Riders of the Steppes

by Harold Lamb

  At the table by the fireplace Kirdy found Giovanni alone, and the Genoese raised his brows at sight of the young Cossack.

  "I had looked for your comrades, my lord."

  "And they," Kirdy smiled, "have looked too long on the cup. I am here in their stead."

  Giovanni had heard something of the uproar made by the Zaporo-gian, and he nodded without comment. Jean the Frenchman, too, was the worse for wine, and many others. But Kirdy's eyes were clear, and his step assured.

  "Your decision, my Cossack?"

  "We will go against Skal, on one condition."

  "And that?"

  "We shall have command of the men-at-arms for Tor."

  A moment's silence while the Genoese struggled with surprise. "Odd's life! You to command in Tor! I dare not bear such tidings to Erlik Khan. Have you taken leave of your wits?"

  "Nay, Pan Giovanni, by this token. The old Cossack is a Koshevoi Ataman—they two have led thousands into battle; they will aid you, but will not serve under a—koldun."

  "Erlik Khan is no simpleton when it comes to an affray, as you should know well."

  Kirdy bowed his head, but answered with pride.

  "If the magician is able to deal with Skal, let him do so. If he seeks our aid—"

  "He asks it."

  "Then we cannot serve under a koldun."

  A flush darkened the Italian's forehead, and his fingers twitched toward the rapier hilt at his side. "Sant' Maria! Such words are to be answered with steel. I serve under Erlik Khan!"

  "Answer as you will," responded Kirdy calmly, "but think of the boyarishna. We would keep her from the hands of Skal and his men. For Erlik Khan I care nought."

  Giovanni's hand rose to the table irresolutely, and he smothered an oath.

  "So soon? Jean is mad, by her beauty. He dreams of the lady Ivga and he is not the only one. They are all her slaves, the men of Tor."

  "If they would guard her from Skal they must leave Tor and seek the Volga men in the forest."

  This time Giovanni could smile.

  "You Cossacks love horses overmuch. Leave Tor? Nay, it is clearly to be seen that you know little of warfare on the frontier, if you bid us leave the walls."

  To this Kirdy made no response, busying himself with the meat and barley cakes put before him by the serfs.

  "Eh, my Cossack knight, I have seen a battle or two in my time. The walls of the stockade cannot be pulled down, and Skal's horde will not be able to assault them in the teeth of our muskets and pikes. The Volga burlaki are best at hand-to-hand fighting—yet you advise going to meet them in the forest where even your horses will be of little use."

  Kirdy nodded, plying his knife with relish.

  "And why?" persisted Giovanni.

  "Because Skal would not come against Tor unless he could deal with your walls. He can."

  "Pray, how?"

  "With cannon."

  This gave the Genoese food for contemplation. He had thought that the transport of cannon during the Winter was impossible.

  "Nay," the Cossack assured him, "among his baggage sleds Skal has two that bear brass guns, covered with furs."

  Messer Giovanni permitted himself a smile.

  "Eh, are you too a wizard—that you can see twenty miles through the forest?"

  "Three days ago, my lord, we passed Skal and his train, turning into the forest from the Volga trail. I saw the cannon then and counted four hundred warriors, well armed. It needs not a wizard to prophesy that he will surround you in Tor. Then the cannon will growl and your gates will go down before your men can fire a shot from their muskets; then the burlaki will cry 'Up, lads!' and will slash the lives out of you."

  Messer Giovanni found no comfort in this. Biting his fingernails he stared at the table, with covert glances at the young warrior.

  "Matia Bogun!" he whispered. "Four hundred! And cannon—the odds lie against us." Presently he roused, as if he saw his way clear. "Young sir, I deemed your years too few for such knowledge of war. Permit me to inquire how you would move against Skal?"

  Kirdy shook his head.

  "The Wolf has said; an ataman must not disclose his plan to his men."

  "Ah. Hannibal was not more discreet. At least, confirm me in this— you are confident of victory in the forest?"

  "Nay, only if God sends victory will we overthrow the Volga men."

  The swarthy face of the Genoese darkened and his fingers tapped rapidly on the table.

  "-poor jest—it likes me not. Messer Kirdy, there is about you a taint

  of the stables and cowsheds."

