by Harold Lamb
"Because, if our powder should be lost, we will buy half of yours at your price."
The governor pulled down a clay pipe from the wall, took tobacco from his girdle and called Feodor to bring the candle. Blowing a puff of smoke into Ayub's face, he smiled.
"No. What is mine is mine. The fortress must keep its magazine full." He was not ill-pleased that the Cossacks should lack powder. Given sufficient provocation, the men from below were as apt to raid the Muscovites as the Turks.
The Cossacks were silent. Born and bred in the Wilderness, they were ill at ease behind walls. They could follow the trail of a stag for days, but to find scent of the game they sought in the crowded alleys of the fortress would be a hard matter.
"Nay then," responded Demid, "we will draw our reins to the steppe. There must be signs of the river-thieves along the bank."
Ayub glanced at his comrade in owlish surprise. Had not they decided that nothing was to be seen along the river?
"Well, I have warned you. Do not blame me if you are taken by the river-thieves and hung up on hooks, in reprisal for my punishment of the pirates."
A little thickly, Ayub spoke.
"Nay, Excellency. Whoever rubs us out will have short shrift and no priest. Our comrades of the siech will come to ask what has been done to us; then ten thousand Cossack sabers will be bared, and blood will be shed for blood. This youngling, Demid, is a bogatyr. If harm comes to him the siech will roar, and the kunaks will tumble into their saddles."
Under lowered brows the governor studied the warrior.
"Dog of the-! You are men to my liking. Enter my service and I will
give to each the rank of captain. You'll have a rare frolic then."
Demid shook his head.
"We were sent on a mission. Our thanks to you, Excellency, but we are men of the siech."
It was seldom that adventurers refused an offer of service with the most powerful noble on the lower Dnieper. John of Kudak shrugged and left the table, when Demid began to drink again. In a moment the candlestick that he had left behind crashed over, and, glancing back, he saw Ayub asleep, his head pillowed on his arms and Demid swaying back and forth in the shadows.
"Fools!" he muttered. "They could have gone far with me. And now, princess, we are done with your dainty guests. Our reckoning is at hand."
For some time the manor of Khor had been in arrears in the tithes due the governor of the province, John of Kudak. The civil war in the north had loosed bands of lawless men on the steppe, and cattle were missing from the farm. Moreover her brother at the university had called upon Ileana for considerable sums to pay debts. The harvest had been good, but men had been lacking to gather it in, and early rains had rotted a good deal of the grain. So the impost due the starosta, unpaid in the last year, had doubled itself, with interest. There was the head-tax, the horn-tax, and the fire-tax.
Whereas the first men of Khor had been sole masters of an estate the size of a small kingdom, and of all the souls upon it, times had changed. The empire had stretched its bounds to the Dnieper, and the old owners were taxed on their possessions.
"Why do you come to me with your hand held out?" Ileana stood in her nook by the other fire, on the step of the high seat, so that her eyes were on a level with the starosta's. "You know we have no money laid by in Khor. What we could spare of grain and honey and grapes I have sent up into Kudak."
"But not enough to pay a fraction of your debts, princess."
"We could have paid more, if you had not bought off the best of my peasants before the harvest was in. Aye, and the half of my carts."
John of Kudak studied the woman before him, frowning a little.
"Your men were free to go or stay; they were needed in the upper districts. If Khor cannot keep its serfs, you cannot live—"
"Nevertheless, Excellency, we manage to keep life in our bodies." Ileana smiled uncertainly. "My fishermen and the Tatar hunters see to that."
"If you choose to live with dogs!" The governor shrugged, and his bearded chin thrust forward. "You would do better to give up your holdings, and live in the fortress on what you will gain thereby."
He held up a finger as if explaining matters to a child.
"Princess, the lands of Khor are fertile. Large crops can be raised here next Summer. But the soil must be worked with skill. You know naught of such things. So your men seek masters elsewhere, save for the hunters and fishers and house servants, who are your slaves because they love you. Most men do."
