“We could turn around, Arkady-immai,” she said in a small voice. “We could go back.”
“To where?” he asked as he mounted his bay. “Where would you be safe?”
“I don’t know. There might be somewhere.” There was only a forlorn hope in this, no confidence at all.
He turned in the saddle to face her. “And if you could find this place, could you rest there, Surata?”
She did not answer him at once. “I would try.”
“Well, I wouldn’t. I’ve been dishonored once. I will not be dishonored again, not even for you.” He jabbed his heels into the bay and swayed as the horse lurched into a canter. The mule snorted and brayed as it was dragged after them.
“Arkady-immai!” she shouted, clinging to the saddle desperately. “Arkady-immai!”
He slowed his horse and the mule at once. Behind them he could hear the abandoned lame mule bray to the others as it tried to follow after them, limping painfully.
Surata had steadied herself and turned her head back toward the other mule. “I hate to leave him in this place.”
“So do I. But he will slow us down and…Surata, his hoof is split. There’s nothing I can do for him but put my last arrow into his skull.”
“No. Not that.” She held up her hands in protest. “Let him do the best he can. Don’t kill him.”
“I won’t,” he promised her. “But he might suffer and die, no matter what we do for him.”
“We all suffer and die,” she said, some of her tranquility returning. “Arkady-immai, there is nothing to fear in death. We will come to life again.”
She had told him similar things before, and he always shied away from such heresy. “We will come to life in God,” he said curtly in order to end her comments.
She said nothing for a long moment. “I do not want to turn away from the Bundhi. If he attempts too much, there will be nothing to return to. If I die, then there will be karma that will bring me…whatever I deserve.”
Arkady shrugged. “Whichever of us is right, I won’t turn away from the Bundhi.”
“You can do nothing against him without me,” she reminded him with a wry smile.
“And you can do nothing without me,” he said, his smile echoing hers. He wondered if she knew it somehow.
“If that is the way it must be,” she said, then added hesitantly, “Arkady-immai, I do not want you to die because of me.”
“And I don’t want you to die because of me. You see, Surata? We’re in perfect agreement.” He started his gelding moving again, but this time at a walk. “A little way and then we’ll find a place to sleep. Tomorrow or the next day, we should reach Sarai, and then we can choose the supplies we’ll need.”
“And there is still enough gold?” she asked.
“Enough. Not as much as we might like to have, but yes, certainly enough. I will even have money for arrows.”
“This time, get more then ten,” she suggested. “The ones you bought in Tana did not last long.”
“They never do. Even if I recover them, they are often no longer true.” He remembered the archers he had fought with years ago, all of whom had complained that an arrow once fired could not be counted on to fly straight.
She rode quietly, letting him choose the pace and their direction while she strove to regain her inner peace.
A little while later, as he drew them up beside a wide, shallow stream, he said to her, “I know you better than I have ever known anyone in my life; I see you more clearly than I’ve seen anyone; I love you more than I’ve loved anyone: yet you’re an enigma to me.” He was not upset and he said this placidly enough, but he knew as he spoke that words alone were inadequate, and that saddened him. “Surata…”
“I know,” she said as he hesitated. “I’m hungry, Arkady-immai, and I’m frightened. Can we sit together and talk about, oh, the games we played when we were children, or what we ate at great feasts? I don’t think I can speak of other things yet.”
“Right,” he said, relieved. As he dismounted, he heard the distant sound of the lame mule trying to catch up with them.
The next night they slept within sight of Sarai, and by noon the day after they were in the shadow of its walls. Here, east of the Don, west of the Vulga, the Kazakh city served as a crossroad for Asian merchants bound northward to Moskva and Novgorod and westward to Tana, Venice and Constantinople. A century before it had been ripe with prosperity, but since the men of Islam had taken up the sword against Christians, Sarai had suffered as trade and traffic diminished.
Arkady regarded the battlements with a critical eye. “There hasn’t been any real fighting here for a little while. The walls are in good repair and there’s only a token Guard on watch.”
“Is that good?” Surata asked.
