Riders of the Steppes

by Harold Lamb

  Meanwhile the flight of the governor caused the captain of the musketeers to throw down his sword and cry a truce. Rurik assumed command of the situation at once.

  "Bind them, dog-brothers!" he shouted at the townsmen. "Take their swords."

  Until now the peasants and militia had hung back from the struggle which had been wolf-like for their wits. The order of the koshevoi was agreeable. Having secured the Germans hastily and snatched up their weapons it was natural that they should look to him for another command. Rurik had counted on this. Standing up in his stirrups, he let his voice out.

  "Who are honest men—let them man the tabor. Who are cowards—let them leave their weapons and draw back to the water."

  No one was willing to discard his weapon and leave his comrades. Sight of the old hero roused their enthusiasm: they had no love for John of Kudak. Sigismund it was who sealed their determination to fight with the Cossacks.

  "Stand your ground, comrades," he cried, his sallow cheeks flushing. "We will take Rurik for our overlord, and strike out for our goods and families."

  A shout of assent answered him, and the townsmen crowded up to the breastwork in disorder, waving pikes, flails and the captured swords. Rurik and Demid surveyed them without approval, and exchanged glances. Here were more than a hundred followers, but the experienced Cossacks doubted whether the throng would stand the charge of the cavalry.

  "Where are Ileana's men?" growled the koshevoi. "And where is Ileana?"

  Demid pointed out the figure of the girl, running toward the open gate of Khor. It was too late to go after her; and there was no time to throw the throng of mujiks into the palisade. The dragoons, already at a trot, were nearing the wall of the manor, between which and the wood they must pass to get at the earthwork.

  Ileana passed through the gate, and the Cossacks turned grimly to their task. Ayub climbed up on the fascines and swung his broadsword around his head.

  "U-ha! Pikes over the breastwork, lads, swords in the rear. Watch the flanks. Say a prayer to the Father and Son, for this will be a red night."

  In truth, at that moment, the sun set over the plain of Khor, and the whole sky was a crimson panoply. For years thereafter the people of the town spoke of it as the red sunset of Khor.

  Until the dragoons came abreast the palisade and perforce, swung in close to the wooden wall, there was no sign of Feodor and his hunters. But when the ensign lifted his saber and the riders spurred to a gallop, a flight of arrows sped through the dusk. Black heads appeared along the top of the palisade and the short bows of the hunters twanged incessantly.

  Half-seen by the dragoons, the sudden storm of shafts wrought confusion in their order. A half dozen men and horses rolled on the ground; a score of injured beasts reared and plunged in the ranks. Those on the end nearest the wall tried to change front, to draw away from the archers. Orders from the ensign and the starosta clashed.

  The dragoons lost momentum; riders, gazing about for their leaders, fell under the steady whistle of the arrows. John of Kudak raced to the front of the disarray.

  "To Kudak!" he shouted. "Each for himself."

  With that he turned sharp to the left, and passed midway between the manor house and the trench. The dragoons strung out after him, the best mounted taking the lead. Only the ensign, writhing under the discomfiture of his troop, kept a dozen together, to hold the rear.

  "Judas!" bellowed Ayub, brandishing his sword impotently on the breastwork. "So that's the way you fight, with the heels of your ponies! Come back, serene, great mighty lord of the Styx and starosta of ——'s cesspool!"

  The thudding of hoofs alone answered him—that and the hooting of the peasantry, at the flight of John of Kudak. But the koshevoi swore heartily. In Kudak castle, if Demid were correct in his belief, was the great store of powder that the Cossacks had come for, and in the barracks of Kudak were pikemen and soldiery of the governor enough to keep the wall against an army.

  Once within the gate, John of Kudak could overawe the inhabitants, and make good his stronghold.

  Rurik stood up in his stirrups. "Where is Demid? We must muster what riders we can and follow through the wood. Where is that unbranded Demid?"

  The Don Cossack had left the trench, and no one had seen him go.

  Taking one of the hunters with him as a guide, Demid had started for the forest as soon as the governor turned his horse. The dragoons were on the main trail, and the Cossack and the Tatar kept to cattle paths. Dusk deepened under the trees and they bent low in the saddle, pushing through brush and trees at the best pace of their ponies.

