Conrad's Last Campaign

by Leo A. Frankowski

  “The guides speak a little chink, but they don’t read it. Fortunately, not all nobility spends its days beating serfs and raising turnips. My family has been dealing with traders from the silk road for several generations. I don’t speak the language, but I can recognize some of the common symbols in Chink and Mongol.”

  “Can you read these?”

  “Most of them, sir. The first four characters say Great Khan Armory Lanzhou, so if I’d have to guess, I’d say it’s some kind of trade mark. The last two read something like Builder of the Universe. By the way, the great khan part is in Mongol, not Chinese.”

  This rifle was a load of bad news that just kept coming. This meant that the Mongols had completed their conquest of the Song Dynasty, even after the drubbing we gave them in Poland. The Mongols had gunpowder grenades and some primitive cannon even before they attacked us, but they shouldn’t have come up with this rifle for about three hundred more years. This thing showed that they had learned at least something from meeting us. Shit, shit, and even more shit.

  “Staff meeting, 0500,” I said to no one in particular. One of the nice things about being in charge is when I said something, things just happened.

  “Mongol riflemen,” I sighed. This was going to an interesting excursion.

  About that time, I decided that we needed a little more privacy. I sent out a squad of fifty mounted Wolves to circle around behind the Cumans who were trailing us. Theoretically, we could have taken their horses and left them stranded on the steppes, but in reality few of them were likely to surrender and this was not a war where we could take prisoners. They were to trap anyone behind us between themselves and the rear guard and eliminate the danger. I gave specific instructions that we needed at least one prisoner who had one of these guns. If they ran into someone carrying a rifle, they were to do their best to capture him and his ammunition.

  The staff meeting was not a comfortable one as my big tent, all of our conference furniture, and my cigars were at the bottom of a gorge. I called in the head of our scouts, the quartermaster, Baron Kowalski, Sir Wladyclaw, my adjutant, and our civilian guides. We sat on blankets with cans of cold food in front of us, and wished that the cigars had not been discarded.

  The quartermaster started the discussion. “Gentlemen, we have about six weeks of canned food left. We have over a million small arms rounds, and you all know the artillery situation. We have made better inventory while we rode and I can now tell you that we have exactly one hundred and thirty-eight field pieces, and each of them had a hundred rounds stored in the carriage. Unfortunately, most of the shell carts were lost, so that’s about our total supply of shells. I would not suggest a pitched artillery battle.

  “Our biggest problem will be with clothing and personal supplies. Each trooper has only the clothes from his personal kit, and cold weather is coming. You may have noticed that it has already gotten cooler than when we started. In a few weeks it will be a lot colder and we are going to be on the steppes, with high winds, no cover, and no coats.”

  I said, “A lot of the men brought blankets to augment their sleeping bags. We should encourage them to make ponchos. It’s a Spanish form of coat. You take the blanket, cut a hole in the center just big enough for your head to fit through and then wear it like a cape. A rope around the waist will keep it closed if you’re riding.”

  “Sir, we are even short of rope.”

  The head of scouts was next. “My lord, we have sent scouts out fifty miles in every direction. Except for some small settlements on the riverbanks, the last hundred miles we covered is empty of people, and it is no different ahead. We run into an occasional Cuman or Mongol yurt surrounded by horses, but this place is almost eerily empty. I have heard that the Mongols killed eighty or ninety percent of the people they conquered in some areas. This must be one of those areas.”

  Ahmed, our Arab guide, was anxious to talk. “Your grace, gentlemen, I know that you plan to avoid battle on this raid, but, if you can change your plans a little, I may have a solution for your immediate problems. In the middle of this wilderness, there is one great bazaar.

  “We are fifty miles from the Volga. Two or three hundred miles north of here, the new city of Sarai sits across this very river. It was established about fifteen years ago by Subedi, one of the sons of the great khan, as the administrative center of Golden Hordes and it sits where it does to prosper on trade. Many rich caravans travel from China. They meet boats that travel the river all the way from the Rus’ territories to Constantinople. The merchants there have everything you need. Of course, the administration there, being Mongol, may not welcome your shopping trip but, if the merchants cannot supply coats, dead Mongols will oblige. The rest of the country may be empty, but I hear that there are over two hundred thousand inhabitants in Sarai.”