Ileana pressed her lips together as if hurt. The starosta glanced casually at the Cossacks, but failed to notice that Demid, leaning on the table, chin in hand, was quietly attentive. The two by the fire were speaking in low tones, yet the wind had died down and in the silence of the room he heard what was said.
"But I, Ileana," added the governor, "am not under your spell. Your dainty hands cannot hold Khor together. Your brother is a drunken fool—"
"That you would not say if he were here!" The girl's eyes flashed. "He wears a sword, and he is the grandson of a warrior."
"By the saints! You will learn the truth of your brother in good time. I am no tale-bearer."
"Michael," said Ileana quietly, "promised me that when he came to Khor he would have money to pay most of the tithes. He has borrowed from his companions in Kiev. He will be here on the morrow, for that was his word to me."
John of Kudak nodded thoughtfully.
"So be it. I will await the morrow."
"I thank your Excellency." Ileana's bright smile mocked him, in the flickering firelight. "Feodor will lead you to your room. In other days it was the chamber of my grandfather, Rurik."
"Rurik the Fair met a bad death, princess. Such, it seems is the curse of your family. If Michael should leave you, as did your grandsire, would you give up Khor? It is a yoke on your shoulders."
"Nay, my lord." She shook her head slowly. "You do not understand. The place is like our blood—a part of us. The first men of Khor sailed down the river from here to the crusades."
Her glance went to the long spear, and she clapped her hands for the old Tatar.
After ushering the governor to a distant wing of the manor house and lighting his mistress to her sleeping chamber, Feodor returned to the hall to scrutinize the Cossacks doubtfully. Years of faithful service had earned him the trust of the masters of Khor, first of the grandfather, then of the princess. He was, in fact, as much a watchdog as the scarred wolfhound that dozed by the fire. Feodor was surprised to find the young Cossack striding up and down the carpet, wide awake and none the worse for drink.
Demid signed to him to approach. Again the Tatar was startled, although his dried-up, wrinkled face did not show it, when he was addressed in his own tongue.
"Wolf of the steppe, are you one in heart with the masters of Khor?"
"Allah gives! It is so."
"Allah gives wisdom. Did you know that the prince had joined the river-thieves, to get the gold that is needed in Khor?"
The old servant blinked, and shook his head slowly.
"Captain of swords and leader of many, it is not so. Prince Michael follows his own road, and no gold would lead him to join the fellowship of thieves."
This he said without anger, as one stating a known truth, and Demid thought it over for several moments. Feodor waited patiently.
"You have said what was in my mind," agreed the young Cossack at length. "Prince Michael will not ride into Khor tomorrow. He was slain in the attack on the trading-galley. I saw his body and covered it. To me he gave a message, bidding Ileana avenge his death."
The lips of the Tatar lifted at the corners, and the grunt in his throat was like a snarl.
"Allah send that it be so!" he answered. "The signs of evil were about the river."
His claw-like hands clutched at his hair, and he moaned his sorrow.
"The evil is not ended," continued Demid. "Your mistress must know that the prince is dead."
"How? How did it happen?"
"That is dark. The fight on the galley was at night; your master was not slow to draw sword. He was wounded by the pirates, and stripped of his outer garments. When the soldiers came, they put him with the pirates, not knowing his face. Say that to your lady."
Feodor's black eyes glimmered with distrust. Plainly, he doubted this explanation.
"Fool!" repeated the Cossack under his breath, "your lady is as a dove, a thrush, and hawks are in the air. She will seek vengeance. The pirates slew your master. Then let her raise her hand against them. Thus she will strike against the doom that is coming upon her. I have spoken truly. Go!"
The Tatar bent his head, and looked up suddenly. "What road do you follow, Cossack?"
"My path lies with that of your lady, in this thing."
The two measured each other silently, and understanding came into the intent eyes of the servant. They were men from the steppe, the warrior and the voluntary slave of the boyars. Few words were needed to show what each had in mind. Feodor left the hall.
You are going to war, my lad,
You are going to war!
Your hide will be scratched,
And your throat will be dry,
When you are at war, my lad!
