Swords From the East (19 page)

And who were the raiders that left, instead of the tracks of men, the print of deers' hoofs in the snow?

"This is my thought," he explained frankly, knowing better than to conceal anything from Temujin, who was intolerant of secrecy. "Instead of many foes, as you say, you have but one. His messengers of evil have taken the guise of other tribesmen. The kang was placed on your shoulders so that you would muster your standards against Mukuli, and so destroy yourself. The deers' hoofs were donned by the men of this enemy so that you would bear hatred against the reindeer people of the north, who had not come from their fastness in a month of moons."

He swept his hand before his eyes as if brushing away a veil.

"This foeman is wiser than you, and stronger. Who can tell his name?"

"If we go to the feast of the desert men, then we can make him uncover his face."

Thoughtfully, Mingan shook his head. Although, in the Gobi, he had been deprived of books and his astronomical instruments, he had not lacked of knowledge. He had learned to train falcons and fly them at game, even the bouragut, the golden eagle that would pull down a deer. He was able to keep to the saddle for days, and he knew the prairies almost as well as Temujin, who-perhaps because he could not read-never forgot what once he saw or heard. Hardship and constant suspense, holding himself ready to rouse up by night and take to the saddle and flee, had sharpened Mingan's keen wits.

"Like a play actor in Cathay, this foeman has a mask over his face, and he would strike you before you could guard against him."

Temujin took up his arrow and fell to sharpening it. "Jamuka bade me beware of Wang Khan, Prester John, who is a Christian and strongest of the lords of the west. Sixty times a thousand tents are on his lands. But he alone of the chiefs of the Horde dwells in a castle. He gives no feasts, nor does he ride forth from his hold; perhaps because he has under his hand treasure of gold, of silver, of carved ivory and sable furs, of jeweled saddles and fine, red leather. Yesukai, my sire, visited his castle, and at that time the beasts that guard it were chained-he could hear their snarling.

"Nevertheless, many of his men died from the burans, the black sandstorms of the southern Gobi. He said that as they drew near to Tangut-the castle of Prester John-he saw it first on one hand, then on another, and oft-times in the air before his horse. He saw a rich land, with wide rivers and trees, though no trees stand in that quarter of the earth."

Neither Temujin nor Mingan had seen a mirage. Yet the Cathayan did not doubt Yesukai's words-he had learned the bluntness of the Mongols.

It was said that the master of the Keraits had been alive for many generations. Also that, since Prester John did not go forth from his castle, he sent a trusted leader in command of his horsemen, who-so that enemies might not know the faces of his lieutenants-wore the skin of an animal's head over his own.

"Did Yesukai see the god that Prester John worshiped?" Mingan asked.

It was said too, that the power of Prester John, the friend of Yesukai, had been due to a talisman that was closely guarded in his castle, but to Mingan this meant a god.

"Nay, my first friend, he saw gold cups, and a white cloth under them, and a bird with feathers of every color that talked like a man. That, to my mind is enough. When we go to Tangut we must be wary and look on every side, for Prester John has sent me no word, and I know not what is in his heart toward us."

Temujin lifted his head, and Mingan put behind him the lute that he was fingering.

A rider was passing between the rows of tents of the Mongol camp, glancing carelessly about. Seeing the yak-tail standard planted at Temujin's side, he wheeled toward it, and drew up sharply, the forefeet of his pony not a yard from the Mongol's knees. Temujin did not put his hand to a weapon, not liking to make a threatening gesture without intending to strike, or, for that matter, to give warning when he meant to use a weapon. He had noticed that the newcomer rode the pony that was Burta's special property-a sorrel mare.

"0 Khan," said the messenger without dismounting, "I bear word to you from the daughter of Podu. Grant me freedom from harm, and I will dismount and speak; otherwise, the saddle suits me best and you will burn in the entrails of Erlik before you will catch this mare. Speak your mind."

He was a youngling, neat as a fawn from red morocco boot-tips to silveradorned sable-cap. His brown eyes danced in a round face and, as Temujin observed, the scabbard of his long scimitar was set with sapphires.

"What name bear you, 0 sharp of tongue?"

"Chepe Noyon, 0 long of face."

"The Tiger Chief," Temujin repeated, grimly. "Sit, and drink, and speak, and fear not for your swaddling-clothes or the limbs in them. Whence had you that mare?"