  My mind drifted back to the cold and miserable ride we had that day. The dress of the day had been full armor for several days. Even the average Mongol could hit a man at 350 yards and there are reports that exceptional archers pushed to almost 400 yards; that’s over a quarter of a mile. This place looked rather empty, but no one wanted to give an easy target to any passing Mongol.

  It was not a comfortable way to ride. You have your undershirt or long johns, then heavy cotton padding, a vest of lightweight chain mail, and then the armor plates over that. Standard Christian Army armor consisted of a breastplate, backplate, greaves for the legs, and vambraces to protect the upper arms. Cavalry added arm greaves, a thigh plate, and chain mail gloves. By medieval standards, our armor was remarkable. The plate and chain together would stop even an armor-piercing arrow or musket ball, and it took a close up shot to get through anyplace else. Of course, there was always the chance of a lucky shot through the face plate or in a joint. The armories had gotten the weight down to less than forty pounds, and it was stainless. Of course, even the best armor clinks, creaks, and occasionally chafes.

  However, the usual problem with armor is that the damned stuff is too hot. Because of the padding, it was sometimes deadly in the tropics. Today was different. I could feel the wind chilling my face and hands. Cold little knives seemed to reach through the cracks and prick my exposed skin, and this was only late fall. Soon, it would be really cold.

  I came out of my reverie to see that everyone was waiting for a response from me. “Ahmed, you are right. As far as I can see, we have only one course of action. We are going shopping.

  “Gentlemen, any thoughts of how we do our shopping?”

  The head of scouts spoke up. “Sir, we should be watching the river. If Ahmed is right, we need to know what’s going in to the city. We don’t want to advertise our presence, but we could dress up as locals, take a few Mongol horses, and camp high on the banks. A couple of days of observation should tell us a lot about the city.”

  “That’s a good idea, but it may take you a full day just to get the fleas out of whatever Mongol clothing you liberate. These are the filthiest people in history and we don’t need their parasites or their diseases.”

  Baron Kowalski spoke up, “Your grace, I would suggest that we bypass this city.” Seeing my surprised look, he continued, “Sooner or later they are going to know we are out here. However, if we march westward and bypass the city, we may convince them that we are on the way somewhere else and reluctant to attach a fortified city. We camp up river just long enough to lull them a little and then attack from the north.”

  “Baron, that’s close enough to the truth to work.” In actual fact, I didn’t relish attacking a fortified city with less than fifty thousand men and a few field pieces.

  “Tell the scouts to try to question anyone they find, who doesn’t shoot too fast, about the location of the city. We’ll need to plot a course.”

  That night was a cold but one of my guards zippered her sleeping bag to mine to make a double. There are some advantages to having a nubile and mostly naked young lady as your bodyguard. Her slightly higher body temperature was also welcome. As a rule, I considered i
t immoral to have sex with something that was, technically, non-human, but it had been a long day and I desperately needed relief before I could sleep.

  Four days of empty steppes later, I was almost nodding off atop Silver. One great advantage of a Big Person is that you don’t need reigns. A gentle tap of your knees will suffice, or you can just explain where you want to go and nod off. The only thing keeping me alert was that the backplate of my armor was digging into my lower back every time I tried to lean back in the saddle. Good thing, it doesn’t help morale to see the boss asleep at his desk.

  I became aware of someone riding hard behind me. When I turned in the saddle, my first thought was “How the hell did Mongols get Big People?” Then I realized that the men in the sheepskins must be from the squad sent out to watch the river. Behind each of them, a rag doll of a man bounced around much more than anyone should on a Big Person.

