Wolf of the Steppes

by Harold Lamb

  Fogan Ultai spoke with Khlit and turned to the general thoughtfully.

  “Excellency,” he said slowly, “this man is no common man. He has the wisdom of a fox and the courage of a wounded wolf. He asks which should be honored, a royal prisoner or the man who betrayed him?”

  X

  Khlit's next act was to ask for Kerula. He had sought for information of the girl, but no one had told him where she was. Fogan Ultai bared his teeth as he answered, for he remembered how Khlit had made him, a mandarin of high caste, bring food to the girl.

  Kerula, he told Khlit, had been offered the choice of two things, when she had come before him. She had been taken to the Chinese camp with the two others. And Fogan Ultai had given her the choice of becoming a slave with the captives who labored at the siege work, or of joining the household of Hang-Hi. The child, he said, was fair of face and body. She had chosen to become one of the women of the household when she was told that Khlit was a captive and his sword taken from him.

  Khlit became silent at this, and moody. He could not blame the girl for her choice. She had chosen life instead of hardships and death. And she was young. Fogan Ultai turned to Hang-Hi with a low bow.

  “Excellency, Almighty Commander of the Ming host, the man, Mir Turek, lied when he said he had told you all he knew. He knows a secret of great importance. This secret is what first took me to Samarkand, for I had heard that a scholar of that city had said that he knew the hiding place of the treasure of Genghis Khan.”

  Mir Turek started and would have thrown himself prostrate before Hang-Hi, but the attendant restrained him.

  “In Samarkand,” went on Fogan Ultai, “I joined the household of Mir Turek, showing him, in order to avoid menial service, the gold-rayed sun which he recognized. I was not able to learn his secret, for Mir Turek was crafty and he suspected me. When he joined company with the Tatar, Khlit, descendant of Kaidu, I came with them across the desert to the mountains of Khantai Khan. From what I overheard and the words of the girl of Mir Turek, Kerula, I knew that they had come to find the tomb of Genghis Khan.

  “One day Mir Turek and his companion visited the mountains in my absence, and it is certain they went to the place of the treasure. Knowing that Mir Turek planned to deliver Khlit a prisoner to you, I waited until they had come within our lines, when I took them with some men I had posted for that purpose. Thus Mir Turek lied, for he kept from you the secret of the treasure which is very great.”

  Fogan Ultai folded his arms into his silken sleeves and waited with bent head. Mir Turek's agonized gaze went from face to face that was turned to him and he tried to speak but could not.

  “Your plan was excellent, Fogan Ultai,” said Hang-Hi at length. Turning to his favorite general the commander asked: “What is your word concerning Mir Turek, Chan Kieh Shi?” Chan Kieh Shi shrugged his bent shoulders slightly. He was the advisor of Hang-Hi. Sometimes he thought that the latter asked too often for his advice. He wondered what the famous commander would do without him.

  “Pour molten silver into the ears of Mir Turek until he tells us the place of the treasure. Then we shall have the Tatar hoard of wealth at the same time that we slay the Jun-gar khans in Altur Haiten, and your Excellency's wars will be over.”

  Mir Turek stretched out his arm imploringly.

  “Oh, Gracious One—Viceroy of the Son of Heaven, harken. Truly I planned to take you to the place of the treasure of Genghis Khan. Yet is the place perilous. The Onon Muren watch over it— the gods allow no one to come there—”

  “Even the gods,” said Hang-Hi ominously, “pay homage to the victor in the conflict. So it says in the sacred book.”

  He lifted his hand to the attendant who stood beside the merchant with bared sword.

  “Strike once,” he said, “and sever the sinews of the traitor behind the knees. Thus will he learn to kneel to me. Strike again and slit his mouth wide into both cheeks. Thus he may learn to speak the truth.”

  A shriek from the unhappy Mir Turek was silenced as the attendant swung his short sword, without hesitation, against the back of the man's legs. Mir Turek fell to his knees. Khlit, looking around in surprise, saw the man in armor take the face of Mir Turek in the hollow of his arm. In spite of the merchant's struggles, the other twice drew the sharp edge of his weapon against Mir Turek's mouth. A choking form, prostate on the floor, hands pressed against his bleeding mouth, was all that remained of Mir Turek,

  Khlit took a deep breath and his eyes sought Hang-Hi's. The commander bent over Mir Turek.

