At the sight of her uncle’s dear face Katerina felt tears sting her eyes. She ran to him as she had when she was a child. When he gathered her close, the tears coursed down her cheeks. The Khan, embarrassed at her display of affection in front of Banyen, motioned to him to leave his tent.
“Tell me, child, what is it? What brings you here to my camp? Come, sit here with me and tell me what is troubling you.”
Gulping back her sobs, Katerina wiped at her tear-filled eyes. “They’re dead. They’re all dead. Grandfather himself waits to go to his Maker. Only Mikhailo, Grandfather, and a few of the others are left in the mountains. All of the horses are gone. All of them.”
“But I don’t understand. Are you telling me all the Cossacks from the village are gone, dead?” he asked in an outraged voice.
Katerina nodded tremulously. “A raiding party. It happened the night before we were to leave for the mountains. I was away from the camp when it happened. When I got back they had all been killed and the horses were gone. I didn’t know what to do. Mikhailo came down from the mountains when we didn’t arrive on schedule and helped me bury the dead. I came here because I didn’t know what else to do. Will you help me?”
“What can I do for you?” he asked quietly as the enormity of what she had said dawned on him. “You have only to ask, but I don’t know what assistance I can offer. Do you want a patrol of my soldiers to help you find the marauders?”
“More than a patrol, Uncle, much more. Before I came here I discussed the matter with Mikhailo. In all truth, he was against my plan, but I managed to convince him it would work. I told him my uncle, the Khan, would help me. You must help me,” she pleaded. “I have nowhere else to turn.” Before she could lose her courage, Katerina continued, “I want the men from your stockades, all of them. I want to take them back to the mountains with me and train them to be Cossacks. Please, Uncle, don’t look at me as if I’d lost my mind. It will work, I know it will. Give me the men that have no hope, the men who are destined for death. Those are the men I want. The more vicious, the more bloodthirsty, the better. I have to get the horses back. I can’t do it alone. I’ll work with them through the long winter, and in the spring we’ll leave the mountains and we’ll find the Cosars. It’s the only way.”
The Khan narrowed his oblique eyes as he listened to his niece plead with him. He loved her and would help in any way he could so long as he benefited in some way, he told himself. It had been a long time since he had seen hate such as hers. He asked himself where he had seen such a look. Of course—in Banyen’s eyes the day he was brought to the camp. He rubbed his hands through his coarse black hair, making it stand out in tufts about his round head, as he continued to listen to her plead her cause. The coal black eyes were shrewd, watchful, and ever speculative. Short, stubby fingers stroked an undefined chin as he interjected a word from time to time.
“It will work, Uncle, I know it will,” Katerina said vehemently.
“These men from the stockade are the dregs of the earth. The first chance they get, they’ll kill you. What chance will you, a woman, have against them?”
“I’m a Cossack, or did you forget, Uncle? If there’s any killing to be done, it will be me who does it, not your prisoners. If you believe nothing else, believe that.”
“Listen to me, little one, these men, these prisoners, are due to go to their death shortly. An offer such as you make will mean that they will leave no stone unturned to gain their freedom. Once you set out with them, that will be their only objective. Why do you think they will go with you and train through the long, cold winter and then fight for your cause? This is foolish woman-talk. It will never work.”
“I’m telling you it will work. I’ll take them, shackled in irons, through the Urals, across the steppe, and up to the mountains. The snows are due soon. Where could they go? There’s nothing for them on the outside. They have a chance to regain their dignity and fight for something worthwhile. I’ll even agree to pay them so afterward they can begin a new life. As you know, Uncle, the Cosars have bequeathed my family a fortune in gold. If I lived a thousand years I could never hope to spend the fortune that rests in the House of the Kat. I’ll pay anything, do anything, to succeed. They have a choice—a new life with me or death at the hands of your men. Which do you think they’ll accept?”
Katerina felt a lump settle in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t convincing him. “Very well, Uncle, what is it you wish to bargain for in return for your help?” she asked shrewdly.