  Sometimes near and sometimes far, they heard the shouting and clash of weapons where Rurik pursued the rear of the dragoons with the hunters from Khor.

  Demid wasted no thought on anything but the path ahead of him, that twisted and veered off in maddening fashion. With only a mile to go, he began to stroke his horse with the whip and then to flog it.

  They passed the huts of peasants, galloped over a bridge, splashed through a stream and turned into the hamlet outside the gate.

  Reining in sharply as the wall came into view, Demid made out that the starosta had just pulled up outside the gate with some dozen dragoons at his heels. Moreover, the gate was closed and locked.

  It was one of the vagaries of fate that kept John of Kudak from the sanctuary of his castle that evening. By his order the gate was locked always at sunset, and the sun had been down a half hour. He fell to pounding on the iron-bound logs, shouting hoarsely.

  The guards who climbed to the watchtower and peered down into the dusk at this sweating and dusty man did not at first recognize the governor. Even when he proclaimed himself profanely to them, and the sound of conflict drew nearer along the main trail, the men on the wall hesitated, such was their dread of breaking one of his commands.

  Then they climbed down and began to lower the bars.

  It was nearly dark, and when Demid trotted out of the shadows between the huts, he was not noticed until he drew near John of Kudak. Many of the cavalry were riding up, intent on the tumult behind them. But when Demid rose in his stirrups and spurred toward the governor, a shout went up and swords were lifted.

  The dragoons were scattered in groups about the trail and the Cossack turned and twisted forward, sliding away from some, parrying the cuts of others. Each turn he made took him nearer John of Kudak.

  "Strike him down!" urged the governor. "A hundred ducats to the man who slashes him."

  Demid came on in silence, slid from one side of his saddle to the other, shifted scimitar from left hand to right. So, by mastery of his horse and quick work with his blade he reached the horse of the governor.

  "Fend him off!" the man cried, pulling back to the gate itself. "Body of-"

  He cut down frantically with his saber, and felt himself parried. Demid leaned forward and his arm shot out. Steel gritted against bone, and the outcry of the governor ceased.

  Demid drew erect with an effort, turned in his saddle and caught in his left hand the arm, raised to strike, of the man nearest him. This was the ensign who had just come up.

  "Your master is dead," the Cossack said. "Will you serve a slain thief or a Russian prince? Sheath your swords. I will take your surrender."

  The ensign was cut up over the loss of half his men; all the boyars of Kudak were dead—Boris and Varan, and the attendants of the governor. In the darkness, he did not know how many men Demid had at his heels.

  "Terms—my men?" he asked, panting.

  "Fair service—your squadron kept as it is—tell Rurik I pledged it."

  Demid's arm drooped and the boy instinctively held him up. Not until the gate was opened and torches flared did the ensign see that he held in his arms a man so slashed and cut as to be utterly helpless. But by then Rurik and his hunters had come up, and the dragoons sheathed their swords.

  After a short parley the captains of the Russian pikemen followed the example of the dragoons. Lacking leaders, they had nothing to gain by
holding out. Moreover Rurik had a way with him. He summoned a priest and called his men to prayers after candles had been lighted before the icons, after the Cossack fashion.

  First seeing that Demid was cared for and put to bed in the officers' quarters and a physician summoned, he called for the castellan, took the keys of the magazines and led the others down into stores of Kudak. There they found powder enough to equip an army for a campaign, bales of silk, and nankeen, captured weapons of all sorts, perfumes and fine leathers, and cotton—in short the plunder of a score of vessels.

  Even Sigismund and the under-officers of Kudak were astonished at the wealth gathered by John of Kudak, for in trunks in his rooms were sacks of gold and boxes of jewels, pearls from Persia, rubies and emeralds and carved ivory from China.

  That night was long remembered in Khor. The Cossack chief had all of the spoil except the gold, the weapons and powder—including the kegs that had been shipped from Kiev to the camp, and were found, marked, under the other casks—carried to the dining-hall of the castle. Hither he summoned the citizens of the town, and greeted them. Then he announced that he hungered and a banquet was prepared in the kitchens.