  “You will not die until you have shown us the way to the tomb of Genghis Khan, Mir Turek,” he said softly. “How am I to trust a man without honor?”

  At a sign from him Khlit and the moaning Mir Turek were conducted to their tent. By signs the guard indicated that the crippled man was to remain in the tent, while Khlit must take his turn at labor with the other captives.

  For several days while the merchant lay tossing on the floor of the tent, Khlit went out at night under guard to the siege works of the Chinese engineers. With other Tatar captives he hauled heavy stones for the Persian cannon and dug earthworks opposite the walls of Altur Haiten under the arrows of the Tatar defenders.

  Never had Khlit seen a battle like this, and his interest grew each night that he worked. The Chinese had pushed a network of earthen mounds, backed by leather and timbers to within a few feet of the crumbling walls where they planned to deliver their final assault. Beyond bowshot of the walls the giant Persian cannon were ranged which steadily enlarged the breaches in the brick ramparts to the east.

  The Chinese were not content to demolish the walls which were breached at several points. A fire from a few muskets was kept up at the Tatars who sought to man the ramparts. Mangonels, formed of giant beams, cast buckets of unquenchable fire, prepared by the special fire-makers of Hang-Hi, over the walls. Into the city beyond, iron chests were dropped by the mangonels. These chests held powder, lighted by a fuse which exploded after they had fallen in the houses.

  Against the Chinese the Tatars made only feeble efforts. Being naturally mounted fighters, accustomed to warfare on the plains, the defenders were at a disadvantage which was heightened by their lack of firearms. Arrows did little damage against the earthworks of the besiegers which lined the eastern side.

  The Tatars, numbering about seventy thousand fighting men, Khlit discovered from the captives, had given up assaults against the Chinese. They still had their horses which subsisted on the fields between the walls and the city proper, but each sortie from the gates had been greeted by heavy musketry fire, and the terrible flames of the fire-makers.

  Khlit saw that the plight of the defenders was near desperate. They awaited the day, with the fortitude of their race, when Hang-Hi should storm the walls. The Jun-gar khans, he heard, quarreled and drank their time away.

  Khlit helped feed the cannon, toiling half-naked at the giant stones. He became silent and made no effort to resent the whips of the Chinese overseers that scorched his back when he rested. Much he thought over the words of Fogan Ultai. His identity as a descendant of the grand khans, he knew, would earn him death with the fall of the city, or later at the court of Wan Li. The thought of dying a captive was bitter.

  Kerula had gone from his existence. Khlit had not had many companions, but the girl had touched his heart—perhaps with her tales of the Tatar warriors. He took a grim satisfaction in the sufferings of Mir Turek. He had no hope of escape, chained and under guard. Yet Khlit counted the blows of the Chinese overseers and remembered them.

  XI

  It was one night when he was stumbling with fatigue and had lost thought of everything except the stones he was hauling and the count of the blows he received that Khlit heard from Kerula. That night hope came to him again, and all his old craft.

  One of his guards halted him abruptly by the cannon, and urged him back toward the tent. The guards habitually vented their fear of the followers of Genghis Khan on the prisoners.

&n
bsp; “Come, Tatar,” he said in broken Usbek, “there is a woman of the royal household that asks for you among the prisoners. Why does she want to see a dog? We must do her bidding, for she wears the clothes of a favorite.”

  The tent of the two prisoners was lighted by the glow from the fire cauldrons near by. Khlit's heart leaped as he saw a cloaked, slender form standing beside the couch of Mir Turek. He had guessed who it was, before the girl had pushed the guards from the tent and closed the flap.

  The cloak fell back from her face and Khlit stared. It was Kerula, but her cheeks were red with henna, and her eyebrows blackened and arched. Her long hair was tied in a close knot, and its scent came to his nostrils.

  She gave a low cry as she saw the half-naked figure of Khlit, his body blackened with powder and dirt. She pointed inquiringly to where Mir Turek gazed at them helplessly from his couch.

  “Tell me, Khlit, lord,” Kerula whispered, her face close to his, tinged with the red of the flames outside, “will Mir Turek live? He told me how grievously he suffered. What have they done to you? I searched for two days and nights before I found you. Did you think I would forget you, Khlit, lord?”

  Khlit crossed his powerful arms on his chest.

