Casca 34: Devil's Horseman (3 page)

“Excellent,” Casca sucked in his breath, “then prepare a bath for me and then you may cleanse me of this damned dust and dirt!”

The three took to their task while Casca stood and waited. When the bath was ready and anointed with perfumes, the girls divested him of his filthy clothes that he’d worn since before he’d escaped from Delhi. It was time they were burned. Gasps greeted his nakedness, for not only was he a man in full health and vigor, but he also sported a criss-cross pattern of scars over his body, gained in the twelve centuries of his unnatural existence. Sword cuts, dagger wounds, spear thrusts, arrow injuries.

Despite themselves, the woman ran their hands over him, marveling at the firmness of his physique and tracing some of the more vivid scars. Casca grinned and led the three into the water. “Remove your clothing too, for you are to bathe with me.”

In no time the three were as naked as he and anointing his body with perfumes and bathing him slowly. He leaned against the edge and sighed deeply. After such a long time serving, now he was being served, and didn’t he just love it! He opened his eyes and spied the girl he took to be the senior one, the one who’d understood Mongol. “Your name, woman?”

“Ashira, Master.”

“Well Ashira, I desire you serve me in another way. I have not enjoyed a woman for a long time, and I now have a need for you.”

Ashira smiled salaciously. She knew exactly what he meant. Sliding up to him she parted her legs and pressed herself against him. Casca smiled and placed his hands on her buttocks. She slid onto him and gasped as he penetrated her. Casca bit on his lower lip as he entered her,
then paused for a moment to savor it. Then, releasing her buttocks, he allowed her to move, and the water aided her rhythm. The two other girls carried on anointing his arms and shoulders, carefully not looking at their fellow slave who was riding hard and causing the water to splash up and onto them as well as the scarred man who was laying there with his eyes closed.

Eventually it got too frantic for them to work on him and they moved back to allow the two to finish, which they did shortly afterwards, she crying out and a moment or two later he grunted and grabbed her, then held her close as he came deep within her.

Casca leaned back again and groaned softly in contentment while Ashira slid off and cleaned herself. If this was any indication of his time to come with the Mongols, then he was going to have one hell of a stay!

He was invited to dinner with the governor that evening. In the cool of a summer’s night, sitting on a balcony above the streets of Samarkand listening to the softly played bars of a melody from the governor’s musicians hidden behind a row of honeysuckle, taking in the fragrance of those bushes, Casca could be forgiven for thinking he’d died and gone to heaven. Relaxed in the post-coital mood after the attentions of Ashira and her two fellow slaves, Casca sipped on a cool if slightly sharp white wine and listened to the governor as he boasted on how under his wise and benign rule Samarkand had developed into the jewel of all Asia.

The Eternal Mercenary listened with an amused ear. Having been to Samarkand before, he knew that it had shone even brighter before the Mongols had come. However he wasn’t in any mood for arguing that night; he just wanted to sink into the pleasures of the flesh, having been denied them for so many years.
Time for less pleasant activities in the future. For now, he was content to sit, eat and drink.

Kaidur was sat opposite Casca, looking sideways at the governor from time to time, but mostly trying to ignore the bragging and bombast. Two other people were present; the governor’s chief advisor, a weasly looking man with shifty eyes and a smile that came too easily to his face, and went just as easily. The other was the governor’s wife, a woman given to putting up with a long-suffering marriage by the looks of things. She was in her early thirties, Casca judged. Mongolian or Chinese – he still couldn’t tell for certain – and wearing jewels and silks as befitting her status. She was quite attractive without being out and out beautiful. She kept on looking at Casca for long moments before returning her attention to her food. Casca caught her once with a legume in her hand, running her tongue along it slowly and looking at him from under her eyelashes. Casca smiled briefly and returned his attention to the governor.

The governor was constantly praising the wisdom and other attributes of his master, Buri who had shown great understanding in sending his humble servant to this city to rule here in his name and that of his father, the great Khan, Ogedei. Never had Samarkand known such magnificence as it had under him and Buri. It would even come close to rivaling Karakorum, the glittering capital of all Mongolia and their Empire. Casca smiled behind his wine goblet. Karakorum was a collection of tents, yurts and one huge palace. He doubted this strutting peacock had ever been near it. He stole a glance at his wife, who was playing with the stem of her goblet, running her hand up and down it, looking at him intently. Casca held her glance for a moment, smiled again, then broke eye contact.
Gods, she wants it badly. Is he such a poor screw she fancies it from me the moment I arrive?
He sipped on his wine again and leaned back in his chair.

