Swords From the West

by Harold Lamb

  "There is the book that no one but Nur-Anim might touch."

  He looked at Robert reflectively.

  "Your archer slew Osman, which was a good deed. I have him and the maid in man's attire, in my tent. I came upon them when I followed the wazir. But Nur-Anim I have not yet unearthed. In all Bokhara there is no trace of his passing, yet he must have fled from the city."

  He snarled in sudden anger.

  "What avails the capture of the city without Nur-Anim?"

  "The mullah? Nay, he is harmless-"

  "As the fangs of an adder! You were slow to see the evil in these servants of the shah. Osman was no more than a cup-shot fool, and he died like one, striving to put his hand on a woman. Nur-Anim used him for a moment, no more. The mullah was the true master of Bokhara, for he had the treasure in his hands."

  Chepe Noyon laughed grimly. "The mullah persuaded the shah to leave the treasure in the hands of their god, Allah. I have spoken with one or two of his priests with a dagger in my hand, and I know that Nur-Anim wanted you to be emir because he feared Kutchluk Khan, who was a wolf. Then he overthrew you and whispered to Osman and Jahan Khan to lead forth the army, and they knew no better."

  He made a gesture as of gathering up sand in his fist and casting it into the air.

  "A little trick served to break their formation, and then the Horde rode them down."

  "But why did Nur-Anim-"

  "0 little son, you held the wall like a man and a noyon. But you know not the ways of snakes. Muhammad is already shaken, and his power grows less; Bokhara will be razed to the plain, yet the treasure is hidden beneath it, and Nur-Anim knows the hiding place. When we have passed on he will come out and dig it up again. A hundred thousand have died that he might do this thing."

  A warrior spoke to the chief, who took Robert's arm.

  "Genghis Khan summons you."

  Robert took up his shackles and stepped forward at once, Chepe Noyon walking at his side.

  "I cannot aid you now. Speak boldly!"

  A sigh of relief went up from the Moslems as Robert was singled out to face the man on the white horse, but he himself was too weary to feel either excitement or fear. For several moments he waited by the muzzle of the Khan's pony, while the eyes of Genghis rested on him. Chepe Noyon, after making his salutation, stood to one side to act as interpreter.

  "The khan asks," he said briefly, "if you are one of the heroes of the Franks who came over the sea?"

  "I am a Frank."

  "Are you he who held the wall against our assault?"

  "Aye."

  The gray eyes of the knight sought the broad, lined face that looked down at him, utterly without expression.

  "And if treachery had not put these chains upon me, I would have kept the wall."

  Chepe Noyon interpreted, and the old conqueror glanced at the iron weight that hung from Robert's wrists. He spoke slowly in his deep gutturals and raised his hand.

  "He says-" the Tiger Lord drew Robert aside-"that no man has stood so long before the rush of the Horde. The chains are to be taken off, and you are to eat and sleep. On the morrow you will be matched against a man as great in strength as you. The khan will watch. If you slay the other, you are free to go where you will."

  As Robert turned to go back to his guards, Chepe Noyon signed for him to remain. The white horse of Genghis Khan had grown restive and was pawing the marble flooring. As if the mood of the horse had aroused the chieftain, Genghis turned in the saddle and pointed at the Moslem grandees, his dark eyes snapping with anger.

  "0 ye imams and khadis," cried Chepe Noyon, translating the words, "the Khan bids you to reveal the riches that are hidden in the ground. What is aboveground his men will care for. Who among you knows the hiding place of the treasure of Khar?"

  The nobles answered with many voices that they knew nothing of the hiding place. Some cast themselves on their knees, and the echoes of their cries were flung back by the dome in the roof.

  "We have fire and steel that will wring the truth from you," pointed out Chepe Noyon dispassionately.

  Several began to relate how their personal hoards might be discovered, but all insisted that Nur-Anim alone could lead the Mongols to the treasure of Muhammad. Chepe Noyon turned to Robert.

  "The throne of gold and the jewels must be near to a mosque," he observed. "Have you come upon the way to Nur-Anim's secret?"

  "I think it lies beneath the grounds of this mosque. Osman disclosed as much."

