Hope of Earth (63 page)

Toqtamish’s second campaign of that year was much grander in scale and purpose. He moved against the Golden Horde. Timur’s emissaries were surprised; they had expected Toqtamish to be a relatively unambitious ruler, once he had secured his kingdom. Instead he was acting much the way Timur himself would have. They did not object, though they evidently feared that the khan would misplay his hand and soon come to grief, as he had so often before.

But it was Ned’s job to see that Toqtamish did not do that. There was nothing haphazard about this campaign. Toqtamish did not seek open battle with the unified forces of the Golden Horde, but rather campaigned against the weaker local khans and princes who had aspirations for the top position. The strongest of these was Mamai, the leading claimant for the throne of the Blue Horde, the major faction. Mamai was too strong to meet openly, and Toqtamish had to suffer a number of taunts about his supposed cowardice, but he stayed with Ned’s program and avoided a definitive battle. There were times when Ned feared the khan would listen to his more violent advisers and seek one glorious but ultimately disastrous battle, but as long as Ned’s way won, Toqtamish remained with it.

Thus it went for two years. Ned spent a lot of time in the field, surveying situations, because the key to victory was in timely, accurate information. He also spent much time with the khan, and was often home in Sabrán with Wild-flower. She did not like the frequent separations, but she remained with the family, and was especially close to Lin. The fortunes of the family prospered in this period, by no coincidence. Sam had good work building siege engines, and Jes and Ittai had a good ship and trade route on the Caspian Sea.

Toqtamish’s chance came late in 1380. Mamai was in firm possession of the western tribes, including the Kipchaks, but now he faced a united uprising of the Russian princes to the north. The Russians were commanded by Dmitri, Grand Prince of Moscow. They had never been very orderly vassals, and constantly desired independence. Marnai found it necessary to petition for Lithuania’s aid against the rebels. But Dmitri, acting to prevent that, marched out quickly to force a confrontation with Mamai in the region of Kulikuvo. This was hilly country south of Moscow, by the headwaters of the Don, the river that flowed south into the Sea of Azov and thus connected to the Black Sea.

But Toqtamish did not strike. He waited, letting the Russians make their move. He had spies out to watch the action and keep him current on it. As Ned had advised him, it was best to let the two other sides bleed each other dry without distraction. Then the pieces would be easier to pick up.

The Russians, as it turned out, were not stupid about war. Their men had spent a century serving as conscripts in Mongol armies, and they had learned how to fight the Mongol way. They anchored their lines in positions that could not be flanked, extending from the bank of the river to a steep forested slope.

The Mongols were stuck with a battle site chosen by their adversaries. “Idiocy!” Ned remarked, smiling. “Genghis Khan would never have tolerated that.” But of course this was not the day of Genghis, or of his genius generals.

The Mongols had little choice but to try to pierce the Russian front. After fierce fighting and heavy losses, they finally buckled one wing of the Russian lines. But Dmitri, with cunning worthy of a Mongol, had a cavalry troop hidden in ambush in the forest. The Russian cavalry caught the charging Mongols in the flank, decimating their ranks. He had used their own tactics against them, employing a ruse of weakness to lure them into a trap. Marnai’s army was routed, and he had to retreat to the lands between the Don and the Volga to gather a new army and exact his vengeance.

Ned nodded. He had predicted something like that. A straightforward attack at a site chosen by the enemy was stupid. Once again he had shown Toqtamish the wisdom of caution.

The Russians, victorious but exhausted, lacked the strength or supplies to press their victory, and returned home. They had accomplished their purpose, defending their independence.

“Now!” Ned said.

Toqtamish made his move. He pounced on Mamai while the khan’s forces were weakened, at Kalka, near the Sea of Azov. It was hardly a fair situation, and the remnant of the Golden Horde was routed. Mamai fled to the Genoese colony nearby, but the Genoese, who had suffered from his arrogance, slew him. Toqtamish became khan of the Golden Horde, which now encompassed all the territory of its ancient days.

“But you can’t afford to leave the rebellious Russians on your flank,” Ned warned him. “Should they ally with the Lithuanians, they could become too strong to handle.”

