Wolf of the Steppes

Home > Other > Wolf of the Steppes > Page 46
Wolf of the Steppes Page 46

by Harold Lamb


  Some, however, were silent, for there was a tensity of suppressed excitement in the air.

  Abruptly a rumble of drums sounded by Tuvron. Sheillil spurred her horse from her corner of the square. Khlit saw the line of riders dart forward. But he and Chagan held their impatient horses to a trot, keeping on one flank of the horsemen.

  Sheillil had reined in her mount and was watching the oncoming group keenly. Whips waving in air, bent low on their saddles, the men were shortening the distance rapidly. As they came within fifty paces of her, Khlit saw the girl crouch and put spurs to her horse's side. The Arab leaped and was away swiftly, quartering across the course of the approaching men.

  So well timed had been Sheillil's move that the group swept past her almost within arm's reach. Iskander Khan, however, on his active pony was about on the instant and after her. Khlit called to Chagan and galloped down toward her. He saw Sheillil glance at them fleetingly and urge her mount farther to the side away from them.

  The spectators, who had greeted the girl's maneuver with a shout of approval, were silent for a moment. Then cries rang out. Bassanghor had approached close to Sheillil on the side away from Khlit when an Usbek rider blundered into him. A quick thrust of the shoulder of the Persian horse and the latter was on the ground, rider pinned beneath him. A Dungan coming behind was too close or too clumsy to turn out and fell headlong, lying quietly where he had rolled.

  The girl smiled as she saw what had happened. Then another Usbek, angered at the fate of his countryman, rode at Bassanghor. Two swords flashed simultaneously. Bassanghor rode clear, but the other swayed in his saddle and turned his mount toward the spectators, blood streaming from the side of his neck.

  The girl, who was watching her pursuers closely, was now near the point from which the men had started, Iskander Khan riding with furious swiftness close behind her, and the Cossack and Tatar holding aloof on her right hand.

  Suddenly she swerved to the left, eluding a Khirghiz who grasped at her. This turn brought the riders together as they followed her, and Khlit saw another go down in the crush. The girl circled swiftly around the square, her Arab keeping easily ahead of the others. But, quickly as she maneuvered, Iskander Khan kept his place close to her horse's tail.

  A Dungan, well mounted, drew abreast of the Khirghiz leader. Instantly Iskander Khan had drawn his scimitar. The Dungan swerved away, but too late to save himself a slashed shoulder.

  “Ha, lord,” chuckled Chagan, “the blood is beginning to flow, even as I foretold.”

  “Keep close to the Khirghiz, fool!” growled the Cossack.

  They were now in the lead of the remaining riders, who were watching each other warily with drawn weapons, and close to Iskander Khan. Sheillil threw them a swift glance, dashing the long hair from her flushed face. She was heading now straight for the side of the square nearest the walls, with the riders strung nearly across the field.

  XVI

  And then for the second time the watchers raised a delighted shout. Verily, this was a chase to be remembered! Seldom had such riding as that of the girl been seen by the men of Kashgar. For Sheillil had dodged once and then again to the other side. She whirled her horse on its haunches and darted back straight through the pursuers.

  Iskander Khan cursed and wheeled his pony after her in time to see her lean to the side of her mount, avoiding the clutch of one rider, and strike another heavily in the face with the whip.

  There were but four after her now, owing to the slain and injured and the fact that Khlit and Chagan waited, where she had turned, near the town side of the square. The two Khirghiz chieftains, one of their followers and a lone Usbek pressed her close.

  “By the winged horse of Kaidu!” swore the sword-bearer. “She rides like one born of the winds. Ho! Yon Khirghiz had a taste of the whip. See; Iskander Khan has her khalat. Nay—may the devil roast me—she has shed the cloak. They come back to us now.”

  “Aye,” growled Khlit. “Be ready.”

  Sheillil was flying toward them, the two khans and the Us-bek after her. Khlit sat his horse silently, watching closely what happened. He saw that the girl was being penned in one of the corners. At the same time he noted that Bassanghor Khan had edged toward the Usbek. Another moment and the Persian horse had crossed the path of the Usbek, who pulled up with an oath. Seeing the Khirghiz's ready weapon, however, the other drew off.

