by Tony Roberts
Casca stepped up to her. Ashira looked suddenly scared. “Don’t speak to me like that. Since when have I mistreated you? I’m doing you a favor, even if you can’t see it. You know just as well as I that I’m not going to be part of this happy band of tourists for long. As soon as they stop and begin to return home I’m off. I go from place to place, with nowhere I can call home. You know of my legend; now believe it and think on it hard just what it means. What I’m trying to say to you is that you will be happier and much more settled with someone ‘normal’ who can give you a ‘normal’ life. Got it?”
Ashira looked down, nodding. She’d spoken far too much and she knew it.
“Very well. Now tell this fine looking slave who I am and what I expect her to do. Tell her also how I treat slaves, and what will happen to her if I feel I have to sell her to someone else if she doesn’t do what I expect her to do.”
He grunted and brushed the screen aside as he left. Women!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
They didn’t stay long outside the ruin of Riazan; once the city had been burned to the ground and most of the populace butchered, the long train of the Mongol army moved on north-west through the forests, leaving behind a smoldering pile of wood and a long circular wooden wall of wood. All of the princes and their nobles had been slain, even down to the children.
Casca kept quiet about Tatiana’s former status, and pressed Ashira to do the same. As they rode slowly towards their next target, Casca had plenty of opportunity to watch the princes, but none gave any sign they were interested in him, nor did any give off any signal that they were angry at having four of their men slain by him, as whoever had sent them must surely have known.
Ashira knew of course that Casca had been attacked; Tatiana told her everything she’d experienced and seen in the merciless sack of the city. During one of their evening stops Ashira had asked Casca about the identity of the four dead men, and Casca had to admit he knew little, except they were all dead. Or three were and the fourth most probably so by now.
Tatiana had come to him the first night after the storming of Riazan and stood there before him uncertainly. She had been expecting to marry into a higher status family in the new year, something her father and her now dead betrothed’s family had arranged. She had never seen the man she was supposed to marry, but he’d been from Kolomna, a city to the west and a tributary of Riazan. He’d arrived just before the Mongols had turned up and he’d been trapped in the churches like most of the population and met his death after the churches had all been burned to the ground. She felt sad at his passing but nothing more, for she’d never met him.
Her capture had been violent and sudden; one minute she had been part of a large group of people rushing towards the perceived safety of the Church of the Holy Virgin, the next a whole street load of Mongols had appeared, scattered the terrified group and pounced on them, and she’d been singled out as a young, attractive and well-dressed girl. She’d been thrown to the ground, the two nearest men to her cut down brutally, and three slant-eyed stinking animals had torn at her clothing. The next moment she’d been ‘rescued’ – and she still wondered if it had been a good thing or not – by this tough looking scarred man and his men. The ordeal had not ended there and only when she had been passed over to the Russian speaking Ashira and comforted had she been able to speak of her experiences to someone.
She then had been sent to attend to the man, Casca the Old Young One. What sort of title was that? He looked old to her, but anyone over twenty-five was old. As she stood there she recalled the way he’d looked at her, a full slow appreciation of her body. It had been like she had been stripped and appraised like an animal at auction. It unsettled her. Would she be raped? Slave girls were constantly put to that ordeal, so she had been told.
Casca had merely motioned her to sit by his side. He’d nodded at her clothing, a silken dress of yellow with a padded pink riding-style jacket over the top for warmth. A narrow belt of brown leather encircled her waist and she had soft calf-length felt fur-lined boots on her feet. Her hair had been cleaned and then spun in plaits around her head. Very Kipchak, Casca had thought. Then he’d pointed at various objects and asked for their name in Russian.
So it was each night for the next week. Casca’s knowledge of Russian grew, spreading from the nouns of objects to phrases and greetings. It wasn’t long before he could begin to speak with Tatiana, haltingly and full of errors at first, but he persisted, and his knack of picking up languages stood him in good stead.
A surprise was that Kaidur asked to learn the language too, so Ashira began teaching him at night. Casca approved; it would distract the pouting woman and ensure his language lessons with the demure Tatiana went without interruption.
