Riders of the Steppes

by Harold Lamb

  From a hint given him by merchants who dared not take the risk themselves, he had shaped his course to Sirog, and its graves had yielded a treasure.

  And now, out of the steppe itself—that wilderness of grass and reeds and sandy black earth that he had cursed when he first saw it—had appeared Cossacks who could guide him back to the frontier posts.

  "Yet, my lord," suggested the priest, "the young warrior may not return alive from across the river."

  Vladimir thrust the last of the sturgeon-roe into his mouth and wiped his plate clean with a morsel of bread.

  "Well, little old woman, the youth may not come to Sirog but the tall rogue, his companion, will do so."

  The dark priest lifted his eyes inquiringly, and Vladimir rubbed the grease from his fingers on the coat of a shaggy wolfhound.

  "He will come to try to steal his horse—that much I read in his face."

  "You were ever fortunate, my lord. All men say it."

  "Then all men lie, my father. What is fortune, save luck, good or ill? Now the wind blows fair, now foul—who can win mastery by chance?"

  The boyars at his table shook their heads, for such words were beyond their understanding. More than one glanced over the rim of his wine cup at the chests ranged beside Vladimir's bed. The chests told a story clearly. Yonder was gold, and they would all have a share in it.

  "The wind rises," said one. "Hark to it!"

  "Chance?" Vladimir pursued the thread of his thought. "'Tis a foul mistress, that—a wench with a heart for any comer. Nay, I am only fortunate in this: I have seen through the tricks of my enemies and they have not seen through mine."

  "Still, lord prince," remarked a noble, "you are fortunate. You have never been wounded."

  "Nay," growled another who had caught the gist of his leader's remarks, "skill, not luck, brought that about. Who among living men could touch Vladimir the Red with a sword's edge?"

  Now the young prince smiled, because mastery with weapons was his pride.

  "Drink, my wolves," he cried. "We have found the hunting good. And you, batko—old gabbler—what ghost do you see, that your eyes are cast down?"

  Mustering an uneasy smile, the priest drew his robe closer about him.

  "My lord, the wind blows cold from the river."

  In fact, savage gusts beat at the high walls of the blockhouse and whistled through the gaps in the towers. The canopy over the prince's bed flapped, and the fires, fed by great piles of wood, since this was their last night in

  Sirog, roared, while eddies of sparks shot up against the stars. A vagrant puff of air swept the table and extinguished all the candles on it.

  "Saint Piotr guard us!" cried Vladimir, pushing back his chair.

  The priest crossed himself thrice, for the darkening of the candles was an evil omen.

  "A torch!" commanded the prince, whose mood had changed. Motioning his sword-bearer to follow him, he made his way from the blockhouse into the outer enclosure, his sable cloak whipping about his broad, stooped shoulders. At sight of him the servitors and warriors bowed to the girdle, and he flung harsh words at them, for they labored slowly at greasing the carts and mending the ox chains for the morrow's journey.

  Making his rounds, Vladimir hardly glanced at the men who were his slaves; his keen gray eyes rested more often on the cattle, on the few horses, on the weapons of the pikemen, stacked by their quarters in what had been the stables of Sirog, and the firelocks of the arquebusiers who paced their beats along the palisade. Others stood at the two brass cannon, placed a few paces within the gate that now stood open.

  The moon gleamed on mail and spear points, and on the ruffled waters of the distant river, save when clouds, racing across it, darkened the faces of those who stood about the young lord of Novgorod.

  "Where is Durak?" he asked, when all was arranged to his satisfaction.

  "So please you, my lord," spoke up Barnetski, the captain of the arque-busiers, "the sentries on the village trail thought they heard horses."

  "It was the wind in the rushes," muttered another, "or else the goblins of this place are riding to the devil's mass."

  "By the Saints," laughed Vladimir, "'tis my vagabond, with the maiden!"

  His quick eye had picked out three figures advancing between the mounds of earth in the burial ground. A sentry challenged sharply and Durak answered, striding forward with Kirdy and Galka, the daughter of Kukubenko.

  "How now, youngling," demanded the prince, "do you take service with me?"

