Riders of the Steppes

by Harold Lamb

  "You must have been born with a sword in your fist. Eh, Cossack, enter my service and you shall have a commission and half the gold that you paid for the manor house in hand again."

  Ayub glanced at his comrade and answered for him.

  "We serve the koshevoi. Take your payment, starosta, and leave our farm."

  Hermaphron twitched the governor's sleeve.

  "Excellency, already, since the raven croaked, one of our company of five lies dead. Oh, let us go far from here."

  Seeing, from the corner of his eye, Sigismund edging toward the door, Hermaphron gave way to superstitious dread and sidled after the merchant like a crab moving between rocks. John of Kudak smiled.

  "Cossack, if I had other men here, you should not stand at ease. You have forfeited my friendship, and from this hour I shall act against you."

  He swept up the money and jewels on the table and pouched them.

  "You were a fool to take up the sword."

  Demid wiped his blade and sheathed it. "Then, Excellency, Khor and its souls are mine."

  "For so long as you can keep them," responded John of Kudak over his shoulder.

  V

  Ayub Makes a Camp

  Between the hours of sunset and sunrise, when the gate of Kudak fortress was closed, and worthy citizens kept their beds behind locked doors, the eyes of the town were shut. But outside the wall, men moved in the darkness and watched the glimmer of lights. Nothing was to be seen along the bank of the river, yet men came together and news passed in whispers that spread up and down the Dnieper.

  By the forest, the Tatar hunters, squatting patiently by the horses of the Cossacks, watched the governor's party strike its tents and move off. They bent their heads together, and clucked and chuckled. The khan of the city, they decided, was taking away his servants and slaves, and would await a more favorable chance to strike Khor with his armed warriors.

  They noticed that a body was carried away between two horses, and nodded wisely. Wine had caused a quarrel among the Russians. God was one. It was all to be expected.

  Suddenly they fell silent as pheasants taking cover under the shadow of a hawk. In the forest-mesh behind them a horse neighed. The moon had crept up over the river, and for a second the hunters caught sight of a man. They noticed him because he moved back from a rocky knoll when the horse neighed. They judged that he was unusually tall, and that he wore a silver helmet, because the moon glinted on it as he disappeared.

  They made no sound, and talked together no more. But within five minutes, all the hunters were heading back to Khor as quickly as their squat legs would carry them. Unanimously, they had decided that the ghost was walking again, and that vicinity was not healthy. They took horses because they feared to be beaten if they came without them.

  Along the inlet, in the marshes, the men of the fisher colony observed the torches of the starosta going back to Kudak, and beat their hands together softly for joy. Skiffs began to slip along the bank, as the burlaks bore word of what had happened to their fellows. John of Kudak would have been surprised to learn how much these bidden listeners had discovered of his plans.

  "The serene, great, mighty starosta," ran the word carried along the Dnieper's bank, "has withdrawn into his castle. He pares his claws to make them sharper. He has stationed a cordon of musketeers athwart the path to Khor, and guards to watch the river. He wanted to take his retinue out of range of the Tatar arrows. Aye, the starosta is like an eagle, an angry eagle, waiting his chance to strike down."

  When this gossip had been sent on its way, the fishermen drew closer to Khor, wondering what the inmates would decide to do. If the princess fled with her two score men, the people of the inlet must flee as well, or the soldiers would come and cut them up.

  So they waited patiently to see what the princess would do. It was nearly midnight before a group of men moved down the path from the palisade to the inlet and halted on the jetty by the Khor galley. Feodor, who was with them, went to the huts of the fisher folk, and when he came back he had eight sturdy burlaks behind him.

  Sacks of provisions were tossed into the galley, and the long oars were greased. The watermen sat down on the benches in the waist of the old-fashioned galley; a Tatar slipped forward to the figurehead at the bow; an old fisherman shipped the tiller, and a tall figure smelling strongly of vodka and leather climbed to the after-deck.

  Then the moorings were cast off, and the galley slid out of the inlet toward the river silently. Feodor returned to the manor house.