About a week after the destruction of Riazan, and just after the turn of the year, they came to a halt outside a new city. It was less grand than Riazan but almost as big. Tatiana looked out from her seat in the wagon and sighed. “Kolomna,” she said.
Casca made his way forward to Batu and Subedei. He’d avoided them for much of the journey but here he would be needed. He came to a halt alongside the army commanders. “Are you wishing to repeat what happened at Riazan?”
“Yes, but there will be no need of the outer wall. You see that hill over there?” Subedei pointed to the north where a sharp rise dominated the horizon. “My scouts tell me a relief army is on the way and will arrive. They are from the principality of Suzdal. Once we smash them and destroy this pathetic city, we will turn on Suzdal. Clearly we cannot allow them to remain to our rear while we continue heading west.”
Casca studied the hill. The forest came up to the base of the slopes but had been stripped from it, and the road to the north ran straight up it from the city. “You can ambush them from the sides.”
“Precisely,” Subedei grinned. “We will continue with the siege but divert enough men to destroy these Russians. Two Tumens should be enough. Who do you suggest?”
“An experienced prince and one not so experienced. Batu and Baidar?”
Subedei pursed his lips. “Hmm. Yes, but I would still need to be there to make sure they don’t make a mess of things. And to continue the siege – whom would you be happy to take charge?”
“I suggest a joint command – Kuyuk and Mongke.”
Subedei chuckled. “And you as overall Noyan?”
“Advisor would be a more appropriate title, I think.”
Subedei nodded, chuckling in mirth, and Casca rode back to where his yurt was being set up. It was of felt laid over a wooden frame and put up in less than an hour. Tatiana stood watching, so Casca came up alongside after dismounting. “Go help; the sooner you know how to put these things up the better.”
“Who was that you were talking to? That big fat jolly man?”
“Subedei jolly?” Casca doubled up in mirth. “Oh dear God, jolly.” He composed himself and looked at the unimpressed Russian girl. “That man was here fifteen years ago and slaughtered his way through every army the Russian princes could put against him. It has been said that after one particular victory he had all the defeated generals and nobility tied up, laid on the ground and then he had a platform put on top of them and he feasted with his commanders, slowly crushing his captives to death. Subedei – jolly? No, not him.”
Tatiana looked aghast over at the Mongol commander. “Oh, him! I heard about the Mongol scourge when I was a child. We called them the Devil’s Horsemen.”
“Devil’s Horsemen, eh? Well, they’re back and even more numerous and determined. This time it’s not a raid, it’s a conquest.”
“Oh my God,” Tatiana put her hand to her mouth. “You mean you all intend staying in Russia?”
“Not I,” Casca grinned, “I’m just hitching a ride, so to speak. But this lot, well some intend staying. You see the man seated on his horse in the yellow padded jacket over there, the one with the red plume?”
Casca hadn’t used the Russian word for plume, as he didn’t yet know it. But he made a sign with his
hand. Tatiana nodded in understanding. “Plumashch,” she said.
“Ah, yes, plumashch. Well, his name is Batu and this is all for his benefit; his domain will be all that is conquered on this campaign. He is your lord and master now.”
“Domain?” Tatiana looked to Ashira for help.
“Oblast,” Ashira said. “Come, Tatiana, help me get this up.”
The camp was set up in no time and a council of war called. Casca was escorted by Kaidur and one other to Batu’s command tent, and the princes gathered. Subedei had laid out a map on a skin, showing the rough positions of the principalities. “We have subdued Riazan here,” he pointed with a stubby finger, “but now have two enemies to face. To the north, Moscow. To the east, Vladimir-Suzdal. We must deal with both. Fortunately our enemies have obliged us by sending an army along the road from Moscow to be destroyed by us.” The assembled men laughed.
Subedei paused for a moment, grinning. Then he became serious again. “I intend resting some Tumens for the battle to come, then these will be fresh for the assault on Moscow and Suzdal. Therefore do not be insulted should your command not be included in any battle. There will be plenty to come to satisfy even Buri’s appetite!” More laughs.