  "Beat the drums, light the flare on the castle tower. Summon the minstrels of the town with their fiddles, and the bandura players to tell their tales. This is a dull place, by Saint Nicholas. It was otherwise in my youth. Eh, we will have a frolic."

  He shouted for Ayub.

  "No more ships will be lost on the Dnieper. Tell the townspeople that. Bid the mujiks and the merchants to come to the courtyard, and the fisher-folk, and the men of Khor. We of Khor are masters of Kudak castle."

  The doors were thrown open and candles lighted in every hall, corridor and shrine. The squeaking of fiddles and the songs of men were heard as the throngs from the town pressed into the castle.

  In the courtyard the Cossacks took their stand by the bales of goods, and bundles of precious things hoarded by John of Kudak. First the servants of Khor were given rich gifts of ivory and leather, then the peasants were tossed silver and rolls of silk. Bearded mujiks stared agape at the glittering spoil poured into their hands.

  Rurik the Fair, goblet in hand, towered over the assemblage. Ayub, adorned with a silver helmet and a peacock feather, glittering in a mandarin's coat, was enjoying himself mightily.

  "Here, kunaks," he bellowed, to the astonished serfs, "is your head tax for the rest of your besotted lives."

  He threw into the air a double handful of ducats.

  "Here's the horn tax! There goes the river toll."

  He kicked loose a bale of goods.

  "—— take me, I've forgotten the tithes," and be delved into a casket of pearls. These he presented to the children who had come to gaze at the feast.

  "What a waste!" moaned Sigismund. "They are like pigs in a trough, these men from below."

  The young ensign, considerably heartened by the turn in his affairs— Rurik had appointed him castellan, and captain of the troops—looked up in displeasure.

  "Hardly pigs," he muttered. "At all events, they can fight. How came the old koshevoi here?"

  Sigismund told him.

  "Rurik was leading a scouting-party behind the Cossack lines, when he beheld on the river the float of the men slain by the st—by the thieving John of Kudak. The fisher-folk who knew him then told him of the body of his grandson, Prince Michael. When he looked into the face of his grandson, he came up the river to search out those who had slain the boy. That was why he abode near Khor secretly, and talked with the burlaks. He followed the party of Varan, and was present at the fight for the galley. Seeing his boat abandoned, he took possession of it, and whistled up the burlaks to row him to Khor, when the one-armed Cossack came to him from the siech with news of the Turks' advance. Truly the croak of a raven is an omen of evil—"

  The merchant shivered a little, remembering that of the company that had sat about the table of John of Kudak two nights ago he alone survived.

  He drew back, seeing that Rurik had climbed to a table and lifted his baton. In his other hand the koshevoi held a great drinking cup.

  "To the Faith," he roared, "of all true men in the world."

  "To the Faith!" repeated Ayub, not too steadily.

  The koshevoi lowered his cup and wiped his mustache.

  "To the mistress of castle and manor, the princess, Ileana. Until such time as there is a new tsar, you will serve the maid of Khor. Do you agree?"

  "Father, we agree!" cried the peasants. And the merchants and officers added their word, because the young girl was greatly loved.

  "Fail not to keep faith with her," added the koshevoi grimly, "unless you wish to summon up Demid and his sword from below. And with Demid will come ten thousand swords from the siech. Do you hear?"

  "We hear!" cried the listeners, and drank the health of the princess.

  The fiddlers took up their bows again, and the bandura players began their song. Out in the courtyard the peasants began to dance, as if it had been a feast day. The men-at-arms gathered about the wine casks, and teased the prettier girls. The castle servants, glad to be spared their lives, flew about bearing laden platters.

  "Faster!" ordered Ayub, pounding on the table. "Play faster. Eh, you have forgotten how to frolic. What a world! The Cossacks come to visit you for a night or two and you don't even take off your coats to dance. When I was young it was otherwise. Look at this!"

