by Harold Lamb
"Gentlemen," remarked Giovanni, "you have seen Ivga, the bride of Erlik Khan."
"Messieurs," cried Jean, "la belle Ivga—a diamond under the hoof of a wild boar. Come, let us drink again."
When they were seated, and Ibrahim—a Muhammadan kayia, in a black robe bearing the wand of his office—had brought them fresh wine, Giovanni picked up an empty goblet, watching the play of the flames in the colored glass.
"True—a diamond never loses its brilliance. Did you mark, messers, that the boyarishna touches neither skin nor hair with color. She does not need to. I have been at Tor four years, and Ibrahim twice that time. Yet she was here before him. Do you think the koldun can preserve by his arts the beauty of this girl unmarred by time?"
"Aye, so," cried Ayub. "He did a harder thing than that when he found us in the storm, and brought this wildcat, Kirdy, to heel."
Giovanni shook his head.
"A mighty man with his hands was Skal. His favorite weapon an iron mace studded with massive steel points; the pirate boasted that he was invincible in single combat and few knights denied that his boast was true.
"While Erlik Khan lurked in his forest, secure in his own peculiar powers, Skal sailed the river with his burlaki, pillaging the ships of merchants, selling his captives as slaves to the Moslems, slaying as a panther strikes. Around him gathered the outlaw of the frontier, men who had been hunted out of hope. And they were many.
"The Volga was his, between the Kama and the portage, and the river-men had joined his bands; on the boats that came out of Asia he levied toll as Erlik Khan did on the trail between the rivers. One day Skal swore in a drunken humor that he would pass over the portage without paying silver to Tor, and in due course he came striding along the trail, a mob at his heels, roaring the song of the Volga burlaki.
"Fate ordained that on that particular day Ivga the wife of Erlik Khan should be hunting a stag, and that Skal should meet her face to face on the trail. There were Tatars with her, who could use their bows, and she was in the saddle of a swift-footed pony. So she escaped the hands of Skal and the Volga men, but the pirate had looked into her eyes and vowed that when Winter came he would seek out the lair of Erlik Khan and burn his ousadba and carry off his wife Ivga."
So said Giovanni, in his dry, precise voice.
"And, messers, it is true that the brigand of the Volga has kept his word. He comes, Skal and his mob, from the Kama through the forest. While the storm holds the steppe he must lie in camp. Then, in four days—perhaps three—he will be at Tor with the burlaki, river-men. Erlik Khan will not give up the boyarishna. We will see whether the arts of the khan will overthrow the power of Skal."
Kirdy nodded. In the world of the steppe, far from any Christian court, men must take service with such chieftains or lose lives and goods. For a thousand miles the Cossacks had seen no walled town; the authority of the Muscovite tsar was here no more than a shadow, the Church a memory. The soil of Tor was still Asia.
"Skal," murmured Giovanni, "has performed the devil's mass. He fears neither man nor magician. Satan, it seems, looks after his own."
Again Kirdy nodded. He had heard tales of Skal's power, though the Volga pirates had not molested the Cossacks.
"Erlik Khan," went on the Genoese, "seeks the aid of your swords in the battle. He knows well that the White Falcon is worth fifty men-at-arms. No constraint is put upon you, sir knight, to serve him. You are free to draw your reins from Tor when you will; but it is my hope that you will draw your sword on behalf of the lady Ivga. Give me an answer on the morrow. Permit that I summon Ibrahim and wish you, nobles all, a good night."
Stretched luxuriously on the tiger skin of his pallet, Ayub surveyed the unwonted comforts of the guest chamber of Tor with an indulgent eye, and pulled the taboret bearing a goblet of spiced wine nearer to his hand. He admired the soft carpets of Bokhara and the damask hangings that covered the whitewashed walls, and the collection of yataghans and oriental daggers about the fireplace. After waiting upon them courteously, Ibrahim the kayia had withdrawn and Khlit had dropped the solid bar into place upon the door. The narrow, high windows of stained glass shivered under the buffets of the rising wind, and the heavy fumes of incense swirled about Ayub's eyes in bewildering fashion.
