“Prince!” Ned called. “We are friends!”
There was a groan nearby. Ned went there, and saw the fugitive lying under a bush. He dismounted and ran to him. It was indeed Prince Toqtamish. “Here!” he called to Idiku as he kneeled beside the fallen man.
In a moment Idiku was there. “He is wounded in the hand,” he said. “Nonlethal injury.”
Ned bound the hand, and they helped Toqtamish to a horse. He was too weary to ride competently on his own, so Ned rode with him, keeping him from slumping out of the saddle as the horse walked.
“We’ll take him directly to Timur, at Bukhara,” Idiku said.
They camped for the night, posting guards. Toqtamish began to revive, eating bread and drinking wine. He inquired about the identity of his rescuers, and Idiku introduced himself and Ned. “Ned spied you crossing the river, and led us to the place,” he said.
“What is it he wears?”
“A cross,” Ned said. “I am a Christian.”
Toqtamish nodded, evidently losing interest. “I will remember.” Then he found a place to urinate, and retired to the tent to sleep.
In the morning, rested, the Mongol prince was able to ride on his own, and they made better time.
Timur welcomed the prince again, and gave him more riches and honors. Ned marveled at this extreme generosity to one who had proved to be of questionable competence, but of course did not speak. He was just an incidental functionary, beneath the notice of royalty. He stayed close to Idiku, his immediate superior, and tried to remain part of the background. It was the first time he had been allowed into even the incidental presence of Timur, and he felt the thrill of the honor. He saw that Timur walked with a slight limp, and he, too, had an injury in the hand. Stories abounded about how he had received the wounds to his right appendages, varying with the regard in which the tellers held him. Supporters told of his ferocious appetite for combat, in which he had been injured during pitched battles with enemies who greatly outnumbered him; detractors spoke darkly of botched cattle raids or even single combat with his own father. But all conceded his legendary prowess on horseback and personal valor in battle. Certainly his lameness did not slow him in those pursuits.
This time the Mongol khan did not simply let the fugitive go. Within days word came that Urus was marching south with a larger army to punish Toqtamish. Soon two envoys arrived bearing his ultimatum: “Toqtamish has killed my son, and has since sought refuge with you. I demand the surrender of my enemy. If you refuse, we must choose a battlefield.”
“Oooh,” Idiku murmured for Ned’s ears only. “That is the wrong tone to take to Timur.”
Indeed it was. Timur glowered at the envoys. “If the khan’s son had stayed where he belonged, instead of infringing on my territory, he would be alive today. Return to Urus Khan and tell him that I not only accept his challenge, but also that I am ready, and my soldiers are like lions, who do not live in the forest but have their den in the battlefield. If he is smart, he will hasten out of my territory before his own life is forfeit.”
Then, when the envoys had departed, he turned to Idiku. “Follow them by secret patrols. I want to know exactly where the khan is camped.”
Idiku turned to Ned, his mouth quirking. “Christian, get your horse. You know what to do.”
“Yes, sir.” As Ned turned to obey, he saw Toqtamish smile. They all knew what was happening. The khan’s arrogant message had made the matter personal for Timur.
Ned was one of several who trailed the envoys, staying always out of their sight. It was easy to track the prints of their horses, or to lie hidden near their likely trails and see them pass. When he was sure of their trail, he marked it so that Timur’s scouts could follow it.
Timur himself marched soon after. Now Ned became a scout, leading the troops along the trail he had helped mark. The khan was in for an ugly surprise, for he would find himself surprised before he was organized for battle.
The White Horde force was camped near the city of Signakhi, one of those from which it had displaced Toqtamish. Timur brought his own army to the plains of Otrar, twenty-four leagues away.
