Riders of the Steppes

by Harold Lamb

A sentry at the postern answered their hail with a curt warning to be off and about their business.

  "Ah, sir knights," said the Greek dolefully, "'tis an hour after the time of the closing of the gate. By order of the starosta, John of Kudak, no man may enter or leave the fortress between sundown and sunrise. Not he himself may have the gate opened."

  The Cossacks, accustomed to the open steppe, were turning aside indifferently to seek shelter under the nearest trees, when Hermaphron checked them. The rain was soaking under his cloak and his teeth were chattering with cold.

  "Let us go to the manor house of the princess. Wayfarers barred from the gate are wont to find shelter there."

  "What princess?" asked Ayub distrustfully.

  "Ileana of Khor. Aye, one or two versts back, the way we came, then inland, on an arm of the Dnieper a couple of pistol shots. The Khor family were once masters of all the lands of this province. The men of the family followed the wars, and made many debts. Aye, they were wild folk. They drank up the Khor lands, district by district. Yet, keeping to the ancient custom, they garnish their table well, and all who ask bread and salt in the name of Christ are welcome. To the house servants I have sold many tokens, most efficacious—"

  "Lead the way!"

  The arm of the river proved to be a small inlet with a fishing village at its head. Some smacks and a light galley were moored here, and following the path that ran up from the jetty beside the galley they came to a low wooden palisade at the edge of the forest.

  "Who comes?" a challenge greeted them at the horse gate.

  "Hermaphron," responded the Greek, "and two Cossacks, turned off from Kudak."

  Demid and Ayub heard a man moving in the darkness beside them, and then on the path up which they had come. Evidently the guards of the wall did not rely too much on the word of the Greek, and were investigating for themselves. It was all done too quickly and quietly for Russians and the gate swung open silently.

  They were led to the stables at one side the enclosure by an archer, who turned over their horses to a serf to be rubbed down and fed. The manor house itself was joined to the outbuildings—a rambling structure of rough boards with many wings. Within the palisade was the odor of wet hay, of cattle.

  Hastening into the hall, the Greek led them into a long room where two stone fireplaces crackled and blazed. The Cossacks uncovered and bowed low.

  An old Tatar servant advanced toward them, glancing from the visitors to the woman who sat in the high seat by one of the fires. Demid saw that three archers stood in the entrance behind them, awaiting what word the Princess Ileana should be pleased to give as to the treatment of her guests.

  "O most worthy princess," chattered Hermaphron, "my companions are not of my choosing. As I live, they settled themselves on me like flies. They would have thrown me in the river if I had not shown them the way here. Truly they are men from below the rapids—brigands and steppe riders, spillers of blood—"

  "Now, by-."

  The insult began to take effect on Ayub, when Demid gripped his shoulder with a swift warning.

  In the upper country, far from the frontier, where they were now, the Cossacks were received warily. Being masterless men, the lords of the land looked on them as little better than rebels, while the villagers dreaded their forays for horses and food when supplies failed in the camps along the Dnieper.

  So, in the hall of the high-born, it would have needed only the word of Ileana to have the Cossacks turned off with a beating. If Ayub had started a quarrel, the two of them might well have been set upon and bound, to be torn apart by wild horses. Doubtless, before this happened, they would have reddened the floor of the manor house with the blood of the retainers, but Demid judged that two score armed men were within the palisade, and even Ayub's great sword could not prevail against arrows.

  Glancing swiftly at Hermaphron, he saw the round face of the Greek screwed up in relish of some jest.

  Still gripping the muttering Ayub, he turned to Ileana, cap in hand, and he did not speak.

  In fact he would not have known what to say to the princess. Her head came no higher than his chin, but, withal, she stood straight as a slender cedar on the step of the high seat. Instead of the bulky dress of the Russian women she wore a sleeveless Turkish khalat of shimmering silk, and no cap adorned her black hair, that fell in two tresses to her knees.

  Ileana had the clear gray eyes of the northern folk, slanting slightly upward. Seeing the whiteness of her throat and hands, Demid thought of the wax images of the saints that stood in the churches of the Ukraine. So grave was she, and so delicate her face.