The Khan laughed. “You know me well, little one. There is one small request you can grant me. A colt and a filly from Whitefire,” he said slyly.
“You know it’s forbidden, Uncle. However, I see you will accept nothing less. You drive a hard bargain, but one I’ll accept, only because I’m desperate.”
“Forbidden by whom? You just told me Volin was wiped out. You’re the leader now, the decision is yours alone. Let’s be sure we both understand the bargain we’re making,” the Khan said, standing up, his scarlet shirt and shiny black trousers bright against the dimness of the yurt.
“I understand the bargain,” Katerina said coolly. “You also have my word: when the first wildflower sprouts on the frozen banks of the Dnieper in the spring, a new breed of Cossack will be born,” she said grimly, her amber eyes flashing.
The Khan looked deeply into her eyes and believed her implicitly. If anyone could do it, she could.
“Sit down, Katerina, we’ll have some food and drink. There is much we must discuss.” He clapped his pudgy hands, and an old serving woman entered the tent. His tone was husky and guttural when he gave his orders. The old hag looked at Katerina with suspicion as she scurried away to do the Khan’s bidding.
Katerina settled herself on the pile of fox and mink furs. “I see that you surround yourself with all the trappings of wealth,” she said, looking around at the brightly colored silken hangings. “And a wooden floor,” she said snidely. “Not to mention a blanket of sable that stretches from one end of the yurt to the other.” She noted that a small fire glowed in the center of the yurt, banked and ready to flare with a shovel of sheep dung.
The old Khan waved his pudgy arms around his yurt and smiled. “It befits my simple station in life. True, a little lavish compared to the other yurts, but . . . comfortable. The season has been excellent for trading the hides and wool from the sheep.”
“Your treasury is . . . ample, is that what you’re saying?”
“Very much so. I have no complaints. Now tell me, what does an old man like myself need with wealth? I like this simple life and the few little luxuries I allow myself. I’m content. Since you have just agreed to the filly and colt from Whitefire, my happiness is unsurpassed.”
Katerina flinched. No matter what she promised, she knew in her heart that she would find a way to get out of the bargain. There was no way he would get the offspring except over her dead body. She forced her face to blankness as she poked at the fire with iron tongs.
Her amber eyes were sleepy, catlike, and the Khan felt uneasy, a strange feeling creeping in and around his stomach. By now she should have been married, with babies sucking at her breasts. Indulgent fathers! he snorted to himself.
“Let us suppose that I agree to what you ask, and let us further agree that you are amenable to bestowing a colt and filly upon me for my generosity, what is your ultimate goal once you train my prisoners for whatever it is you have in mind?”
“I thought it was already agreed upon.”
“Ah, Katerina, one should never assume anything until it is a fact—will you never learn? Your father did you no favors by allowing you to be trained with his men. No, it’s not definite. Tell me, an old man who is in his failing years, what exactly are your plans? Spare me all the nonessentials. I’m also bearing in mind something Katlof once told me: a Cossack is born a Cossack, there is no in-between.”
Katerina clenched her teeth, a bitter, cold look in her eyes. The light breeze that wafted throu
gh the tent opening caused the silken hangings to flutter and sway, creating slight rustling noises, a restful sound that was making her drowsy. “I need the men to get the Cosars back. I must have trained men who will serve under me and do as I command them. I’ll raid and plunder every village from here to Moscow to get back what is mine. This is the only way I can do it. You must help me, I beg you on my mother’s life! I can train the men. I’ll make Cossacks out of them or die trying. Believe me, Uncle, I will succeed. If what my father told me was true, your own armies could stand some training. When we rode into your camp it was a sorry sight that greeted me. How did your armies deteriorate so? How did you allow it to happen? Tell me, what’s gone wrong?”