He was pleased with his new outfit. Kaidur had done him proud. A silk shirt of blue with stylized chrysanthemums of white embroidered down the front hung past his waist loosely, and he had trousers of deeper blue made from horsehair, and the bottoms of these were tucked into high boots made of felt.

The governor was still talking, not allowing anyone else to make any contribution to the conversation. Casca had the impression he liked the sound of his own voice. Certainly Kaidur and the chief advisor had said nothing so far; Kaidur because he was clearly uncomfortable and the chief advisor because he was in awe of the governor and would probably have jumped off the balcony if so commanded. The governor’s wife, whom he’d been told was called Sorghe, said little except laugh at the governor’s excruciating wit and agree with him when he sought her agreement on things he wanted agreeing with.

But suddenly the governor caught him out. “Tell me, Old Young One, who do you think should be Khan once Ogedei passes onto the heavens?”

There was silence. The chief advisor fixed him with a piercing look; Kaidur looked very wary while Sorghe smiled slightly and rested her head in one of her hands, her elbow on the table top. Her slanted almond eyes seemed to sparkle. It was as if she was daring him to say something that would piss her husband off. “As someone who rode with the great Genghis, I know how he thought and what he wanted above all else for the Mongol tribes.”

“Which is?” the governor cocked his head to one side.

“Strong leadership, the tribes united, and a common goal to be pursued by all.”

“Then surely that means Kuyuk will be your choice!” the governor declared, sitting up straight. The chief advisor smiled and nodded but Kaidur scowled and Sorghe looked as if someone had broken wind next to her.

“I didn’t say that and I don’t know if he’s the right choice,” Casca said calmly. “I’d need to see each potential candidate before making my decision. I would then recommend the Kurultai to vote for whom I believe would serve a united Mongol Empire the better.”

The governor’s mouth turned down. “But you must see that Kuyuk is the obvious choice!”

“I cannot say, governor. If his rival….” he looked at Kaidur for a name.

“Mongke.”

“Mongke. If Mongke proves to me he’s a better choice then I’ll recommend him.”

“You cannot!” the governor stood up, furious.

“I can and I will, and there’s nothing you can do about it, Governor.” Casca glared at the red-faced Mongol. “You would appear to be concerned that I won’t find Kuyuk my preference. Any reason why that would be?”

The governor made a disgusted noise and threw down his silken napkin and stormed off. The chief advisor got up hastily, knocking over his chair, and ran after him. The three remaining diners sat in silence for a moment. “Guess I pissed him off,” Casca said in a far from regretful tone.

“You have made an enemy there, Casca-Badahur,” Kaidur said heavily. “Your stay in Samarkand will be short, I fear.”

Casca shrugged.
“Suits me. It would seem I have to visit the two rivals and see for myself who I think would be the better leader. Kuyuk, son of Ogedei, or Mongke. Tell me, is Mongke the son of Tolui, Genghis’ youngest son?”

Kaidur nodded solemnly.

Casca grunted. He seemed to remember the name of Mongke. Tolui had become a father just before Casca had left the Mongols seventeen years previously. It would be interesting to see how the squalling brat he’d seen had grown up. Kaidur stood up and bowed to Sorghe and Casca. “If you will excuse me, I must go about my duties before I sleep. There is much for me to do.”

Sorghe acknowledged him with a languid wave of her hand. Casca faced her across the table and waited. Sorghe stood up and slowly walked round to his side. “You may go,” she said to the musicians in a slightly raised voice. Casca remained where he was, listening to the band departing and passing through the only doorway into the palace. Now, apart from two guards stood by the doorway, well out of sight, the two were alone.

“The Old Young One,” Sorghe said slowly, running a hand along his arm. “I heard of you when I was a girl. I thought you to be mere legend.”

“No legend, Sorghe, I’m real enough.”

“A man of whom there is to be no written record, so the wise men said to me years ago. In time you will be forgotten, except perhaps in tall tales to be told by camp fires at night. A pity. You have strength. My husband is foolish to oppose you, but he is a weak man with ambitions and he does not follow who he should.”

“Meaning you don’t think Kuyuk should be Khan?”

Sorghe smiled in the starlight. “You must decide yourself and not listen to the words of a mere governor’s wife. I go where my husband goes, and he goes where Buri commands.”

“And where is your husband now?”

“He has gone to a room deep in the palace to vent his anger. You did the right thing in upsetting him; he will be gone for hours.”

Casca chuckled. “So you and I could be together alone up here, is that it?”

“Of course. He is a man who craves power, but he is not a powerful man. He works hard at furthering his political ambitions and has little time to be a husband. You, on the other hand, are a powerful man, yet you shy away from power. I have noticed your distaste when power is talked about. You could be the most powerful man in the Empire, yet you do not wish it. You do know, don’t you, that power is an aphrodisiac? You could have women attracted to you wherever you go.”

