by Harold Lamb
Who was Sheillil? What was her part in the web of intrigue woven by the lamas at Kashgar? Dongkor Gelong had said that he had bought her. If not the lama, what master did she serve?
XIII
Is there aught that goes faster than a loose-reined horse on the plains? Or a well-sped arrow from the bow?
Aye; it is the dark hand of death. Tatar proverb
Khlit had discovered that, so long as he kept to himself and in view of the attendants of the monastery, he was free to go where he chose. He had not seen Dongkor Gelong or Tuvron again. On the morning after Sheillil's dance Chagan slept late. Khlit, however, had little rest, and he was glad to leave the gloomy pile of the lamasery, with its robed attendants, for the courtyard.
He had learned that Chu'n Yuen's shop lay in an alley on one of the streets opening into the neighborhood of the monastery. He decided to venture there, for he was curious to learn what Sheillil had meant by her whispered speech.
Sauntering across the courtyard, he approached the guards at the gate. The spearmen glanced at him keenly, but offered no opposition when he walked through the gate into the street without. He saw, however, that two men—a Tibetan soldier and a Chubil Khan—who were loitering in the arena walked after him.
Khlit made no haste. He was aware that it would be useless to attempt to escape from his new guardians. Kashgar was walled and guarded. The men of the Yellow Hat in various garb were scattered through the streets. Should a cry be raised after him, he could not go far without being cornered.
He turned down the alley where he knew the armorer's shop was located. The heavy door of Chu'n Yuen stood open. Chu'n Yuen himself was ordering his slaves about shrilly as they served wine to the drunken Khirghiz who lay thick on the floor of the room and the outer shop. At sight of the Cossack, the proprietor halted and approached him respectfully.
“How can I serve you, noble sir?” Chu'n Yuen murmured. “Would the honorable khan, who condescends to dignify my shop with his presence, desire to see some rare scimitars newly brought from Damascus? Or to have his own blade sharpened to an edge that will sever a floating feather?”
Khlit's sidelong glance told him that the Tibetan soldier had followed him into the outer room. The Chubil Khan, being reluctant to enter a wine shop, had remained in the street, he guessed. He drew his curved saber and balanced the blade in one hand. Chu'n Yuen stared at the rich chasing of the steel and the delicately wrought inscription with professional interest.
“Nay, am I a drunken fool like such—” Khlit kicked one of the insensible forms on the floor contemptuously—“to give up my sword to another? Fetch me a steel, and I will temper the edge to suit myself.”
Chu'n Yuen bowed politely.
“It shall be as you wish, noble sir. In the room within a good couch and a cup of wine await you. If you will follow—”
He disappeared through the hangings. Khlit strode after without hesitation, but keeping the weapon poised in his hand. The Chinaman passed through the wine shop, heavy with the stench of tobacco and stale wine, to the women's court in the rear of his establishment. Here a few female slaves were stretched out asleep on benches.
Chu'n Yuen opened a small door and led his visitor through the courtyard wall. Khlit saw that they were in a walled garden, shaded by poplars under which rugs were placed. It was empty except for themselves and the Tibetan, who had followed closely and was now squatted by the gate.
Khlit seated himself on a rug that the shopkeeper arranged for him, his back to a tree trunk. He liked the aspect of the place little, or that of Chu'n Yuen, who bustled back into the shop with a glance at the Tibetan. The latter was in the shadow of the wall, apparently drowsing. Khlit wondered if it had been Sheillil's wish that he should give up his weapon. One place was as good as another, however, to the Cossack who was carefully watched by the men of the Yellow Hat.
Chu'n Yuen did not return. Presently the gate opened, and a figure that Khlit recognized immediately as Sheillil entered. The Cossack had half-expected to see the girl, and he did not look up a second time as the dancer knelt beside him and offered him a bowl of wine, laying at the same time a whetstone at his knees.
Sheillil was veiled. She had changed her dancing costume for a fur-tipped khalat, boots, and a sheepskin hood. In the shadow of the hood her dark eyes peered up at the Cossack. Khlit had taken up the whetstone and was gently stroking the blade of the weapon across his knees.
“Have you news of the Jun-gar?” he asked finally, without looking up.