  Taking his kalpak in his left hand, Kirdy bowed in greeting, and Galka, disturbed by the eager glances of the followers of the prince, bent her head and stepped back beyond the feeble light of the spluttering torch.

  "Noble lord," said the young warrior gravely, "I have brought the maiden from the Tatar aul as I promised. By the wisdom of the Koshevoi Ataman, my grandfather, was this done. Yet in only one way could it be done. We were too few to make an onset with swords, so we made a bargain with Gerai Khan."

  "What matter? You are here, even if you left your sword behind and the wench is here. Tomorrow you will show us the road that leads to the Dnieper."

  "Perhaps—it rests with you, my lord. Gerai Khan has brought back all the captives, and they are waiting now under guard across the river."

  "I perceive," smiled the prince, "that you have an old head on young shoulders. You are not only a warrior, but a statesman."

  "The bargain was this: for your Muscovites you must give over to Gerai Khan all that you have taken from the graves of Sirog. He has kept the cattle, but your people are unharmed."

  For a moment Vladimir considered this, frowning, while Durak and the sentries watched him expectantly.

  "And where," he asked, "is the big Cossack, your comrade?"

  "The Tatars, my lord, are holding him fast with lariats, against our return. If we should not go back they would tie him and begin torture immediately."

  "Will you go back?"

  "Lord prince, if Ayub were here in my place, he would go back. No Cossack would forsake a brother in captivity. It was by order of the Koshevoi Ataman that I came in Ayub's stead."

  Kirdy did not add that Khlit, who had quaffed more than one stirrup cup before setting out from the camp of the khan, had been drowsy. The old wanderer had been swaying in the saddle and talking to himself, and bade Kirdy go to the castle to consult with the prince, saying that he would follow in a moment. But Kirdy had seen him head for a goatskin of wine as soon as the river was crossed.

  "Nay," responded Vladimir, "I see that you are a fool. I will pay down no ransom for two-legged cattle—or four-legged."

  The young warrior started, and his hand caught at his belt where his sword had been.

  "My lord, do you jest? What was your answer?"

  "Gerai Khan will have no gold from me."

  Kirdy looked at the Muscovite in silence, the veins throbbing in his forehead. It had not entered his mind that the prince would not redeem the captives, and he thought with something like dismay of what would follow when he brought such an answer to Gerai Khan. Like as not, the wild Tatar would massacre the captives out of hand, or even throw his tribesmen against the castle. There was no doubt whatever about the fate of the three Cossacks.

  "The khan is not to be trifled with, pany—noble lord," he said. "If you do not alter your decision the waters of the river will be red at sunrise."

  With uplifted hand the prince checked his words and peered from the gate within which they were standing. Durak had seen something moving in the moonlight and challenged sharply.

  "Stoi! What is there?"

  It was Khlit, stumbling out of one of the grave pits. He had left his coat somewhere, and he smelled strongly of wet leather and mare's milk. When they saw that he was unarmed and palpably drunk, the sentries let him pass, and he bowed solemnly to Vladimir.

  "Tchelom vam, kunak—the forehead to you, brother. And to you, brothers, warriors. And to you, headsman, I give greetings."

  B
linking at Durak's great ax, he merely shook his scalp lock, when they asked his name.

  "I tell you, I am a falcon in from the steppe. I fly high—I see far."

  Sighting a cask of mead around which several pikemen stood, waiting for the prince to depart so that they could drink, he shambled over to it and, grasping the rim with both hands, thrust in his head. So long did he remain buried in the cask that the Muscovites edged over to look into it, and no man could say for sure how much he drank, although the level of the mead was much lower than before.

  A slight figure darted from behind Kirdy and flung itself down before the Muscovite.

  "Do not send us away, little father. We have done no harm. Did we not pay the head-tax and the hoof-tax to the noble lords? If Your Illustriousness had come to the tavern you would have seen that we harmed no one—"

  "Par dex," cried Vladimir, "no hurt shall come to you, Galka. As for the others—" he shrugged and waved a muscular hand at the priest. "That is more his affair than mine."

  With a girl's quick intuition Galka saw that Vladimir would yield to no pleading and that the little dark priest was afraid to say anything at all. Catching her breath, she turned to Khlit, who was supporting himself against one of the cannon. But then the torch died down to a glowing stump and the shadows rushed in on them, so that only the pallid face of the Cossack maiden and the vague gleam of armor on the warriors was to be seen.

