Riders of the Steppes

by Harold Lamb

  That Nur-ed-din had seen Khlit he doubted. It was impossible to tell when the woman was speaking the truth.

  "He was searching among the bodies," she added quickly, her eyes fast on his, "turning them over to look at the faces, and that was not like a Kurd, who would have looked only for spoil. I saw him last near the horse herd, in the araba ring."

  She indicated the tabor, and Kirdy felt his heart sink. It would be like Khlit, who was utterly reckless of his own life, to come back to seek out his body. The old Cossack did not look like one of the Donskoi and from boots to girdle he had been clad in a haphazard fashion of his own. Nur-ed-din's description of him was apt enough.

  He dared not ask if Khlit still had the saddlebags, and a quick scrutiny of the camp and the ridges beyond it failed to reveal a trace of his grandsire. But if Khlit still had the jewels, Kirdy knew that they could not buy their lives. He had seen the sullen, brooding eyes of Arap Muhammad Khan.

  "I know naught of jewels or of a hiding-place," he said.

  Nur-ed-din glanced over her shoulder at her master and then at the throng around Witless that had begun to scatter. One of them shouted something and Kirdy understood that Witless had died.

  "Fool!" cried Nur-ed-din. "To be torn like that great buffalo over there!" Biting her lips she stared at him, at the taut muscles of his bare arms, the pulse throbbing in his brown throat, at the dark circles under his quiet eyes.

  No longer was the woman mocking him; anger and regret struggled within her, and she sought in vain for words. Against the barrier of the youth's silence she could find no weapon; nor could she break this quietude in which he mustered his strength to meet the torture.

  "Y’Allah," cried the khan. "What is this?"

  One of the wagons in the tabor ring had been moved out of place and through this opening the horses were streaming. Both the Turkoman and the Cossack knew that they were being driven, but not by the horse guards who were running and shouting, trying to head off the leaders. The half-wild ponies separated and plunged through the camp while others poured from the wagons.

  Some of the horses raced past the knoll and for an instant Kirdy wondered if Khlit had turned them loose to divert attention from his own movements. But Khlit was not to be seen within the tabor or near it— only yawning Turkomans rolled out of their blankets or crawled from their half-tents to see what the shouting was about.

  It was the first hour of the afternoon and most of the warriors had sought shelter from the heat of the sun.

  And then above the drumming of hoofs the boy heard Khlit's voice.

  "Na kdn! To horse!"

  At the same time he saw the old Cossack trot from between two of the black tents. Khlit was riding one of the Kabardas and beside him the gray stallion tugged at its rein and reared, excited by the tumult and obviously unwilling to play the part of a led-horse. Kirdy realized two things—he must act instantly and he must reach the gray horse.

  Arap Muhammad Khan and Nur-ed-din could not see Khlit, but the guard at the boy's back had half turned to glance down at the two splendid ponies. It flashed through Kirdy's mind that the Turkoman had heard the khan say he was to be tortured, and so would hesitate before cutting him down.

  Without moving his feet he leaped back and the spearman staggered. The boy darted past him and sped down the sharp slope of the knoll. He had a fleeting glimpse of Arap Muhammad Khan springing to his feet, and the nearest emir drawing a scimitar from his girdle.

  A dozen paces and he knew the Turkoman guard had not cast the spear. Then he heard the man's feet pounding behind him.

  Khlit urged on his horse and when Kirdy raced down upon him, dropped the rein of the gray. Groping under his shawl the old warrior pulled out the long curved saber and Kirdy heard it whistle over his head—heard, too, the thud of steel against bone, and the heavy fall of the Turkoman who had pursued him.

  The gray stallion reared and Kirdy reached for his mane. The leather thongs on his wrist had half numbed his fingers, but the plunge down the knoll had set the blood moving through his hands again and he leaped into the saddle. He thrust his bare feet into the short Turkoman stirrups as the horse started after Khlit's pony.

  Behind him he heard a long drawn shout from the knoll—"Yah hai, Y’Allah, il allah!"

  A glance over his shoulder showed him the Turkomans running for their horse, and Nur-ed-din standing like a statue before the deserted tent of the khan. Another moment and the two Cossacks had put the tabor between them and the knoll and the riderless ponies from the herd were thick around them.