  "The Cossack Ayub," new gossip ran from place to place along the river, "he of the long sword, has taken out the galley. The storms have swollen the breast of Father Dnieper. He will go down the current swiftly to the cataracts, and the camp of the men below. He will seek aid for the other Cossack. Then we shall see."

  Quiet reigned along the inlet, but at its mouth, as the long craft slid out and turned to drift down the bank under the shadow of the forest, a dwarf ran out nimbly, leaping from rock to rock until he could look into the galley of Khor as it passed over a stretch of water in the moonlight.

  Then the dwarf muttered to himself, and, running back from the bank, sought out a wiry little Arab pony. Mounting the horse, he struck into the forest toward Kudak.

  In the hall of Khor, by the fire, in the carved wooden high seat, the girl Ileana stared into the flames, chin on hand.

  "You are master of Khor," she said, low-voiced, "and I am your slave. My brother is dead, and my men fear you. Even Feodor waits upon your word, for you speak his language."

  When no word of answer came to her, she glanced up, under lowered lashes at the slender man whose long-sleeved white shirt gleamed near her arm. The skin of his head and throat was dark, where the blood coursed strongly. His eyes brooded. She turned back to the fire quickly, wondering why the men of the border wore a long scalp lock, falling to their shoulders.

  "You are master of the manor house, Cossack," she repeated, with a half smile. "What orders are you pleased to give?"

  "They are given, princess. Watchers are at the gate and on the palisade. Your men are counted; to each of the three tens I have given a leader, who has seen fighting, and arms from these walls. We have no powder. That is bad."

  The girl lifted a slender shoulder impatiently, and drew her hand down the thick braid of hair that almost touched Demid's fingers.

  "For that you slew a drunkard who would have harmed me," she said slowly, "I give you thanks, Cossack bogatyr. For the rest, I say that you are a fool, my Cossack savage. How long before your comrade will return with a regiment from the siech?"

  "Four days, princess—with luck."

  "Ah, if Rurik the Fair were in this high seat, Khor would be greater than Kudak!" She considered the young warrior gravely. "Even you would fear the captain of the falcon-ship."

  "Words are words, princess—aye, smoke from the fire of fear. Hermaph-ron lied to make us afraid of a ghost, so that we would leave this place."

  "But the Greek himself was frightened—"

  "So he lied, being a Greek. The Lord of the River is mortal."

  Demid spread his hands to the hearth, ignoring the girl.

  "Moreover, he must be within hearing of Kudak. There, I think, he has stored his spoil—for that is the best place. In some way he communicates with his band, quartered down the river. He is the one who slew the prince, your brother."

  The head of the girl sank lower and her lip trembled.

  "Michael! Ah, we of Khor are accursed."

  For the moment her pride left her, and the tears pressed close to her eyes. "You have bought me, bogatyr. Am I a worthy captive, for the first swordsman of the siech? Will you sell me, in the Moslem bazaar on the Black Sea? Or am I too poor a thing for that?"

  Disheartened, without any one to turn to for sympathy, Ileana waited for a word from the warrior. Demid said nothing. And the devil of tortured pride rose up in the heart of the girl.

  "See, Cossack—" she held out, on slender arms, the b
raids of rich brown tresses—"are not these worth a few silver pieces? I can embroider, and read written words. Rurik the Fair taught me to polish silver armor— aye, before he forgot he had kindred and a roof and went to the Cossack wars. I can sing—"

  She caught up a lute from the floor beside her, and thrust the wolfhound away from her knee.

  Show me the way,

  O Lord over lords,

  For I am astray In a desert world,

  Like a ship in the waste Of a measureless sea—

  Lost and alone.

  When she would have gone on, Ileana's voice quavered a little, and she turned her face to the back of the high seat, to hide from the Cossack that she was crying. As before the duel, Demid's cheeks went white. Something in his high-strung spirit softened and broke. Kneeling beside Ile-ana, he caught up the edge of her cloak and touched it to his lips. The long tresses touched his cheek and his eyes closed. The girl, glancing down at him, did not draw away.