  “The thought was mine, Kerula,” he said quietly. “Yet I believed that you were the one to feel pain, not I. As for Mir Turek, he is dying of his hurts.”

  The girl raised her head proudly, although her cheeks flamed. “Aye,” she said, “I have suffered. I am your slave. It was my will to serve you. So I chose to go to the pavilion of Hang-Hi instead of the siege works.”

  “I do not understand,” Khlit shook his head. “The household of the Chinese general will give you comforts and you will have honor—of a kind.”

  “Nay, Khlit, lord, it was for you.”

  The girl smiled at him eagerly. With a glance at Mir Turek she stepped closer.

  “I saw them take your sword from you. Your curved sword. And my heart was heavy. Tell me, will not the noble Tatar khans come from Altur Haiten and break the power of Hang-Hi? I told them so at the pavilion, but they laughed, saying that Genghis Khan was dead.”

  “The noble khans,” said Khlit bitterly, “will not attack.” “They will, they must. And you must join them, Khlit, lord, when they do so. See, this is why I went to the household of Hang-Hi. They watched it carefully, but I was too clever for them. I took it from them to give to you. See—”

  The girl felt under her silk cloak and drew out a weapon which she pressed into Khlit's hand. He stared at it dumbly.

  “It is your curved sword, Khlit, the sword that makes men afraid of you. As soon as I had taken it I came to find you.”

  Khlit took his sword in his hand and touched it lovingly. He eyed the inscription curiously. Surely, Kerula had been faithful to him.

  “If no one suspects you, Kerula,” he said gruffly, for he was moved, “go whence you have come. The tent is dangerous, for Fogan Ultai is coming at dawn and he must not find you.”

  “I have made you glad,” said the girl softly, “and my heart is light. I do not want to leave you, but if they found me they would suspect. Now that you have your curved sword, they will not keep you prisoner, will they? Harken, Khlit, lord.” She drew off a slender silken girdle that confined her cloak. “When one Tatar and another are true friends they become andas. Each helps and protects the other. Give me your girdle.”

  Puzzled, Khlit lifted his sash from the pile of his discarded clothing. At a sign from the girl he bound it around her slim waist under the cloak. She touched his hand shyly as he did so. Then she tied her own girdle around him.

  “Now we are comrades, Khlit, lord, although I am still a slave. Truly the honor is great and I am happy. When two persons become andas both have one life; neither abandons the other, and each guards the life of his anda. Thus we strengthen our anda anew and refresh it.”

  “Aye,” said Khlit gruffly, “I will protect you, little sparrow.”

  At a warning sound from the guards outside the tent Kerula slipped away, with a glance at Mir Turek, who turned his mutilated face away. No one else entered and Khlit seated himself in a corner of the tent. He took his sheepskin coat and tied the sword deftly in the lining. The coat he placed over his shoulders. Until the gray light of dawn lightened the tent he remained motionless. He did not sleep, nor did Mir Turek who lay moaning and gasping for breath. The fire that stood in a cauldron by Mir Turek's bed was smoldering to embers when Khlit arose, casting aside his coat and came to the bed of the other.

  “Mir Turek,” he said softly, “Hang-Hi has made you a cripple. Fogan Ultai is coming to get you to show the way to the tomb of Genghis Khan. Yet you will not do it. Do you fear greatly? I have no fear.”

  The merchant raised himself on his elbow and his ghastly face peered at Khlit.

  “Mir Turek, Fogan Ultai would throw you down the chasm to the Muren, when you have shown him the path. You have bled much, and your heart is weakening until death stands near tonight. We two, Mir Turek, know of the tomb of Genghis Khan. You will not live to take him there at dawn.”

  A hoarse sound came from the throat of Mir Turek and his eyes sought Khlit's feverishly.

  “Man born to life is deathless, Mir Turek,” resumed Khlit slowly. “He must go hence without home, without resting place. So said the great Genghis Khan. A few days ago I saved your life. But now you are dying and I can not save you.”

  Mir Turek sank back upon his couch, shuddering. Khlit looked at him not angrily, but sadly, as at one who was no longer a man. Death, he thought, would be a good friend to Mir Turek. And he would watch until it had come, freeing him from his pain.

  XII

  The sentries were dozing on their spears outside the door of the tent in the early dawn when they were awakened by the crackle of flames. There was a crash as of the lacquer sides of the tent falling in and a burst of flames swirled up behind their backs.