  He filliped a scented handkerchief before his nostrils, staring openly at the garments of the young warrior, soiled in the morning's labor.

  Now, Kirdy had spoken quite seriously. He had thought out a way to attack Skal in the forest. Knowing something of the fighting qualities of the Volga pirates, he was not sure of the issue. God gave victory and defeat, when men had done their utmost.

  "Enough of words," he smiled. "We Cossacks do not scorn horses— or swords."

  "Or women," Giovanni added lightly, and Kirdy felt anger flash upon him suddenly.

  "Death to you!" he cried, his hot temper flaring.

  The thin nostrils of the Genoese expanded and he had gripped at his sword hilt, when a dark figure stepped silently from the door beside them and bowed with folded arms.

  "Effendi," said Ibrahim, soft-voiced, "Erlik Khan bids the falcon of the Cossacks command the men of Tor. He has heard your talk and he also bids the two lords of Frankistan keep their swords sheathed, according to his order."

  During that day Kirdy did not open his lips again. Giovanni had postponed the sword duel until Kirdy should take his departure from the ousadba, and they waited for word from the Tatar riders who were searching for the Volga men in the forest. But the young warrior did not bother his head about Skal as yet.

  He was puzzled by the strange behavior of the people of Tor, the evil temper of Giovanni, the silence of Khlit, and the savage ill nature of Ayub, who was enjoying the aftermath of his drinking bout. Usually the Zaporogian was the best-natured of men. He thought more often of Ivga, pitying her plight and admiring her beauty. And above all things he wondered why in this manor house filled with costly objects, with furs and gold and all that men could desire, foreboding lay like a cloud upon the souls of its people.

  When he watched the warriors in the hall he fancied that they moved about like men whose limbs were chained—as if their spirits were asleep. And this, he decided, must be some wizardry on the part of Erlik Khan.

  He was glad that he would meet the Khan face to face that night.

  1

  Frankistan—land of the Franks, Europe.

  III

  When you go into battle—string your bows, temper your spear points, sharpen your swords, but pay no heed to the words of the soothsayers.

  Proverb of Old Cathay

  Never, to Kirdy's eyes, had the boyarishna appeared more lovely than that night when she awaited him at the end of the passage, a candle dimmed by a night shade in her hand. Her hair, dark as the mane of a black stallion, flooded her slender shoulders. It was pushed back from her smooth forehead and from it came a scent more elusive than dried rose leaves or the dust of jasmine petals. Her lips, parted in a half smile, gave him welcome in a voiceless whisper.

  Kirdy, standing erect, his Cossack hat in his hand on one hip, his other hand on his sword hilt, bowed respectfully.

  "Come," she breathed, her eyes seeking his.

  She was indifferent to cold, heedless of the dark and the danger of that moment. To Kirdy she seemed as a divchina, a maiden without fear or evil thought—one who went, candle in hand, to pray in some dim and deserted chapel, and at that instant he could not think of anything more to be desired than the lady Ivga.

  They passed through her sleeping chamber, her light feet tripping over the soft silk carpets and white bearskins soundlessly. And the room itself gleamed with white damask hangings, even the
canopy of the carved cedar bed. A gray wolfhound, Ivga's pet, raised its head but did not growl at the young Cossack. Only in the chamber Kirdy did not see any icon or prayer stand and he remembered what she had said, that such things were not allowed her.

  A narrow door set in a heavy log wall admitted them to a bare compartment without windows or hearth, and Kirdy, who had an accurate sense of direction, thought that they were now within the base of the square tower. He looked around swiftly for other doors, but saw none— only rows of powder casks.

  "The koldun," Ivga whispered, "lies asleep above us. If you find him terrible, make no sound. You must not wake him."

  She glanced up at him beseechingly, and Kirdy nodded understanding. Holding the candle close to her breast to shield it from the eddies of the outer wind that swept through cracks in the upper wall, Ivga ascended a narrow stair that ran around the walls and disappeared in the shadows far over her head, as a path clings to the side of a precipice.

  The wind snatched at her light garments, causing the flame of the candle to sink to a pin point and then leap up madly.

  Somewhere in the height above him timbers creaked, and he stopped instinctively.

