Swords of the Steppes

by Harold Lamb

"At what does the General wish us to fire?"

  "At those devils!" Lermontoff pointed with the stem of the pipe he was filling, muttering, "Durak—fool."

  The captain hastened back, and the gun which had been pointed at Tav-ka's caravan, was swung around to the Turkomans. Gurka wondered if these officers had ever set foot in the steppe before. The soldier with the linstock stood up, the others ran back, and the gun roared, smoke shooting over the dry grass. Every one peered at the black speck speeding the air, until it dropped among the horsemen, raising clouds of dust.

  "Again!" cried Lermontoff.

  A second time the cannon spoke, and the Cossacks amused themselves by dismounting to do some long distance shooting. The Turkomans turned and galloped off on both flanks.

  "Major Vasilivitch," commanded the general, "take your troop—teach them a lesson."

  The officer at the head of the mounted infantry saluted, lifted his sword and shouted the order to charge. Hastily the Cossacks got to their horses and caught up with the Russians, and the line trotted past the interested Tartars. When the Turkomans showed signs of hanging back, Vasilivitch prudently ordered a volley fired. Meanwhile the cannon had been moved forward, and the tribesmen galloped off, unwilling to face it.

  "Again," observed Gurka, who had remained by the carriage, "I congratulate your Excellency upon his success. Now will your Excellency give command to escort the Tartar caravan back to the river? The herds are without water."

  Not until they were in motion, with the hillocks behind them, and the Cossacks posted there as a rearguard, did he draw a long breath of relief.

  It was dark when they reached the river at last and saw the lights of Sara-chikof on the distant shore. And Lermontoff decided to halt for the night where he was—in the midst of the bellowing cattle, forcing their way down to the water, and the Tartars unloading the protesting camels. His men were tired, and it would look more military to encamp by the tribes and make an orderly crossing the next day. Besides, he had certain matters to settle with the khan and the two vagabond Cossacks.

  Lermontoff had not been able to set eyes on them after the return march had begun, because they were with the rear detachment. For miles the Cossacks had fought off prowling Turkoman bands. At the river Lermont-off sent a sergeant to find Koum and Gurka. The sergeant returned empty-handed, reporting that Koum had been setting up a large white felt tent near a string of kneeling camels, and that armed tribesmen had prevented the sergeant from entering the tent, although a light showed within. But the essaul Ostap insisted that Koum had gone out on the river in a barge with some others. By way of excuse the sergeant added that the whole place was in a tumult as if Satan's stables had been turned loose.

  Whereupon the general swore and ordered the sergeant to take a squad with bayonets, and to bring in after dinner the khan Tavka, and the Turkoman chief Ismail with the two missing Cossacks.

  Being hungry after his two days' campaigning, Lermontoff dined well. By the time he finished his roast mutton and onions, he unfastened his collar and tasted wine and began to feel pleased with events. After all, he had gone on an expedition, he had been in action against the tribes. All this would go into his next report. Moreover—and this would not be in the report—he now had in his hands all the property of the wild Tavka Khan, who could be made to pay a round sum for its release . . .

  By the time he had finished his fruit and cordial, Lermontoff saw himself awarded the order of Saint Anne, with a sword of honor, for distinguished military service. Then he wondered where Ismail's slaves were quartered.

  "They were brought in on the camels," Rostov, the aide, answered his question, "and were taken into the large white tent."

  Lermontoff nodded pleasantly. Out on the steppe he had felt worried, but now matters were cleared up nicely. He did not think he would invite the colonel to his tent for the inquiry.

  "Have you got them all—the prisoners?"

  Rostov explained that Gurka had been found in the quarters of the khan, while Ismail had been bound, gagged and wrapped in a rug, and Koum had just now been brought over from a tavern in Sarachikof.

  "I will see them all."

  The four were ushered in, Ismail free of bonds, his green eyes vindictive, Tavka Khan unarmed and palpably worried—falling on his knees before the table. Only Gurka seemed indifferent. After glancing at each in turn and identifying Ismail, Lermontoff drew from his pocket the chieftain's missing necklace and singled out Gurka.