He went on to plan the ambush of the Russian army, using Batu and Baidar’s men to crush them in a trap and then finish them off with a frontal attack, using Batu’s brother Siban and his heavy cavalry. There was, predictably, some grumbling. Kuyuk looked at Casca. “You advised Subedei on this, I believe?”
“I did.”
“You feel I’m not worthy of leading the army into battle?”
Casca smiled. This was one prickly son of a bitch. “I thought you would be better rested for a more lucrative prize, Prince Kuyuk, both you and Prince Mongke.”
“What is more lucrative than victory in battle, Old Young One?”
“Loot from plundering a rich city. Vladimir is, I hear, very rich indeed.”
“Pah!” Kuyuk threw up an arm in disgust. “Any loot taken from a city is shared out between us all.”
“Then the next battle that presents itself I shall recommend to Subedei that you will lead along with Prince Mongke.”
“I do not believe that our campaign is in any way served by your presence here. In fact, I believe that you would serve us better by leaving and walking your way to whatever illusory haven you wish to reside in.”
“Thankfully, Prince Kuyuk, you do not command this army. As a potential candidate for the Khanate, one good lesson you should remember is that in order to lead, you must first serve. You have much to learn about leadership from Subedei here. If you learn from him then perhaps you will be worthy one day of leading the Mongol nation.”
There was a heavy silence. Kuyuk leaned forward slowly, his face full of menace. In the silence of the tent, his leather tunic creaked loudly. “I do not need the advice of a man who cannot ride properly.”
“Please, please,” Batu tried to intervene, his face full of concern. “There’s no need for such hostility!”
“I demand my place in the forthcoming battle!” Kuyuk snarled.
“You will obey the command of the commander of the army!” Subedei barked. “I have decided the formations. Do you wish to return to Karakorum with your tail between your legs because you cannot obey a simple command from your overlord?”
Kuyuk whirled, his face furious. “You are trying to undermine my prestige by denying me glory in battle!”
“Prince Mongke is in the same position as you yet I don’t hear of any complaint,” Casca said calmly.
“Are you going to tolerate this European amongst our ranks?” Kuyuk shouted, his arms waving, “for all we know he’s a spy sent by the Russians to undermine our campaign!”
Casca roared with laughter and slapped the table top they were all standing round. Subedei shook his head in disbelief. Some of the others smiled and looked at each other, but a few kept silent, their faces still. “A spy!” Casca said, incredulously. “Prince Kuyuk, Subedei here will tell you of my part in the rise of the Mongol nation. Your statement is nonsense, and you know it. You’re just sore at missing out on the action this time round. But carry on and you’ll miss out on all the action as you’ll be sent home.”
Subedei glared at Kuyuk, and the prince looked at his commander, seething, then nodded curtly and stepped back away from the table, folding his arms. Batu puffed out his cheeks. “Thank you, Prince Kuyuk. Let’s not forget we’re all here for a common reason – to further the Empire. We cannot do that if we quarrel amongst ourselves. We have all benefited from the sacking of the city and we can do the same again here.”
Kuyuk’s lip curled but he nodded curtly. His look towards Casca was of pure hatred. Casca grumbled under his breath but bent to examine the map once more. Subedei carried on. “Once we eliminate Suzdal and Moscow we are free to carry on south west towards the richer principalities. I remember them well from my previous time there. Although we didn’t carry the raid as far as their cities, I’m told they are much richer than these forest towns. And, noble princes, the forest does not extend that far. We will have open plains to ride in!”
“Good,” Mongke said with feeling; “I hate these trees!” Others around him nodded.
Subedei leaned back and sucked in a deep breath. “Then let us complete this task quickly. I shall divide the army once we have finished here. I will appoint commanders I can trust to obey my orders,” and he glared at Kuyuk as he said those words, “which will enhance their prestige.”
Kuyuk reddened and scowled.