“Nay; how should I know aught of the Tatars?” the girl laughed softly, pleased at the involuntary disappointment she saw in the old chieftain's face.
Khlit did not speak again, which irked her.
“Do you put faith in the word of a woman?” she mocked, watching him brightly. “Or have you come to ask aid of a slave dancer, hired to the wiles of the Tsong Khapa and his crafty servant, Dongkor Gelong? Truly, the men of the Yellow Hats have stripped your strength from you, O Kha Khan, and hold you prisoner like a trussed boar. I have heard how you pleaded for mercy from Dongkor Gelong—you have not lost your voice.”
The veins stood out on Khlit's forehead, and the hand holding the sword trembled. Seeing this, Sheillil smiled, well pleased.
“The Tsong Khapa has a servant to attend you.” She nodded at the Tibetan by the gate. “But the fellow speaks not Uigur; so we are free to talk together, you and I. Oh, they know at the lamasery that I am here, but Dongkor Gelong has agreed that I should see you—to arrange for what is to happen this noon. I am free to come and go as I choose.”
She dropped her chin into her hands idly, watching Khlit's stroking of the sword.
“I shall have many suitors to ride after me today at the kok bura,” she murmured, “for I am more beautiful than the flowers of the hills. Iskander Khan has sworn he will have me. He is a bold fellow. There will be scimitars drawn and blows struck. Dongkor Gelong has whispered to me that Iskander Khan will fall by your sword—from behind. Others, too, will die. It will be good sport. Have you truly sworn to kill the Khirghiz, O one without honor?” The taunting words brought a grunt of anger from Khlit. The sword in his hand flew up. The edge of the blade drew swiftly across Sheillil's throat, pressing in the veil that hung from her cheeks.
The girl's eyes widened suddenly. Then she laughed musically. The veil hung by a few threads. It had been nearly severed in two under her chin. But there was not so much as a speck of blood on her throat to show where the curved sword had kissed the light veil. It had been a bold feat, by one who wielded a sword as deftly as Sheillil had whirled her tiny daggers in the dance of the night before.
Khlit was staring at her now, from deep-set eyes in which burned a sullen fire. She leaned closer to him, and the expression of her brown eyes changed.
“A shrewd blow!” she said softly. “But, if you slay the Khir-ghiz, it will be a curse upon your people, for there will be black war between the men from the Roof of the World and the Jun-gar. It will be the end of the power of the khans, Khirghiz and Jun-gar. The evil priesthood of the Yellow Hats will seize the citadels of the hills when the war has wasted the ranks of both sides. Oh, Dongkor Gelong is a man to be feared. He is reaching out from Kashgar for the mastery of the passes to the Roof of the World.” Khlit studied the girl attentively. Accustomed as he was to the moods of the dancer, he found that a new note had come into her voice. Her breath was quickened under the khalat.
“Fool,” she said bitterly. “Do you think Dongkor Gelong will spare you when you have done what he desires? Your death is as needful as that of the bold Khirghiz.”
“He has promised,” responded Khlit gruffly, “that the gates of the lamasery shall be opened for me when I flee from the field of games.”
Sheillil clasped the sleeve of the Cossack's coat.
“Men said that Khlit of the Curved Saber was crafty and wise in war. Have your wits fled? Are you stricken with fear of the Jallat Kum? Has Dongkor Gelong clouded your spirit so you cannot s
ee that the stroke that slays Iskander Khan will be the end of your people and mine?”
Khlit sheathed his weapon and took the girl's chin in a hand, lean but still powerful.
“Who are your people, Sheillil?” he asked.
XIV
The girl did not draw back, nor did her eyes waver. She pointed behind Khlit, upward. The Cossack, however, did not shift his gaze.
“Yonder, above the walls of Kashgar,” Sheillil whispered, “are the hills of the Roof of the World. There are my people, although I have not lived among them since I was a child.”
“Your face is not that of a Khirghiz,” growled Khlit.