  Ivga laughed under her breath and passed through a small opening in the floor above, leaving him in near darkness. The wooden steps whined under his weight and he held his breath to listen—hearing nothing but the high whimper of the wind outside the ousadba. It needed courage to thrust his head through the aperture into the chamber of Erlik Khan, but Kirdy appeared beside Ivga so silently that she smiled approval and took his fingers in her warm hand.

  Kirdy moved on his toes, so that his silver heels should not grate on the rough timbers. He was more than a little fearful for Ivga's sake—if the khan should awake and see that she had brought an armed warrior to his side, there would indeed be terror and the boyarishna must suffer. But above all things Kirdy felt the need of seeing the face of the winged rider who had offered him terms on the steppe. Otherwise how could he take command with Erlik Khan at his stirrup, when all their lives must be put to hazard in the forest?

  His first glance assured him that the room behind him was empty, except for bundles of valuable furs piled in the corners. There were chests ranged around the wall, and he half glimpsed a ladder that must lead to the tower summit.

  As quietly as he could he followed Ivga to the far side, where a shelter of hides had been arranged roughly on stacked spears, Tatar fashion, to shield a cot from the blasts of the outer air. One side—the side toward them—was open, and, bending closer to the cot, Kirdy beheld a small figure curled up in a black bearskin.

  The thing was no larger than a dwarf, and the head was shaggy as the bear's fell. The face that he saw in the flow from the shaded candle was colorless except for the veins in the heavy brow—a pallid, twisted face, without vitality.

  It was, in truth, a dwarf. An old man, judging by the gray streaks in the coarse black hair, and the lines about the closed eyes. Kirdy had seen such stunted beings at the court of kings and boyars—garbed in rags and oriental finery, jesters whose pranks and sharp words caused their masters to laugh.

  "Come," Ivga pressed close to his shoulder, her cheek brushing his mustache, to whisper almost inaudibly, "you have seen Erlik Khan, the koldun. He is restless, and if he should open his eyes—"

  She tugged gently at his fingers. Erlik Khan, in fact, was moving uneasily under the bearskin. Then Ivga bent her head swiftly and blew out the candle, drawing Kirdy to one side.

  The dwarf had sighed and lifted his head. A square embrasure by the ladder admitted moonlight into the tower, and by good fortune the silvery rays fell squarely upon the cot and the dwarf, so that Ivga and Kirdy stood in shadow.

  As quickly as a snake coils when a step strikes the ground, the koldun turned, crouching, his short arms braced on the side of the pallet. He had seen or heard something that startled him. Powerless to prevent it, Kirdy noticed a thin wisp of smoke drift from the candle wick into the square of moonlight.

  Kirdy's right hand gripped the ivory hilt of his sword suddenly. He could see the shaggy head of the dwarf distinctly and the eyes, now wide open. The pupils of the eyes shone in a peculiar fashion, and the Cossack, staring at them in fascination, knew that they were white.

  His fingers closed around the cross on his sword hilt and his lips formed a prayer to the Father and Son. Erlik Khan did not quiver or shrink at this invocation, fearful to evil spirits. Instead, the translucent eyes roved around the chamber in a ghastly manner as if seeking in the shadows that which had aroused his anger.

  "Ai-a!" the girl breathed. "Strike with your sword before—strike now."

  But Kirdy, intent on the dwarf, did not move.

  "He sees us. Draw and strike while you have your strength."

  A moment passed, and Kirdy bent his head until his lips touched Ivga's hair. "Nay, he sees us not. He is blind."

  The woman beside him trembled with eagerness that was like a fever.

  "Blind—yet he has the power of sight within him. His anger is growing. See!"

  The head of the dwarf was moving from side to side, even while his eyes swept aimlessly from the floor to the ceiling; it seemed as if he had heard their light whispers above the creaking of the tower. His long teeth were visible through the tangle of his beard, and he resembled so much an animal drawing up its sinews to spring that Kirdy slipped the curved saber halfway from the scabbard. Ivga watched him with silent eagerness.

  Kirdy knew that he could step forward and slash open the skull of the man on the pallet before Erlik Khan could harm him—unless the dwarf were indeed a koldun with power to shatter the steel blade. But the Cossack had named the Father and Son and the dwarf did not even spit, as a koldun might be expected to do.