  "Now, my lad," he said grimly, "you have something to answer for. Ismail Khan is a well known merchant who makes yearly trips to Sarai, and he was entitled to protection. Three days ago one of his men brought me this necklace of his, with a message that the Bey had been attacked without provocation at the Kurgan by two Cossacks and a Tartar horde. It's plain enough that you've plundered him—you've still got his goods, which it is my duty to confiscate until a full inquiry can be made. Do you understand?"

  "I understand," Gurka responded at once, "everything."

  "And you?" The general glanced at Koum.

  The big Cossack had more experience with Russian military administration than Gurka, and he turned his kalpak uneasily in his great hands.

  "But, Excellency," he muttered, "you don't know how it is." And he explained how Ismail Bey had tricked the Russians by raiding the caravans on his return to Khiva, and how the evidence of one of his massacres was to be seen beyond the Kurgan—how Tavka Khan and natives in the town could bear witness to this, while the necklace itself was a trophy of his crimes. "Your Excellency saw with his own eyes this morning how the wolves were hunting."

  Lermontoff listened, frowning but attentive, and asked Rostov to make note of what the Cossack said. He had heard something of this from Ostap and he saw his way clear now. He would hang Ismail, and report to Moscow the seizure and death of the raider. But he did not wish to exonerate the Tartar khan or the two Cossacks.

  "Do you think, my lad," he demanded, "that you know more than the government? You were sent to the Kurgan to guard the caravans, not to loot them. Ekh! Your looting made it necessary for me to lead a column over the river, and if I had not done so, you would have left your hides out there. You ought to be lashed—" he paused to glare at the hunter—"but I'll let you off, if you leave Sarachikof at once."

  "Do you admit your guilt, Cossack?" put in Rostov, making notes.

  "No," said Gurka abruptly.

  The word rang out like a gunshot, and fat Tavka, fearing anger and punishment, climbed from his knees in dread. Lermontoff's hands clenched on the table.

  "And why not?" he cried.

  Gurka came forward and placed his open hands on the table.

  "Because," he said, "we two Cossacks were sent by you to do the work of a cavalry troop, without aid. At our post Ismail's men fired upon us without warning. We have your written order to enlist followers, and we did so, calling upon these Tartars. You understood all this because you directed your men to fire upon the Turkomans."

  Silence settled upon the room, while Lermontoff's heavy face became darker by the second. Striking his fist on the table, he found his tongue.

  "I'll have you lashed!"

  "No," said Gurka again, "because we are volunteers, not under your orders. If you should, I would challenge you to a settlement with pistols."

  The aide got to his feet, seeing the glitter in the gray eyes of this mad Cossack, who somehow bore himself like a man of rank. But Lermont-off was thinking of many things—of ridicule, and of the report he had sent in about the occupation of the Kurgan. The last thing he wanted was talk, a public scandal.

  "I did not realize," he said uncertainly. "The Cossacks say you are a count, Gurka—a former officer—"

  "It doesn't matter."

  "Ah, but you should have made yourself known. Now, of course, there is no blame to you. You are free to leave Sarachikof."

  Koum pulled at his sleeve, but Gurka faced the general without moving.

  "Tavka Khan," he said, "is af
raid. He tells me he has paid you a yearly tax for protection, while until now you have done nothing but send Cossacks to collect the payment from him. Now he surrenders Ismail to you,

  and gives up Ismail's ransom. But he is afraid you will take his cattle and camels. I have assured him you will not. Is that true?"

  Lermontoff waved an indulgent hand.

  "Of course, my dear fellow!"

  "Then will you write out an order, that Tavka's herds and goods are not to be molested?"

  For a moment the general hesitated. The sergeant who had come in with the prisoners was watching him, and he knew that keen ears outside the tent might be listening to all his words. After all, his report to Moscow was the main thing—that and Ismail's slaves. He dictated the order to Rostov and signed it: handing it to Gurka, who gave it in turn to the khan. Tavka took it in both hands and touched it to his forehead.

  "That is all. Good evening, General Lermontoff." Gurka turned on his heel and walked from the tent.

  Lermontoff signed to the sergeant to lead Ismail out, and asked Rostov to see that the Turkoman was locked up under guard. Alone in the tent with Koum, he beckoned to the Cossack and whispered—

  "Ismail's slaves, where are they?"