“Nay; that is true.” Sheillil paused briefly. “I have heard that my people once lived in a city at the threshold of the hills. It was the city of Talas and my father's ancestors worshiped in the mosque of Talas. Came the sand, and they took refuge in the higher land of their kingdom, called by some the Thian Shan and by us the Roof of the World. From time to time those who were strongest in faith made pilgrimages to the mosque of Talas, which was a holy spot, beloved of Allah. Now that the blight of the Tsong Khapa has reached up into the hills and taken the Jallat Kum for a burial-ground, few go there. Nevertheless, when Dongkor Gelong confided his plan to me before he went to the Jun-gar, I went to Talas to await your coming. I wished to see if you were a weakling, who would fall prey to the lama, or a strong man. When Tuvron came, I pretended to be well pleased with your plight, so that he should not suspect.”
“And then?”
“Before I was a woman,” went on Sheillil softly, “a raiding party of Usbeks, servants of the Tsong Khapa, carried me into slavery at Samarkand. But I was beautiful, and I did not die, living instead in favor and buying my freedom with gold. Yet I returned not to the hills. For a woman to be the wife of a khan must have honor, and I was a dancer. The day will come when Allah will show his mercy and I may go back.”
Khlit was silent, pondering on what she had said. The ways of women were strange to him, and Sheillil was one of many faces. “What master do you serve?” he growled.
In a flash the girl's expression changed.
“Has the wind a master? Has the eagle of the mountaintops one whom he obeys? Nay; I follow my own will—”
“Today,” broke in Khlit, “you will be sought by many suitors. Which will you favor?”
Sheillil touched his hand appealingly.
“Iskander Khan,” she whispered. “He is the chieftain of my people. His arms are strong as his sword is quick. Many times have I watched him from a distance in Kashgar. It may be his heart will be touched with love for Sheillil. Allah may will that he take me to his home—for Dongkor Gelong has promised that my tongue will be slit and I shall be given for the sport of the camel drivers if I fail him.”
“And so you have asked that I harm him not? That would be my death.”
“Nay,” put in the girl. “At Talas you slew a man for me. I have not forgotten. I have arranged with Chu'n Yuen, who is blind as an overfed jackal, a plan by which you and the Tatar can escape. While the kok bura is in full play ride swiftly from the horsemen to the city—the games will be on a plain without—and come to the shop of Chu'n Yuen. Most of the followers of the Yellow Hat will be at the games. Leave your tired horses in the street. Run through the shop of the armorer to this garden. In the corner behind that tree is a gate.”
Sheillil pointed to a barred door, half-concealed by bushes. “The city wall is within a few paces, outside that gate. Chu'n Yuen is a fox with two doors to his burrow. One of the poplars overhangs the city wall—the largest tree of the group, ripped by lightning. On the farther side of the tree are nails, cleverly placed so that a man may climb to the summit of the wall. In the overhanging branch is a rope of Chu'n Yuen's. By this you may drop over the wall. A servant will be waiting there with fresh horses. Ride straight for the hills. You may meet a party of horsemen, but they will be friends. Do this, and you will be safe!”
The brown eyes sought Khlit's hard face pleadingly. The Cossack smiled grimly.
“Many tales have you told me, little sparrow. How do I know that this one is the truth? It has the smell of a trap. And Iskander Khan is my foe—”
“Would I take so much trouble to slay you?” Sheillil demanded. “If Iskander Khan had been so minded, and I had spoken your name to him, you would not leave here alive.”
“Nay, Sheillil,” Khlit shook his head. “Then Dongkor Gelong would have disposed of your lover promptly. This is a city of lies.
Go you with Iskander Khan. The Khirghiz is no weakling; he can guard himself and you.”
“And you?”
Sheillil leaned forward breathlessly. Khlit stretched himself like one awakening from sleep.
“I, Sheillil? Chagan and I will ride from kok bura to the gates of the lamasery. Dongkor Gelong has promised that they will not be closed to us, for he will see to it himself, being kept by the law of his priesthood from attendance at the games.”
With that he rose and left the garden. The Tibetan followed silently, with a glance at Sheillil. The girl knelt with hands clenched against her sides, the veil hiding her features, but her eyes dark with a woman's anger.
Then she sprang to her feet swiftly and unbarred the door in the bushes. When Chu'n Yuen returned, he found only the empty bowl of wine and the whetstone lying on the rug.