But the weather interfered. There was a terrible rainstorm, followed by such intense cold that lasted so long that it prevented any action though that winter. Timur chafed at the forced inaction, but would not act until he was sure he could do so effectively. The men were given rotating leave to visit the city, but remained always on ready alert. That meant that Ned could not visit his home city of Sabrán, or attend the Nestorian church there, though it was only a few leagues away. In any event, it was uncertain under whose control the city was at the moment. He hoped his family was not suffering unduly.
Food became so scarce that Timur commanded his generals and lesser officers, on pain of death, to see to it that no one in the army should bake bread for himself. All the food was redistributed, the generals and princes getting precisely the same rations as the private soldiers and servants. No one was allowed to eat anything more than thin gruel. One bag of flour, together with a few herbs, supplied sixty dishes: one dish of broth for each soldier, each day. The soldiers searched for eggs of waterbirds, for animals, for edible plants—anything to supplement the ration of gruel.
Finally, after three months, the weather eased. Timur sent a detachment of 500 men out under two commanders to attack the enemy in the night.
But the Mongols had spies too. They were met by a force of three thousand commanded by the khan’s third son, Malik. The fighting was fierce, and one of Timur’s commanders was killed, but Malik was wounded in the leg and had to retreat. The victory went to the Turks.
Then Urus Khan sent out a scouting force of 200 men. This force stumbled on a smaller force of Turks that was returning from Otrar after provisioning troops there. The Turks fled. When the Mongols got spread out in their pursuit, the Turks whirled around on them and cut them to pieces. The Mongols had fallen for the oldest trick in the Mongol book, the mock retreat.
Discouraged by these failures, Urus Khan returned home, though the bulk of his army was untouched. Timur also retired from the field, having won back his territory by default, though that was not his preferred way.
Now at last Ned got to visit his family in Sabrán. His little sister Lin kissed him. So, to his surprise, did her companion Wildflower, who had once been a Mongol princess. The girl had helped take care of him during a severe illness, and did seem to like him. He found them all in good health, but somewhat worn by the long threat of a siege by one side or the other. Food was scarce, because the two armies had raided the supplies.
But he could not stay long, because as soon as the weather turned favorable, Timur set out once more. This time he advanced into the territory of the White Horde, giving Toqtamish command of the advance guard. The Mongol prince knew the way, and guided the army so effectively that in fifteen days they reached the interior town of Geiran Kamish, “The Reeds of the Deer.” They had attracted little or no notice.
The inhabitants were taken completely by surprise, and put up no effective defense. The army pillaged the town and captured large numbers of sheep, camels, and horses.
Best of all, they learned at this time that Urus Khan was dead. Apparently he had been ill, and that was one reason he had retreated. The rigors of the campaign had worn him down beyond recovery.
Timur, well satisfied with these successes, decided to return to his other campaigns. He was, after all, in the process of conquering Persia from the remnants of the former Mongol khanate there, and the job couldn’t wait indefinitely. Now that he had protected his flank, he left Toqtamish with enough troops to uphold his pretense to the throne of the White Horde and gave him a fine horse. This was Kunk Oghlan, sired from Timur’s own stallion, and famous for his speed.
Now that the Mongol prince was settled in, Idiku Berlas was settled too, and no longer needed Ned’s help in the field. So Ned was given leave to rejoin his family in Sabrán, though subject to recall at any time. He rode south with his sh
are of the booty: several fat sheep.
He was welcomed again by the enthusiastic embraces of his little sisters, Lin and Wildflower, and Flo was much gratified to have the sheep. “Wool and meat,” she said. “Exactly what we need.”
Ned settled down to do what he most enjoyed: designing military architecture. He had had experience formulating city walls, and had once advised a local leader in the design and use of such defenses. He had learned much during the recent campaigns against the Mongols and enjoyed analyzing and trying to improve on them in retrospect.
But he wasn’t given much time to himself before something astonishing came up.
Ned looked up from his architectural draft to see the solid shadow of his elder sister Flo approaching. It was unusual for her to come to his place of work, so he suspected she had some serious concern.
“We must talk,” she said.
