Hope of Earth

by Piers Anthony

  “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.”

  “I’ll not meet you anywhere! I don’t want to be near you.” But that was true on only one level. The very sound of her voice had given him a guilty erection.

  “Ned, be sensible! There is a massive, terrible treachery in the making. You must tell the khan, for I cannot. My husband would—Ned, you must hear me out!”

  “Treachery?” It was not difficult to believe that Ormond would be involved in something dirty. For whom was the man’s real loyalty?

  “The red farmstead, tomorrow morning,” she repeated. “Don’t let anyone see you go there.”

  “I’ll not go—” he started. But now another man was coming to the trench, and he couldn’t continue talking. So he walked away, not looking at the tree.

  He found Jes and told her. “And she wants me to meet her tomorrow at a private place.”

  “I think she just wants to seduce you again.”

  “Yes. She probably has no information.”

  Jes cocked her head thoughtfully. “Yet suppose she does? If there really should be something, and you passed it by, and then Ormond leads the khan into an ambush—”

  “You think I should see her?”

  “She’d have you back in thrall in a moment.”

  “No she wouldn’t.” But his doubt showed.

  “Ned, I know you love Wildflower. But you are a mouse before that snake. Wona will consume you.”

  “So I can’t see her,” he said, half-relieved.

 
; “You will have to see her, to be sure there is no betrayal she knows of—and I will have to go with you. I’ll kill her if I have to.”

  “I don’t think I could do that.”

  “I know you couldn’t. But I can. Probably it won’t have to come to that, because she knows me, and will back off. I will protect you.”

  And she would, in two senses: physically and emotionally. “Thank you, Jes.”

  “I’ll get horses. You go to the trench—and on beyond it, when no one is looking. I’ll be there at dawn.”

  Ned nodded. He profoundly appreciated his sister’s support. She understood him perfectly, weaknesses and all, and would see that he handled this matter properly.

  In the morning he met Jes beyond the trench, and they rode out to the east. In three hours they spied the red farmstead, nestled at the edge of the forest. It looked deserted, but there was a horse grazing beside it.

  “Just in case it’s a trap,” Jes said, drawing her knife and holding it against the side of the horse away from the house. She could hurl that blade swiftly and accurately.

  He dismounted and walked to the door. It opened as he approached. Wona was there, wearing a tight woolen dress that concealed nothing of her proportions. “Come in quickly, Ned; don’t let anyone see you.”

  “My sister brought me.”

  Wona glanced beyond him, frowning. “Then she must hide too. It is death for all of us, if my husband learns.”

  “Tell me, and we’ll be away from here,” Ned suggested.

  “No; it is too long in the telling. Let the horses graze; maybe it will be all right.”

  Jes dismounted and led the horses to the pasture beside the house. She tied their reins up on the saddles. They were well trained; they would not stray, and would come when called. Ned waited until she joined him, before stepping into the cabin.

  It was empty, except for Wona. Jes had known that, or she would not have entered. She had a warrior’s senses about such things.

  “You thought I would ambush you?” Wona inquired disdainfully. “I would never hurt you, Ned.”

  Jes snorted.

  “Or you, Jes,” Wona continued. “We have meant too much to each other. I’m glad you took Ittai; he’s a good man.”

  “What’s this?” Ned asked.

  Wona smiled. “You didn’t know? Captain Ittai left me for her. But I think he would not have, had I not shown Jes how to use her body. Had I not been willing to go.”

  Ned looked at his sister. “What did she show you?”

  “We exchanged information,” Jes said tightly. “I showed her how to kill, and she showed me how to appeal to a man.” But she turned a hard glance to Wona. “Just tell my brother what you have to tell him, and we’ll go. We don’t want to see you again.”

  “Then we had better settle into some comfort,” Wona said. “It will take some time in the telling. I have some food. Take a stool.”

  “We didn’t come here to eat,” Ned said.

  Wona shrugged. “Please yourself.” She fetched bread and a jug of wine from a bag in the corner, and set them on the wooden table. “I have something special: caviar. It greatly improves the flavor of the bread.” She lifted her right leg so that her comely thigh showed, and revealed a sheath strapped there. She drew a knife and cut off some bread.

  Ned pretended not to have noticed that deep flash of thigh. But he was sure Wona had angled her leg deliberately to give him the most compelling view. Knowing her ways did not prevent him from reacting to them. Emotionally he despised her, but physically he desired her.

  “I don’t eat on a mission,” Jes said.

  “But surely you will want to sample this.” Wona proffered the bread.

  Jes paused, then accepted it. She dug out some of the caviar and put it on the bread. She took a bite.

  “You see, it is good food,” Wona said. “I am eating it too.” She cut off another slice of bread.

  Jes nodded. “It is good food.”

  “You and I do not want to interfere with each other,” Wona said to Jes. “We have tended each other in illness. Give me one hour.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ned asked.

  Jes paused, then answered. “Wona and I came to know each other, when we traveled together. We are different creatures, but we do not see each other as evil. If she led you into an ambush, I would kill her. But she means you no harm, by her definition. She has asked me to allow her to deal with you without interference.”