  "Name me these men from below," she said to Hermaphron. She spoke as one accustomed to the silence of others in her presence.

  "The warrior with the great sword is Ayub. The other, your excellence, is the young bogatyr, the hero Demid. They are from the siech below the rapids."

  "And they were barred from Kudak?" the low voice of the princess went on.

  "Aye, so, Khorovna, my lady of Khor."

  The eyes of the girl—for she was barely a woman in years—dwelt on Demid.

  "All who are turned from the gate of the fortress are welcome to the manor house," she said, the shadow of a smile on her lips.

  Then, extending her hands, Cossack fashion, she repeated the greeting of the Ukraine—

  "We bid you to our bread and salt."

  The Cossacks flushed with pleasure at the familiar phrase. Ayub, not quite sure of his ground when dealing with a princess, ducked his head several times, then fell to stroking his mustache. This reminded him that he had had nothing to drink except water for several days. "Hai, most worthy young lady, surely there will be rare good mead on the table where the welcome of the Cossack land is upon the lips."

  Ileana considered him unhurriedly, and did not take offense.

  "My grandsire, Rurik of Khor was a Cossack."

  "Rurik the Fair?" Ayub roared his approval. "The captain of the falcon-ship that passed through the Dardanelles! The bogatyr who broke with his ax the chain the Turks stretched across the entrance! Eh, he could drink. My word for it! Such a hero as he was. He always swore the Moslems would never make him prisoner. When they overcame his falcon-ship after a spy had betrayed it to the Turks he caught up a keg of spirits and jumped into the waters. When they dropped nets for his body and hauled it up—" Ayub shook his head admiringly—"when they hauled up the hero Rurik he still had the keg, but it was empty. Such a man!"

  Ileana was looking into the fire.

  "You shall have your mead, ataman, if you will tell me how you gained the sword of Varan, the governor's aid."

  Nothing could have pleased Ayub more. The princess, in her seat by the fire, sipped a goblet of wine while the Cossacks, having rid themselves of their water-soaked svitzas, sat in their shirt sleeves over mutton and bread and mead. The Greek, meanwhile, had vanished.

  While Ayub talked, Demid took in his surroundings. The walls were hung with richly woven tapestries, stirred fitfully by the breath of the storm outside. The table was the finest Venetian ebony, but the stools were of plain oak. Around the icons were hung sets of rare Moslem scimitars and casting spears, yataghans, and helmets of inlaid steel. Carpets from Bokhara were underfoot. Under a long iron shield, bearing a device obscured by age and hard knocks, hung a crusader's lance, of a size to match Ayub's new sword.

  Wealth and spoil the Khormen must have had, the young Cossack thought, yet the things were old, and gaps showed where some had been taken down, perhaps to be sold. The parents of Ileana were dead; she was not married, as the dress of her hair made clear. Yet several gyrfalcons resting sleepily on their perches and hunting gear hung in the outer corridor indicated that a man was master of the manor house. The house

  serfs were few, Tatars, for the most part, like the majordomo who never left the hall.

  "What is the news upon the river?" Ileana asked, when Ayub had ended his tale.

  "The pirates," Demid answered, "sacked a Venetian
galley, and were set upon and slain for the most part by the river guard of the governor."

  The mistress of Khor bent down to pat a lean wolfhound at her knee.

  "Aye, that. But no new boat from Kiev has reached Kudak?"

  He shook his head.

  "I think not."

  Studying her face in the firelight he knew that he had seen one like it not long since. The arched brows, the down-curved lips—Demid frowned, fingering his glass.

  "You have brothers, princess?" It was beyond belief that in these evil times a child like Ileana could hold intact even so small a place as Khor.

  "Aye, Cossack, one. Prince Michael journeys to Kudak from the university at Kiev." She smiled, a glint of pleasure in her eyes. "He was tired of books and comes back to his horses."

  "By the river?"

  "Aye. He is overlong on the way."

  She looked, from an impulse of habit at the tall gilt clock that marked off seasons and changes in the heavens as well as the hours.

  "But Michael is ever minded to wander." This, as if reassuring herself.