  Robert, in fact, cared little what became of the hoard. It had passed out of his reach, and his only wish was that Muhammad and the Moslems would not regain it, possibly to use it against the crusaders in later years.

  Chepe Noyon spoke briefly with Genghis Khan.

  "The floor at this place rings strangely when the horse stamps. Is there a space beneath?"

  Echoes sprang to life as some of the priests of the mosque made answer that there was no chamber beneath.

  "I would believe them more readily if some had said they did not know," muttered the Tiger Lord, frowning. "Why do you think it is near to us, 0 little son?"

  "Because Nur-Anim must have kept it where he could watch, and his own dwelling is small and scanty. The garden of the mosque would not be safe. Besides, Muhammad came hither when he entered Bokhara."

  He paused to watch Genghis Khan who, without touching the reins, was kneeing his pony back and forth over the square of black marble. And it did seem to Robert that the tread of the horse echoed differently when it passed under the reader's stand. Genghis Khan dismounted and moved to the tower, as clumsy on foot as he was graceful in the saddle.

  He climbed the tiled steps to the cupola, while Chepe Noyon issued a command to the Mongol warriors about the door. A score of them went out, to return quickly with heavy blacksmith sledges.

  Meanwhile Genghis Khan had caught up the great Koran, which must have weighed as much as Robert's shackles and ball, and poised it over his head. Then he flung it out, over the edge of the stand, and it crashed down on the marble beneath.

  "He said," muttered Chepe Noyon to the knight, "that if the Kharesmians had spent their gold for walls along the river and if they had fed the army of the beggars and the sick in the city they would not be captives now."

  Once more the echoes of the vast interior started up as the Mongols began to smash at the marble-some kneeling upon the flooring, from which the white horse drew back at once, others standing about the walls, pounding down the gold plaques with the Arabic inscriptions.

  The Moslems, who had quivered and crouched as the great Koran was flung down, fell on their faces beating with their fists against the tiles. The women huddled together in a corner, and the night wind whisking in through the wide-flung portals moaned an undernote to the hideous clamor of the echoes; but no thunderbolt came down from the sky to crush the man who had thrown under the legs of his horse the sacred Koran of the Jumma.

  Robert thought of the Gates in the Mountains that had barred the way to Khar for a thousand years. Now the bars were falling. Whole segments of mosaic crumpled up and rained down from the walls, and the gold plates toppled out and down.

  In spite of his weariness and his hunger Robert drew closer to the men with the hammers. He was seeing the empire of Islam cracked asunder-something that the crusaders had striven in vain to bring to pass for a hundred years; and his pulse leaped. The thin marble blocks were split into fragments on the floor and tossed aside, revealing an under-surface of brick. Once more the hammers went to work, and more torches were brought.

  Two of the sledges smashed through the brick at the same time, and the Mongols leaped back. The square that they had uncovered sagged and disappeared in a cloud of dust, leaving a hole wider than a man could leap.

  Chepe Noyon flung back his head and roared with laughter. Robert peered down, dazzled by the reflection of the torches on a hundred glittering surfaces. As the dust eddied and settled, he beheld a chamber of considerable size below the floor of the mosq
ue. Near the opening stood a long ivory table, covered with silver, bronze, and jade caskets.

  He was looking at the riches of Islam, the spoil of Baghdad and Nineveh-the plunder of Balkh and India. It shone from the hilts of weapons hung upon the walls of the vault-it sparkled from the piles of jars and incense holders, of necklaces and anklets upon the floor. And almost under the opening gleamed the throne of gold.

  Who had fashioned it and how long ago, the knight could not know. Assuredly it was older than the wall of Bokhara, for in the massy metal of it were inscribed arrows and darts and emblems of another age. Perhaps Alexander and perhaps Darius had sat upon it. But just then-and Chepe Noyon had been the first to perceive him-Nur-Anim crouched against it, staring up with writhing lips, a dagger gripped in his hand.

  "Ho, the snake is in its hole!" cried the Tiger Lord.

  Some food and a water-sack and several candles showed that the mullah had planned to lie hidden for some time. Robert noticed steps running up into a corridor near the priest, and judged that they led to a door concealed somewhere in the reader's stand.