  Surely the master of Tor deserved death, because he had slain innocent men without cause. And with Erlik Khan dead, would not Ivga be freed from her tormentor? Still, he could not step forward and strike. He wondered if Erlik Khan had, in truth, cast a spell upon him.

  Abruptly, he slapped the sword back, and the dwarf started as if stung, peering at the darkness in which the woman and the Cossack stood. Kirdy had realized that this was not the winged rider. The dwarf had a beard that hung nearly to his hips. Unless Erlik Khan could change his shape, like a witch—Kirdy, heedless of Ivga's impatience, fell to wondering.

  "Erlik Khan," he said quietly, "by Ibrahim you named me ataman of the men of Tor, so that I might lead them against Skal. From your lips I would hear that promise."

  The face of the dwarf changed instantly; the snarling intentness fell away, to be replaced by bewilderment. He squatted back in his lair, fingering his beard.

  "Skal? Who is he? Nay, I am Erlik Khan. I speak with the vurdalaks of the storm—I ride the white horse of nights. What do you seek with me?"

  Again came the woman's insistent whisper at his ear: "He can appear like this if he wills. He is afraid of you. Come, let us go while we may."

  But the young Cossack shook his head impatiently.

  "Nay, grandfather, you lie. You did not ride the white stallion last night, or wear the armor with wings. Your voice is not his."

  "Good youth, what are these words? Where is the boyarishna? Who is near me?"

  "The Cossack, the White Falcon. I have said that you lied."

  Kirdy strode forward then and seated himself on the side of the pallet, pulling the dwarf forth from his lair of shadow by the beard. The old man was very uneasy and kept calling out for the boyarishna, who, however, maintained utter silence.

  "Ekh batyushka—eh, grandfather, it was you who looked in at the Cossack Ayub, and raised the hair on his head."

  Scrabbling at his beard, the dwarf tried to get beyond reach of the young warrior's hand.

  "Ai-trzei! Noble sir, I meant no harm. How could I, when God has darkened my eyes? I heard one of the noble lords breathing like a horse and I opened the door to listen."

  "And you listened at the door of the krasno miesto this
morning while I talked with the captain Giovanni."

  The old man mumbled and wriggled, swearing that this was not so.

  "The hall is not a fit place for such as I. When other men behold me they go away—such is my ugliness. Only the boyarishna is kind."

  "Kind?"

  "As a mother of saints. She has given me this bed and coverlet—"

  A sudden movement on the part of Ivga made him lift his head and listen.

  "That was like her step. Why do you not go away from me, cousin Cossack? Aye, Ivga brings me bread and at times a shank bone of mutton. When she rides from the tower she only locks the lower door."

  "And Ibrahim?"

  "Ai-trzei! He binds me and beats me sometimes because he is a Mohammedan."

  "Are you, grandfather?"

  The dwarf shook his head vaguely.

  "Do not mock me, cousin Cossack. I think you have come from afar. I do not make the five prayers, and I eat unclean meats."

  "Nay, you are Erlik Khan!"

  The twisted face brightened and the dwarf started to his feet.

  "Aye, Erlik Khan they have named me. I listen to the vurdalaks flying about the tower. When the storm spirits cry out like dead souls, I dance. Hai, Cossack!"

  In clumsy cowhide boots the dwarf began to caper on the echoing planks, grinning like the fiends he had invoked. He flung his short arms about.

  "There are many dead souls in Tor. I hear them wailing, below." And he began to sing in a hoarse high voice, while Kirdy watched, grave-eyed, his chin on his hand. He could see clearly now the white cataracts over the pupils of the old man's eyes, and the pallor that came from age and confinement.

  "Enough!" he cried suddenly. "Back to your nest, little grandfather."

  He felt a twinge of pity as the dwarf darted to the pallet and rolled up in the bearskin, like a dog that has been caught in some mischief and rushes to its corner to escape the wrath of its master. Then Kirdy went down the dark stair very quietly. He had seen Ivga slip away and he did not know what he might find below.

  He had been born in the Gobi where the night has its tasks and struggles as well as the day, and he knew that he was alone in the lower chamber where the powder casks were stored. Soundlessly he moved to the door, and after listening a moment pushed it open.