  The door of the tent was thrust open and Khlit staggered out, his garments smoking. Inside the door they could see a wall of flame that caught at the woodwork and hangings of the structure. The sentry who spoke Usbek shook Khlit by the shoulder.

  “Where is the other?” he shouted, stepping back from the heat of the fire.

  Khlit drew his long coat closer about him, so that the hidden sword could not be seen. “Go and bring him forth, dog!” he snarled. “How can a man in chains carry another?”

  But he knew that no man could go into the flames. He had waited until the last moment before coming out, so that the flames might get to the remains of Mir Turek. Thus he had seen to it that the body was not dishonored. And now no one but Khlit knew the way to the tomb of Genghis Khan.

  An angry shout caused them to turn. Several men had ridden up on camels, and Fogan Ultai dismounted. The agent of Wan Li caught the chief sentry by the throat furiously.

  The unhappy man pointed to the burning tent and Fogan Ultai released him with a curse. He scanned the flames for a moment. Then he faced Khlit and the Cossack saw that his slant eyes were cold and hard as those of a snake.

  “This is your doing, Khlit,” he snarled. “Once before, in the desert, you slew a man of mine. You have taken the life of Mir Turek. Your turn will not wait. The torture will be finer, and longer, for this.”

  “Aye, Khlit,” said the voice of Chan Kieh Shi behind him, “you will see if the blood of Kaidu is truly in you. We will take your life slowly, so you will not die for three days.”

  Khlit threw back his head and laughed, and the sentries wondered.

  “When you are dead,” resumed Fogan Ultai with relish, “your head will be cast over the ramparts of Altur Haiten, and the Tatar dogs will know we have slain one of their breed.”

  “Nay,” said Khlit grimly, “it is not I that am a dog! Was it I that made Mir Turek a beast that crawled to death? Did I send the gylong to murder a child in the desert? Men have not named me Dog but Wolf. And the wolf knows well the ways of the dog.” “When Hang-Hi rides into the city of A
ltur Haiten,” growled Chan Kieh Shi, pointing a withered finger at Khlit, “you shall bear him company, tied to his horse's tail. Thus will the Tatars know their kind.”

  “Truly, Fogan Ultai,” said Khlit, “a man who is feared is greatly honored. You do me honor in spite of yourselves.”

  “Is this honor?” The agent struck him viciously across the face with his whip. “Or this?”

  “Aye,” laughed Khlit, “for the overseer has done me greater homage. He had struck me twenty-eight times.”

  Fogan Ultai fingered his sword longingly, but Chan Kieh Shi made a warning gesture.

  “Then you can count the days until your death, which will be when Altur Haiten is sacked.”

  “Nay,” replied Khlit, “I shall not die.”

  “Dog!” Fogan Ultai spat in his direction. “Hang-Hi has promised it me.”

  Khlit stepped to the camel's side.

  “Fool!” he snarled, “blind jackal! If you kill me there will be no one to show you the way to the tomb of Genghis Khan. Mir Turek knew the secret, but he is dead.”

  Fogan Ultai's expression did not change but his eyes consulted Chan Kieh Shi. The old general stared long at Khlit. He spoke quickly to Fogan Ultai, and then turned to Khlit.

  “We shall find the way to the tomb,” he said. “The torture will make you take us there.”

  Khlit appeared to consider this.

  “Will Hang-Hi give me my freedom if I take you to the tomb?” “If you show us the treasure of Genghis Khan—” Fogan Ultai's slant eyes closed cunningly—“Hang-Hi may give you freedom.” “Aye,” added Chan Kieh Shi, “he may do so.”

  Again, Khlit seemed to ponder their words. He raised several objections which Fogan Ultai met shortly. Finally he raised his manacled hands.

  “How can I climb the mountains of Khantai Khan in chains?” he asked.

  At a sign from Chan Kieh Shi the sentries unlocked Khlit's chains around his arms, and at his request from his feet. He was led to a camel and mounted, thrusting his arms into the sleeves of his coat and wrapping it about him. He hugged his sword fastened to the inside of his coat, over his chest, close to him as they started. Khlit rode in the center, with Fogan Ultai and Chan Kieh Shi one on either side and two spearmen to the rear. Khlit smiled grimly as he noted that they had given him the clumsiest camel.