“But we lack the strength to properly subdue them now,” the khan protested.

“True. So you must maintain relations with them. But don’t relax. They are potentially more dangerous to you than Mamai was.”

Toqtamish nodded. But for once it seemed that Ned’s caution was wrong, for the Russians immediately sent sword-bearers with their homage. They recognized the fact that their princes held their positions only at the khan’s pleasure. The advisers who had opposed Ned’s strategies claimed that he had led the khan into foolish concern about an enemy too weak to cause him any mischief.

However, when Toqtamish summoned the Russian princes themselves to come in person to his court, and to pay tribute, the Russians sent excuses.

“You were right, as always,” Toqtamish told Ned. “They proffer only lip service, not substance. They think that because they beat Mamai, they can beat me. We shall have to teach them a lesson.”

But it was necessary to recover and prepare. So for a year the khan left the Russians alone, while he mustered and prepared his army. Then in the summer of 1392 he moved against them. His army was massive and well trained; the only thing it lacked was siege equipment, because that would slow down progress. Ned rode with the khan, and this time his sister Jes came too, garbed as a man, to protect Ned in the field. She loved her husband, just as Ned loved his wife, but her hunger for travel and action remained. The khan knew her nature, but pretended not to; he enjoyed this incidental secret.

The Mongols seized Russian boats and used them to ferry troops across the Volga River. They enlisted Russian guides to lead them along the best route to Moscow. The Mongol army was overwhelming, and some Russians lost hope. They sought to curry Toqtamish’s favor with gifts. Prince Dmitri’s godfather in Novgorod sent his two sons with presents. And spies reported that Prince Dmitri himself abandoned Moscow and went northeast to Kostroma to raise a larger defensive force.

Toqtamish continued his march on Moscow. Flames and smoke from burning villages and fields marked his advance, visible by day and night. He was making his point. Ned did not enjoy this aspect of campaigning, but Jes did. “The Russians showed their contempt of us,” she said. “Now they are learning respect. In the future they will consider more carefully before holding back on tribute. This is what war is all about.”

“I prefer peace.”

“Then you will have to find some other khan to advise, because Toqtamish is out to conquer the world.”

“All except Timur’s domain.”

She glanced sidelong at him. “Oh?” But she did not comment further.

The news of the scouts continued. Many people were fleeing Moscow, but those who remained were organizing a defense. Prince Dmitri sent a young Lithuanian named Ostei to take charge, and his competence instilled confidence in the people. The Lithuanians were formidable because they understood the significance of the campaign. Peasants from the countryside poured into the city for shelter. The walls were manned by brave but largely untrained militia. Even monks were bearing arms in the defense of their city. But, the spies said, there was a feeling of doom.

“Well justified,” Jes remarked with satisfaction.

“I gather you are not much interested in staying home and having babies,” Ned said.

“I will get to that in due course.” But she looked thoughtful.

On August 23, 1382, the Mongols arrived at Moscow. Toqtamish sent envoys who spoke Russian to ask about Grand Prince Dmitri. They were told that he was no longer in the city, and it seemed to be true, as it confirmed the news of the spies. Ostei, the Lithuanian, was now in charge, and no, he would not yield the city. So the envoys returned to report to the khan, and the siege began.

For three days the Mongols punished the defenders of the wall with deadly storms of arrows. Jes was among them, firing at any head she saw on the wall. Soon no heads showed; the Russians were afraid to fire back.

But when the Mongols attacked the walls directly, they were repulsed by heavy stones and boiling water. Ostei did know what he was doing, and his amateurs were learning professionalism in a hurry. This was likely to take some time—and Ned had already advised the khan not to get embroiled in a winter campaign. They needed to take Moscow without undue delay, or the war would become considerably more difficult.

Toqtamish was thoughtful. “Do you know of any way to cut this campaign short without sacrificing our objectives?”

“Bring the siege equipment.”

“It will take a month to get here.”

Ned refrained from reminding the khan that he had urged that the siege engines follow closely after the main army. Other advisers had belittled the notion that the cowardly Russians would actually stand and fight in the face of the overwhelming Mongol army. But they had not reckoned on the unexpected: the expertise of the Lithuanian commander. Ned had known to expect the unexpected.