  Out of one of the wagons crawled a wizened figure that sped to a thin and mean-looking pony that was grazing patiently near them. By his wide-brimmed black hat and greasy sheepskins Kirdy recognized Shamaki, and thought that the koldun must have started the stampede of the ponies.

  Khlit leaned over and drew the blade of the saber across the cords on Kirdy's wrists without troubling whether or not he cut through the boy's skin. It took two good hands to manage the restless stallion that neighed with upflung head and was more than willing to run down any riderless pony that ventured too near.

  For a while the horse engaged all the boy's attention. He was aware of warriors who stared in bewilderment at the old Tatar and the gray-haired rider who looked like a Kurd and the young rider without cloak or boots or weapon. By the time the band that had started in pursuit came up with the watchers, the Cossacks had passed the fallen pillar that marked the entrance to the gorge through which ran the caravan track.

  They had a start of five hundred yards, and Kirdy laughed exultingly as he realized that the splendid Kabardas were fresh.

  They thundered by scattered fires of the Kara Kalpaks, and Providence so far aided them that they met no parties of tribesmen returning to camp through the ravine. When they came out on the plain beyond the ridges, they saw that the pursuers had lost a little ground.

  Then the three steadied the horses and settled down to a long gallop, their eyes on the heights to the north that formed the barrier around the Blue Sea.

  When darkness clouded the plain a few Turkomans had drawn up to within two bowshots of Kirdy and his companions. Glancing over his shoulder from time to time Khlit waited until the glow in the west had faded from orange to a deep scarlet.

  With a word to the others, he took his whip and snapped it down the flank of his bay pony, and the gray stallion quickened his pace, unwilling to be left behind. The matchless Kabardas had been held in until now, and after five hours they still had a race left in them. Shamaki had been using his whip for the last hour but the gray stallion was only sweating under the saddle and flanks.

  They entered a network of gullies, and the Tatar took the lead. Kirdy had heard the Cossacks say that the conjurer could see in the dark. If this were not true, Shamaki knew the country well. He turned up a steep trail that led through a mass of boulders, and turned again sharply into a sandy ravine where the horses moved silently. Here he halted to breathe the ponies and listen with his ear to the ground.

  "Come," he grunted after a while, "we must be in the saddle. The kibitka is far from here."

  When they moved on, guided by the Tatar, Khlit told the boy what had happened in the last days.

  The column led by Ostap and himself had been fortunate. It had penetrated the Turkoman lines, losing only a score of men. Evidently the tribesmen were not so numerous on that side, and the Cossacks had reached these same heights, where Ostap and Khlit were at some pains to hide their trail. The next day they had come out on the shore of the Blue Sea. They worked to the east until they found a bay where fresh water appeared in a spring among the rocks. This bay was sheltered, and here they decided to rest the exhausted horses and themselves.

  They did not know on what point of the sea they had come out, and to ride farther along the edge of it would bring them inevitably into contact with the bands of tribesmen searching for them. They had wiped out their trail in the water and posted sentries on the ridges around their camp.
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  For food they were able to catch plenty of fish in the shallow bay. Khlit had found Shamaki quartered in a hut a couple of miles from the camp.

  The Tatar, who had been traveling two days in advance of the Cossacks, had seen them riding in the water and had come to meet Khlit.

  Shamaki had heard from passing tribesmen of the fate of Demid and his men, and that Goloto been cut off in the hills. Together the old warriors turned back to search for Kirdy's body. How Khlit had persuaded Sha-maki to accompany him he did not say; but the boy fancied that the Tatar was more afraid of the Wolf than he was of the Turkomans.

  It was Shamaki who learned that Kirdy was a prisoner with Witless on that last day and when Khlit saw the Cossack led out for torture he sent the Tatar into the tabor to stampede the horses while he worked nearer the tent of the khan with the gray stallion.

  Chapter 14 Ayub

  When a Cossack is born a sword is placed at his side; by it he lives and dies. By the cross in the hilt he prays and by the shining blade he takes oath. When the Blue Sea dries up and the Roof of the World is level with the plain—then the Cossack will ride over the steppes without a sword.