  "Safe, your Excellency. Tavka Khan gave them to us—"

  "I know. Ostap told me the tale. What—what have you done with them?"

  Rubbing his head, Koum eyed the general doubtfully.

  "Eh, Gurka's full of ideas. He said I must bring them in to you, at the governor's palace, but—"

  "Hss! I don't want that." Lermontoff visioned the Moslem girls being escorted through the streets to his gate. "I don't want them at all. Ismail lied, you understand, when he said he sold one to the officers here. Do you understand?"

  Koum nodded, and watched with growing interest while the general went to his cot and opened a leather valise. From it Lermontoff drew a silk bag and from the bag he poured a half dozen gold coins into his hand.

  "Will you swear to say nothing of Ismail's slaves—you and your comrade?"

  "As God lives, I'll say nothing more."

  "They are safe, and no one has seen them?"

  "True, by Saint Nicholas."

  Lermontoff filled his fist with coins and gave them to the big Cossack, who took them incredulously.

  "What is this for?"

  Thinking of the white tent, Lermontoff smiled.

  "Have you forgotten I promised you gold if you brought in Ismail's caravan safely? Now you must hold your tongue—better go away at once."

  "At once," Koum assented, tucking the money beneath his coat, within his shirt.

  Hastening from the tent, he ran into Tavka Khan, who was examining the written order with Ostap's assistance.

  "Hold on, eagle!" The essaul caught Koum's arm. "What is this? The khan wants to know if it is his death order. Gurka's gone off and I can't read."

  "It's for Tavka to keep all his animals and goods, everything. But he had better move off before sunrise, just the same."

  The stout Tartar smiled and patted his sides.

  "Ai, the brave Cossacks have brought me good fortune. Come to my kibitka at any hour and I will make place for you among my sons."

  Ostap winked and nudged the hunter.

  "Now tell me—what about them?"

  He pointed toward the lighted tent of the slave girls. To his surprise Koum closed his lips, glanced over his shoulder at the general's quarters and clutched his belt. Then he strode off into the darkness.

  Hastening through the camp, he found Gurka spreading his blankets near the horses.

  "Saddle up, Gurka," he whispered. "Now."

  After peering into the hunter's face, Gurka led in his horse and lifted the saddle without a word. By the time he had rolled his pack and fastened it in place, Koum was already mounted.

  "What—" Gurka began.

  "Hss! Don't speak, brother. We must go."

  Riding out of the camp, the two Cossacks headed north along the river, away from Sarachikof. Not for an hour did Koum open his lips or draw rein. Then, after a glance around, he turned down toward the river to a sandy stretch concealed in tall rushes.

  After rubbing down and tethering the horses, the Cossacks got out their blankets. Koum removed his boots and filled and lighted his pipe. He looked up at the stars, and listened contentedly to the whisper of the water in the rushes and the drone of insects.

  "Eh," he observed, "this is best. Around the cities and the armies it's not safe. Still, your mission brought us good fortune. Aye, we are rich."

  He fumbled inside his shirt and began to pull out gold coins, showing them to Gurka before tucking them away in his tobacco sack. "Fourteen," he counted up.

  "Look here!" Gurka raised himself on his elbow. "You didn't ask for pay did you?"

  "No, he gave them. He asked us to hold our tongues and ride away from Sarachikof, and we've done it. Now they are ours."

  Gurka shook his head.

  "Didn't you sell him one of the girls?"

  "You would not have it, Gurka. It's foolish to give up all those girls to the officers, I thought. So after I had them in the big kibitka I led them out, quiet-like from the back, and rowed them over in a barge. I took them straight to the church, to the little fathers. 'Here, priests, I said, 'are Moslem slaves without a master. Take care of the stray lambs.' Then I stopped for just one glass of brandy, and the soldiers arrested me. Nay, the little fathers can't give up women to the general. That's why I wanted to ride away at once, before Lermontoff found out."

  Gurka laughed, and Koum fumbled under his coat again.

  "Here," he said with satisfaction, "feel this."

  Stretching out his hand, Gurka touched a wide leather belt in which hard pointed objects had been set. Holding it close to his eyes, he recognized in the faint moonlight the belt of Ismail Bey with its precious stones.