“It is Dmitri you need to nullify,” Ned said. “Maybe you can make peace with the city, since he isn’t here, and move on to capture him before he raises a big army. Once you have him, Moscow won’t matter.”

Toqtamish nodded. “I will consider it.” That meant that he would consult with his formal advisers, and see whether there was a consensus.

That day a new adviser arrived, summoned from a far province. This was Ormond, who had a reputation for getting the job-done by whatever means he deemed expedient. Ned did not like the man’s reputation, nor the man himself, when he met him; sneakiness seemed to surround him like a noxious cloud. Rumor said that his conniving had brought shame to the man he had most recently served, so that he had had to depart in haste lest he be quietly executed. Thus he had been available for a new position.

The formal introduction was in the khan’s tent, which could have held 500 people. It was covered in white felt and was lined inside with silks, cloths, and pearls. This, for the khan, was roughing it in the field.

The visitor touched the ground with his right knee. “I hastened at your beck, Great Khan,” Ormond said, bowing his head low before Toqtamish. “I apologize that it was necessary to bring my good Moslem Turkish wife with me, lest the infidels mistreat her.”

“We regret in turn that we lack proper facilities for a woman of quality,” Toqtamish responded graciously. “But when we take the city, she shall have fitting accommodations. Present her to me now.”

Ormond bowed low again, then signaled to the side. A cloaked and veiled woman stepped forth. Despite her complete shrouding, Ned could tell by her proportions and the way she moved that she was beautiful. No wonder Ormond had not cared to leave her behind.

The woman bowed as low as her husband had, unspeaking. Her poise and grace spoke for her. Ned’s curiosity was aroused. How had this loutish man won such a creature?

“Show your face,” Toqtamish said, similarly intrigued.

She lifted her head, and then her veil, allowing the beauty of her countenance to shine forth. And Ned froze.
It was Wona!
His brother’s former faithless wife. Who had seduced him, and tortured him with her power over him, until Jes had taken her away.

“This court is blessed by your presence,” Toqtamish told her. “You and your husband must join us at our repast today.”

Wona nodded, properly grateful for this significant sign of favor by the khan.

The formalities concluded, but Ned was hardly aware of them. He had never expected to see Wona again. Now she was here, instantly complicating his existence. He hoped she had not seen him or recognized him, where he stood as one of several of the khan’s attendants. As soon as he could, he left the tent, so as to rejoin his sister.

“Wona!” Jes exclaimed. “What is she doing here?”

“She is the wife of the new adviser, Ormond.”

“Ormond! He’s the one Ittai sent her to. But he lives far away. I was sure he would never cross our paths again.”

“He fell out of favor where he was, and the khan summoned him to be an adviser. He just arrived.”

“This is mischief.”

“This is mischief,” he agreed glumly.

“Did she see you?”

“I don’t think so. But she will eat with the khan today, so she is bound to see me then.”

“Toqtamish shouldn’t miss you for one meal. Find business elsewhere.”

That made sense, because the last thing he wanted to do was have any further interaction with Wona. Just the single sight of her had stirred a complex both of guilt, shame, and desire in him. She was still so infernally lovely! So he busied himself with his equipment, and tried with notable un-success to blank her out of his thoughts.

But that afternoon as he went to the latrine trench to relieve himself, he heard a dulcet voice. “Ned.”

It was Wona. He didn’t turn. What was she doing at a place like this? The stink was terrible.

“Ned, I must speak with you,” she said. Her voice was low and urgent. “We must not be seen together. If my husband knew—”

“Then don’t leave his side,” he said gruffly. “I want no part of you.”

“How do you know? You once liked that part well enough.”

He turned, but didn’t see her; she was hidden behind a tree. “I am married now. You mean nothing to me.”

“Congratulations. I’m sure she is a nice girl.” Her tone suggested that “nice” equated to “uninteresting.” “But I have information you will want.”

“I want nothing of yours. Share it with your husband.”

“It is
from
my husband, who doesn’t know I know. I overheard—but I can’t tell you here. Meet me tomorrow morning at the red farmstead down the trail three leagues east of here.”