The Khan shrugged his ample shoulders as he settled himself more comfortably by the banked fire. “Men get tired of fighting and want to return to their families. They scatter and come back when they have no more use for their relatives. What you say is true. We’ve grown fat and complacent.” He laughed, patting his ample girth. “For now, there is nothing to fight. Only a foolish man leads men to war for the sake of war. I am not a foolish man. In the ways of women, perhaps,” he said, a roguish twinkle in his dark eyes. “Very well, I agree, but with one other condition. I’ll send fifty of my best and youngest men along with Prince Banyen. If you are so determined to train the prisoners, then you can give my men some training also. Upon their return in the spring, they will train others. Do you agree to this stipulation?”
The amber eyes flashed warningly. “And this Prince Banyen, is he the man that brought me here?” The Khan nodded. “Tell me,” she asked softly, “who is to be in charge of these men of yours? If I agree, then it must be me. I’ll not take orders from that . . . that . . . insufferable, that arrogant . . . bastard. Those, Uncle, are my terms. Be sure that your prince understands this, for I have no liking for him and I would just as soon stick a knife through his ribs as look at him.”
The Khan’s eyes were outraged at her words. “What did he do to you? Tell me and I’ll have him whipped. Did he . . . did he?”
“No, Uncle, he didn’t. I have no liking for him, it’s as simple as that. Before the end of winter one of us will kill the other. I plan to be alive when the snows melt, so be warned. It’s my way or not at all. This is your golden opportunity, Uncle,” she said in a low, rich voice, hoping to sway him to her way of thinking. “My visit here and my request will serve a twofold purpose. You can rebuild your armies with my help, and you will be the only man in all of Russia that can boast he has foals from Whitefire. A colt that will grow to be a stallion, not a gelding. Think about it, Uncle, before you decide.”
“Banyen will be like a devil if I agree to your terms. He has no love for women.” He shook his head and laughed. “It will do him good. Perhaps when the snow melts you will be enamored of each other.”
“Don’t plan on it, Uncle. I’ve decided the man hasn’t been born yet that will be good enough for me, so put that thought from your mind.”
“Strange that you should say that.” The Khan laughed wickedly. “That’s exactly what Banyen said. He said there wasn’t a woman in the world that was fitting to share his name.”
“Is that what he said?” Katerina snapped.
“As a matter of fact, those were my exact words,” Banyen said, entering the tent. “Would you like me to repeat them for your benefit?” His expression mocked her as she looked up at him.
Katerina laughed, a rich, full laugh that seemed to circle the yurt and come to settle around him. The hackles on the back of his neck seemed to rise and then fall against his sun-darkened throat.
“Sit down, Banyen, join us in a light repast. I’ve just committed you to a mission.”
Katerina watched as the agate eyes turned the color of deep indigo at the Khan’s words. His muscular body stiffened, and the bronze hands were clenched into fists at his sides. His mouth was grim and tight as he waited expectantly for the words he knew would not be to his liking.
“First, allow me to introduce you to my niece, Katerina Vaschenko. She’s come here to me for help, and I’ve agreed to do as she asks in return for two very small favors. You and fifty of our best and youngest men, along with prisoners of her choosing from the stockade, will accompany her back to the Carpathians, where you will all undergo extensive Cossack training. In the spring you will return here with our men, who will train the others. The prisoners will remain in the Carpathians with my niece, who will then . . . That isn’t important,” he said suddenly. “My niece will be in charge, is that understood?”
“And if I refuse?” Banyen demanded curtly.
“You won’t,” the Khan said calmly. “You’re too good a soldier to disobey an order. If you do, you know the consequences. It’s my command, Banyen, and one I won’t repeat. My dear,” he said, as an afterthought, “allow me to present Prince Banyen.”
“Nobility and titles don’t impress me,” Katerina said aloofly. “It’s what’s inside a man that counts, and you, Prince Banyen, are sadly lacking. It will be interesting to see how you fare in the mountains. Very interesting indeed.” She laughed again as she watched his dark hand reach up to touch the scar on his cheek. His dark eyes were murderous as he stalked from the tent, his back straight and stiff.
Katerina’s voice was calm, yet the Khan sensed a tone of danger in her softly spoken words. “Who is Prince Banyen? How is it he commands this ragamuffin parcel of men you call an army?”