"Ekh, brothers," he muttered, "I have slept within the walls of Bagche Serai, and in the Kreyml itself, but this place is as fine as any. The wine goes to the head at once, there's gold and silver and slaves enough for a palace, and nothing's grudged. Only one thing is lacking—no holy pictures anywhere, not even an icon in the guest room."
Kirdy glanced up in his quiet way. It was true. The walls, save for the weapons and hangings, were bare. He had not seen a priest in the throng in the hall.
"As for the wine," said Khlit suddenly, in Tatar, "I have tasted its like before now in the hills of Mazanderan. It is tainted with bhang."
"And in the braziers," added Kirdy, sniffing, "hemp is burning."
A delicious drowsiness was enveloping the big Zaporogian; he pulled off his boots and contemplated them with pleasure, thinking that they had never looked so bright and red before.
"Well, brothers," rumbled Ayub, wrapping the tiger's paws about his big body, "what are we to do? We are in a wizard's ousadba, no help for that. I'd rather go against Skal than Erlik Khan. That's the truth. We'll have hard work with the pirates, but there are worse things than that—" He yawned heavily and fell asleep almost with the last word.
Khlit stared at the fire in silence for a long time. Then he sighed, shook himself, and placed his boots under his head for a pillow. His eyes closed as if in spite of his will.
"Kirdy," he said, "little bogatyr, my eyes are old—they cannot see in the night. There is darkness here and our way is not clear. Ayub has a stout hand but a weak wit. You must choose the road we will take, and answer the people of Tor."
Turning on his side, he coughed and went to sleep. Left to his own devices, the young warrior picked up the incense stand and tossed it into the fire. At the court of the Moghul of Ind he had seen the effects of burning hemp.
Listening to the heavy breathing of the older men, he paced up and down the guest chamber. To be penned within solid walls always made him restless, and this north wind was howling around the corners like a fiend At one of the walls he stopped, his ear pressed against the damask. Above the roar of the storm and the crackling of the flames, he heard a girl's voice clear as the chime of the bell over the frozen steppe It was Ivga, singing to a balalaika:
Ai-a—gallop away From the earth, to the threshold of day! Away! Turn again,
O my warrior, from the earth and its men.
Kirdy was afoot early the next morning, before sunrise. The sky had cleared and the old moon was a gray wisp in the west; the breath of the forest was bitter cold and snow had drifted waist-high. He reflected that they would have fared badly in the open steppe that night, and he wondered how Shmel had managed to weather the storm, until he came face to face with the Jew at the stockade gate.
"The forehead—the forehead to you, noble lord. See, here are fine flints and bullet molds—belt buckles and powder flasks of the newest fashion. I have all things a noble knight can desire for an expedition. Or does your honor wish ribbons to adorn a pretty girl's shoulder? You will not buy them cheaper anywhere. And it's a fact that I have a certain powder, got from a wise woman on the Kama, that, when mixed with the wine a maiden drinks, will inspire her with everlasting love for the noble lord—"
"What price do you set on your own hide, Shmel? If Erlik Khan finds you, unbidden, within his gate—" Kirdy smiled a little at the thought of the merchant selling love potions in the mansion of a magician.
The Jew had arranged a rude stall out of the wrappings of his bundle and a plank or two and was setting out an array of goods.
"Isn't it true that the warriors of Tor are setting out on an expedition, your magnificence? At such times they must need flints and powder."
"You have long ears—beware les
t Erlik Khan crop them!"
Shmel wriggled and ran around the stall to grasp the Cossack's long coat.
"Harken, young lord! Is it not true that Erlik Khan has shown you honor? Take me under your protection, O most illustrious of chieftains, and I will repay you well. Before God, I know that which will open your eyes. Last night on the steppe I saw—"
But Kirdy, impatient of such talk, moved away toward the gate. He could not understand the merchant, who had no thought for his own honor, yet would risk torture for the sake of selling his trinkets at many times the price he had paid for them.
As for Shmel, he lifted his hands in amazement at the man who would not stop to listen to a message that might mean life or death to him. He watched the warrior stride through the snow to the gate, where the Tatar guards bent the forehead to him respectfully. Kirdy said nothing to them but surveyed the defenses of Tor with a critical eye.
