by Harold Lamb
“Ill!” Khlit's brows knit in thought. “Then it was Lhon Otai that Chinsi saw. But then he must be with the men without, whether prisoner or not. Did he know of their coming?”
“Aye, lord,” said Chagan suddenly, “I saw him listening at the embrasures.”
“Yet he has not taken one of the jewels,” put in Chepe Buga. “Hey, it is not like the fat toad to leave them untouched. He must think to gain them another way. I marked his eyes gleam upon them—”
“Pardon, sirs,” Chinsi's musical voice broke in on them. The girl's eyes were bright and her breath came quickly. “On the tower, Father Khlit, I tried to tell you what I knew, but Chepe Buga came. Gurd warned me of what he heard during the hunt to the North. When he had Lhon Otai prisoner the shaman whispered to him that he should open the gate of Changa castle to the conjurers, not knowing that Gurd was a Christian. Nay more— before that, Gurd overheard Lhon Otai talking to his men by the fire at night where he thought he was safe from listeners in the woods. The shaman plans to leave the Kha Khan and Chepe Buga with the treasure of Changa Nor. But only so that he can take the two khans, who are his enemies, at the same time he seizes the treasure.”
The Tatars exchanged glances. Chagan scowled blankly; but understanding dawned on Chepe Buga.
“By its coiling track a serpent is known,” he said softly. “Lhon Otai saw to it that my horsemen who came here with me were sent to Baikal. And that the horde under Berang was dispersed. He has left us here with the gate open, like trussed fowls.”
Khlit held out his bound hands in grim silence. In the excitement of the talk the others had not thought to cut loose the cords.
“Aye,” he growled, “trussed. An evil day when the Jun-gar exchanged leaders. Being disowned I have not spoken what was in my mind. Nay, it was Lhon Otai who bound you also in his toils. He it was who destroyed the fire device that might guard Changa. And left open the gate tonight. Harken!”
Muffled blows resounded on the stones of the door. Chepe Buga flushed. Whipping out his sword he deftly severed the cords around Khlit's wrists.
“Such was not my doing, Khlit, lord,” he muttered. “I have sworn an oath to guard you with my sword from danger. So be it. By the winged steed to Kaidu, it warms my blood that we are to fight together! We are your men, O Kha Khan, Chagan and I.” “Aye,” roared the sword-bearer, “I scent a battle.”
Khlit's somber eyes lighted as he studied his comrades. Their scarred countenances were cast in shamed appeal.
“Say that we are one again, Khlit, lord,” begged Chepe Buga.” A reckless smile twitched the Cossack's gray mustache. He placed his hands on the sword hilts of the Tatars.
“We are three men, O brothers in arms, but our enemies will find we are one.”
“That is a good word, lord,” growled Chagan triumphantly. Chepe Buga's eyes were eloquent of satisfaction. He cleared his throat gruffly. Lacking words, he caught Khlit's hand in a binding clasp.
“Nay,” cried Chinsi, “Lhon Otai and the men with him will suffer, because they have lifted their hands against the altar of God, in Changa Nor.”
The assurance of her speech made the warriors smile. They were men of direct thought and took little stock in the legend. As the three Tatars glanced at each other, each knew that one idea was in the minds of his companions.
It was Khlit who voiced this thought when the three stood on the tower of the castle at sunrise. The light showed them that the shores of the lake were filled with horsemen. Tents darkened the snow of the pine forests. Even beyond the forests, on the summits of the hills, the Tatars could see herds, and the wagon-yurts of a horde. Oxen and horses were tethered thickly throughout the encampment.
It was an army of hundreds, with their herds. And it made the circuit of Changa Lake.
“Lhon Otai,” said Khlit, when he had surveyed the scene, “has brought the Kallmarks to Changa. Aye, his messenger, whom he sent to the south, has brought them. And with the treasure, he has trapped the khans of the Jun-gar.”
XIV
That same sunrise showed the inhabitants of the Khantai Khan Mountains to the west a strange sight.
By the headwaters of the Tunguska River, far from Changa Nor, the men of Khantai Khan saw a herd of reindeer passing through the forest at a swinging trot. The beasts were lean with hunger, yet they did not stop to browse on patches of moss or on birch tips.
