Casca 34: Devil's Horseman (10 page)

“Kill me.”

“Not until you tell me who sent you.”

“I won’t tell; you know that. I’m dead anyway – failure of this task will result in execution.”

“Then execution it shall be; the penalty of shame.”

Casca stepped away from the solider and walked over to the wounded Mongol, the one who’d been hit by his sword. The sword had cut a deep gash in his shoulder and chest before slipping out of the cut, and lay close to the still breathing man. He was
laying on the ground, breathing heavily, eyes dull with pain. Casca picked up his sword and looked down at him sadly. “Pity you backed the wrong man,” he said. “You’ve paid for it with your life.”

The Mongol grimaced. Whether it was in pain or defiance Casca didn’t know, nor care. The other two were dead. He retrieved his knife, a grisly task,
then turned as footsteps alerted him. The man with the broken hand had grabbed his sword again and was closing in. But he was using his wrong hand and clumsily missed. Casca’s backhanded blow, almost made with an afterthought, sliced clean through his throat and the Mongol gargled, clutched the wound, spat out a mouthful of blood, then fell backwards to lie still.

Casca looked round in a full circle and saw only dead or dying adversaries. The Russian girl was cowering against part of the wrecked building. Her clothing had fallen open again, revealing firm rounded breasts and a smooth flat stomach. She must have been about seventeen. Casca ignored her for a moment; she wasn’t going anywhere.

He checked the three corpses and the near corpse. They had various belongings but nothing to tell him whom they were followers of. Sighing deeply he made his way to the girl who shrank back in terror. She whimpered as he pulled her up. Forcing her to stand there he examined her closely. Nice body. Wide staring eyes. Matted, lank hair. Dirty tear-streaked face, but it looked fairly attractive all the same. Maybe a good looking girl, but she’d need cleaning up for him to be sure.

“Come on,
woman, let’s leave this place of destruction. There’s nothing for you here anymore.”

She didn’t understand his words but didn’t struggle as he led her through the remnants of the city, up to the smashed walls where the army had come through, over the broken and bloodied bodies where the defenders had been overwhelmed, and back towards the camp.

Ashira was initially pleased to see him, then her face fell as she saw whom he was pulling along with him. “And who is this?”

“A slave.
I saved her from being gang-raped and then butchered. I claimed her as a prize from the city. Kaidur and the others are still in there.”

“Do you realize she’s freezing to death? Her clothes are just about falling off her and you tug her along like she was cattle!”

“Shut up, woman, and tend her. She needs a bath and clothing.” Casca waved her off with the captive and pulled the stool towards him and sat down. He was tired, and thirsty, as he always was after a battle. After a slow long drink from his water skin, he sat there thinking long and hard.

Those four men had clearly known who he was and had been under orders to take care of him. The only prince he’d seen had been Kuyuk, so Kuyuk was the main suspect, but there again there had been plenty of men milling about and anyone could have seen him return with the lone girl, unescorted. It wouldn’t have taken more than a few moments to organize pursuit and the attack. He slammed the stopper back in the neck of the skin and shut his eyes. Damn it all to Hades. What had happened to the Mongols? Had they all forgotten already what it took to build an empire? There was little unity here; things were reverting to the bad old ways when he and Temujin had set out together all those years ago to take on the scattered and feuding tribes.

Unity had come only when all competing factions had been eliminated, yet here they were emerging again, a mere ten years after Genghis Khan had died. Only this time it wasn’t tribal rivalries that threatened to split them apart, it was ambition and power. What would happen if one did grab power? He was damned sure the rest wouldn’t take that lying down. God help them all if civil war broke out.

He stood up, kicked the stool in anger,
then went to check with the guards to make sure that nobody had come along to take an undue interest in them. Satisfied that all was well, he went into the yurt and threw off his armor. Dressed in his silk shirt and pants, he pushed aside the screen to where Ashira was talking to the Russian girl and was pleasantly surprised to see the girl sat naked in a bathtub.

“Don’t you have any notion of privacy?” Ashira asked acidly.

“Not when I have an interest in my property,” Casca said, again appraising the girl’s body. The girl saw his look and turned away, her eyes going down and a red blush spreading over her face. “What have you found out about her?”

“She’s called Tatiana and is the daughter – or was, should I say – of a minor noble. She’s nobility.”

“Not now she isn’t,” Casca stated, arms folded. “Does she know her status?”

“She worked that out for herself.” Ashira could be damned acidic, Casca decided.

“Tell her she’s my personal Russian tutor. She is to teach me her language. Fluently.”

Ashira looked surprised. “I could teach you. Why do you need her?”

“Two things; one, you’re not a Russian native. You learned it from someone and you probably don’t have idiomatic phrases. I want to learn the language as it’s spoken. Secondly you’re no longer a slave so I cannot command you to do so, and if someone comes along who wants to take you as a wife, then that’ll be it and I’ll be stuck without someone to teach me Russian.”

“Or to warm your bed!”

“Oh, peace, woman! Save yourself for the right man, not someone like me who isn’t interested in settling down, raising brats and scraping a living off the damned soil.”

Ashira gasped in outrage. “You dismiss me so readily, like an unwanted set of clothes. No wonder you’re not married if you treat women like that!”

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!

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.