“I do already; what do I need of a throne? Only those born to it or those greedy to obtain it will have it, and they find it’s a prison, not a throne. I leave that to those who want it. I’m content enough with what I am.” Casca looked at the woman stood before him. She was trembling slightly and her breath was coming shorter now. She was controlling herself, but only just. He found her desirable; slave girls he could have whenever he wanted because they were slaves and they must obey, but this was a free woman and therefore fornication with her would be much more because she wanted it too.

Casca pushed his goblet away and slid his chair sideways so he was facing her. Sorghe pulled her robe up to her waist and straddled him, sinking down onto his lap and releasing her robe. Casca ran his hands down her back and she shut her eyes and arched her back, groaning. Her pelvis pushed against his loins and she began to roll her hips, rubbing herself against his groin.

Damn, this bitch is hot
,
Casca thought. He kissed her throat and neck, working down her front. Sorghe cried out softly and pulled her robe apart, freeing her breasts. Casca’s lips found her nipples and she shuddered in delight. He felt her slide his trousers down and he helped her, lifting himself briefly. Then her skin was against his and she pulled him into her, hissing in pleasure. Her head was thrown back and she began to slowly ride, rotating her hips, uttering small noises in her passion.

Casca kept on running his hands up and down her back, realizing it was one of her erogenous areas, and she shuddered and gasped. “
oh, ohh,” she said and rolled her head, eyes shut, licking her lips. He held himself back as she reached her climax, and she collapsed in a sweat-soaked heap against him.

After a moment she pulled herself up and flicked a sweaty strand of hair back from her forehead. “You know how to touch a woman. My husband alas does not!”

Casca grunted and pushed her off him and stood up, turning her round. “Ma’am, I know how to touch a woman. Now let me have you!” He pushed her face down onto the table, so she had to support herself on her arms, and her robe was yanked up over her waist. Casca kicked her legs apart and gripped her waist. He slid into her from behind and pushed deep into her. Sorghe gasped and looked round at him. “You would ride me like an animal?”

“Oh yes!” Casca growled and began thrusting in and out. Sorghe mewled and panted, her mouth open. Casca rammed into her harder and harder and this time didn’t hold himself back, spilling into her with a snarl of pleasure.

Afterwards she leaned back against the table while he sat back in his chair sipping the remnants of his wine. “You are a man who I could be happy with.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Casca shook his head. “You are used to this lifestyle. How would you cope with the rigors of army life on campaign? And when I leave as I will, I will go somewhere else where I may not be looked upon as one of the ruling elite. My life is up and down. For now, it is up. Other peoples may not look upon me as favorably.” He grimaced briefly. The Delhi Sultanate wouldn’t, that was for sure.

Sorghe pursed her lips. “You may be right, but I tire of him.”

Casca grunted. “So why marry him?”

She tossed her head. “To get away from my dull life on the steppes. I was one of five daughters of a goatherd. Luckily for him we were all beautiful and he made lots of money out of matching us to suitable husbands. I was the last to marry, and I chose him. He was ambitious even in his youth and the son of a local warlord. Back then he had the energy and time for me,” she smiled briefly in remembrance. “But later when he fell in with the family of Ogedei’s son, he became twisted and pursued positions of power for power’s sake.”

“I’m sorry for you,” Casca said, “but your fate is tied to him, just as my fate is tied to the path I take.”

“Maybe so,” she conceded, “but I deserve better.”

“And if Mongke succeeds Ogedei, your husband will fall. What will you do then?”

“Enjoy his humiliation, and maybe get my husband back. I hope. I know I won’t if Kuyuk wins. My husband will seek greater positions and I, as the dutiful wife, will trot along in his wake.”

“And remain sexually frustrated,” Casca finished. “Get a manservant to attend your needs. All your needs,” Casca grinned.

Sorghe laughed, a soft, tinkling sound. “You give me wrong ideas. I shall teach him to take me as an animal. I enjoyed that!” she said. “But now I must go. He will be finished soon in his room. He is not pleasant to be with when he is like that. I shall bathe and prepare myself for bed. Good night, Old Young One. May whatever path you take be a safe one.”

“Good night Sorghe. And may your path bring you enjoyment.” He raised his goblet to her.

She smiled, leaned forward, kissed him slowly on the lips, then glided away into the night. Casca finished his drink, belched, and leaned back, hands behind his head. So far his stay in Samarkand had been wonderful.

He just had a nagging feeling it wasn’t going to last.