  "What! Did you take this from Tavka Khan?"

  "Nay, he gave it to me, in the afternoon. He was afraid the Russians would seize his horses and camels. He wanted me to give it to Lermont-off, to buy him off. But after you lashed him with your tongue, he wrote the order, and after that I thought it would be a sin to hand over such a treasure."

  "Well!"

  Gurka settled back in his blankets. After a moment he chuckled.

  "You can't say now that the omens at the Kurgan harmed us."

  The pipe in the hunter's mouth glowed fiercely.

  "Why should they harm us? You said we ought to find a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. I didn't know that, but here is the gold." Koum nodded sagely. "As for the Kurgan, I kept you from sleeping there, and you're living; but Ismail slept there and he'll be kicking his heels in the air, eh, Gurka?"

  Gurka, however, was asleep. For a while the hunter pondered, harken-ing to the croaking of toads and the faint rustling of small animals moving near him. Then, yawning, he glanced at the horses, and knocked out his pipe. Getting to his knees, he muttered a short prayer to his guardian saint, Nicholas.

  After that, for additional safety, he rose and traced a circle in the sand about their blankets. In the center of the circle he stuck his dagger with the cross shaped hilt upright, and three times be spat beyond the circle, to ward off the evil spirits. Seeking his blanket, he listened to Gurka's steady breathing.

  "He's like a child," he thought. "Needs someone to look out for him."

  The Devil's Song

  They were drifting down the river. Thirty and seven of them, sailing the ships of the Volga pirates, drifting through the red glow of sunset.

  Southward they were going, on the Spring flood—the ice was breaking out far behind them south through the grass steppes—to raid Gorod town.

  Zamourza the Tartar sniffed the night coming on, and he lifted his head where he lay curled like a bear asleep. Zamourza could cut the skin off a man with his knife. Ay, he was deft enough with a knife, but he had in him the skill of a wizard. He could hear the whispering of the dead where they lay.


  Now he lifted his head, for it was his way to look around once at the ending of a day, to fix in his mind all that was there before Allah drew the curtain of night over the earth. He looked at the setting sun, and that deep red sky.

  "Yah ahmaut," he murmured. "Allah hath hung the banner of death in the sky."

  When the sun touched the dark line of reeds on the bank, a crane winged past it. Zamourza nodded, puckering his lined face. He listened and heard a wolf howl on the other hand. The omens were clear. "One of us," the old Tartar thought, "will die. A great one. The wings of the wild birds pass over him, and the wolves drink his blood."

  Satisfied of this, Zamourza got to his feet, to see if a sign would be evident as to who the doomed man might be. And, standing behind him, framed against the loosening sail, he saw Stenka Razin.

  Stenka Razin, lord of the river, master of the bourlaki—the river-men. Taller he was than Zamourza by two heads, heavy and powerful as a gray buffalo. Like Zamourza's, his skull was shaved except for a scalp lock;

  his short beard was black and lustrous. He held in hand the oak staff with the iron spike that served him better than a sword. His crimson shirt was embroidered with gold.

  Under that shirt, Zamourza knew, on Stenka Razin's left shoulder the word CAIN had been branded. Stenka took pride in that branding. Sometimes when the whim seized him, he would pull back his shirt and show these letters to a man, saying, "See, dog, that is what I am." And he would kill the man. Because the letters reminded him of the ten years he had spent in Kazan Prison in the hands of the Muscovites.

  Now he hunted down the Muscovites, the tsar's men of Moscow, to pay for those years and that branding. They hunted him along the Volga, putting a price on his head and laying traps for him—without success. Some said that Stenka Razin had sold his soul to Satan for immunity from steel, fire, or bullets. But they lied. Stenka Razin kept alive because he was as wary as a wolf and as merciless.

  "A-ha-a-y," a voice hailed from the river.

  Like a cat Zamourza slipped to the rail and looked over. A canoe was putting out from shore toward the pirate fleet, instead of scurrying away like the other shore craft. And it headed for Stenka Razin's boat. An old peasant pulled at the oars. In the stern sat a woman, cloaked, holding a bundle.