That confirmed it. He gave her his full attention.
“I have two concerns. One you surely know of: there is agitation against the Nestorian Christians in the city. We arrived here at a bad time.”
He knew it. They had fled physical illness only to discover the emotional illness of religious persecution. The majority of the city’s inhabitants were Moslem, and they resented having what they called infidels among them. The Mongol rulers of old had been largely indifferent to religious matters, and did not persecute anyone for his faith, but much went on that was beneath the notice of the rulers. Now the Mongols themselves were becoming Moslem, and their attitudes were changing.
“They choose to blame us for the ills war has brought to the city,” Ned said. ‘This is nonsensical. It is the warring between Mongol factions that has done it, and the ineptness of Timur’s governance.” Here in the privacy of his family he could speak freely. He had nothing but admiration for Timur’s prowess in the field, but the man paid almost no attention to the ordinary running of his empire.
“It is easier to blame a small minority than to blame either Timur or the Mongols,” Flo said darkly. “The minority can’t strike back.”
He nodded. “You wish to move to a more comfortable city? We might find good work in Samarkand.”
“No. I prefer to gain protection by seeking the favor of the khan.” She meant the pretender, who held power in this region only.
He laughed. “How long do you think Toqtamish will last? The plotters and rebels will soon bring him down. Again.”
“Maybe not.” She paused, then changed the subject. “Wildflower loves you.”
“And I love her. She’s a nice girl, just like one of the family. She tended me when I was deathly ill.”
“You misunderstand. She’s a woman, and she wants to marry you.”
Ned’s jaw dropped. “She’s my little sister!”
“No. She is not your sister. We took her in when she was caught between Mongol family feuds, and saved her from likely death.”
“But not from rape,” he agreed, remembering. “Lin smuggled her out of danger, but too late to spare her that. But she has adapted very nicely. She might as well be a sibling. She’s almost as pretty as Lin, when allowance is made for her Mongol heritage, and quite fair of form.” He had noticed that several months before, when the girl had had occasion to strip in his presence. He had felt guilty for noticing.
“Indeed. She is a princess, cousin to Toqtamish. Now that he has power, she is no longer a refugee, but a person of note.”
“Good for her! She can take her place in his court, as long as it lasts.”
“Yes. But she won’t go.”
“Why not? She would be better off there, than with a persecuted minority.”
“Because she loves you.”
Again he took stock. “And you don’t mean just as a sibling. She has a crush on me. But surely it will pass. I assure you, I have never given her any encouragement of that nature.”
“You have been largely oblivious, except for your guilt when you see her naked.”
He had hoped that Flo had not grasped that awkwardness. Flo believed in cleanliness, so they all had to wash periodically, and sometimes he saw his sisters naked. It could not be helped, but they did have breasts and fur, and looked like women, and at times it was hard for him to remain properly neutral. “Well, it is not proper to lust after one’s sister.”
“She is not your sister,” Flo repeated.
“You know what I mean. I have treated her with all proper deference, and never sought to indulge in anything untoward.”
“Ned, you are our smartest family member, but you can be monumentally stupid about women.”
“To my everlasting shame,” he agreed. “When Wona—”
“Forget about Wona! She’s gone. You are of age and maturity to marry, and you could do infinitely worse for a wife than Wildflower.”
He stared at her. “Are you suggesting that I—take advantage of a girl’s passing fancy, to get into her skirt?”
Flo met his gaze with a hard intensity he seldom saw in her. “No. I am suggesting that you marry a young woman who is worthy of you.”
“But why? I agree that she is a nice girl, with an appealing body, but that’s no reason to—”
“You need a more practical reason than the love of a woman who could make you happy?”
“Yes! Because it would not be fair to her, to prey upon her naivete. I know the evil of that. Wona—”
“Wona preyed on yours,” she agreed. “And you found ecstasy amidst the guilt. Your determination not to do that to another person is worthy. But this is not that. Wildflower truly loves you, and will give you her body without guilt. We of the family approve.”