“Let me make my position clear to you all,” Subedei folded his hands across his rounded gut. “The Khan appointed me as overall military leader of this expedition. Batu Khan here is the figurehead and he has the authority to veto any order I give, but any of you who cannot obey an order might as well pack up now and go home. Any of you wish to do so?”
There was silence.
“Very well. You may return to your tents and plan for tomorrow. We attack!”
The princes broke up and left but Casca was urged to stay. Batu ordered food and drink for the two and slaves brought low wooden seats. The three sat on cushions and rugs that were draped over the benches. “Did you notice Kuyuk challenge my authority through you?” Subedei began, sipping on a hot tea in a delicate porcelain cup.
“Aye,” Casca nodded. He waved away the offer of kumass, the fermented mare’s milk that had a kick like a mare. He did nod to the offer of wine, however. “He doesn’t like me one bit.”
“It was useful to see who backed him and who opposed him. I need to know the dynamics of my sub-commanders, so as to place them to the maximum effect in a battle. Kuyuk also needed slapping down but I waited till he’d said too much.”
“I wondered why you’d kept quiet at first,” Casca said. The wine was a touch acidic but palatable. He admired the crystal glass; it looked like it had come from Samarkand or one of the Asian cities along the Silk Road.
“I would prefer there was no quarrelling,” Batu said with a sigh.
“Unavoidable, Prince Batu,” Subedei said with a smile. “When you have so many young ambitious men of equal rank together – well it would take a god to keep them from arguing. Cousins of yours they may be, but not all of them hold you in respect, do they?”
Batu shook his head sadly.
“So – to other matters,” Subedei said. “I am told you were attacked in Riazan by four Mongols.”
“How did you know that?” Casca asked, surprised.
“I have an excellent intelligence network,” the fat Mongol said, beaming. “Little goes on without my knowledge. You of course don’t know to whom they followed?”
“No. They died well.”
“Of course; proper Mongols know how to die well. I must impress upon you, Old Young One, to take better care of yourself. Always have a guard.”
“I would probably know who was behind it if you’d allowed Batu Khan here to find out who’d trashed my yurt.”
> Subedei pulled a face. Batu shrugged. “I found out little. Mouths are closed.” Batu looked apologetic. “Whether through fear or loyalty I cannot say.”
“Pah.” Casca was disgusted. “It’s someone very close to you,” he said to Subedei.
“I know. It may be someone quite unexpected,” he said cryptically.
Casca looked at him for a long moment, then threw down the last of the wine and stood up. “I shall return to my yurt and have my slave tend my needs.”
Subedei laughed and clapped him on the knee. “At least you’re living like a Mongol! Sleep well.”
“I shall.” Casca nodded to Kaidur who’d been standing close to the way out. They left and paused in the searing cold of the open air. “Interesting meeting,” Casca said. The other guard came up to them and waited, his teeth chattering. “Ah hell, let’s get to the warmth of our yurt.”
Kaidur nodded with enthusiasm. “Have you got any clearer idea who wants you out of the way?”
“Kuyuk of course,” Casca said, his breath billowing in huge clouds ahead of him. “But Subedei threw me a little tasty comment at the end. Did you hear it?”
“About someone unexpected? Yes. Who did he mean?”
“I really don’t know, Kaidur. Was he referring to Batu? And who the hell told him about those Mongols who had a go at me in Riazan?”
Kaidur shook his head slowly. They gratefully entered the yurt and the warmth of the fire crackling away in the center. Tatiana and Ashira tended the two men, and Casca noted the growing attachment between Kaidur and the former slave girl. He grinned and tucked into a slab of goat, spiced with mint.
“You wish for more lessons?” Tatiana asked, kneeling by his side.
“Not yet. You cooked this?”
“No – Ashira did.” Tatiana colored a little.
“Can you cook?” Casca asked bluntly.
She shook her head. Casca grinned and carried on eating the excellent meat. “You should learn,” he said between mouthfuls. “A slave who can’t cook her master’s meals is of no use. You’ll be sold to muck out animals.”