  When the wind began to bite with a damp, chill touch and they heard the murmur of a swell on a wide shore close to them Shamaki dismounted and led his horse into a stand of dead poplars. Here was his kibitka, an abandoned wattle hut in which he had taken shelter. By the strong smell of wet rushes Kirdy knew that they were almost on the beach.

  The wind rustled the brittle limbs of the poplars, and the sedge growth beneath, but a louder rustling made the boy's skin crawl. Shamaki, too, halted as if puzzled, and they listened in silence.

  By now the hut was visible—a black bulk in the gray trunks—and from it came the flapping of wings and a man's voice in a continuous groan. Khlit and Shamaki left the horses standing and circled the hut while Kirdy walked to the opening.

  There was only one voice, and it seemed to excite the eagle that Sha-maki had left chained in the shack to a kind of frenzy—until man and bird became quiet.

  "Spawn of the Horned One," there came a roar in broken Tatar, "the devil knows who you are, but I'll send you to greet him. Just bend your heads and enter—"

  "Ayub!" cried the boy.

  "Stand back!" growled the Zaporogian. "That is Kirdy's voice, but are you in your body? Are you spirit or are you human?"

  "Nay, here is Khlit and the koldun, Shamaki. That is his eagle in the choutar."

  A towering form staggered through the entrance and a massive hand gripped the boy's shoulder, and through the shirt Kirdy could feel the heat of fever. "Plitzy Boga s Vamy! May God send you joy! Hi, old Wolf— Hi, you dog of a Tatar! Truly the Father and Son have saved you, for otherwise it is not possible that you could be alive."

  "How came you here?" cried Kirdy joyfully, because he had thought Ayub slain, and could not understand how the big Zaporogian had come through the Moslems with a broken arm. He knew Ayub too well to think that he would have left Demid of his own will.

  "By the buntchauk, the standard, little brother. Only look!" Ayub reached into the hut and pulled out the cross piece of the Donskoi standard, with its white falcon's head and flowing buffalo tails. The pole had been broken off close to the end and Kirdy uttered an exclamation of delight. For weeks he had watched the white standard advancing at the head of the column and he was glad that it had not fallen into the hands of the Moslems. He remembered that he had not seen it at the feet of Arap Muhammad Khan in the black tent.

  A grim word of praise from the darkness showed that Khlit, too, had recognized the standard—what was left of it.

  "It was this way, my falcons," rumbled Ayub, his ready tongue spurred by the fever. "The bearer of the standard was slain by an arrow of the Kara Kalpaks and fell underfoot. God never meant that the dogs of Turkomans should put their claws on the buntchauk. I dismounted, and cut loose the pole with my saber, so that I could thrust it under my leg. But when I was in the saddle again, the saber work was going on all around and I could not find Demid. I heard the war cry of some of the brothers and reined toward them, but they were Goloto's men."

  He paused to sigh and moisten dry lips. "I rode with Goloto into the hills and only half his men were left in the saddle. There I parted with him, and the black devils were all around. I slew a score on my way to this place—may the grass grow over them! I thought I saw some of the brothers riding along this shore. Then I came upon a boat. My horse had broken its foreleg and I cut its throat with my saber. It was clear to me that

  God did not mean that the Turkomans should cut off my head, because I found the skiff hidden in the rushes, with a mast and sail in it. A fox's hole smells sweeter than that fisherman's boat but it is sound, I think.

  I was weary and could not move it into the water, but now that I have slept—where is Demid?"

  Kirdy glanced at Khlit and after a moment the old warrior spoke gently. "Ayub, Demid had a hero's death under the swords of the Turkoman horde."

  Ayub bent his head to peer at them. "How—what is that? The Turkoman horde—they could not take the Falcon."

  "They could not take him," assented Kirdy quickly, "he was through their lines when he turned back to aid his men. He is dead."

  For a moment Ayub was motionless and then he did not cry out. With his good hand he tore at his hair and ripped the sling from his broken arm. Drawing long, panting breaths, he clawed at the stiffened muscles of his left arm. "Give me the reins of a horse!"

