as they fought on the streets, on the walls, and in the palace.
The citizenry died by the thousands in a vain effort to flee the horde. Many sought safety near the Kremlin, hoping to take refuge behind the gates, not knowing they had been opened to the enemy.
As the battle waned, the Tatars began their search for slaves. Moscow burned like a torch in the night. The Moscow River became so choked with the bodies of people that the course of the river was diverted, the waters crimson for miles downstream.
Katerina worked her way through the city, searching for Banyen and Khan Afstar. She galloped in the direction of Red Square, still without any sight of the two men. As she approached St. Basil's, she looked up. There, for all to see, was her uncle on the execution block where Ivan performed his mass murders and tortures, his body sliced and cut to pieces. She turned away, fighting back the tears, hoping with all her heart that she would find Banyen alive. She rode Whitefire into the Kremlin, looking, searching, weaving the animal between broken, lifeless bodies. She found Banyen sprawled on the steps of the Terem Palace. When she saw how motionless he was, she panicked and screamed. “ Banyen!” tore from her mouth, from her heart, as she slid from the horse and ran to him. “Let him live! He can't be dead!” she cried out.
Bending over the still body, she turned him over, searching for a wound. There was a deep gash across the left side of his head, oozing blood. She put her head to his chest and listened. He was alive but unconscious. Quickly she removed her outer garments and ripped off a sleeve from her shirt. Wrapping it around his head, she covered the wound. She donned her outer garments once again as the snow began to cover the bloodstained streets. Before it got too cold, she knew, she would have to move Banyen. Slipping one arm beneath his back, she lifted him to a sitting position. The weight of his body proved too much for her. Gently she lowered him to the steps and called for help.
A low moan escaped Banyen as he tried to move his head, his eyes glazed and full of pain.
“You're injured, Banyen, you must lie still. You must remain quiet until help comes. I'm with you now. It's over, Banyen, it's finished.”
“What happened? Ivan, where is he? I must keep my promise and put my saber through his heart,” he said, trying to struggle to his feet. “Katerina, where is Ivan, you must tell me, it can't all have been for nothing. Where is he? Is he alive?”
“If you lie still, I'll tell you. You're still weak from your head wound, and the gash on your leg needs tending. You must forget the Czar.”
Before she could utter another word, Banyen shouted, “Katerina, where is Ivan? Will you tell me or must I seek him out myself?”
“He's gone, Banyen.”
“Gone! What do you mean, gone? Gone where?” he demanded harshly.
“When we captured the Terem Palace, the boyars and nobles were trapped inside. They were the ones that told us Ivan and his family escaped with the Kremlin treasury. The boyars informed us that the Czar headed toward the north of Russia. Your saber will not draw Ivan's blood this day, Banyen. The Czar is a tormented, insane man. What pleasure would you gain in killing a madman? Tell me I'm right, Banyen. There would be no revenge in killing a diseased dog, so why persist in your desire? There has been enough death. The Khan . . . he's . . . he's dead.”
Banyen's eyes closed. What she said was true. It was over.
“As usual, you're right,” Banyen said, trying to force a smile. “It no longer seems important to me. If I set out after him, I would be as insane as he is. One day he will reap his just rewards. Tell me of Afstar.”
“My uncle . . . the Khan . . . your friend . . . The Russians strung him up on Ivan's torture rack in Red Square. I couldn't take him down. I had to look for you.”
“Katerina, where is my stallion?”
“I haven't seen him.”
“My black is never far from me.” He whistled two short bursts, and the stallion appeared. Banyen grinned. “See, he's never far from his master. Horses, horses, I almost forgotâhave you found the Cosars?”
“No, not yet. My men have been searching, but when I could no longer see you or my uncle after the battle, I came looking for you both.”
“Let us go to Red Square so the men can take Afstar back to Sibir and give him a chief's burial. Then I'll help you find the herd.”
“Are you sure you're all right?” Katerina asked, not convinced he was ready to ride.
“My head throbs and I'm a little weak, not just from the cut but from last night's escape, this morning's battle, and the ride from Moscow and back again. I need rest and food, but first the Cosars. Katerina,” he whispered huskily, “there is so much I want to say.”
“Later, later we'll talk,” she said, kissing him lightly on the mouth.
Together they rode into Red Square to the rack where her uncle was tied. They cut the ropes and gently lifted his battered body. Banyen tied the lifeless Khan to his horse and mounted behind Afstar.
“Now for the Cosars, Katerina.”
Their progress was slow, as the streets were strewn with the bodies of men, women, and children. “It's a sad sight to see, but innocent people are always the victims of war,” Banyen said sadly. As they proceeded around the cities, soldiers and Mongols still skirmished here and there. A Russian, hidden away, would try to make his escape and chase would be given.
“I think we'll find the horses somewhere around the palace. We'll ride in that direction,” Banyen said with assurance.
They rode toward Terem Palace, inside the Kremlin. Searching on foot and on horseback, they found nothing. Kostya, with a small patrol, also reported no success in finding the Cosars.
Angry and frustrated, Katerina lashed out. “The raid on the Tereks placed the horses in Moscow. Gregory sold them to Ivan. What did he do with them? Did he sell them off before we stormed Moscow?” She turned to Banyen. “Do you think the Czar sold them to someone else?”
“No. If Ivan bought them, he wanted them for himself and his bodyguards, the Oprichniks. Ivan would never sell something that was one of a kind. Has anyone checked outside the wall behind the palace?”
Kostya's men looked at each other and shook their heads.
