Hope of Earth

by Piers Anthony

Then as fall came, things changed again. Ned was abruptly recalled to service. He suspected that he knew why: A refugee from the White Horde had arrived at Timur’s court and told stories of how Malik was losing the support of his tribes. He had gained a reputation for debauchery. He lay abed until midmorning, delaying the main meal of the day, and no one dared disturb him. He was oppressive, and the people were weary of his rule. Many wished for the return of Toqtamish, who had had a better sense of the duties of a leader.

  Ned kissed Wildflower. “You may yet be a princess again,” he told her.

  “Just keep safe, my love,” she replied. “You are all I want.”

  That made him feel guilty again. She offered him so much, and he gave her only the semblance of a marriage. He rode to join Idiku Berlas at Signakhi, where Toqtamish was camped. He became a scout again, as Toqtamish marched north against Malik with troops provided by Timur. He had his own equipment, for each warrior had to provide himself with his own bow, thirty arrows, a quiver, and a shield. Armorers were at work, providing harnesses and shirts of mail. There was a spare horse for every two men, and a tent for every ten men. Each complement of ten had two spades, a pickaxe, a sickle, a saw, a hatchet, an awl, a hundred needles, thread, casting nets, and a big iron saucepan. Each chief gave a written undertaking, to assure that troops would arrive at a given rendezvous.

  This time Toqtamish paid close attention to the counsel of Timur’s military advisers. They caught Malik at his winter camp in the hills, and defeated him. Malik fled with the core of his followers, and Toqtamish ascended the throne without further opposition. He was at last khan of the White Horde.

  They arrived at the capital city. The khan was not in the royal tent, but in a magnificently decorated pavilion, as was his custom every Friday after prayers. It was constructed of wooden rods covered with plaques of silver gilt, their bases inset with precious stones. Beside it a huge tent had been erected, its supporting columns gleaming. There were awnings of cotton and linen cloth, and it was carpeted with silken rugs. In the center was an immense couch made of inlaid wood whose planks were covered with a large rug. The khan and his principal wife would sit on cushions here when receiving visitors. But at the moment that couch was not in use.

  Wildflower kissed Ned, suppressing her extreme nervousness. “I must leave you for a time,” she said.

  “Why? Am I not your husband?”

  “It is a ceremonial thing. I will return to you as soon as I can.”

  “But we are about to see the khan.”

  “I must see him alone, my husband. Then he will send for you.”

  “This is not protocol.”

  She looked him in the eye. “Please, Ned.”

  Bemused, he yielded to her requirement. She walked to the entrance of the pavilion.

  One of the guards stopped her. “No one enters the presence of the khan unannounced.”

  “I am his cousin, the Princess Wildflower. Announce me for a private audience.”

  “You are garbed as a common scullery maid.”

  “Look at me and tell me I am not a Mongol.” She removed her kerchief to show her glossy black hair and dusky skin, and turned on the imperial visage. She had schooled herself in the way of a lowly peasant girl, but she had not forgotten her origin.

  A guard went in to check. Soon he emerged, looking slightly dazed. “He will see you.”

  She brushed past him. Toqtamish was seated on his couch, alone, facing south. He was tall and handsome, as she remembered him, a man of her dead father’s age. He did not move as she approached.

  She stopped at the proper distance and dropped to her knees, bowing her head. Then she went down farther, into a full prostrate obeisance.

  “Cousin, what is the meaning of this?” the khan demanded after a significant pause.

  “My lord, you forbade me to marry the Christian. I disobeyed. I have come to receive my just punishment. You may slay me now for my insolence.”

  “You have nerve, Cousin. I thought you would not tell me.

  “I am of your blood. Courage runs in the family.”

  “Get up from the floor, you scoundrel.”

  She got slowly to her feet. She put her hands to her neck and pulled out the collar, baring somewhat more than her neck for his gaze. “Here is my neck for your blade.”

  He ignored that. “Why? Why did you bring this shame on the family?”

  “I love him.”

  “That is not enough. A royal Mongol does not allow love to interfere with expediency. Why did you do it?”

  “His family saved my life, after I was ravished. Now they are being persecuted. They must have protection.”

  “So he prevailed on you to marry him?”

  “No, Lord. He did not want to marry me. I prevailed on him, using this argument.”

  “Not good enough. No man would not want to marry a Mongol princess. Why did you do it?”

  He had asked her three times. Now she had to give her most genuine reason. “I want you to give him a good position. One fitting a royal relative.”

  “A position! For a miscreant Christian?”

  She remained silent, eyes downcast, in what she hoped was the picture of maidenly innocence and disappointment.

  The khan let her remain that way for a number of heartbeats, then relented. “Oh, stop it! You know I’m not going to kill you. Your mother was always my favorite cousin, and you do take after her, even in your mischief.”

  She raised her eyes. “Thank you, Lord.”

  “I will do it. But you must pay me, as your mother would.”

  “Anything, Lord.” She didn’t mind that her tears of relief and gratitude showed. He could indeed have killed her, despite his protestation. But it had been a gamble she had to take.

  “Tell me your darkest secret.”