“Well, we’re not arriving between skirmishes; that’s something,” he remarked. “By the look of it, they aren’t expecting any attack or enemy soldiers to come soon.”
“What enemy?” Surata asked.
“Islamites, Cossacks, Russians, who knows? There are Tartars on this side of the Don.” He looked along the battlements again. “They haven’t got very new equipment up there.”
“Perhaps they have it elsewhere.”
“I doubt it,” Arkady said as he caught sight of an inn outside of the walls. “There’s a place we can stay and we won’t have to answer too many questions.”
“Why would we have to answer questions?” she wanted to know.
“Because we’re foreigners and we aren’t merchants. That makes us suspect. I carry arms and I have the look of a soldier. That makes it worse.” He interrupted himself to signal a young merchant in Lithuanian clothes. “Hey! You there!” He knew very little of the Lithuanian language, but enough to get a meal and good directions.
“You talking to me?” the young merchant cried, astonished to hear his own tongue in this remote place.
“I am,” Arkady said as pleasantly as he could. “I need a little…advice.” He hoped he had the word right.
“At your service. I’m Lauris Trakiv.” He bowed to Arkady, ignoring Surata completely.
“Arkady Sól,” he responded at once. “From Sól.”
“Where’s that?” Lauris asked, cordial and curious.
“Poland. Not far from Sandomierz.” He saw the Lithuanian’s smile broaden.
“I know some Polish,” he said in that language. “Not much, but enough to get by. My grandmother’s a Pole.”
“My uncle married a Lithuanian,” Arkady answered at once and was certain that he had the interest of the younger man. “You’re a long way from home, Trakiv.”
“Lauris,” the young merchant said warmly. “We’re practically cousins.” He cocked his head. “You looking for a place to stay the night, get a meal, have a bath?”
“Yes,” Arkady said baldly. “I hoped that you might be able to guide me. That inn by the wall, there”—he pointed to the one that he had noticed earlier—“what of that place?”
“Not bad. Russians own it. They take in all kinds of Christians. No questions asked. But there’s another place, around the corner of the wall. Greeks own it, and it’s more pleasant. More costly too.”
Both of them laughed and Arkady said, “That’s a Greek for you.”
“The food’s good, they have a bathhouse, they take in everyone but Islamites, and that’s because the Islamites start arguments and brawls, or so they say.” He gave a jovial wave of his hand. “I don’t mind an occasional good grapple, but those fellows, they carry knives, and they like to use them.” He cleared his throat. “Wine’s good too.”
“Excellent. Show me where I can find this Greek paradise,” Arkady chuckled. “And then, if you are willing, I’d like to know where there’s a good horse dealer, and a good fletcher.”
Lauris wagged his head from side to side. “In a hurry, are you, soldier?”
“Yes,” Arkady said with no apology for his brusqueness.
It was obvious that Lauris would have a
sked more but could think of no pretext to do so. He made a gesture showing that he would be willing to accommodate them.
“Arkady-immai, who is this man?” Surata asked softly as they followed him through the bustle that swarmed around the walls of Sarai.
“He is a Lithuanian; he comes from a country that is next to mine. He’s probably a rogue, but he can help us, I think.” Arkady smiled, then said, “I don’t mind rogues. A great many of them have been soldiers at one time or another. This one is a merchant. I’ll find out how he comes to be here a little later.”
“Where is he taking us?” she persisted.
“To an inn run by Greeks. They probably pay him something to provide them customers, but that doesn’t trouble me.” He had to admit, if only to himself, that he was grateful to find someone as familiar as this Lithuanian in this remote and foreign city. It made him feel less a stranger himself.
“And then what?”
“We’ll see. We’ll get more supplies, more pack animals, and try to find out what lies ahead. It’s unfortunate that it’s summer. The journey will be hotter than the inner circle of hell, but for all I can tell, the winter is worse.” He peered through the crowd, keeping an eye on Lauris.
“He’s not taking us to a robbers’ den, is he?” Surata asked.
“I don’t think so,” he answered. “We don’t look prosperous enough.”