  “Ha! That was well done,” commented Chagan. “Has our time come?”

  “Come,” said Khlit.

  They wheeled toward the girl, who was near the corner. But Iskander Khan, coming up swiftly, was before them. The Khirghiz rose in his saddle as Sheillil leaned away from him. Then the girl reined in her horse. To Khlit it seemed that it was done purposely. A shout went up as Iskander Khan caught her bodily from the saddle and held her close.

  The Khirghiz horsemen spurred toward their chief, for there were angry mutterings from the Usbeks. Then the voice of Tu-vron rose above the confusion.

  “Fools!” he stormed at his men, pointing. “Look yonder. After them!”

  Two riders had broken through the spectators on the city side of the square and were speeding for the walls, bent low on their mounts. Khlit and Chagan, instead of following Iskander Khan, had wheeled through the square and were now nearing the gate of the almost deserted town.

  Choosing the moment when the attention of spectators and riders was centered on the end of the kok bura, the Tatars had gained a good start on the horsemen who spurred after them, led by Tuvron in a black rage. Their course took them through the gate, which was unguarded, and straight to the lamasery courtyard.

  Here a few servants gaped at them in surprise. As Dongkor Gelong had promised, the door of the monastery was ajar. Khlit and Chagan flung themselves from their horses and ran up the steps.

  A half dozen Tibetan spearmen sprang up in the entrance, hearing the footsteps, but drew back on seeing who the two were. They had had orders to expect Khlit and Chagan and to allow them to pass. True, the Tibetans heard a confused shouting in the street outside; yet this also was to be anticipated, for they had been informed that the two Tatars might be pursued. As yet the courtyard wall concealed the pursuers from sight.

  From the stairway the two crossed the main hall of the building, to the narrow flight of steps that led to the monks' cells above. Even Chagan was silent as Khlit paused for a second to listen to the clatter of hoofs in the courtyard. The sword-bearer's scarred face was tense and recklessly alight. The Cossack was breathing heavily from his run, but his eyes burned with a steady fire. He caught Chagan by the arm.

  “Guard the stairs,” he said quickly, “for a space. Then escape— if you can.”

  Chagan nodded understanding and drew his sword, the heavy, two-handed weapon that had earned him his surname.

  “Nay, lord,” he growled, “we may yet win free of this cursed place. I marked a window that gave on the courtyard wall—”

  But Khlit had vanished in the shadows above him. There was a rush of feet across the hall, and a group of the Yellow Hats, following the directions of a startled monk, dashed at the stairs. They drew back at sight of Chagan's bulk in the dark stairway.

  Tuvron's voice pierced the momentary silence while Tatar and soldiers stared at each other.

  “There is but one here!” the Chubil Khan cried shrilly. “Cut him down—”

  The men made a rush for the steps. Chagan had taken his stand several feet above the level of the wall. He had the advantage of being in semidarkness while his foes were exposed to view. Moreover the space was narrow. Two rapid blows of his weapon knocked down the spears that menaced him, and the head of the leading Tibetan, still wearing its bright-hued hat, went spinning among them.

  Chagan gave back a step or two shrewdly as they pressed him. His long sword made deadly play in the close mass of assailants whose shorter scimitars sought vainly to pierce his guard.

  “Come to the feast, dogs,” growled the Tatar with bared teeth, “the kites are wai
ting to pick at the eyes of the fallen, and the wolves scent carrion! Nay, this is a feast of the gods!”

  He grunted as a spear scraped his leg and another tore the coat from his chest. Heaving his powerful body forward, he lashed viciously at his foes until the mass fell back with dead and torn bodies weighing on their shoulders. Chagan taunted them as he fought, reveling in the press of bodies and the shrieks of pain.

  Then he saw that the hall was filled with lamas and their followers, come from the kok bura. Tuvron had vanished, however, and Chagan recalled that this was not the only stairway to the floor above. With a last shout he turned and dashed up the steps.

  Through the deserted passages of the monastery he sped, his eyes strained anxiously for sight of Khlit. He met no one until he came to the door of Dongkor Gelong's cell. Here he halted in his tracks. Through the open door he saw the figure of a guard on the floor. Khlit was calmly wiping the bloodied blade of his sword upon the man's clothes.