  "Has the prince your brother fair hair?"

  "Indeed, he is fair as I am dark. Yet his eyes are like mine."

  Demid nodded.

  "Pardon, young mistress—I think I have met him, although his name was not known to me. Had he with him two servants Feodor and Ivan?"

  "Ivan is his body-servant, who always accompanies Michael. This Tatar—" she indicated the old majordomo—"we christened Feodor. How could you meet him, on the river, when you came from below, and only as far as this?"

  Demid glanced around the room, made sure that Hermaphron was not visible, and reached for the tankard of mead. Taking time to weigh his words, he was aware that Feodor, under pretense of making up the fire, was studying his face with shrewd old eyes.

  "My news of your brother," he answered, "is that he passed Kudak, on some venture. He is bound down the river."

  "Without word to me?" Ileana drew herself up. "Cossack, you presume on your welcome. Why would Prince Michael go down the river without at least sending Ivan to announce his arrival?"

  Demid remained imperturbable.

  "Lady, if you would tell me what business the prince, your brother, was engaged in, then I could say why he passed Kudak secretly."

  For a moment her fine eyes challenged him. Then she sighed and turned back to the wolfhound.

  "You are from afar and know not my brother. It is true that he does not confide his plans to me, for he says that I am mistress within the four walls of Khor, and he is master of the fields and river without."

  She bent nearer the fire as if chilled by little breaths of wind that passed through the great hall.

  "Ai-a, would he were here! Feodor says that the omens on the river have been bad. We of Khor have no secrets, Cossack."

  Demid bent his head.

  "It must have been a hunting venture that took Michael past his home. His last letter bade me under-feed his falcons, so that they should be ready for the field. Nay, after all—" she forced a smile—"your word is good, for it means that Michael was not on the trading-galley that was pulled down by the pirates."

  Now Ayub had been listening with increasing interest.

  "True, young mistress," he boomed suddenly, "the craft that bore your brother was not at all like a galley. It was—"

  Beneath the table Demid's boot struck his ankle forcibly.

  "It was a barge, young mistress."

  To Ayub he whispered:

  "Dolt! We have crossed a lofty threshold. Drink as much as you want but keep your mouth shut!"

  The old Tatar regarded them distrustfully, and when Demid began to quaff from the tankard, Ileana of Khor spoke to him no more. Ayub was flushed; his head rolled on his high shoulders. The young Cossack swayed in his seat, and hummed snatches of song under his breath.

  After all, they were only two Cossacks, who were getting themselves drunk, as the men from below were wont to do. She summoned Feodor, bade him fetch another tankard for the guests, and leave them to their

  own devices. This done, she resumed her watching of the gilt clock, waiting for Prince Michael, who would never stride over the threshold of Khor again.

  Ayub was afire with curiosity and a new interest. So he began to whisper to Demid, and since the ataman had learned to talk under his breath during the hours of sitting beside the lair of a stag, gun in hand, or with his men, under the walls of a hostile camp at night, no one else heard him.

  "By the Swineherd of Mecca, do you not see that the prince was the man on the governor's hook? He it was you pulled ashore from the raft of the dead. His face was twin to this queenlet."

  "I am not blind."

  Demid's dark face was moody and his eyes, half-closed, moved restlessly.

  "God have mercy on his sinful soul. He was a pirate, a leader of river-thieves."

  "But not the leader of the bands."

  "Why do you hide it from the girl?"

  Demid shook his head, keeping time to his almost voiceless chant.

  "Hearken, Demid!" The big warrior leaned closer. "This brat is other

  than she seems. As sure as the-wears hoofs. How else is she left alone,

  mistress of a wide estate? Eh, the nobles of the countryside must fear her. Then she is a witch. That is certain. So she has put a spell on you, brother. I never saw you drink like a fish before and your eyes are like coals."

  From behind crossed fingers and thumb, he surveyed the silent Ileana.

  "Ekh, why else was she so pleasant of tongue to two kunaks? All Russian women paint their faces, and hide them from strangers. She is white as a hungry vampire, a demon woman. If you don't watch carefully she will let out your blood. Then her cheeks will be red enough."