XV
The kok bura of Kashgar in the fifth moon of that year, it is written in the annals of Batur Madi, was long remembered by those who saw it. And the riders told their children what they had seen in the Love Chase of Sheillil of Samarkand. As is usual with those who share in an event, the tale told by them grew until it magnified the number of men killed and the mysterious events which followed upon the ending of the kok bura.
According to Batur Madi, the Love Chase grew from the first form of the kok bura, in which a slain sheep was given to a rider. This man was pursued by his comrades until another had contrived to take the sheep. But, in the Love Chase of the Khirghiz, a girl who had it in her heart to yield to a husband mounted a well-chosen horse and armed herself with a heavy whip. The spectators formed a circle about the girl and her suitors while the men tried to seize her as she eluded them. Thus, says Batur Madi, the strongest man and most skilful became the possessor of the girl, as was fitting, while those who failed had only the stinging scars of the whiplash to heal their empty hearts.
But the kok bura of the fifth moon was such a one as had not been seen before. And in the annals of Batur Madi such a one is not recorded since that time.
Two things served to draw nearly the whole of the people of Kashgar out to the stretch of plain by the river bank on the side of the city farthest from the mountains. All, in fact, save a few drunken Khirghiz, some slaves and mendicants and Chu'n Yuen, who would not leave his shop, and Dongkor Gelong, who was never seen in public. First, rumor of weighty events that might come to pass had somehow spread among the Khirghiz and Us-beks, who rode fully armed and alert to the spot.
And Sheillil, the beauty of Samarkand and the dancer of the lamasery courtyard, was to be the object of the chase.
It was noted by the hafiz, who was among the first to arrive, that even the Chubil Khans were present, having come in a procession of state from the lamasery, preceded by manshis bearing the sacred pastils and basins wherein were glowing coals and sweet-scented roots. The lamas, mounted on silk-canopied horses and accompanied by the standards of their order, were joined by an array of the Yellow Hat soldiery.
Khlit, who was early upon the scene with Chagan and well mounted by order of Dongkor Gelong, noted that Tuvron, who was in charge of the soldiery, arranged his followers in the form of a three-sided square with the fourth side nearest the city walls. The spectators of the caravans and the townspeople were afoot. But the Tibetans and Usbeks, who were very numerous, were mounted.
Thus the watchers formed a solid wall about a cleared stretch on the plain, perhaps five hundred paces square. The followers of the Khirg
hiz khans were grouped in a mass on the side of the enclosure farthest from the walls of Kashgar. Iskander Khan, with his companion, Bassanghor, and several other nobles of the hill-men, rode to the center, waiting for the arrival of Sheillil. They were joined by single riders from among the Usbeks and even a Dungan or two of rank.
Khlit and Chagan were the last to ride out from the crowd. Chagan's powerful figure drew instant attention from the group of horsemen, who noted his Tatar dress and the ease with which he sat his rangy mount. Khlit was the object of less attention, for he was gray-haired and the manner in which he held himself betokened little interest in what was to happen.
Keenly the contestants eyed each other and the horses. Khlit saw that Iskander Khan rode a small, dun-colored pony of vicious temper, but, as he guessed shrewdly, quick and active on its feet. Bassanghor was well mounted—a mettlesome Persian horse which threaded in and out among the group at the pressure of his rider's knees, to the delight of the watchers who were keen judges of horseflesh.
Khlit's mustache twitched in a grim smile as he noted that all the contenders were armed—a fact which prophesied ill for some. Chagan had shaken off the gloom that had possessed him for the last two days and was taunting the Usbek youths in high good humor. Action and the prospect of conflict roused him, and Khlit, who missed nothing, saw that the Khirghiz were equally gay.
A shout went up from the spectators, who saw Sheillil, escorted by Tibetan guards, come through the throng by the walls. The girl wore her costume of the morning, with a heavy, knotted whip in her hand. She rode a white Arabian horse of Dongkor Gelong's stables, sitting lightly in the small wooden saddle. She went directly to one of the corners of the square, and Tuvron, who was acting as judge, motioned the riders back to the opposite corner.
Here they formed in a line, Khlit taking his place between Chagan and a trembling youth in Dungan garb. Tuvron shouted to the Tibetans. The watchers nearest the riders cried out at them shrilly, a word of praise for the Usbeks and a gibe for the Khirghiz.