"From the hand of Burta, who is like the moon in the sky at night," quoth the stranger, following out Temujin's suggestion without further reluctance.

Mingan judged from his attire that he might be Jelair or Gipsy; at any rate his restlessness and his smooth, olive skin might well have earned him the surname of Tiger.

"Burta sends this warning," the stranger continued. "Do not come to the feast of Podu, or the feasters will sprinkle your blood as a libation on the sand, and hang your skin on the tent ropes. At least that was her meaning, the words are of my fashioning."

Hereat the Tiger Lord paused to quaff deep of the mare's milk that Temujin's mother brought from the yurt. Catching sight of Mingan's lute, he brightened.

"You are no Gipsy," said Temujin bluntly. "What are you?"

"0 Khan, a Kerait, and a better man than your minstrel. I have a gold lute. Harken, lutist, come not to the sands of the Gobi, to the feast, to sing ting-tang, like the thrush, before the hawk swooped and the songbird squawked by way of a last note. Get drunk and sleep in a wolves-lair if you will, but drink no wine of Podu's making."

"Wise counsel from a beardless mouth," smiled Mingan, and the Tiger-as they came subsequently to call him-looked up in surprise at the pleasant accent of the Cathayan. "Did the beauty of Burta bring you from the sands of Tangut-alone?"

"Alone as a lame fox, 0 minstrel. Nay, I set forth to find adventure, and heard before long of the great feast of Podu. When I rode thither the daughter of the chief smiled at me, and I was her slave. Would I might be among the suitors that Podu sorts out in his shrewd brain! But she gave me a quest, and I am here."

Mingan nodded politely, thinking that the Tiger, young as he was, could play a part as well as the Cathayans. Certainly the western chief was no fool, for as he spoke his eyes took in the camp shrewdly, sizing up the horses, the raw-hide armor of the Mongols, the weapons in Temujin's tent.

"Why alone," murmured Mingan, "if Prester John, your master, rides to the feast?"

"Not he. Nor his men. I tired of watching horses in our lands. Nay, give me the nomad's tents. 0 Khan, if my words are clear, I mount to retrace my journey at sun-up. Have you a message?"

"Your words are clear," acknowledged Temujin promptly, "yet you will bear no message from me, for I will draw my reins to Podu's tents and speak for myself. If any fox sent you to turn me aside with your threats, I will give you your fill of adventuring."

The same thought had crossed Mingan's mind-that Chepe Noyon might have lied. As warranty of the boy's faith there was the sorrel mare and the Tiger himself. For certainly no spy could be so careless of events, or could chuckle so heartily as the Tiger at Temujin's warning.

"You pledged me freedom from harm," he pointed out, "and I have heard that Temujin forgets not, nor fails to keep a promise." The mirth faded from his clear brown eyes, and he glanced at Temujin as if seeing him for the first time. "I have caught rumors in the Gipsy tents, the black tents, that there will be a new khan over the Horde before the snow comes."

Mingan, too, added his remonstrance, aware that Temujin had not men enough to ensure his safety, nor-which was more to the point-to make an impressive display among the other chieftains. It struck him suddenly, comparing the young Kerait and the powerful Mongol, that Temujin was no longer a boy. Mingan did not know that he himself had grown in stature and wisdom to manhood.

"If I lurk in my tent like a dog," snarled the khan, "my enemies will take counsel together and elect a leader. Nay, I have a mind to the feast." He caught the Kerait suddenly by the wrist. "Tiger, you are bold and open in speech. Will you stand with me? When the snow comes, I will still be Master of the Horde, and Burta will be in my tent. She waits until I take her from her father's yurt, and this shall be at the feast. Before the feast is ended," added Temujin dryly, "you may be in your grave, and Mingan too. Otherwise, you shall have honor rare in one of your years. Of my orkhons two are gone from the earth and one is ailing. The remaining two are needed to guard the herds at the Three Rivers and to watch the Tatars. That leaves no more than two or three gurans*
of riders to attend me, and no palladins. That is too few and too many-too few to guard me at the feast, too many Mongols to die. So we take three hundred picked men, a hundred to each of us."

Chepe Noyon flushed with pleasure, while Mingan nodded assent.

"As for orkhons to attend me, I will take two even though they he but sham heroes."