  Wine always made Ayub moody. In his eyes women were more dangerous than a whole company of spear-bearing Turks, or a chambul of Tatars. Everyone knew what a Moslem was after. But who could tell what was in a woman's mind? Moreover this one had a score of bowmen at her call. What had become of Hermaphron? He heard the outer door open and close, and voices in the corridor. Feodor advanced to the entrance, but fell back with a quick salaam.

  "The serene, mighty starosta!" the majordomo announced, adding to the house serfs—

  "On your faces, dogs!"

  Demid looked up at John of Kudak with interest. The governor stripped off a soaked fur-coat, tossed it to Feodor, and advanced toward Ileana and the fire. A few paces from her he bowed—a broad-shouldered man, bearded to the eyes, in the Russian fashion. He had plump, red cheeks, and a good-natured smile. His long inner coat was of heavy silk, embroidered in gold, its stiff collar pearl-sewn.

  "Health to you, princess!" his deep voice rolled forth pleasantly. "I am belated at my own gate, and so may not enter it."

  Ileana inclined her head.

  "Is any threshold strong enough to bar the lord of Kudak?"

  The governor laughed.

  "A good leader does not break his own rules. We were driving a stag far down the river on the Tatar bank, and the storm delayed our return. So—will Khor receive me as a guest?"

  "We bid you, my lord, to our bread and salt."

  She motioned to Feodor to bring bread and meat and wine for the governor. This being placed on the table near the Cossacks, John of Kudak stared at them fleetingly.

  "Two men from below. Ah, the tall one is he who tossed Varan and took his sword." The governor seated himself and began to attack the well-stocked wooden platters with a vim. "Your name? Well, Ayub, watch your skin. Varan will rub you out if he gets the chance. He is an ill man to anger."

  He filled a pewter goblet with wine and stood up, bowing to Ileana.

  "Your health, and Prince Michael's. May he soon join us with his falcons, before snow ends the hunting. You—" he turned to Demid—"have letters for me. Where are they? A candle, Feodor. Princess, I am a poor clerk. Will you read them to me?"

  As Ileana, in her low voice, repeated the message of the comma
nder of the Cossacks, that the governor do no harm to the two riders sent into his territory, and that aid be given them to search for the vanished powder of the Cossacks—John of Kudak listened carefully, and was silent a moment.

  "One moon has passed over us," he said at length, "since the river-thieves stripped the Armenian bark, and their chief bore off your powder.

  The forty kegs of powder are worth their weight in silver now. By now he will have sold them to the armies fighting in the north or to the Turks."

  He took the letters from Ileana, tore them across and cast the pieces into the fire.

  "You do not know by which road the powder has been sent from the wilderness, my Cossacks. Nor can you find the Lord of the River. With all my harrying of the pirate, no men of mine have laid eyes on him. He may be Beelzebub. My advice to you is to draw your reins toward the siech, from which you came, while you are still alive."

  The starosta was a man of plain words. He was fair-minded enough to overlook Ayub's quarrel with his lieutenant, and he did not lack courage. Otherwise, he would not have left his retinue and come, armed only with a hunting-knife, among strangers. Understanding this, Demid weighed his words.

  "Your Excellency, have you no thought as to where the Lord of the River may be found?"

  "I have not. When his men make their strike on the river near Kudak I try to strike back, before they vanish into the waste lands. But to lead my soldiers into the wilderness would be like sending dogs after birds. Vain. My orders are to hold Kudak for the Russians."

  He struck the table with a powerful fist.

  Demid pulled at his mustache thoughtfully. "I thank you for your words, Excellency! starosta, the frontier is bare of powder. No more will come down from Kiev. While the kinglets and the lordlings are shooting each other to pieces above us, the Turks are creeping up on the frontier. Unless the Cossack camps have powder before the Dnieper freezes over, the Moslems will be masters of the border posts. Then, when Spring sets in, and the Wilderness ceases to be a swamp, they will overrun Kudak and Kiev and the other cities."

  "You have been making love to Mother Vodka! Drunken tongues have wagged on the frontier. Why do you annoy me with old wives' tales?"