In the middle of the herd, mounted on a buck was the figure of a man. He was a tall man, wrapped in furs, with a dark face. As he rode he looked neither to right nor left. But the reindeer sniffed the wind as they paced along. Their muzzles were flecked with foam. Their eyes were starting from their sockets.
And the men of Khantai Khan wondered. For they knew it was fear that drove the reindeer past them without stopping.
XV
The morning brought a parley from the Kallmarks around Changa Nor. Several of their khans rode up to the castle with Lhon Otai. They offered to spare the lives of those in Changa Nor, if the castle and the treasure were given up.
Khlit's answer was brief.
“How can we trust one who has already betrayed us?”
To Chepe Buga and Chagan Khlit proposed that they take advantage of the Kallmarks' offer to gain safety. He would remain with Atagon to defend the Christian altar. Both Tatars replied with one voice that they would not leave him.
“Let the dogs come,” growled Chagan, balancing his twohanded weapon, “they hunt in a large pack, but the killing will be easier for us. They will have a taste of our swords. Would that Berang knew of this!”
“Lhon Otai has taken good care that he does not,” retorted Chepe Buga.
Khlit occupied the morning in making a survey of the defenses of the castle. What they saw encouraged them. Changa castle had been built long before the days of cannon, and its stone walls were two yards in thickness. Save for the concealed door there was no entrance in the walls.
There was no opening in the roof of the castle proper. In the round tower, at one corner of the structure, a small postern gave access to the roof. By gaining the roof, therefore, the Kallmarks would have no means of winning their way into the castle until they had forced the tower door.
The summit of the tower was too high to be reached by ladders, and it commanded the roof of the castle proper. Arrow embrasures in the tower would permit the defenders to make things warm for any of their foes who climbed to the roof. The stone door to the lake was stout.
Under Khlit's direction the Tatars, assisted by Chinsi, brought chests, heavy furniture, and logs of firewood to the entrance chamber. These they arranged to form a barricade in a half-circle around the door. This done, they ransacked the place for arms.
The girl brought them many weapons which had belonged to old defenders of the castle. Sturdy bows, with sheaves of arrows, stiff but powerful; several long spears, rusted with age, one of which Chagan promptly appropriated. Khlit ordered the other spears left at the barricade behind the lake door. The arrows they carried to the tower summit.
Chagan disappeared and presently returned, grinning, clad in a suit of linked Turkish mail that had belonged to the old Gutch-luk. Chinsi brought Khlit a similar coat of mail left in the castle by Gurd. These were welcome, for the khans had arrived at Changa in hunting costume, unarmed save for their swords.
Their preparations were nearly complete when they were startled by a footstep behind them. They saw the figure of a man in complete armor, hauberk, breastplate and greaves, engraved with costly gold. It was Atagon, his white beard hanging down over his mailed chest, and a light, triangular shield on which a cross was inscrolled, on his left arm. In his right he bore a long bow.
The sudden appearance of the patriarch in his costume of a century ago startled the khans. Chagan gaped as if he had seen a spirit, while Khlit crossed himself with an oath.
“I heard what has passed, my children,” said the patriarch's calm voice, “and my prayers are ended. It is our custom when a battle is on, for the presbyte
r to be with his knights. Our arms shall be strengthened by God.”
“Ha!” laughed Chepe Buga. “There is a priest to my liking. Harken, old man, if you see the fat Lhon Otai in the throng, speed an arrow into his gizzard for me. If the curse of Changa Nor on its spoilers rings true, the arrow will go straight.”
A sudden tumult on the ice outside drew the defenders to the tower top. They found that the expected attack was under way. Khlit had taken all his small force with him, leaving Chinsi to watch the door and warn them if it showed signs of giving way.
A single glance showed the experienced warriors, veterans of fifty battles, the plan of their enemy. The tower was too high, and too far removed from the hills at the shore of the lake for effective arrow fire from that quarter. The dark-faced warriors of the Kallmarks tried a few shafts that rattled harmlessly against the stones, and gave it up.