They threaded their way around the tower in the wall, hurrying to keep up with Lauris. They passed merchants on donkeys and mules and horses and camels. Some were swathed and turbaned, some were in layers of rough silk, some were golden-skinned, some were bronze. There were large groups of children, and beggars who held out their hands and bowls for the occasional coins that might be dropped for them.
“Here! Here!” Lauris called out in excitement. He stood in the gateway of a large inn, waving them forward. “This is the Greeks’ place. You see, a Pole like you will like it.”
Arkady had to say that it was a pleasant surprise. “I owe you for bringing us to this place.” He held out two silver coins. “Take them.”
“Thank you for that, soldier,” Lauris said, whisking the coins into one of the capacious pockets of his long woollen cote. “The owner is named Eudoxius. When the Turks came to Constantinople, his family came here, or so he claims.”
“It looks pleasant enough,” Arkady decided aloud as he rode into the innyard. “There is a bathhouse, Surata, and the stable is good-sized.”
Lauris came up beside him. “Where are you bound, soldier?”
“Samarkand,” Arkady answered, knowing it was true enough, though not the end of their journey.
“Ho!” Lauris exclaimed. “You’ve a way to go. And in summer too. You’d better buy some of those Tartar robes if you don’t want to be baked before you get there.” He stood by the bay’s head while Arkady dismounted. “No wonder you want more pack animals. Are you taking the woman with you, or are you going to sell her here?”
Arkady’s expression hardened. “She goes with me,” he said tightly.
Lauris brought his palms up and shook his head. “No offense, soldier. I didn’t mean anything. If you wanted to sell her, I know someone who’d take it on, but—”
“She’s not for sale,” Arkady told Lauris in a soft, steely tone.
“Sure. Fine.” He backed away and covered this retreat by indicating the entrance to the public room of the inn. “If you go in there, Eudoxius will be happy to provide you a room and whatever else you want.”
“You’re being very good to us,” Surata said suddenly, making both men turn to her.
Lauris colored to the roots of his fair hair. “I didn’t think you knew enough…”
“My owner has taught me to speak his language,” Surata went on. “He would not go to that trouble if he intended to sell me, would he?”
“Of course not,” Lauris said, babbling now. “You have to understand, in a place like this, there’s always an active slave market, and a man with…well, it…I…” He ducked into the door and called for a servant.
“He works for a slaver,” Arkady said softly to Surata. “Be careful of him.”
“I will,” she vowed. “With men like this about, the Bundhi need not bother with risking his agents.”
“I’ll keep my cinquedea with me all the time.” He patted the back of his belt where the little knife was concealed. “If he tries to take you, he’ll find this blade through his hand.”
Eudoxius came bustling out of his inn, bowing obsequiously to Arkady. “A Pole!” he said with a heavy accent. “Very rare.”
Arkady gave him a gold coin. “I and my slave will need food and a bath. Our mounts should be watered and fed. We will want a room for the night and food in the morning.”
“Just one night? The kyrios knows that in Sarai it is difficult for a stranger to buy supplies and that such transactions always take time.” He spoke in Greek and Lauris translated for him.
“Then I’d better start now.” He had intended to leave Surata to rest at the inn, but he no longer thought she would be safe. “My slave and I will bathe now, and when it is cooler in the afternoon we will go to see what we can purchase without a long wait.” He smiled at both men and went to help Surata dismount, whispering to her as he let her down, “Be clumsy. Clumsy slaves are not as attractive.”
“Shall I stumble as well?” she offered.
“If you like.” He took her by the arm and started across the innyard to the door, biting his cheeks to keep from smiling when she managed to trip twice.
“Blind and clumsy as well,” Lauris said, shaking his head. “She must be very good in other ways.”
“She was part of my battle prize,” Arkady lied. “You know what commanders can be like when it comes to awarding battle prizes—they keep the gold for themselves and parcel out the rest as they see fit.”
“You must not have been a favorite with your commander,” Lauris sniggered as he pointed toward the public room. “There may be Islamites all around us, but here a man can find a cup of wine if he wants one.” He straddled a bench between two tables. “Join me in a cup, soldier. Wash the dust out of your throat.”