  "God have mercy on us!" she cried suddenly and, hearing a whispered command from the prince, sprang up and fled like a goat down the road before Durak and his men who had been moving toward her could seize her.

  Clouds veiled the moon, and Vladimir called back his followers from pursuing the swift-footed maiden. A new torch was brought and Khlit, steadying himself with a hand on either cannon, managed to walk to Kirdy's side.

  "Let the brat go—she was a wild one," the prince was saying, "but to you, Koshevoi Ataman of vagabonds, and warrior without a sword, I again offer service. No need to go to the Tatars and be hacked into bits."

  Khlit sucked his mustache and passed a quivering hand across his brow, and Kirdy, seeing that he could not manage an answer, lifted his head and spoke for the veteran warrior.

  "I say what the ataman would say in a better moment. How could Cossacks face life when that maiden has set her foot on the way to death? How could we greet a brother if we broke the law of comradeship and left Ayub to be flayed by the Tatars? We could not!"

  The deep voice of the young warrior echoed strongly, because his spirit was moved. Now that Khlit would take no hand in affairs, the responsibility was his to say the right thing. He lifted a hand but did not take off his kalpak this time in farewell.

  "Vladimir! We will save our lives as best we may, and make what bargain we can with the khan. Only remember this, Gerai Khan will rage, and it may be that he will come up against you. So guard yourself and do not take off your armor this night."

  He had spoken as if to an equal, and Vladimir gazed after the two, frowning, as they made their way down the road to escape the pits. Long after they were lost to sight he heard Khlit singing a saddle song:

  Ov vy moi—tchoboty schovi—

  My riding boots, my riding boots—You are nice and new, But to--with you!

  Then Vladimir shrugged again. He had been mistaken when he thought there was pride in these men. "Kasaki5—vagabonds!" he exclaimed.

  1

  The Tatars of the Golden Horde were a branch of the Mongol-Tatars who conquered Russia in the time of Kublai Khan. Their chief was called the Altyn Khan, or Golden Khan, and their descendants today are the Kiptchaks, or "desert people."

  2

  The Himalayas.

  3

  Northern Persia.

  4

  This must have been the Caspian, and the river the Volga.

  5

  Kasaki—Cossacks. The meaning of the word is "vagabonds" or "masterless men."

  VI

  A fool or a moneylender may gird on a good sword, but only the hand that uses it may hold a scepter.

  Arab proverb

  As the hair of a jackal entering the den of a lion, or of a dog that has come suddenly upon a wolf, the hair on the head of Gerai Khan stood up, and his small eyes became fiery sparks that smoldered when he heard the answer Vladimir had given the Cossacks.

  "You spoke well at the castle gate—by--you spoke well there!" Khlit

  whispered to Kirdy. "Now choose your words with care. Tell this Tatar if he would have his gold he must attack the gate. He has seen his graves uncovered and there is blood in his nostrils. If you do not choose the right words, my fledgling, you will wish you were drunk like me—"

  Indeed the anger of the Nogai, squatting in the moonlight like some slant-eyed, armored idol, was enough to inspire fear.

  "What did you promise?" cried Gerai Khan, gnashing his teeth. "Where is my gold?"

  "Your gold is in the castle of the Muscovite, O Khan," responded Kirdy calmly.

  "Dog of an unbeliever! I will put the torch to the castle. I will spread a carpet of the slain."

  "Aye, Gerai Khan. But without us you will not have your gold."

  The Tatar grunted and beat his knees with his fists. "You cannot bring me the gold. You said it."

  "When we asked the Muscovites for it we had no swords in our hands. Give us our swords and we will take it."

  "Allah! Am I a blind man to fall twice in the same pit?"

  Nevertheless, he began to ponder. Even in his rage the Nogai chieftain was far from being a fool. In the past he had raided more than one walled town, and while the Cossacks had been within the gate he had visited the outskirts of the cemetery, and the blood was hot in his forehead. He

  had seen the desecrated graves, and the battle lust was beginning to take hold of him. No longer did he think of returning peacefully to his yurt fire. A few guttural commands brought his leading warriors about him, and when he had spoken with them he turned to Kirdy who still stood before him with folded arms.