  Chepe Noyon drew his sword at a sign from Genghis Khan. Turning to Robert, he explained swiftly that the knight was to go to a tent in the Mongol camp with the warriors who had brought him to the mosque.

  "What of the maid? I must see her," Robert demanded.

  "You will see her on the morrow."

  With that the chieftain leaped bodily into the chamber below, and Robert saw Nur-Anim spring into the dark corridor. He heard Chepe Noyon laugh again, and as he moved away to join his guards, the Moslem grandees moaned and gripped their beards. From the opening in the floor arose a scream that swelled and dwindled to a hoarse babble.

  Chapter XVI

  The Road and Its End

  It was late when Robert was led into a small woolen tent pitched near the horse lines of the Mongol camp, and the rivets of his fetters were struck off by a smith. But he did not go to sleep at once.

  The warriors had sought out one who knew a smattering of Arabic, and of him the knight requested water and rice and mutton, and ate until the Mongols smiled approval, believing it a sign of a strong heart that a man should eat mightily before going forth to fight for his life. They asked what weapon he would select, and brought him a varied collection of Moslem mail and swords.

  From these the knight selected a strong haburgeon, and tossed away his own, that had many broken links. He refused all the scimitars, and the Mongols inquired if he wanted one of their shorter swords.

  Robert, however, had determined to fashion a weapon which would not break in the combat on the morrow-as his scimitar and ax had broken on the wall-and which would decide the issue swiftly. Hope had forsaken him, and he longed only for two things-the strength to stand against the champion selected by the Mongols, and a sight of Ellen.

  He called for a stout staff of hard, seasoned wood as thick as his wrist, and the smith brought him one reinforced with iron-the broken handle of a great mace.

  Then Robert took up the spiked knob and the chains from which his wrists had been freed and set to work grimly to fit the fetters at the ends of the chains upon the staff.

  The Mongols watched the making of this unwonted weapon with attentive interest. They had orders to deny the champion of the Franks no request, and the smith helped find bolts that would fit the holes in the shackles.

  When the work was finished, Robert had the mace-handle attached to the two chains, each about a foot long. From these chains swung the spiked knob of iron that had been his gift from Osman. The warriors took turns trying to swing it around their heads, and only a few could do so, with an effort.

  "What is this thing?" they asked of the interpreter.

  Robert smiled.

  "It is the morning star."

  "How is that?"

  He thrust the handle in the water cask so that the wood would swell and grip tighter the iron bands.

  "When it falls a man dies."

  The guards squatted down to watch while he slept on a pile of skins. And in whispers, not to disturb him, the Mongols discussed his stature and mighty muscles, the lines in his dark face that were deep even in slumber. They pointed to the tawny mane of yellow hair and shook their heads, for they had never seen a man like this. With equal interest they watched the morning star soaking in the water cask, certain that this was some kind of magic.

  When the sun scattered the mists on the sandy plain, throngs of Mongol warriors moved toward the standard of Genghis Khan. They squatted down, keeping clear a space some hundred yards square in front of the pole that bore the horns and the yak-tails. A little later the chieftains of the Horde walked over from their tents, and all raised their arms as the Khan appeared in the entrance of his pavilion and mounted a pony.

  It was ever his custom, bred of a life of constant warfare, to be in the saddle, and he was never known to walk when a horse was at hand.

  After he had taken his place at the edge of the cleared ground and received the greetings of the paladins, Chepe Noyon rode up and dismounted. Two warriors with drawn swords forced a way through the ranks of watchers at one end of the square and halted. Robert, clad in mail from knee to throat, walked between them, bearing the new mace in his hand, and a thousand pairs of eyes fastened on it curiously.

  The knight swept a quick glance at the lines of silent warriors, who sat or stood where they willed, each with a spear or sword at hand-at the savage standard and the deserted wall of the city that loomed above the round tents of the Horde, and the pall of smoke that rose behind the walls and overspread the sky. He stood, erect, smiling a little.

  For here was no fair list, fashioned for jousting, with heralds and poursuiv- ants to tend the combatants and enforce the rules of the tournament-no minstrels to make memorable the names of the men who bore themselves well. He rested the spiked knob on the earth and turned to where a commotion at the other end of the square announced the coming of the antagonist whom he was ordered to overthrow if he would live longer.