  I told Silver to slow down and waited for them to catch up. They were soon riding along side of us. “Trooper, I would address you by your rank, but you forgot to put your insignia on your sheepskin. Where did you get your baggage?”

  “Sir Kiminovsk, your grace, knight of the scouts. We got them on the river, and you’ll never believe where they come from.”

  I looked over the men they had brought and suddenly realized that the red and white jackets they wore could actually be a version of my company uniform, if it was cut sloppy, the sleeves truncated, the buttons moved, and a lot of dirt and grime added. I looked at the nearest one and asked, “Who are you?”

  He answered in clear Polish, “I’m Sir Willard, merchant cap’n of the Commercial Corps, commandin’ the river boat Wanderwind, and couple more. That there is my navigator. Who are you?”

  This man was my employee! On a Mongol river! I leaned forward, “I’m your boss.”

  He looked doubtful. “Don’t make much sense t’argue with any man who has an army with ‘em, but last I heard, Sir Boris was sittin’ on his ass in Kiev, spendin’ the money we merchants send ’em.”

  Kiminovsk glared at him and hissed, “Not Novacek, you idiot. This is Hetman Conrad, and I’ll thank you to show some respect!”

  “Hetman Conrad! Couldn’t be. He’s dead ‘bout a year since. What’s he doin’ out here?”

  I waved the trooper off. “As you can see, I am breathing very well for a dead man. Now I want to know what you are doing trading on a Mongol river!” My patience was running thin and my hand was tensing on my sword hilt.

  “Sorry ‘bout that dead thing, sir. But we been on the road, or river, fer months and, of course, Novacek don’t let us bring a radio, or much of anythin’ else out of Christian Army territory. We didn’t know you was back. We don’t hear nothin’ out here.” He reached over to Kiminovsk and touched his armor padding. “We been tradin’ fer the silk you cover yer paddin’ with. The Chinee brung it overland to Sarai. We buy from ‘em and then float it down to the Black Sea to meet our ships. It’s a long trip because we start in the Rus’ territories and go down river to Sarai. That way we don’t have to row on either leg. It’s the same way the Northman got to Constantinople in the old days. We gonna be here long? These men of yers have got three boats of ours parked on the bank.”

  My scowl relaxed a little, “It depends upon what you mean by long. You’ve wandered into the middle of a war zone and you will be here until we are finished questioning you. At least you will be here long after dinner and maybe for a few more days.”

  I saw from the shadows that it was getting late in the afternoon. “We will be stopping early tonight. There will a staff meeting during dinner. Our guests are invited.”

  Since the blackboard had also gone down the gorge, we were sitting cross-legged around a spot of bare dirt where Willard could draw as he talked. Most of us were still munching on our canned dinners. Willard started by drawing a long line in the dirt, and then a half circle beside it. “The city sits mostly on the east side of the river. The Volga is a huge river and it’s hard to control traffic, so they picked a spot where there’s an island in the middle of the river. There’s a fort on the island with about twenty cannon and a musket team, so they can control traffic.

  “The old part is protected pretty well with a timber palisade, a dry moat with stakes on the bottom and cannon emplacements. It’s about five miles long and stretches about the same from the river. However, the city must have gotten a lot bigger a lot faster than the Mongols thought it would. It must have a hundred fifty, two hundred thousand people now and half of the city is outside the walls.

  “They’re building a new set of stone walls around the whole thing, but it’s going slow and they don’t seem to be much worried about it. It’s just foundations in most places.

  “The piers are on the city side of the river, and there are a lot of warehouses behind them. It’s like any port city, the bars, brothels, and Inns are just behind the warehouses, mixed in with the tariff houses and some traders offices. The main government offices are right in the center of town. They’re the only stone buildings in town. Rich people and government officials fill up the rest of the inner city.

  “Most of the rest of the inner city is divided into guild sections. There are areas for rug merchants, coppersmiths, leather works, silk merchants, and so on.”

  He drew another bigger circle around the first. “Between the inner wall and the city edge, Genoa, Vienna, Egypt, China, Korea and a few others each have section of their own. Some of them have low walls around them.”