While a few score men advanced on foot against the lake door, bearing the stripped trunk of a giant pine, a hundred others circled the castle on horseback, discharging arrows at the tower top.
This fire, however, was handicapped by the slippery footing of the snow-covered ice which caused the horses to flounder, and by the height of the tower. A few pistol shots, directed against the tower, went wide of the mark. Protected by the battlements, the defenders made good play with arrows. Atagon proved himself a master of the long bow, while Chepe Buga and Chagan shot more rapidly, although scarce less surely, with their short Tatar weapons.
Especially when the ranks of Kallmarks around the pine trunk reached the door the defenders did murderous execution. The tower was nearly over the door, and the arrows, speeding from a height, went through furs, leather, and armor with ease. The space around the door was soon black with bodies.
As fast as men fell, however, others took their places. Spurred on by trumpets on the shore, and by the multitude of watching Kallmarks, the attackers wielded the heavy trunk against the stones.
“Look, lord!” cried Chagan. “Here come more of the dogs.”
Kallmark warriors were appearing over the side of the castle furthest from the tower. Unseen and unmolested by the defenders, they had placed tree trunks against the walls, and now they easily gained the roof of the castle.
Khlit and Chagan at once turned their bows on the newcomers, who were a bare twenty feet below them. The Kallmarks threw themselves vainly against the tower postern, while the arrows made play among them.
“They will soon find their new nest well feathered,” chuckled Khlit, as he struck down a brown-coated spearman.
The Kallmarks, finding that there was no direct entrance from the roof into the castle, beat a retreat to their ladders, leaving a score of dead and wounded on the summit of Changa.
Khlit turned to find Chagan busily wielding one of the heavy spears against the battlements of the tower. Using the massive iron point as a crowbar, the sword-bearer was prying loose one of the stone blocks. Khlit lent his aid to the task, and in a moment Chagan had freed the stone enough to lift it from its resting place.
Exerting all his strength, the giant sword-bearer raised the heavy block over his head. A warning cry went up from below, but the stone hurtled down, crushing three of the men about the pine trunk to the ice.
With a cry of triumph Chagan looked around for another missile. His ambition was heightened by his success, and this time he sprang to the battlement where a solid block of granite, three yards square, formed a base for some ancient engine of war. Probably in past generations a ballista had cast its stone from the foundation of the granite. The spear was helpless to budge this weight, but Chagan disappeared down the tower stairs, presently returning with a heavy log of firewood, twice his own height, and one of the andirons from the hall grate.
Working furiously, he wedged the haft of the andiron under the nearer side of the granite block, which was about a foot in thickness. Little by little he raised the massive block sufficiently to insert the end of the log under it. The granite flag stood on masonry which elevated it almost to the height of the battlement.
Putting his shoulder under the log, Chagan dropped to his knees. Rising slowly, the powerful sword-bearer lifted the lever with him, his muscles bulging and quivering under the strain. Another second, and, with a grunt, he pushed granite and log over the battlement.
The Kallmarks sprang back as it flew down on them. But the stone achieved a result as unexpected to Chagan as it was to the attackers. As it crashed upon the ice there was an ominous crackle.
A series of sharp cracks followed and the men on the tower saw a section of the ice before the door give way, and vanish into dark water. Other sections caved in, once the surface of the lake had been broken, and the Kallmarks about the door, with their pine trunk, were soon floundering in icy water. Those in mail were pulled under by the weight of their clothing.
Others on the outskirts of the breaking ice scrambled to safety, numbed and stunned by their plunge. The horsemen drew back on all sides, giving the castle a clear berth, for the break in the ice had weakened the whole surface.
Chagan's stones had proved too much for the ice coating, already severely tried by the crowd of men bearing the heavy pine trunk.
The sword-bearer eyed the destruction he had wrought with a surprised eye.
“Now by Meik and the winged steed of Kaidu!” he swore. “That was a mighty blow. No less than fifty are dead, at one stroke. Would that Berang and our comrades could have seen it.” The brown-coated horsemen now drew beyond bow-shot of Changa. The first attack on Changa had failed. But Khlit's face was grave. A careful inspection of the lake door had shown him that the hinges had fallen and the iron bars had been nearly wrenched from their sockets. A few more blows from the pine trunk and it must have fallen in. And their stock of arrows had been diminished by half.