  And she had to do it, according to the private protocol between them. Her mother had told her of the secret games that she and Toqtamish had played as children, and the minor yet sacred trysts they had kept. They had been ready to deceive anyone else, but never each other. “My husband is impotent with me.”

  “Impotent! How can this be?”

  “He sees me as his sister.”

  The khan shook his head. “The man’s an idiot.”

  “No, Lord. He is a genius. And a man of honor. That is part of why I love him. He just isn’t very smart about women.”

  “True words!” The khan rose from his couch and came across to embrace her. “Were you not my cousin, I would make you my choicest wife, you delightful creature. How well you understand our nuances. We will not speak of the substance of this dialogue elsewhere.” That was part of the protocol; her mother had told her of the games, but not revealed any actual secrets. “Send him in.”

  “Thank you, Cousin!”

  She started to back away, but he stopped her with a gesture. “If you are to be married to the lout, it must be by a proper Moslem ceremony. He must not remain a Christian. I trust you informed him of this?”

  “I saw no point, Lord.”

  Toqtamish glowered. “No point! No Moslem woman can marry out of the faith, and it would be intolerable for a princess to take up with an infidel. You know this. How could you neglect such a requirement?”

  “There was no point, if I was going to die before consummation,” she explained.

  He gazed at her for a time. “You gambled heavily, Cousin.”

  “Sometimes one must gamble, if one is to win.”

  He nodded. “And suppose he refuses to convert?”

  “I will persuade him,” she said.

  “If you can’t persuade him to plumb you, how can you hope to persuade him to do something important? Christians can be obstinate.”

  “I will do it,” she said, hoping it was so.

  “Your daring compels my admiration, Cousin. You say he really has not penetrated you?”

  She blushed. “I’m sure he will, in time. He wants to.”

  “Of course he wants to, you beautiful sire
n! But he hasn’t.”

  “He hasn’t, yet,” she agreed.

  “So you remain pristine for the wedding.”

  That was another awkward point. “Not exactly. I—”

  “Do not speak of the past. No one here knows of it. You are pristine.”

  “If you say so, Lord.” It was true that no one in this court would speak of what the khan decreed unspeakable. She was now legally virginal, as a Mongol princess should be. Actually Mongols considered fifteen to be a suitable age for a girl to marry, but she was acceptable for sexual congress from age ten on. So most brides were well experienced by the time they married, albeit only with the men they married. So the khan was holding her, as a princess, to a higher standard than usual, officially. So that no one would dare whisper of her shame of getting raped.

  “So you must remain aloof from him until the wedding, so that there will be no risk of scandal. Go into seclusion.”

  “But I must persuade him!”

  “I will do that.”

  She was startled. “You, Lord? But—”

  He frowned. “You doubt my ability?”

  She paused, to phrase her response carefully. She could afford neither to insult him nor to trust him too far. “I fear your ability, Lord.”

  “Don’t. I will accomplish it without bloodshed.”

  She remained wary. “If he dies—”

  “He will not.”

  “If you threaten him—”

  “I will not threaten him. I will merely reason with him. You say he is smart. He will appreciate my point.”

  That seemed tight. This was more than she had hoped for. No reprisal against Ned, and a formal royal wedding! She bowed her head. “Thank you, Lord.”

  “And if he does not consummate that marriage promptly, he will be executed for treason.”

  She stared at him in horror, discovering the loophole in her deal. She had not protected Ned after the wedding. “My Lord—”

  Then he smiled, to a degree. “My little joke.”

  But she wasn’t sure it was. Her cousin sometimes delighted in unusual cruelty. “Lord, the hour after he dies, so do I.” Then, after a pause, she smiled, emulating his smile exactly. “My joke, too.” Perhaps that would be enough to dissuade Toqtamish. If not, she would make good her threat, on schedule.

  He snapped his fingers. A woman appeared at the east side of the tent. Wildflower went to the woman, and followed her silently out a side exit.

  Ned saw a guard emerge from the royal pavilion. The man beckoned. “What happened in there?” Ned asked. “Where is my wife?”

  “The khan has granted you an audience. Leave your weapons here.”

  Perplexed, Ned stripped himself of sword and dagger, setting them on the ground to his left. “As you wish.” He approached the door, and the guards let him pass.

  The khan was seated on his couch, resplendent in royal robes.

  Ned stopped at a suitable distance from the couch and bowed his head, waiting to be addressed.

  “Who are you?”

  “Lord, I am Ned, of the family of Sam, a sometime scout in the service of Timur.” It was clear that Toqtamish did not recognize him as the one who had found him by the river. Ned was just one of thousands the khan had routinely dealt with.

  “My cousin tells me she married you, according to Christian rite.”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  “She tells me you are a man of honor.”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  “She required me to give you a position.”

  “I did not ask for this, Lord.”

  “Will you serve me with absolute loyalty?”

  “If you require it, Lord. So long as it does not conflict with my personal code of honor or my prior loyalty to Timur, whom I would never treat treacherously.”

  “I do require it.”

  “Then I hereby give you my oath.”

  “How can you be of best use to me?”

  Ned hesitated. “It is not for me to say, Lord.”

  “Is this how you honor your recent oath of loyalty?”