  “All I want is the news of that treachery.”

  “But there is a price to that news,” Wona said.

  “Why should he pay it?” Jes asked, as if negotiating.

  “Do you think I could not have held Ittai, had I chosen to? When I learned that you were the other woman, I let him go because I would not hurt you.”

  “You let him go!” Jes repeated, astonished. “No—he left you!”

  “There were sides of me I did not need to show him or his housemaid. I could have fascinated him, blinding him to all else. You know that. I know my business, as you know yours.” Wona paused, letting that statement sink in. “He was worth more to you than to me. Because of what we meant to each other, I gave him to you.”

  Jes’s surprise slowly turned to acceptance. “You could have held him,” she agreed at last.

  “What would be the price of him?”

  Jes nodded reluctantly. “One hour.”

  “This is not making any sense at all!” Ned protested.

  Jes angled her head. “Is someone coming?”

  “No one followed me,” Wona said. “And I’m sure you wouldn’t let anyone follow you. So anyone who passes here must be coincidental.”

  “All the same, I’ll check.” Jes started for the door, carrying her bread.

  “Don’t leave me!” Ned cried.

  Jes sighed. “Ned, I think this is one battle you must after all fight yourself. She’s not going to say anything until she has settled with you, one way or the other. My time is better spent making sure there is no mischief abroad.” She went on outside.

  “See—she trusts me alone with you”. Wona said as she used the knife to spread caviar on the slice of bread.

  “She knows I’ll call her if there is trouble.” Ned, feeling awkward, sat on a stool.

  “What have you to fear from me? She knows that you are the very last person I would hurt. I would much rather make love to you.” She handed him the slice of bread.

  Bemused, Ned accepted it. “What is this treachery?”

  She cut off another slice and smeared caviar over it. “Have you lost your feeling for me? I have not lost mine for you. You’re such a brilliant man.”

  And such a fool about women, particularly this one. “You held me like a captive bird. What is this treachery?”

  Wona took the stool opposite him, drawing the skirt of her dress up above her knees so that it would not stretch out of shape. The knife-sheath got in her way, so she slid the skirt up farther and removed it. She seemed to be wearing nothing underneath.

  She picked up her bread and bit delicately. “Do try this, Ned. Caviar is a rare Russian delicacy, said to enhance potency.” She let her legs spread.

  Ned looked away from her clearly revealed thighs, ashamed of the sexual urgency they generated in him. He chomped his bread almost savagely. The taste of it was surprisingly good. “What is this treachery?”

  “Do you know what I want of you, Ned?”

  “If you are loyal to the khan, you will give me the information.”

  “The khan is a Mongol. I am a Turk, as are you. My loyalty is to myself and my friends. I do not simply give away my wares; I make the best deal I can.”

  “I don’t care for your deal.” But his sincerity was being undercut by the sight of her body. He didn’t want to desire her, but his body took no more note of his mind than it had when he had been impotent with Wildflower.

  Wona stood, found cups, and poured some wine. She offered it to him. “Would you like me to
sip from it first?”

  She was teasing him with the notion that he might suspect her of poisoning him. He grasped it almost roughly and drank. It was fine and strong; he would have to be careful lest it cloud his judgment. Wona was doing everything to distract him, and succeeding admirably. So was that her only purpose? To try to seduce him again?

  “Oh, there really is a conspiracy,” she said, as if fathoming his thoughts. “You will need to tell the khan. Would you like more bread?”

  “No.” It seemed that she was determined to make him wait for her information.

  “More wine, then?”

  “No.”

  “You are a hard man to please.” She took his empty cup and set it on the table. But instead of returning to her stool, she began to dance. Her motions were languorously slow, and her body became like liquid. Her breasts quivered under the knit dress, and her hips flowed out and in as if possessed of their own agendas. He had not seen a dance like that since Sahara performed at his wedding. She let down her hair so that it joined the sway, and smiled at him.

  Ned swallowed. He was married, and he loved his wife, but he desired Wona with an intensity he would not have believed. He wanted to protest, or at least look away, but did neither.

  She circled close to him, and he smelled the appealing musk of her body. She turned and danced with her back to him, so that he could see the flexing of her buttocks under the tight knit. She bent forward, projecting her bottom, and he remembered how she had received his explosive entry, so long ago. He wanted to leap up and take hold and plunge in, and knew she would not only let him, but make it as good for him as was humanly possible. Wona had faults, but was matchless at that particular type of performance.

  One hour: that was how long Jes was giving them. If he could hold out for that time, the sexual siege would be over. He tried to close his eyes, and could not; he tried to focus his mind on Wildflower, and could not. He had carelessly walked into a battle of her choosing, and was at a severe disadvantage. He was caught in the storm of Wona’s desire, and could only try to ride it out.

  Wona turned again, and now her living breasts almost brushed his face. Then she abruptly sat on his lap, flinging her arms around him and pulling his face into her bosom. His arms involuntarily went around her midriff. “I still want your child, Ned,” she said.