  At his table sat Dongkor Gelong, Chutuktu Lama of the Tsong Khapa. He was dressed in state robes. As if asleep, he rested his body and head on the table, both arms outstretched, his forehead pressed among the black wood ashes of divination beside the sandalwood box. A crimson rivulet issued from under his chin and traced its way across the table.

  “Dongkor Gelong,” said Khlit grimly, seeing the sword-bearer, “has found that we are men of our word, you and I. The carrion priest loved too well to see men tremble to know my fear of him was pretended. As we promised, we have come back to the lamasery.”

  XVII

  The window that Chagan had mentioned was not far from the cell of the dead lama. It was lucky for them that this was so. A passageway leading from the cell enabled them to avoid the followers of Tuvron and gain the gallery which overlooked the courtyard.

  As they ran, they heard the rush of footsteps through the corridors of the upper floor as the men of the Yellow Hat spread through the place looking for them. The stairs up which they had come were guarded, as was the lower door. But Chagan, with an eye to future necessity, had seen that the window to which they came was in a sheltered spot and was wide enough to admit the passage of even his bulky frame.

  As they reached the window a startled shout proclaimed that the men of the Yellow Hat had found their dead leader. A hasty glance showed Khlit that the courtyard held a great number of horses, but few men, the greater part having pressed into the monastery. There was no time to weigh their chances. It was the courtyard wall or death at the hands of the Yellow Hats behind them.

  Clinging to Chagan's hand, Khlit pushed himself through the aperture and dropped to the surface of the wall beneath them. Chagan followed at once with a leap that almost pitched him headlong to the stone pavement of the court. Their appearance was greeted with a cry by the men below.

  Arrows whistled by Khlit as he ran along the flat top of the wall. The Usbeks and Yellow Hats in the courtyard were scrambling to their horses or running for the entrance. But their progress was hindered by the number of horses. Khlit and the Tatar gained the corner of the court before those within could reach the gate, some hundred paces distant.

  Khlit noted that the alley leading to Chu'n Yuen's was opposite them and nearer than the gate of the courtyard. Without slackening his pace, he leaped from the wall, landing heavily but without losing his feet. Chagan, who was heavier, fell to his knees with a grunt, for the wall was twice the height of a man.

  Horsemen were issuing from the gate by now and heading down the street toward them. From the embrasures of the monastery pistols cracked. But the alley was near at hand.

  Khlit heard Chagan pounding behind him and swearing. And the clatter of hoofs sounded behind the sword-bearer. If the door of the shop should be barred, they were lost. But Sheillil had promised that it would be open.

  The Cossack gained the door and thrust it open with his foot. He jerked the panting Tatar inside as spear-points flashed past them with a rush of horses. Slamming the heavy gate shut, he barred it and ran through the shop. Chu'n Yuen was not to be seen.

  A few men in the wine shop started to their feet as the two ran through the place and the women's court. The garden to the rear was deserted.

  They found the tree, as Sheillil had promised, and on the other side of the city wall four horses were in waiting, held by a servant. The man disappeared into the bushes as they mounted.

  “By Satan's bones!” swore Chagan. “I am glad to let a horse's legs do my running for me after that footrace. Whither now, Khlit, lord?”

  Khlit led the way at a trot out of the thicket in the direction of the hills which loomed not far away. As they came out in the open, leading the spare horses by their tethers, he pointed to the plain abreast of them.

  In a cloud of dust an array of horsemen was headed in their direction at a furious pace. The leaders were Khirghiz, closely pressed by Usbek riders. In the dust he saw scimitars rise and fall and the glint of speeding arrows.

  XVIII

  In the annals of Batur Madi it is related how swords were drawn at the ending of the kok bura and a battle ensued which lasted until darkness. Around the person of Sheillil, the dancer of Samarkand, says Batur Madi, the Khirghiz and Usbeks fought until the slain hillmen littered the way to the mountains. Following this, the woman disappeared from the towns of Kashgaria, and it was not known whether she was among the slain or not.

  Yet this is not the whole truth.