XVI
Throughout the night Chinsi took her turn at watching and sleeping by the fire in the hall with the warriors. Chagan was in high spirits, because of the breaking of the ice. But Chepe Buga and Khlit were silent. Atagon was as calm as ever.
“You fought with the might of a Christian hero,” said the patriarch to Chepe Buga, “and God is watching over his shrine, from the clouds of heaven.”
“Nay, Priest,” muttered the handsome khan scornfully, “say rather that you fought like a paladin of Tatary. I saw two arrows strike that helmet of yours but you heeded them not.”
“The helmet has been worn by Christian knights,” responded the patriarch. “Except for Chagan's wound where an arrow has slit his cheek, we are still whole. But before long the evil minds of the pagans will think to carry their ladders to the roof, where they can lay them against the tower.”
“By Satan's cloven hoof,” swore Chepe Buga, “a shrewd thought, that!”
Khlit glanced at Atagon curiously. The words as well as the attire of the old man were those of many years ago. Atagon seemed to be without fear. The Cossack felt that this was because Atagon believed in the legend of Changa Nor. But how could the castle be held? So far they had done so, yet they could not hope to much longer, against the numbers of their foe.
If they still cherished hope that the Jun-gar horde of Berang would learn of their danger and bring aid from Baikal, they soon saw their error. And they had new proof of the cunning of Lhon Otai. The next morning the Kallmarks came for a new parley. Khlit took their message from the tower and when he came to the hall his face was serious.
“Lhon Otai has tricked us again,” he said grimly. “He sent one of his shamans to Lake Baikal with a message to Berang to hurry here alone. Not suspecting, the khan has done so. He is bound hand and foot, in the camp of the Kallmarks. They showed me his sword, as proof.”
A gloomy silence greeted this. With the young Berang a prisoner their last hope of aid from the Jun-gar horde had vanished. A sally from the castle under cover of night was not to be thought of. Even if the Kallmark horde had not surrounded the lake, the snow outlined the castle too clearly for them to hope to escape the keen ey
es of the watchers.
Late that afternoon Atagon, who had been watching in the tower, came down to the hall.
“The pagans are in motion on the shore,” he said.
Khlit and his followers made their way to the tower. They saw that several of the wagon-yurts of the encampment were being drawn down to the shore of the lake by oxen. In puzzled silence they watched while the wheeled tents were dragged out on the ice. The yurts came halfway to the castle, within easy bow-shot, and then halted.
Kallmark horsemen drove the oxen back, leaving the heavy wagons on the ice. No signs of life were to be observed about the yurts. The mystery was solved in a moment, however. A flight of arrows sped from openings in the heavy tents toward the tower. The defenders ducked hastily as the missiles whistled past them.
Atagon drew his long bow and sent a shaft whizzing at the tents. It stuck fast in the covering. The Kallmarks had cleverly placed strong hides over the felt of the tents. The loose hides formed an effectual protection against anything short of a pistol shot. Through openings in the covering the Kallmark archers could shoot at the tower with safety.
In this way they overcame the handicap of the slippery ice, and the uneven balance of their horses' backs. Realizing that it was useless to return the fire of the yurts, Khlit bade his companions lie under the shelter of the battlements, while Chinsi brought them fur robes as protection against the growing cold of evening. Atagon, who was shielded by his helmet, kept watch over the ramparts for signs of a renewal of the attack.
It came in the period of twilight between sunset and the beginning of the Northern Lights.
They heard a confused murmur on the farther side of the castle. Watching cautiously from the tower they saw dark forms moving along the battlements of the roof below them. The Kallmarks had placed their ladders again against the further side and had gained the roof.
They could see their foemen advancing slowly among the dead bodies, bearing what seemed to be the trunk of a tree. The Kall-marks as well as Atagon had seen the advantage of storming the tower from the summit of the castle, and they relied on darkness to cover their movements, after their costly repulse of yesterday.