  In his overwhelming grief the big warrior wished to mount into a saddle and ride headlong, wherever the horse would take him. When he began to run toward the ponies, Kirdy and Khlit caught him by the shoulders and, for all their strength, were knocked aside like children. Then the Wolf tripped Ayub and Kirdy threw himself on the Zaporogian, throttling him until he grew weaker, and Shamaki, who had seen him in a fury before, came up from the beach with a hatful of water, dashing it into his face.

  The fitful strength of the fever ebbed and Kirdy rose, leaving Ayub stretched out on the ground, groaning.

  "Ai-a, moi sokoli! Here am I—dog, clown, boaster—I live and Demid, the Falcon, is slain. Grant me death, sir brothers."

  "It is not far away," growled Shamaki, who had been looking around for Khlit vainly.

  "He pulled me out of the water by the scalp lock! He took all the gold out of the castle to ransom me when I was put in the stocks. Of all that he had, he never took anything for himself—his word was without blemish, like clean steel. Never did a finer ataman come to the side of the White Christ. All the elder heroes will greet him, and make way for him at once—they will bid him to their bread and salt."

  He ceased speaking only when Khlit trudged up, bearing a heavy burden that proved to be the two saddlebags. He had hidden them in the sand a short distance from the hut, and investigation proved that the jewels were still safe.

  Then, glancing at the stars, he said that they must join Ostap's Cossacks in the bay nearby.

  "Wait, koshevoi!" Ayub held up his hand and sighed. "Are any left from Demid's command!"

  "Only Kirdy."

  "Hai—it has gone hard with the Donskoi. If we must join Ostap and his men I will not hang back. But not a Cossack is alive in their camp yonder. The Turkomans are swarming over it like bees. Two thousand of them surrounded the camp and I saw the last of the brothers cut down on the beach when I was searching for them."

  Khlit sat down on one of the saddlebags and pondered. "Then it is clear that we must bear the jewels of Urgench to the Muscovite tsar. We, three."

  "May the black pest take the Muscovite tsar!" muttered Ayub, shaking his head. "Nay, there is a devil of sickness in me, sir brothers, my arm is broken—you have only two horses. Ride on and leave me here. I do not wish to go from this place."

  Khlit and Shamaki talked together for a while, and then the Wolf turned to his companions. "We cannot reach the Jaick river in the saddle. If Ostap and his men have been wiped out, the Moslems are on all sides
of us."

  "They will feel our bite before they cut us down," snarled the Zapor-ogian.

  "This is what we must do," Khlit responded thoughtfully. "The last of the Donskoi are slain—but their word to the tsar is still to be made good, their pledge must be redeemed. We must take the jewels to Moscow, because we alone know what befell Demid and our words must clear him of all blame. Can you sail a boat, Ayub?"

  The Zaporogian nodded. He had been born on the shore of the Black Sea, and many were the raids he had made on Turkish craft in the long Cossack skiffs.

  "Shamaki will give us food for our horses," Khlit went on. "He will not betray us. But you must go with us, Ayub, because without you we could not make the boat trot forward, nor could we rein it back when it was time to halt."

  The Wolf and Kirdy had been bred on the steppes, and even in crossing rivers they had seldom set foot in a vessel. Kirdy, indeed, had the Mongol's dislike of the water.

  Ayub paid attention at last, and a fresh notion seemed to strike him because he assured them that he would handle the boat. Until the stars faded and gray light crept among the dead poplars they sat almost in silence, grieving for Demid and the brothers who had gone out of the world before them.

  It was noon before they pushed the boat through the rushes and wet clay into the water. During the morning Ayub and Kirdy slept in the hut, but Khlit was otherwise occupied. He drove a bargain with Shamaki, taking care to get from the Tatar the things the Cossacks needed, but not so much as to make Shamaki less than well pleased.

  In exchange for the two horses and the saddles ornamented with pearls and painted leather cloths, Khlit obtained half of the tribesman's stock of barley, a goatskin for water, a small bow and a half dozen arrows and all the dried meat that Shamaki had salted down and kept soft between his saddle and the skin of his horse.

  Then Shamaki explained to the old Cossack the extent of the Blue Sea, which he called the Sea of Crows, and the position of numerous islands within it, and where the Tatar yurtas or wandering villages to the north of it might be found.