Temujin rose and went into his yurt, reappearing with two gold tablets in his hand, each engraved with an inscription. He gave the first to Mingan, the second to Chepe Noyon.

The Cathayan and the Kerait, surprised, bent their heads and lifted their hands. Temujin's eyes were cold.

"I mean this as a truth. At the last kurultai of the Horde I swore that I would choose new heroes, rather than take back those who left me. Now, each of you is raised above other men; you are immune from punishment; you are inviolate from the death penalty nine times. Wherever you go in the country of the Horde, you will be honored; you are to command, each one, a tuman of ten thousand chosen warriors."

Mingan looked down at his tablet and read the words-

PALLADIN OF THE MONGOL FELLOWSHIP

"Are you content?" Temujin's keen glance searched them. "Good. Guide and support each other, steal not, and remember that a lie earns for others than the orkhons the death penalty. Be falcons, going before my coming, spying out what is hidden and the place of danger; be the harbingers of war-aye, of death. Never spare a foe who still has a sword in hand, waste no thought on the weak; learn to care for your men and their ponies, for a brave man is useless if he aids not those under him."

He considered a moment.

"Take Chepe Noyon to your tent, Mingan, and share it with him. Then do you both choose a hundred to follow you, also the swiftest of our racing horses and the strongest wrestlers among our warriors for Podu's games."

Podu, seated under a pavilion at the finish line of the racing field on the hard, sun-baked clay of the Gobi, fingered his gold earrings and sipped pleasantly the red Cathayan wine, spoil of an excursion before the moon of his feast. For several reasons he was well content with life.

As far as the eye could reach, on one side of the race course stretched his wagon yurts-black, felt tents mounted on the framework of carts-and the herds of cattle that drew his clans from place to place as his whims elected. His horse herds had never been fatter or more numerous, because the Gipsy wasted no opportunity to trade beasts at the festival, and his trades were good ones-for him. Wagers upon the games, too, had gone his way.

That was one reason for his content. Another was Burta, who sat on a fine carpet behind him. Youths from the distant tribes of the Horde had come to woo the daughter of Podu, and lay gifts before her father, whose choice would decide the matter. Jamuka especially had given freely rare, river-sable skins, gold-inlaid weapons, Cathayan crossbows, white camelskins, and jewels from the mountain mines of the west.

Podu liked the gleam of pearls and the fire of rubies, and he liked an open-handed suitor, who gave whenever he drank Podu's wine, and drank the more he gave. The Gipsy had just sent a cask to the Jelair's tents that stood opposite, blue and purple pavilions, heavy with silk and topped with long banners. That was another reason Podu found life good. All the khans of the Horde were guests at his board, save Temujin, who, Podu knew, was hard pressed guarding the country of the Three Rivers, to the north.

As soon as it was clear that Temujin would not attend the feast, Podu had heard whispers that if Mukuli, the veteran Tatar, would call together a council, a new Master of the Horde would be chosen. Podu did not greatly care who was elected by the voice of the council-he would see to it that Burta married the fortunate man, and his own life would be one of ease henceforth.

"Little squirrel," he addressed his daughter, "I see you wear the clothof-silver cap, the gift of Jamuka. He looks long upon you; he is a clever soul."

"Aye, that is why you cheat him so easily. Is he not the Master of Plotting?"

Burta went on sampling the sugared fruits in a bowl under her hand; she always gained something from the spoil of a caravan.

Podu looked at her uncertainly. Of late her temper had been like the clear sun of a fair day, and when his daughter was tractable it meant she had a secret that she did not wish him to know.

"If the young Temujin rides hither alone, as he has done in the past," he ventured, "he would be like a lone raven in the company of vultures; he would be a thing made for mockery by these palladins who have each one a thousand tents behind their standards. If he brings the remnants of his dark-faced Mongols, his herds on the Three Rivers would be plundered, and his pastures taken. Temujin is like an arrow that has sped."

"True," nodded Burta, selecting another dainty. "And yet, 0 my father, Temujin would provide horses for more races, while now none will match their beasts against yours, so often have you been the victor."

Podu nodded regretfully. He was just about to declare the races at an end, and call for the wrestlers' carpet and the archers' staves. Temujin always matched him closely with horseflesh, especially with the gray pony, and Podu, always provident against possibilities, had a card up his sleeve as it were, that he would have liked to play against the Mongol.