  It occurred to the savage Tatar that the young warrior might have saved his skin if he had stayed in the castle instead of coming back. Gerai Khan could appreciate daring, as well as loyalty to a comrade.

  "My falcons have been flying about the castle. I have no more than seven tens, and they say that the Muscovites have more than a hundred—many with firelocks. I myself saw two cannon. The wooden wall of the castle is stout; our arrows cannot pierce it nor our ponies leap over. You say that you can lead my men to the gold. Has your grandfather, the bogatyr, a plan? What is it?"

  Kirdy glanced at Khlit anxiously, but instead of helping him with a word, the old Cossack was still chanting hoarsely the saddle song, his legs spread wide before him.

  "Aforetime," he said boldly, "the bogatyr took by stratagem Alamut, the Eagle's Nest of Islam, and a walled city of Cathay. To him, a wooden castle in the steppe is a small matter, and he bade me attend to it."

  "Allah!" The khan, no little astonished, scrutinized Khlit keenly and what he saw seemed to enlighten him. He did not know how to smile but his black eyes snapped.

  "And what is your plan, puppy?"

  Kirdy himself did not know this, but to hesitate would have been disastrous.

  "You also made a promise, O Khan, that the captives should be spared and permitted to go with us in safety from Sirog."

  "My word is not smoke."

  A powerful voice from the darkness near at hand interrupted them.

  "And a horse, Kirdy. Do not forget my Kabarda—black with a white star on the forehead."

  "And Ayub is to take out his Kabarda stallion."

  "So be it. And what will you do, O my colt?"

  Kirdy considered and made his choice

  "We will draw our swords against the Muscovites."

  The aid of three such men was worth twenty Tatars, and Gerai Khan nodded grimly. He understood well enough that the Cossacks' only chance of life was to prevail against the Muscovites and this was well.

&nbs
p; "What is your plan?" he demanded.

  Having gained a moment for reflection, Kirdy answered without hesitation:

  "Divide your forces, half on the steppe side, half by the river gate. Light a fire here—send men to gather dry reeds, and tie bunches to your arrows. Set the reeds afire and shoot your shafts into the blockhouse."

  "Shim!" cried Gerai Khan, rising. "Go! Send an arrow through the gate so the dogs will know their fate."

  While a warrior mounted and sped up the roadway, wheeling his horse on its haunches after he had loosed an arrow that quivered in the wall of the blockhouse, the Nogais began to flit about in the darkness. Soon the howl of a wolf was heard from the far side of the castle, but the wolf was a Tatar calling to his companions. Gerai Khan's slant eyes glowed in the murk of moonlight like a cat's and from every quarter came the soft thudding of hoofs, the creaking of saddles. Only a man who knew the warfare of the steppe as Kirdy did could have told what was going on.

  The preparations roused Khlit. He rose to his feet, stretching and sniffing the air, and when Ayub came up bearing the two swords of the Cossacks, the ataman grasped Kirdy roughly by the shoulder. "Hi, what kind of a plan is this? If these Nogais dismount to climb the wall they'll be beaten off like flies. Don't go on foot, only dogs do that! Stay in your saddles. Let a dozen Nogais fire the burning arrows from the far side and raise a tumult—and gallop up the road with the rest. The gate is open."

  Kirdy shook his head.

  "I thought of that, but Vladimir has placed his cannon to bear on the gate. They would wipe us out. You've been licking the cup, bogatyr."

  Planting his legs wide, though a little unsteadily, Khlit surveyed his grandson from under shaggy brows.

  "Tchoupek-shaitan! Dog of the devil! What if I had a glass or two? My head's sound. I'll ride up alone if you hang back."

  "Well said!" laughed the reckless Ayub, swinging his great blade around his head. "Only Gerai Khan doesn't love those cannon. He'll make us three lead."

  The pulse began to beat in Kirdy's forehead and his thin lips tightened. His had been the responsibility and he had tried to quit himself of it—to save Galka and the captives while Khlit was drinking and Ayub exchanging taunts with his Nogai guards. But now his quick temper flamed up and he cast all cautions aside.