  He saw a tall figure, glistening in the finest of Damascus mail, and a crested helm. The man left his guards and moved toward the knight, who noticed that he carried only a battle-ax, a heavy blade with a long haft.

  "Will Bunsley!" cried Robert, taking a pace forward.

  It was the archer, and he was pale to the lips as he moved closer. Within easy speaking distance he paused to wipe his forehead and to lean on his ax.

  "Aye, Sir Robert, 'tis Will Bunsley, who will ne'er pull a bow or buss a lass again. Harkee, time lacks for parley, and so do thou listen while I gabble-as is my way.

  "The demoiselle d'Ibelin rests within Abdullah's tent. Some words the minstrel did contrive to make clear to her, as follows: Item, thou and I, my lord, must e'en stand and smite each other till one is done to death; item, the maid doth pray for us both, but her heart aches for thee; item, these Mokals be dour fighters-as witness yonder fair city taken in de spite of sword and bow and wall-and they will be an-angered if thou dost quibble or draw back."

  He glanced with widening eyes at Robert's new-made mace, and with a muttered, "St. Dunstan abet me!" went on. "Item four, and last, Sir Robert, by no means might I prevail against thee in combat, so do thou, hew me down-would thou hadst chosen another weapon-and fail not. To make sport for these our captors I will rap thy ribs a time or two and e'en deal thee a buffet on the sconce."

  Drawing a deep breath, he tightened his grasp on his ax. "And so-fare thee well, my lord."

  It was a changed Will Bunsley that faced Robert, the merriment vanished from his blue eyes, his jaw set stubbornly. Whether Genghis Khan or Chepe Noyon had selected the archer to oppose him, Robert did not know. Probably they had singled out the two Franks for the duel, aware that Robert was more than a match for any man of Khar. And Robert, knowing that Will Bunsley was no match for him, took a step forward.

  "A true man are you," he said, smiling, for he saw his way clear before him now.

  Will heaved up his ax hurriedly.


  "Nay, Master Robert, get thee to the work. One of us must fall upon the ling, and-what would it avail me to strive with thee? Come, lad, a few good blows-"

  "Aye," cried Robert and, striding forward, thrust aside the other's weapon and gripped his shoulder hard. "We will show them how two Englishmen can bear arms. Shoulder to shoulder, bowman-"

  "What would ye, master? Ah, the good Christ aid us!"

  For Robert had turned and was walking toward the nearest Mongols, swinging his mace in widening circles.

  "'Tis madness for both to die. Bethink ye of the maid Ellen-"

  "-who would hold me a caitiff and recreant, to strike you down!"

  Robert sprang into the Mongols, who rose to meet him, growling and catching up their weapons. Steel ground against steel, and the great morning star swept clear a space about the knight.

  Will Bunsley thrust a quivering hand across his eyes, then leaped after his comrade. His ax smashed down on the iron armor of the scattering Mongols and rose red, to flash down again until he gained Robert's side.

  The warriors, who had started back in astonishment as the captives turned on them, closed in swiftly, making a circle about them. But Robert kept moving onward, and ever the iron flail kept clear a space before him, crunching into the heads and breasts of the men who leaped at him.

  The knight was making his last stand, and all the power of his long arms went into every sweep of the mace. The ring shifted and changed to a black knot that writhed and twisted and finally came to a halt near the standard, where Will went down voicelessly and disappeared under the stamping feet. A man's spine snapped like a bent branch, and someone cried out:

  "Subotai! Way for the Buffalo!"

  The knot about Robert fell away as the warriors drew back, glaring and snarling at their victim-as dogs might leave the sight of a stag half pulled to earth. On his pony Genghis Khan had not stirred, although the beast snorted and stamped, a spear's length from the struggle. Only the eyes of the old Mongol followed every move of the men below him.

  Robert reeled and steadied himself on his feet against Subotai's rush. His breath was whistling from his lungs; both hands were slashed to the bone, and blood streamed from his forehead into his open mouth. Recognizing the warrior of the buffalo horns as the one who had sought him on the causeway, he swung up the morning star as the giant leaped forward.