The Khan sighed wearily. “Kindness, Katerina. Please, kinder words when you speak of my army. We’ll rise again as we did before, for this is but a momentary relapse. I have placed all my faith in Banyen to rebuild my army and make them the noble fighters of yesteryear. Banyen’s father was the prince of a league, controlling many banners and baks. Czar Ivan, in one of his mad rages, sent his soldiers out, and the Khanate of Kazan was burned to the ground. As a boy, he wandered until he came to Astrakhan, where he stayed until the Khan surrendered, and then he ran away. For years he lived with whoever would have him, until one day my men found him wandering near the Urals, alone and dazed, near death. They brought him here, and to this day I still wonder how he survived. If Kazan flourished, one day Banyen would have been the next Khan, but his entire family was slaughtered and everything lost. He’ll do as I say, because he owes me his life, and he needs my help to avenge his people. A brilliant strategist, he’s not entirely without compassion. One day he may let you see that side of him. Now he’s bitter and angry and has little patience, but that will change. What I’m saying is not to push him too far or you may rue the day you did. In open combat he has no equal, and on horseback the animal and man are one.” He laughed. “And he devours women the way I consume food. Later, I don’t wish to hear you say you weren’t warned. Enough of this, where is that infernal crone with our meal?” he complained loudly, just as the old servant entered the yurt. Carefully she placed the platters of roast lamb and the decanter of wine near the fire, and slowly backed away.
Katerina drank deeply from the decanter and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She bit into a plump piece of lamb, and didn’t stop till every morsel of meat was gone from the bone.
“Rest, little one. I have business outside the yurt. No one will bother you. Sleep,” he said fondly as he laid a gentle hand on her coppery hair.
Katerina needed no further urging. She cradled her head on her arm and was asleep instantly on the sable carpet.
* * *
Khan Afstar stood with his hands posed on his ample hips, waiting for Banyen to walk toward him. He didn’t like the arrogant gait nor the murderous look in the young prince’s eyes. He schooled his own face to impassiveness as he looked around the camp at the multitude of tents that dotted the landscape. Far to the right of the giant compound, his entire army was garrisoned. Even from where he stood, shading his eyes from the brilliant sun, he could see that the yurts were sadly in need of repair. Men roamed about as if they had no destination in mind. Men should be busy or they grew fat a
nd soft. What was Banyen thinking of to let them behave in so aimless a fashion? “What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded, pointing toward the garrison.
“The men are tired. I gave them a few hours of respite to do as they wished. Not everything can be done in a matter of a few days. It was you yourself who told me this. I can’t make staunch fighting men overnight from derelicts who have grown sodden with wine and rich, spicy food. If they drill too long, they collapse. All things in good time. When the time comes to storm Moscow, they’ll be ready—you have my word.”
“I see by the harsh look on your face you have no liking for my orders. I have my reasons, Banyen. This may be my one and only chance to ferret out the Whitefire secret. I want you to go with Katerina under the guise of commander of my men. What I want you to do is gain the secret. I don’t care how you do it, just do it. I have the utmost faith in your abilities. Make yourself available to my niece. Woo her if necessary, but don’t come back without the answer.”
The scar on Banyen’s cheek began to throb with the hard set of his jaw. “And that means another delay. Very well, I always repay my debts, and this is one that will be paid first. I am well aware that I owe you my life. For that I’ll do your bidding . . . this time. But when I return from the Carpathians I’ll take matters in my own hands. Perhaps you forget how you promised me the aid of your men if I took over the training of your armies. A twofold arrangement, you said. I’ll never forget why I’m a paid soldier in this sorry excuse for an army. It would be simpler to just buy your army.”
The Khan shook his head. “When will you young people learn that all things are gained by patience and timing? Revenge will be yours, but when I deem the moment is right, and that will be when we lead every Mongol in Sibir and the surrounding territories through the streets of Moscow. Vengeance will be that much sweeter, take my word for it.”
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