The ousadba was strong—the outer palisade, twelve feet in height, of heavy fir logs sunk upright in the ground, surrounded even the low thatched stables and serfs' quarters. The upper ends of the logs were sharpened to a long point and a narrow platform on the inner side permitted the defenders to stand and shoot down over the top. At the corners towers projected beyond the line of the palisade. These had narrow loopholes through which the defenders could shoot down assailants who ran to the foot of the stockade. And for an arrow's flight outside, the fringe of the forest had been cleared away.
The enclosure was more than a castle—it was a dominion within walls. A granary and meat house occupied the side across from the stables and cattle sheds; behind the manor house a windmill creaked irresolutely, and the ousadba itself, built of squared logs chinked with clay, could have stood a siege.
Covered ways led from it to the outbuildings, so that the serfs could come and go, no matter how deep the snow lay in the enclosure, and a square tower with a roofed-in summit rose out of the mass of the structure, like the head of a serpent, raised to strike from its coils.
Since the ousadba stood on the crest of a long slope, the tower must overlook the countryside. Probably in the first place it had been one of the strongholds built by the Tatars of Tamerlane, generations ago. Was Erlik Khan a Tatar?
Thoughtfully, Kirdy made his way to the stables, rubbed down and watered the three shaggy ponies of the Cossacks, and gave them their oats. One had lost its leather shoe on the off forefoot and this pony Kirdy led to the shed where he had seen thick oxhides and tools. Taking off his svitza, he set to work cutting a strip that was almost as hard as iron, shaping it to the horse's hoof, talking to the beast under his breath as he worked, taking no heed of the damage done his clothing.
While he was pounding in the nails a shadow darkened the shed and he glanced over his shoulder. Ivga, wrapped in a marten skin khalat, stood watching him, Ibrahim beside her.
"O honored guest," she said quickly, "the stable knaves will attend to your horse. Giovanni awaits you at breakfast."
Kirdy, his mouth full of nails, shook his head. The Cossacks were accustomed to look to saddle girths and hoofs themselves—a loose girth or snow balling in a pony's hoof and hardening to ice might mean a fall or a lame mount at a critical moment.
Turning to Ibrahim, the mistress of Tor ordered him to explain to the captain Giovanni that Kirdy would join the others presently. The kayia hesitated, then took himself off.
"Erlik Khan has made a prophecy!" Ivga cried softly. "Last night he talked with the vurdalaks of the storm. He said to me, 'The three warriors will abide at Tor; yet the hour of their going will be terrible. Then the wolves will come out of the forest and the vultures will darken the sky.'"
Kirdy drove a last nail and released the pony, which trotted off to its stall.
"Eh, boyarishna," he said, "what do you say?"
"I?" That the Cossack should spare her a thought seemed to astonish the girl.
Her eyes brightened and the color flooded her cheeks. "I would have you—stay."
"Surely, my lady, Erlik Khan can beat off the Volga men."
"He fears Skal. He seeks the aid of your swords."
His eyes on hers, the young hero mused. "And yet the prophecy of the koldun foretells evil out of our visit."
"Evil?" Her lips trembled. "Nay, Tor itself is evil. In all the manor you will not find the cross of God. Nay, they will not give me one little image to wear over my heart."
Hands clasped upon her throat, her dark eyes grief-stricken, she stirred the spirit of the young Cossack to its depths.
"Eh, boyarishna, how is that to be endured? Is Erlik Khan truly a magician with powers more than human?"
She nodded mutely.
"It is easier to enter the gate of Tor than to leave. But the face of Erlik Khan you will not see, unless—" She caught her breath as if beholding something unexpected and welcome. "Nay, he does not like to be seen because he is no more than half a man. He is no larger than a child."
Kirdy thought of the winged rider; if Erlik Khan were in truth small in body, he had the clear voice and quick wit of a leader of men.
"Yet he commands his warriors when they are mounted for war."
"Aye, in his cloak and armor he will do so, because in the saddle—"
"He bears himself well."
"And in the ousadba he keeps to his own chambers, which are in the vyzga, the tower. My room is next to his and at all hours he comes to me with orders or questions, or summons Ibrahim, who bears his wishes to the captains of the men-at-arms."