“The family has discussed this?” he asked, appalled.
“We had to. Bry and Lin were attacked in the street this morning. For being Christians. They got away without suffering harm, but it is an evil signal.”
Ned felt a cold and angry shiver. “Sam knows of this?”
“Yes. But we agreed that violence is not the answer. We need protection.”
“I will certainly agree to move! I don’t want anything to happen to my siblings. Or to Wildflower.”
“Then marry Wildflower.”
He looked blankly at her. “What has this to do with danger in the streets?”
“If you marry her, you will be related to the future khan of the White Horde.”
Now at last he understood her import. He could at one stroke bring the family unparalleled protection. Nobody harassed kinsmen of the Mongol khan. Not in this city. Not anywhere within the domains of the pretender to the throne of the White Horde. Not as long as he retained power.
“But it would be using her!” he protested. “Not merely sexually, but politically. She is a Mongol princess. We have no right to do that to her.”
“She suggested it,” Flo replied evenly.
“She—” He broke off, astonished.
“She really does want to marry you, Ned. And she brings a dowry we can not decline. We can be safe—if you only oblige her love.”
“If I only seduce an innocent girl! Flo, where is the honor in this?”
“I said it would be a good marriage. I know you, Ned; I know she is right for you. Your idiocy is in refusing to see it. If you will not do it because of love, do it to save the welfare and perhaps the lives of your siblings. It will not be an unkind or difficult relationship, I promise you. You can love her, if you allow it.”
He shook his head. “Surely Wona used a similar rationalization when she decided to prey on a naive lad.” Then he thought of something else. “She is a Mongol princess, and needs to hide it no longer. What would Toqtamish think of this? Of her marrying an infidel?”
“We are about to find out. She is traveling to see her cousin now. If he gives her leave, she will marry you.”
“And you are telling me to marry her.”
“Yes. We believe it is best, all things considered. It will help the family survive, it will satisfy her love, and it will fulfill your life in a way you don’t y
et appreciate. It is an unusually good solution to a combination of problems.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said shortly.
“You have until she returns from her visit to her cousin.”
She seemed so sure he would agree!
Meanwhile, there was their situation in an environment becoming increasingly hostile. They were careful, but the mood of the city was bad and getting worse. Scapegoats were needed, and Christians were the most likely candidates. Their little Nestorian church was suffering defacement. If it hadn’t been built of solid stone, with thick walls and small windows, the damage would have been worse. It was clear that they would have to leave soon, if they didn’t get protection. Yet it would probably be about as bad in other cities. Moslems were many, and Christians few, in the Mongol and the Persian realms.
Ned wrestled with his mixed emotions. It was true that Wildflower was unrelated to him, and that she was attractive. But she remained a sister in his mind, and he felt guilty even thinking about her sexually. How could he marry such a girl? Yet he feared he had to. He wished he could talk to her, to try to make her see that this was not a good thing to do. But she was away, and anyway, he wasn’t sure his arguments would be persuasive. Flo and the family thought it was right to do, and they generally did know. So was he the one who was wrong?
In the end, he concluded that the need of the family probably outweighed his personal scruples. He would have to marry her, and try to consummate the union, though he knew that the guilt spawned by Wona would interfere. Logically the situations were not really analogous, but in his feeling they were. With Wona, it had been a betrayal of the family; with Wildflower, it would be in support of the family. So they were different. If only he could believe that!
Then Wildflower returned. “I’m going to marry him!” Lin reported overhearing.
“She’s hardly older than you,” Ned said. “Do you think it’s right?”
“She’s a full fourteen. That’s old enough. And she’s got the body.” Lin passed one hand down her front, disparagingly. She was still thirteen, and of rather slight development. But her face was pretty, and when her body followed, she would be the loveliest girl of the family, as long as she wore gloves.
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