  Her eyes sought the fire, and in them was something a little frightened, and perplexed and glad.

  Feodor crossed the threshold soundlessly and salaamed. Then, approaching, he ventured to speak, in Tatar.

  "Captain of a thousand swords, word has come to your slave from the fishermen. The cross of fire has been seen above Khor. Always, until now, it has been an omen of the taking of a ship."

  When Demid made no response, Feodor hesitated and went on:

  "It is in my mind that the fire is a signal, to watchers down the river. It must be kindled on the tower of Kudak, to show above the wall. My lord, shall we do nothing?"

  He ventured to touch Demid's arm.

  "It is in my mind that the fire appeared after the Russians went toward Kudak. Perhaps the mirza, the captain of the infantry, he called Varan, is the Lord of the River, and has ordered the fire signal. No man has been seen near the river so much as he. Perhaps that old fox Sigismund, for he has more spoil in his cellars than a fish has bones—"

  "Cease croaking," cried Demid, "and get you to the palisade."

  Old Feodor drew back, putting his hand to his forehead respectfully. His mistress's tears had dried. And the eyes of the Cossack were burning as if the warrior had been stricken by fever.

  The Tatar was troubled. True, for the first time the sorrow of Ileana for her brother had lightened. But Feodor had lived long, and seen much strife, and knew how the beauty of Ileana could hold the thoughts of men.

  "It were better," he confided to his comrades at the gate, who listened attentively, "if the young hero would fall drunk with wine. Then we could cast water over his head, and, perhaps, suffer a beating for it. But the Cossack would be ready for sword strokes."

  "All is ordained," whispered one of the hunters, "and from this fire in the heart of the swordsman good may come. Allah is all-wise and who shall say otherwise?"

  So the men in the shadows talked together, low-voiced, until a step behind them brought instant silence.

  "Are ye old wives, to gabble, and the wall unwatched?" demanded a stern voice.

  "Lord," spoke up one of the hunters, "Feodor is making the rounds without."

  "Not so," responded Demid, "or ye would be asleep, like dogs. Shall I send the women of the house to keep your posts?"

  "The forehead to you, noble sir; do not do that! We will watch, even as you say. A mole shall not creep under the ground, without our knowing it."

  They scattered promptly and vanished into the darkness. Strangely enough they were pleased with what had passed. When Feodor came up again they told him what had happened, and he clucked understandingly.

  "He has led men before. The Cossack has a horned soul in him. I saw him strike down a Russian with his left hand. It is well for us that this is so."

  Ayub's task was simply to get to the cataracts and the Cossack camp as swiftly as might be, and guide back to Khor a kuren of the men from below. Having taken internal measures against the cold, he lay down on the afterdeck, wrapped in a bearskin. But he lay on his side and his eyes scanned the Russian bank, as it sped past, in the haze of moonlight. When on the march or in the saddle, Ayub never drank, and did with a surprisingly small amount of sleep, as his foes had discovered.

  But this night he was alert for any sign of the apparition, any evidence of the presence of the ghostly Lord of the River. So it happened that he was the first to see, far behind them, the speck of fire that hung over Kudak.

  The burlaks saw it as well, and the pilot, and the pace of the galley slowed at once. The man at the tiller muttered of snags and drifting tree trunks, but he looked more often over his shoulder.

  Presently the moon left the river, the sky having clouded over. At once the watermen rested on their oars.

  "Father," said the pilot, "it is vain to press on in the darkness. We would rush upon rocks or snags."

  "You are afraid of the portent over Kudak," growled Ayub, "that is why your stomach turns."

  Nevertheless he saw that the helmsman was right. To row down the current in that void of blackness might swamp the galley, which was a pleasure-craft and an old one. He looked about him as best he could, wondering what Demid would do, in his place. The Don Cossack always had a plan ready formed, when confronted by enemies. In fact, Demid had a way of beginning operations before any one else knew what he was doing.