  “I fear giving offense.”

  “Then brave your fear.”

  He had to answer with candor. “Lord, I believe I could give you better military advice than you have had before.”

  “How so?”

  “You have suffered military reverses, so that Timur found it necessary to aid you. I know something of military strategy.”

  “A Christian architect? What could you know of military matters?”

  “A military architect, Lord. I have had some experience advising a military leader. I believe I could improve your defense—and your offense.”

  “I have experts for these things—men who have trained all their lives. You must be a relative amateur. You feel you know better than they?”

  “I mean no offense, Lord, but it is possible that they are too set in conventional ways. I have studied some of the campaigns of Timur. He is a military genius. He seldom does what others expect, and so he brings them down.”

  Toqtamish was thoughtful. “He does have the touch. He may have lost some battles early in his career, but he suffers reverses now only when a general goes counter to orders and botches it. He has certainly helped me.”

  “Yes, Lord. If you could follow similar strategies, you should be similarly successful—without requiring his help.”

  “Without again requiring his help,” Toqtamish said. “This has considerable appeal.”

  Ned was silent, realizing that the comment was not an invitation to speak further.

  “How is it that you did not try to remind me of what you did for me at Syr Darya?”

  Ned was startled. “I did not think you remembered, Lord.”

  “I told you I would remember. I do not encounter many Christians who are not seeking my blood. Did you doubt my word?”

  “Oh, no, Lord! But it was hardly my place to seek favors for doing my duty.”

  “Your duty may have saved my life. You brought a party to my rescue when the enemy was about to catch me. Now my cousin swears by you. These are good recommendations.”

  Ned was silent. Now he understood that the khan had had reason to interview him, and to trust him. Otherwise Ned might never have made it to the city. It would have been easy for the khan to have a party kill him on the way, rendering his marriage to Wildflower academic.

  “That cross you wear—I remembered that, of course. Is it true that the cross is a symbol of the manner your religious leader was tortured to death?”

  Ned thought it best not to argue theology. “It is true, Lord.”

  “He must have been a brave man.”

  “We consider him so. He remained true to his way despite all his enemies could do.”

  Toqtamish nodded approvingly. “We Mongols value courage. What is the distinction between your brand of Christianity and the variety the Byzantines practice?”

  “It is somewhat technical, Lord. You may not be interested—” He broke off, seeing the khan’s glance of irritation. “I apologize for presuming, Lord. The Byzantines believe that Jesus Christ was either the son of God—that is, Allah—or God Himself. Nestorians believe that Jesus was mortal, and experienced life fully in the manner of a human man. But he also partook of the Godhead, being vested with that eternal spirit. Thus his mother Mary was not the mother of God, but of the man in which God manifested. Jesus died, but God of course continued.”

  “Just as Mohammed, the prophet of Allah, died, but Allah remains eternal.”

  “Yes, Lord.” Again, it seemed better not to quibble.

  “And for that trifling theological distinction, the Christian pope banished your sect as heretical?”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  “It is similar with Moslem sects. I think politics occur within religion as well as outside it.”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  The khan came to a decision. “I will give you a try. Now understand, I can’t give you an official position, because you are a Christia
n. My ancestors were indifferent to religion, but the people here are Moslem, and it would foment dissension in the ranks. I may privately find it a nuisance, but I have to acknowledge the passions of the people. Have you a way around that?”

  “I agree, Lord. I shall be satisfied if you listen to what I have to say, and give my notions what trial you deem fair. I need no official position. Could you make me your body servant?”

  “To tend my clothing? To dump my chamber pot? These functions are fulfilled by slaves, not free men! Wildflower would never forgive me for demeaning her husband so.”

  “Maybe if you put a better title on it. Chief valet, perhaps. To ensure that your slaves do not err, perhaps causing you embarrassment. Then we could converse at your convenience, and you can send me away when you tire of me.”

  “I will try it. But understand this: if your advice puts me into difficulty, I will banish you to another city.”

  “Of course, Lord.”

  “One other detail. You will have to convert to Islam.”

  Ned was amazed. “Lord, I thought you accepted me as adviser as I am.”

  “Yes. As adviser. But not to marry my cousin. A Moslem woman may not marry outside the true faith.”

  “But we are already married!”

  Toqtamish stroked his beard. “That does complicate it. Then I shall have to execute her for violating the word of the prophet. That will free you from that awkwardness, so you can serve me as a Christian. Too bad; I rather like her.”

  Ned realized that he was being put to a test. “If one of us must die, it should be me. Wildflower is blameless.”

  “No, I need you. You did not violate your honor; she violated hers. So it must be her.”

  Was the khan bluffing? Ned was much afraid he wasn’t. The Mongols were famous for solving problems with brutal efficiency. Wildflower could indeed die. “I will convert.”

  Toqtamish pulled on a cord, not even acknowledging his victory. Ned heard nothing, but in a moment a commander appeared. “I am appointing this man chief of my personal arrangements. He will be with me often, and will have complete freedom of my presence. If he speaks to you with a message from me, honor it.”

  The man nodded respectfully, and backed away. It would be done.

  “Have you any questions?”