Ayub had awakened, full of song. He was drawing breath for the second verse of the chant, when he stopped abruptly. The silence of the outer darkness after the storm was broken by howling. Moreover it was not the howl of a wolf, but the strident cry of a human being in mortal terror.
Staggering to his feet, Ayub reached for the broadsword and held up the long hilt.
"The sign! Make the sign, brother. The cross frightens away werewolves."
Footsteps pounded in the outer yard, and the outcry ceased. Presently the door was flung open and Hermaphron rushed in, followed by one of the Tatar archers. The Greek was panting and foam appeared under his oiled mustache; his hat was gone and his pack awry on his back.
"I have seen him!" he moaned. "Deus accipe me! His eye—Oh, his eye—it looked at me, and he said naught. Where is the princess?"
"In her room," responded Demid curiously. "Have you seen a witch?"
"Worse, oh terrible indeed!" Hermaphron peered into the shadows of the hall fearfully. "He called my name after me when I ran. Oh fool that I was, to venture forth on such a night—"
"How, terrible?" demanded Ayub, who shivered a little, seeing the stark fright of the dwarf.
"Is not the ghost of Rurik the Fair terrible? I saw it, walking in the wood near the camp of the starosta's retinue. Prince Rurik it was, for I knew him in life. How his eye glared! It could see in the darkness. And he called after me."
"What did it say?" Ayub asked with great interest. Human foes were part of existence, but spirits were another matter, and the big warrior had his share of superstition. Not so Demid.
"It said, Hermaphron, son of many dogs."
Ayub nodded.
"So the bogatyr might have spoken. It was he. Why did you not hold up one of the blessed icons in your pack—"
For once the fear of the relic-seller outran his tongue.
"Ah, my relics are common things made by an artificer in Kudak. I sell them to the low-born."
"Why," inquired Demid, frowning, "did you fear Rurik, the prince?"
Hermaphron blinked and clasped his quivering fingers together.
"Alas, noble sir, do not make me say what is best left unsaid. I was on my way to the camp of the starosta's men to make some further sales, before their revelry ended. On the path where the pastures end and the forest begins, the ghost stepped out of the shadow and confronted me. The moon was over the trees and I saw his face. His eye glared at me, like a fiend's. Nay, it is in my mind that Rurik the Fair is leader of the thieves. He is Lord of the River."
Ayub swore feelingly and stared at the open door, while the Greek's voice rambled on.
"Noble sirs, I spoke to you this day of what should be left unsaid. So the Lord of the River sought me out to punish me. Let me in to the princess. If I can touch her dress I shall be safe from harm at the hand of the ghost."
He began to crawl toward the closed door that led to the rooms of Ile-ana. But Feodor appeared in the entrance and warned him away curtly. In spite of this, Hermaphron knelt as close to the door as possible, moaning to himself the while, of sins and ancient misdeeds.
Ayub did not sing again.
IV
A Sword in the Scales
Before sunrise the two Cossacks saddled their horses and left the manor house. They passed the guards at the palisade gate and struck through the wet fields to a trail that led south along the river. Demid went at a hand pace, surveying the lay of the land carefully in the early light. Ayub followed docilely, quite sober, after hearing of the apparition of the night.
Once in the shadows of the forest, Demid turned off from the trail in a rock-strewn ravine where their horses left few tracks. After a while he struck back toward Khor, and reached the edge of the forest where a hillock rose above the tops of the old oaks. Tethering his pony in a clump of birches, he signed for Ayub to do the same, and crawled on hands and knees to the crest of the knoll. Here he could look out over the pastures and the brown stubble fields of the farm to the palisade, half a mile away. Protected by rocks and a growth of holly, the Cossacks, lying prone, were invisible from below.
The sun, rising over the river, warmed their chilled limbs. Ayub took barley cakes and a water jug from one of his saddlebags that he had lugged to their hiding place, and they began to eat.
And then a shadow fell across the level earth of the hillock, although no clouds stood in the sky. It was a long shadow, and they made out the head and shoulders of a man—a man broad of shoulder, wearing a high cap.
Demid turned where he sat, but his eyes looked full into the rising sun. An arrow's flight away was a rocky knoll. Upon this the man must have stood, for the shadow had vanished as he turned. No one was to be seen, nor did he hear booted feet clambering back over stones.