Arkady knew that it would be insulting to refuse. “One cup would please me. Let’s have it while Eudoxius gets the bathhouse ready.” He sat Surata at the table across from Lauris, pretending he had not noticed the look exchanged by Lauris and the Greek landlord.
Eudoxius bent at the waist and through Lauris told Arkady that he would hasten to the bathhouse just as soon as he had brought their wine.
“The wine’s from Hungary,” Lauris explained. “They bring it twice a year, four big barrels of it on bandy-legged mules.” He slapped the table with the flat of his hand. “It’s good to hear Polish again. I go for most of the year without seeing a proper Christian. These Russians are hardly worthy of the name, the way they carry on.”
“I confess that I was growing very lonesome for a few familiar words,” Arkady said, looking up as Eudoxius approached with a tray with two large earthenware cups.
“There you are!” Lauris shouted at Eudoxius as if the landlord were in the next room. “In good time. Wine for the soldier first, then for me. That’s the right way.” He was speaking Polish for Arkady’s benefit, but Eudoxius knew what was expected and served Arkady first. He bowed to both men, then hurried away, calling to someone at the rear of the building.
“Well, to Poland and Lithuania, then,” Lauris toasted heartily, lifting his cup high.
Arkady reached for his cup, but before he could grab it, Surata turned toward him and upset the cup as she steadied herself with her arm. “Surata!” Arkady burst out.
“Master…do not…Master, I am sorry,” she uttered faintly, cringing as if waiting for a blow from his hand. “I did not mean to…Master, don’t…”
Wine spread over the table and ran into Arkady’s lap. He glared at her. “Slave, you will try your luck too far one day.”
“Master.” She bowed her head and block
ed her face with a raised arm.
Lauris let out a long whistle. “You sure you want to keep a creature like that? What’s she good for, beyond the obvious?”
Arkady did not trust himself to answer. He stood up. “Come, slave. We’ll get out to that bathhouse at once. You’d better find a reason for what you did.” Saying this, he seized Surata by the elbow and dragged her to her feet. “Now, slave.”
Surata quivered and winced. “I will do what you ask, Master.”
“Yes, you will,” he bullied, tugging her after him as they went the direction that Eudoxius had gone. “And when we come back from the bathhouse, you’ll make your apology to Lauris for spilling the wine.”
“Yes, Master,” she said, her chin quivering as if she might burst into tears at one more harsh word.
Arkady stormed through the kitchen, still railing at Surata, and continued to upbraid her as they went across the rear of the innyard toward the bathhouse. Only when they were inside and Eudoxius had been given four copper coins and told to go away did Arkady’s demeanor change. “All right,” he said in his normal voice, “what was it? Poison?”
“Yes. There was a smell of almonds in the wine.” She shivered and this time it was no performance. “They wanted to be rid of you. Who knows—the rulers of the city might pay a price for a dead Christian, especially if he is a soldier.”
Arkady took her in his arms. “Surata, Surata.” He had no words to tell her of his gratitude.
“There is danger here,” she said with no particular emotion.
“We’re used to danger. Aren’t we?” He bent and kissed her forehead. “We’ll have to be very careful.”
She almost laughed. “To think that a greedy slaver and an innkeeper might do the Bundhi’s work for him.”
“Very amusing,” he said sarcastically. “Come on; we’d better bathe now that we’re here.”
Chapter 16
By the following evening, Arkady had found another horse and three mules as well as tack for all of them. He had paid more than he wanted, but there were still a good many gold coins left in the little leather sack, and he counted himself lucky that he had been asked no more difficult questions by the city Guard than where he had come from in Poland and who had commanded his fighting troops in Hungary. He had had some trouble in finding a fletcher and even more in persuading the man that it was acceptable to sell arrows to a foreigner. Finally one of the Guard officers had been summoned and gave the fletcher permission to sell Arkady two dozen arrows, for which the fletcher charged more than twice his usual fee.
To the High Redoubt Page 23