  Willard scratched a line through both circles opposite the river. “The overland trade route enters through a caravan gate on this side. That’s also where most of the Mongol guards are housed.”

  Sir Wladyclaw asked, “How many Mongols?”

  “At least thirty or thirty-five thousand cavalry, probably more, and there’s a bunch of Chinese troops that do most of the police work. There weren’t that many cavalry the last time we were here, but a bunch of new troops showed up in the past few months. There are huge stables near the barracks and a bigger herd of horses outside the city. Oh, and there’s a yurt village along the trade route, but I don’t know if that has more soldiers or just Mongol families who don’t like cities. There are cannon on the inner walls. Large-bore brass muzzle loaders. I’ve seen both solid and canister shot stacked near them. I haven’t seen anything resembling a mobile field piece, but then they don’t let outsiders get near the armory. The small fort on the island has about twenty large cannon facing the west bank and only about five big ones facing toward the city side. I guess that they want to make certain that no one skirts customs by bypassing the city, so they concentrated the guns that way.

  “Most of the cavalry still prefer their bows when they’re on horseback. We see them practicing a lot over by the barracks. The range is as good as a musket and the rate of fire is ten times as fast. However, every soldier and policeman has a musket and a single shot pistol for emergencies. In a crisis, they can station citizens on the walls with rifled muskets and do some real damage.”

  As he spoke, I realized that he was quoting from some report that he had already written, probably for Novacek’s spy agency. His bumpkin speech had totally disappeared.

  “The moat is dry now, but the Chinese engineers have installed flood gates where the moat meets the river. They can flood the moat, and there is a system to drop the bridges into the moat by pulling a few chains. The thing is too big for a horse to jump and once the bottom is mud, it would be very hard to cross.”

  When he paused, I said, “Your report is very complete. I assume that you have this written down somewhere, perhaps for later transmission to Novacek.”

  He shook his head, “No, sir, a smart man doesn’t write down anything about Mongol fortifications while he is still on a Mongol river, but I have thought about it.”

  “Sir Willard, I am still having a hard time getting my mind around this whole concept of trading in a Mongol town. Why aren’t you dead?”

  Willard stroked his beard for a
second. “Well, it’s been twenty years since any Mongol met a Christian Army soldier. Maybe they forgot we’re at war.

  “You have to remember that when these people aren’t busy cutting off heads, they’re heavy into trade. They have been since the first great khan figured out that it was more profitable to get the peasants to farm instead of killing them off and grazing horses on their land.

  “Of course, they’re still psychopaths. When the Khwarazmian guy refused a trade mission from the great khan, and then killed his representatives, they went berserk and totally wiped out the Khwarezm civilization. I hear that the blood made the river run red for days.

  “Sarai was established by Obedei and Subedi after you kicked them out of Poland. The two brothers are old school, but even they’re learning. They’re pissed because the great khan doesn’t share much of the wealth he gets in China. The only income these guys have is tribute from the Russian states and a couple of Balkan cities and what they make from the trade going though Sarai. Of course, now that the khan has the Silk Road open all the way from China to Constantinople, business is pretty good.”

  My ears were buzzing and I could feel my blood pressure rising. “What the hell do you mean? You’re saying these Mongols are peaceful merchants. These are the bastards that killed half of Russia and tens of thousands of Poles! I don’t want to hear any crap about how peaceful they are!

  “And how the hell are they getting tribute from anyone in Russia, we kicked their asses when they attacked?”

  Willard was quieted but not cowed. “Yes, we kicked their asses in Poland, but we were too busy cleaning up to chase them all the way back to Mongolia. They had already taken Tver, Moscow, and several other Russian principalities and they still pay tribute. Since that time they’ve consolidated their gains in the Caucasus and convinced several more Russian cities to sign up as vassals. They sent representatives to places like Novgorod with a simple ultimatum – ‘Either pay us and we will protect you from the Christian Armies or fight us and we’ll kill you now.’”