  "Father," suggested the helmsman respectfully, "we are drifting close to the right bank, where trees are near the water. We can moor the galley to the long oars, driven in the mud, for the boat lacks a keel. Under the trees we will not be visible—

  "Exactly what I had in mind." Ayub was relieved. "Make no noise."

  The burlaks, glad of the rest, went about their work with skill and the galley was soon tied up a few rods from shore. They were preparing to snatch a little sleep when the Cossack began to swear.

  "Am I a waterfowl, to roost in the river? Do you expect me to feed the fishes? Nay, we go ashore, under the willows."

  The river-men murmured, and the helmsman pointed out that they were quite safe in the boat, whereas no one knew what was on shore. The galley belonged to the princess; it should not be left unmanned. Ayub, however, was ill at ease on the water. He forced the burlaks to wade ashore. The Tatars followed philosophically, and they all squatted uncomfortably in the damp underbrush, where the wind bit through their garments. Sleep was out of the question.

  The breeze rustled the reeds in front of them; an animal splashed into the water. Overhead the long strands of the willows moved soundlessly. Ayub counted his men, told off one of the Tatars to go inland a bit, and another to watch the river.

  The helmsman grumbled under his breath at the mad idea of the Cossack.

  "We can make a fire," he suggested, "if your honor is chilled. Eh?"

  "And you can roast your toes in--," responded Ayub agreeably, "but

  you will light no fire on this accursed river, until we are within the barracks of the siech."

  By tomorrow evening, he reckoned, they should be below the cataracts. Three days must pass before he could lead a company of Cossacks into Khor. Demid had quarreled with the governor, that was all very well, but the governor could not be reached in Khor; the fortress was too strong to be carried by less than several regiments, with siege-works and cannon. The Cossacks had no powder. Moreover John of Kudak had a squadron of dragoons, and two or three hundred musketeers and pikemen, besides the townspeople, and the men of the captains who had joined him since the wars began—such as the slain Boris.

  Ayub had not wanted to leave his comrade, but Demid had asked it and the man from the Don refused point blank to leave the manor house. Nor would the princess think of quitting her home. She was a young witch and there was no telling what she might turn Demid into before the Cossacks arrived.

  "Father," said one of the Tatars who had a few words of Ayub's speech, "the rushes are floating down on our boat."

  Ayub cupped his hands to his eyes and stared up the river, and the hair of his head tingled. Out on the water a soli
d mass of bulrushes was, in fact, floating close to the shore. The moon, behind the clouds, cast a halflight in which objects on the river were barely visible.

  "String your bows," he ordered the hunter. "Call the dog-brother who has gone inland. Warn the pigs of burlaks to be quiet."

  A moment's scrutiny convinced him that the dark blur, surmounted by the stems of the reeds, was a solid body of some kind, possibly a body of earth washed from shore by the flood. But this was doubtful. In any event it was no illusion, no witchwork—and Ayub noticed with satisfaction that if his party had remained in the galley, they could not have seen the drifting mass, against the dark background of the rustling shore reeds.

  The object floated down, came abreast the galley, and revealed itself as a flat body, surrounded by rushes, some twenty feet long. When it halted Ayub whispered to the Tatar to bid the hunters take cover behind trees. They had already done so. And not a burlak was to be made out in the shadow, although Ayub's keen ear caught faint sounds of feet shuffling back into the wood.

  Suddenly his eyes narrowed. The floating island had bumped against the side of the galley, and at once dim shapes appeared amid the rushes— shapes that climbed the galley's side, with a faint jangle of steel that the Cossack knew well to be the clank of drawn weapons against shields or mail.

  "Loose your arrows," he commanded the chief of the hunters.

  A strident whirr drowned the rustle of the wind. By the galley's side a man cried out in pain. Arrowheads clanged against iron or thudded into wood. Someone groaned.

  For a full moment the hunters worked their bows swiftly; each man had two and their quivers were well stocked. Shouts now mingled with the moans of the injured on the floating object. In the darkness, the raiders believed for a time that the arrow storm came from the galley. Then a deep voice roared angrily.

  "The shore, fools! Your matchlocks!"