  When Sheillil was caught and held by Iskander Khan, the chieftain raised a shout of triumph and would have pressed her hot face to his bearded lips to seal his conquest. But the girl twisted in his grasp until she faced him and thrust her slim hand in his beard, holding him back.

  “Fool! Blind of the blind!” she hissed. “See you not this is not your doing, but mine? Harken to me if you would save your life.”

  Sheer surprise held the khan silent. Surprise at her words and at hearing his own tongue spoken.

  “Bend closer,” whispered Sheillil; “you alone must hear this. Great is your peril, O Khan. Dongkor Gelong has laid a trap for you here. This game was his doing, and an assassin of his was to stab you in the back as you rode after me. Failing that, the Yellow Hats in the square around us will take care that you and your men do not leave the field. It was for this he brought you to Kashgar and had me dance before you. I was to be the bait. This is the truth.”

  Slowness of wit was not one of Iskander Khan's failings. His sharp eyes bored into the girl's flushed face as if he would strip her of her loveliness and sift the meaning of her words.

  “Ha!” he growled. “Dongkor Gelong pledged our safety. Why do you say this?”

  “Because I, too, am of the hills, and your people are mine.” The girl tried to shake the sturdy form of the chieftain in her earnestness. “Nay, I could not speak before this, for you would not have left the gates of Kashgar alive. If the man who was to slay you had approached you, I would have ridden between. Allah has granted me this mercy, to open your eyes to this peril. Summon your men and ride for the hills. Look! See if it is not the truth.”

  The khan tore his eyes from the quivering face of the girl and glanced around what had been the square. He beheld Usbeks and Tibetans riding toward them with black looks. Groups of the Yellow Hats under the lamas were circling toward the town. The Chinese and Dungans were fleeing the field, sensing coming trouble. Iskander Khan, still holding the girl, rose in his saddle.

  “Ho! Kara Khirghiz!” he bellowed. “Here is treachery. To me, men of the hills. To me!”

  Bassanghor's shout answered him, and the Khirghiz closed their ranks, spurring to the side of their khan. The hillmen had scented conflict, and their dark faces were alight, for they loved well the giving and taking of blows. At Iskander's rapid command they formed into a group and galloped toward the town, riding down spearmen who tried to oppose them and fleeing townspeople indifferently.

  Iskander Khan, from the center of his men, had seen that the Yellow Hats were fewer on this side, and he led his
men in a circle of the walls to gain the side nearest the hills where was shelter. But the lamas' men outnumbered the Khirghiz, keeping pace closely and doing serious execution with their arrows.

  Once clear of the town it became a running fight, with the Khirghiz, who were skilled at this form of warfare, making frequent stands to hold off their enemies. Yet their number became rapidly smaller. In their path two horsemen appeared, waiting their coming.

  “What men are those, Sheillil?” demanded Iskander Khan.

  “They are Tatars, lord,” explained the girl, who had recognized Khlit and Chagan. “They are the ones, tricked by Dongkor Ge-long, who were to have slain you or suffer death themselves. Yet they did not attempt it. One is the Cossack, Khlit, the Kha Khan of the Jun-gar. They are one with us in peril.”

  “Nay, they will get little but hard blows if they join us. Still, if they carry swords, they are welcome.”

  Khlit and Iskander Khan exchanged no greeting when they met, beyond a quick glance, but the Cossack offered the hard-pressed chieftain the two spare horses they led. Sheillil sprang to the back of one, the khan taking the other without slackening pace.

  In the book of Batur Madi it is written how the Khirghiz band fought off the men of the Yellow Hats as they rode into the foothills toward the Roof of the World. How they swam a river and held it for a while against the men of the lamas. How Khlit and a dozen Khirghiz blocked a mountain pass while the others rode ahead. And how all but a few of the hillmen fell fighting before darkness closed down on the mountain defiles and the remnant of the Khirghiz vanished into the shadows of the forests.

  The moon had risen and turned the snow crests of the Thian Shan into white beacons and the mist in the valleys into a gray veil when the party of Iskander Khan came to a halt wearily. Only two horses were left them, and Iskander Khan counted only nine of his hundred left alive.

 

‹ Prev