"Do not disturb yourself, my brother," observed Ayub calmly. "It was the ghost, or fiend, or whatever he is. Doubtless he sank through the earth, to his quarters in purgatory. Now that the sun is high, he cannot harm us. He was a tall devil."
Demid frowned. He had not wanted any one to know that they had remained within sight of the manor house. The trail they had taken away from Khor led through the Wilderness, along the barren shore of the river, where the starosta supposed them to be headed.
"Vain to go into the Wilderness," he explained, lighting his short clay pipe. "Snow may fall any day—river will be frozen over. A fox does not hunt the same trails in Winter as in Summer—'tis in my mind that the leaders of the river-bands have come to Kudak or near it."
"The whole thing, little brother, is clear in my mind."
Demid looked up inquiringly.
"This Lord of the River," Ayub vouchsafed, "is a ghost. Vampires of the steppe can climb up behind wayfarers and kill them by biting behind the ear. Certainly, there are ghosts on the river. That is why no one has been able to run down the Lord of the River; that is why he can see in the dark."
"Is this ghost Rurik the Fair?"
"Hermaphron says it, and with the forehead, too. A Greek is the sire of lies, but this Greek was frightened to his soul. He spoke the truth. Moreover Rurik was captain of the falcon-ship that ranged many rivers and unknown seas."
Demid half rose to glance out at the farm. Seeing all quiet, he set back by Ayub.
"Would the spirit of Rurik slay his grandson, Prince Michael?"
"A ghost is a ghost. When he was taken, the tale runs that Rurik was tortured by the Turks. No one knows how he died, and probably his body was never covered. So his spirit is abroad. Besides, the hero followed the wars like a fleet hound; he took no thought for Khor and its girl, or the stripling of a boy. When Mother Death took Michael, he had been tortured enough. Aye, his soul must have cried out, 'Here I am, grandsire, let us frolic a
nd work havoc along the waters!'"
"And the princess?"
"The girl Ileana, having a ghost for a grandsire, and another for a brother, must needs be a witch. Nay," Ayub pondered seriously, "she is a basilisk. Her gray eyes are overbright. She casts spells with them. The Tatars and the fishermen are her slaves. The starosta has a light conscience and a heavy head. But she has laid her spell on him, and he can think of naught but her."
The big warrior sighed. "I saw her eyes fasten on you. They glowed like witches' fires. Can you ride away from Khor? You cannot. Your brain goes around like a waterwheel. You do not think of the powder our Cossack brethren need, nor of slaying pirates, but only of Ileana—"
Demid yawned and emptied his pipe, asking his companion to watch while he slept. Almost at once his eyes closed.
Studying the splendid head of the young Cossack, the fine lips half smiling in sleep, Ayub shook his head sadly.
"Drowsiness is a sure sign. He has looked into the eyes of a basilisk. Heavy his Cossack soul—vanished the thought of Cossack glory. That is what a woman does." So he muttered to himself. "After all, the young ones are close kin to witches. They smile at men, first. Then they cry that they are in trouble, and set fever in the veins of the hero Cossacks. Swords are drawn, men die, and when all is said and done, the witches go about their affairs, having fed on a soul, while the hero turns up his toes. The-take Ileana!"
By noon, however, Ayub became interested in the manor house. A cavalcade of riders appeared from the far side of the farm. A bugle sounded, and a company of footsoldiers, halberdiers, marched into view. They were followed by a score of servants and slaves, garbed in rich clothes but barefooted, bearing luggage of various kinds.
Several dignitaries—judging by their long fur cloaks and the armor on which the sun glittered—advanced to the gate of the palisade. With these Ayub made out—for his eyes were keen, and the air clear—a motley crowd of buffoons, dwarfs—men and women, entertainers of the nobility. He thought he recognized Hermaphron among them. Some of the slaves began to pitch silk tents beyond pistol shot from the wall. The riders dismounted, while the men-at-arms formed in groups between the palisade and the river, and began preparing the noonday meal.