“It's possible Ivan had them taken out of the city when he heard it was being attacked. If he fled with the Kremlin's treasury, he wouldn't waste time on the Cosars. They must be somewhere outside the walls of the city.” Calling two of the Mongols to him, he ordered them to remove the Khan's body from the stallion. “Secure a litter to the back of a horse with a stout rope and pull his body home,” he ordered gruffly.
Beyond the Kremlin walls, a quarter mile away, a hill rose up out of the flatness. Narrowing his oblique gaze, Banyen was aware that the attack now came from the west. The outlying section was remote, and he was sure no man was near. As they rode closer, noises could be heard coming from behind the hill. When they reached the top, there stood the mighty herd of Cosars, in the middle of snow-covered brush and dense fir trees. Katerina was beside herself with happiness. She leaped from Whitefire, and was about to run into the herd of horses when Banyen shouted for her to stop.
“Why should I?”
Without warning, a small band of the Oprichniks emerged from within the herd. They had hidden themselves among the horses, hoping to escape with a Cosar or two. As they charged toward Katerina, Banyen, Kostya, and the patrol swooped down, killing them in the first rush.
“The next time wait until your men are sure there aren't any Russians lurking about,” Banyen said harshly.
“Yes, my master.” Katerina grinned as she ran into the herd and seemingly smothered herself in them. Now, she had everything. Now, she had avenged her village, its people, and her father. She had fulfilled the promise she made to herself and Mikhailo: the Cosars once again, and forever this time, belonged to the Don Cossacks. The secret and the horses were still theirs. At last she could rest. It was finished.
The Mongols avenged the raids on Kazan and Astrakhan, but had lost their leader. But now Prince Banyen could lead them, and he would have a Khanate to rule. She had her Cosars, and the old men would soon have a hut or two ready in Volin. By now there would be a compound fenced in for the horses which she would bring back. Lastly, the Tatars had their baskets filled with young women for their slave trade. Everyone had been successful, save Banyen. He would have to settle for victory without the blood of Ivan on his sword. But his people and the village of Kazan were avenged, so it should be enough. Katerina prayed it would be enough.
Banyen sat atop his black Arabian, his bloody sword in his hand, watching Katerina running through the horses in the white snow. He knew he loved her deeply.
“It's time to take your Cosars where they belong.”
Katerina ran to Whitefire, who whinnied in delight at the scent of the mares. She leaped onto his back and laughed aloud. “Kostya, we ride for home. Inform your men. The Mongols will drive the herd to Volin.
“Banyen, can you make the ride, or should we prepare a litter for you?” she asked, her face full of concern.
“There's no cause for worry, Katerina. The wound on my leg is a mere scratch. The bleeding has stopped, and my head is clear. We have much to say to each other,” he said huskily. “Many decisions have to be made. And,” he said softly, “you must be the one to make them.”
Slowly the animals followed the Mongols and the Cossacks to the road that would lead them to Volin. Katerina's eyes were misty as she saw Kostya raise his hand, the Cossacks shouting in victory as they thundered down the snow-covered road.
They rode in silence, intent on their own thoughts, the Cossacks and Kostya long gone from their sight. The moment Whitefire's hooves set down on the plain, he threw back his head and snorted, rearing up on his hind legs and almost unseating Katerina. She laughed as she gave him his head, and the white stallion pounded his way across the familiar ground. He galloped like the wind, the girl on his back laughing and shrieking in delight. Once she turned her head and saw Banyen hard pressed to keep pace with Whitefire. She knew he would catch her, and what better place than here, on the steppe where it all began? Only this time, atop Whitefire, she knew she could elude him if she wanted to. Now the dream was behind her and she welcomed the reality. “Easy, boy, he has to catch us.”
Imperceptibly, the stallion slowed, and Banyen gained on the racing woman. The moment he was abreast of her, he reached out and pulled her from the animal's back onto his own racing mount. Katerina giggled in delight as her legs flailed the air, her arms clutching Banyen, whose own seat was unsteady on the racing, snorting steed. Suddenly he, too, laughed, and they both slid from the horse into the deep snow. In their tumble, Banyen's pack slid from the horse's rump and came to rest at their feet.
“All the comforts of the mountains,” Banyen said, reaching for the sable carpet.
“Love me,” Katerina whispered throatily.
“Forever,” Banyen said huskily, his mouth finding hers. “For now, forever more.”
“Banyen, where will we go, what will we do?”
“It has to be your decision, Katerina.”
“While I waited in Smolensk for you and the others, I made my decision. My plan is to give Kostya and Princess Halya a filly and a colt, and, of course, some of the other Cosars. I can't take a chance of this ever happening again. I would never feel secure if I and I alone kept the secret. I'll set aside certain conditions, but he will be in charge of his own breeding in Moldavia. I can either go back to Volin with my horses or I can go with you to the Khanate that is yours now to rule. I want you to help me make the right choice. When I am with you, my judgment is faulty. Where will you be happy?” she asked, gently tracing the outline around his oblique eyes.
Banyen laughed. “The day you make a faulty decision will be the day I'll take to my bed, never to stand on my legs again. You could never be happy separated from the Cosars. I have no desire to rule the Khanate; there are others far better suited than I. I vote to go with you to Volin, where we will work with the Cosars together. Has it been decided that Kostya's men will stay in Volin?”
“I offered them their freedom and they chose to stay.” Katerina smiled. “Tell me, are they Cossacks or not? I left none dead in Moscow, and only two men carry flesh wounds. They're Cossacks, and what better place for them to live than Volin, the Don village? One day there will be none left that remembers they were not Cossacks by birth.
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