"And you are his wife?" asked the blunt Kirdy.
"Aye, so. Ten years ago when I was a child I was taken captive on the road between the rivers. My father, who was on his way from Moscow to Astrakhan, was slain by the robbers. Because I was fair they let me live among the women and in time Erlik Khan made me his wife."
"Ekh," Kirdy mused aloud, "I would like well to see this magician."
She looked at him, wide-eyed.
"You do not fear him?"
"Not in his hall nor on the steppe."
"And you would see his face?"
"Aye."
She bent her head in thought, her hands still clasped against the white throat that nestled in the furs.
"Tonight, late, when the hall is quiet, come into the passage by the guest room. At the far end I will be, and if Erlik Khan is sleeping you may see his face."
Kirdy smiled, bending closer to catch her whispered words. "Why should he sleep? Let him await me in the vyzga with candles."
"That he would never do. Is it the tower at night you fear?" The young Cossack shook his head impatiently, and then added swiftly, "Then it is agreed."
At the door of the ousadba he left her and was hastening to the hall when a growling voice arrested him in his stride. Turning aside into the guest room, he found Khlit holding Ayub down upon the pallet by his shoulders. The big Zaporogian was cursing and reaching vainly for his sword, the veins knotted on his forehead, his eyes staring.
"You dog-brother," he roared at Kirdy, "where were you at sunup? It is not your fault I am here, and not paring the devil's hoofs. Brothers, let us to saddle! Wolves may fare well in this place but the souls will go out of men. Khlit, you old chakali, let me gird on my sword."
Evidently he was still the worse for wine, and frightened, which was unusual.
"He's been dreaming of Satan," muttered Khlit, thrusting his knee down on the Zaporogian's throat.
"Ugh-a! Out of the way! If I was dreaming then you are a bathhouse-tender. As God lives, I had wakened—my eyes were open and I was looking at the door because it was swinging slowly. Then in the dark passage I saw it, the vurdalak, the vampire. It was no bigger than a child, though its head was the size of mine. Ugh—take your fist out of my hair. By the good Saint Nicholas, its skin was white and shining and its eyes glowed like fire. It was a hungry vampire, and I said to myself, 'It has carried off Kirdy and now comes looking for me!' As soon as I touched the cross on the hilt of my sword it vanished."
"Did you se
e this?" Kirdy asked Khlit.
The old warrior shook his head.
"I heard Ayub howl, and the fiend may have entered him, because now he is out of hand."
"Give him wine."
A pitcher of the spiced vintage tossed down his throat calmed the giant and Khlit allowed him to take his broadsword in his fist. He sighed and drew on his boots hastily. Although still confused in his wits, he was by no means drunk, and he announced his intention of getting to horse and quitting Tor at once.
"Brothers," he said, "I will go against Skal and the Volga men, but I will not linger where vampires come in at daybreak."
"And you?" Khlit asked his grandson.
"I have decided, ataman. Cossack honor does not permit that we ride from Tor the day before it is besieged. I will draw my sword for the boyarishna."
Ayub groaned and clutched his head.
"And I will not stay. Ivga is fair as a lily, and I would like to cross swords with the Volga chieftain—"
"So you will, Ayub," Kirdy assured him. "One night and no more we will abide at Tor."
"How—"
"Giovanni awaits me. I must not keep him."
Khlit looked after the young warrior anxiously. There were questions he would have liked to ask, and he would have warned the White Falcon not to put himself under the orders of a captain of Tor; but Kirdy, he saw, had decided what to do and Khlit had no love of advice, given or offered.
"I did not dream, old Wolf," Ayub muttered. "It is the truth that the vurdalak turned his eyes on me and looked right through me."
"Enough!" said Khlit curtly.
Yet in his thoughts he compared the dwarf that Ayub had seen in the first light of that day with the rider who wore wings and called himself Erlik Khan. It was quite possible that the khan had looked into their room after Kirdy had left it. If they were to stay and aid the people of Tor, sooner or later they must speak with the master of the house. And there was Ivga. Khlit suspected that if the mistress of Tor had not been beautiful Kirdy would not have decided to stay. And this troubled him.