  Casting his broadsword at Sigismund to hold, he took the center of the hall, squatted on his heels and leaped high into the air, shouting the while. His silk coat swung around his shoulders, splitting down the middle, and he flung it underfoot. The elder minstrels began to tap with their feet on the floor. Their eyes sparkled. They had seen warriors frolic like this in other days, before going to the frontier.

  The gloom and the fear fell away from those in Kudak, and the hearts of the people were merry.

  In the chamber of the starosta, where the clamoring of the fiddles and guitars came faintly, the girl Ileana sat by a couch on which the wounded Demid lay, shielding the light of a candle from his eyes. From time to time she rose to change a bandage, or to urge him to drink of the potions left by the physician. Her glance went frequently to a tall clock ticking noisily by the candle, marking the hours of happiness left her.

  Her hand was light upon the youth's forehead, and a flush was in her cheeks when his eyes met hers. A song crooned in her throat until he slept, and then Ileana knelt by the couch, her head against the covers, and cried a little, knowing that before long when the wine cleared from the head of her grandfather, the koshevoi would be impatient to be off again. So she treasured up the short hours that kept Demid at her side, and not for the pearls or the silks that Ayub had scattered in the castle would she have exchanged one of them.

  Once, in the second day of the feasting, she ventured to speak to Rurik.

  "His hurts are many. Why can he not abide in the castle until he is hale and strong?"

  "Not Demid," responded the koshevoi. "His skin is scratched a little. But the kunaks, his comrades, will be waiting for him, down below. There is work to be done. Would you have him grow fat, like an ox, and sleep on the stove?"

  Looking keenly at his granddaughter, he patted her head.

  "Eh, so you have given your heart to the bogatyr? Well, then you must hold your head high. You know the path that lies before the men of Khor."

  Ileana sighed. Rurik stepped to the edge of the battlements, looking out to where the vessel into which the powder of the siech had been loaded was waiting for his command to cast off from the jetty. His eye traveled over the gray stretch of the Dnieper, cold and windswept.

  "Little Ileana, much water has passed down the Dnieper since I sat in the high seat of Khor. My companions have gone their ways, each to the end of his road. Mother Death has beckoned me many times, and I shall not ride through the gate of Khor again. But no Turkish prison, and no chains will keep Demid from coming back. That is well, for you should have a
husband whose sword will safeguard you. He is an eagle, looking down at men from afar; he must fly through the spaces of the world, and match his strength against his foes."

  The koshevoi placed his hand under the girl's chin, and looked long into her eyes.

  "What message shall I bear from the princess of Khor to the

  bogatyr?"

  Ileana hid her face against the Cossack's shoulder.

  "Say to Demid that when the wars are over, a fire will be kindled in the tower of the castle to light his way."

  "Good!" The eye of the chieftain gleamed with pride and satisfaction. "Now it is time for us to go, who have the road before us."

  1

  Fire.

  The Witch of Aleppo

  When the storm comes, the snow pigeon takes refuge in the earth, but the wild goose flies south.

  When the sun is warm, the snow pigeon soars into the air, but the wild goose wings its way to the gray north.

  Snow was falling that evening in December, when the year 1613 of Our Lord was drawing to its close. A sighing wind from the open steppe swept the drifted snow from the roofs of the barracks and sent it swirling along the parade ground of the siech, the war encampment of the Cossacks.

  White, whirling devils leaped and vanished in front of the yellow squares that were the horn windows of the kurens, the long log barracks.

  Few windows showed a light in the siech because only a skeleton army was encamped there. A few hundred Cossacks held the border post where thousands should have been, on the island upon the icy breast of Father Dnieper—the river which, in that war-ridden generation, marked the boundary between Christian Europe and the growing empires of the Moslems.

  And these Cossacks were angry as the dark and bitter storm that, rising in the limitless wastes of the steppe, held them in its grip. For one thing it was Christmas Eve, and not a full jar of tobacco or a keg of spirits was within the palisade of the camp to lighten the hours before dawn.

  "Eh-eh!" The sotnik who had brought in the men shook his head. "Such a night. The forest yonder is snapping its fingers, like the bones of the dead. It is good that we are not in the open."