Swords From the Desert (20 page)

In the stir and noise that followed, I rose and slipped from my corner of the hall. For the moment the sipahis had forgotten me, and I meant to see whether I could go unseen from the courtyard before they thought of me again. Twice before this I had meant to leave their caravan, and other happenings had prevented. Now I vowed that I would escape from Mirakhon Pasha. As for Radha, God alone could aid her. If the other Rajputs fought for her, it would put them in their shrouds.

So I thought. But who can choose the path he will follow? I passed through the dark chamber leading to the courtyard, through the open gate of the building.

Clear moonlight filled the courtyard, beyond the shadow of the castle. I could see the sipahi, leaning on his spear by the outer gate, and-the pasha had ordered it left open-beyond it the flat roofs of the village, the dark water of the stream and the tents of the caravan.

Then steel fingers gripped my shoulder, and a voice whispered-

"0 hakim, dost thou hear-and understand?"

The words were in the Irani tongue, but the speaker was the khan of Karadak.

"I hear."

"Thou art the prisoner of the pasha?"

"Yea."

Though I felt no touch of steel and saw nothing, I did not move or draw away, for the voice of the youth was like the whisper of a sword drawn from sheath.

"Who is the Rajputni maiden?"

"Radha, the daughter of Sidri Singh."

I had expected an exclamation or a curse, but the man behind me kept silence as if puzzled.

"Sidri Singh was at Kukri with all his followers-aye, he was in the field of war. How could his daughter be here without him?"

"They sought refuge in Karadak. Inshallah, they wandered to my camp across the dry lands."

"The swan does not mate with the vulture. The sun might alter its course, or the stars die out, but Sidri Singh would never give child of his to yonder swine. That pasha lied, but thou, 0 hakim, will tell me the true story and swiftly."

In that instant I began to respect the young Rajput. And I dared ask a question.

"Hast thou other men nearby?"

"Nay. I bade thee tell me of Radha."

"Then think twice-aye, and thrice, before giving way to anger, my lord," I warned him. "Nay, hearken to an old man, who has seen much slaying, and the death of the weak. These Iranis are wolves, and they will gut the castle and slash the blood hissing from thy people if thou oppose them."

"I will be judge of that. Speak."

So, having thought for a moment, I told him in brief words of the death of Sidri Singh and the man Subbul, and the carrying off of Radha. After all, this youth was her cousin, and it had been ordained that Mirakhon Pasha should come to this place.

My blood is old and thin. Yet in that moment it ran swift and warm, so that the scars of wounds in arm and breast and thigh-yea, I have known the tearing thrust of steel blade and the fiery smart of arrows-burned beneath the skin. I knew that swords would be bared in Karadak that night. How? How does the buffalo scent the water that lies in a gully beyond sight?

I did not hear the young Rajput leave my side. He did not go far, because I heard him whispering to a servant. Then, in a moment, my ears caught the heavier tread of an older man. Byram Khan growled words I did not understand. He departed, and once more the khan gave an order to the servant, who moved out into the moonlight of the courtyard.

"Art thou bound to serve the pasha?" So said the Rajput chieftain, standing close to me in the darkness.

ay.

"Good! Then go, old wanderer, from this gate and save thyself harm."

Now a moment before, I had desired nothing more than this. But in this moment curiosity and something more held me to my place. Wal- lahi-when did the men of the Nejd slink away like jackals from peril?

"I go in my own time," I said.

"Ho," he laughed under his breath. "The gray wolf smells out booty. An Arab will find loot."

"On my head be my deeds. Nay, I shared the bread and salt with Radha and Sidri Singh. I will watch the happenings of this night."

He seemed to muse awhile.

"By thy word, Arab, this pasha bath forfeited the immunity of a guest. Within the hour we shall know all the truth. And then-" He turned toward me swiftly. "Swear! Swear, thou, to seal thy lips with silence and to lift no weapon against man of mine this night."

"I swear, by the stone of Mecca!"

Indeed, I was ready to make this covenant. More and more my heart inclined toward the youth. He made decisions quickly, and I had not yet seen the man who dared oppose Mirakhon Pasha. This Rajput seemed utterly reckless. Could he plan wisely and hide his plans? I made test of him.

"Wilt accuse the pasha of an evil deed?"

"I?" Again he laughed, as if delight grew within him. "Another will do so."

"It would be better to fall upon him with thy followers."

"Is a hawk to be taken sleeping?"

While I pondered this, he turned from me suddenly and went toward the hall. I heard horses moving out from the stable, and saw they were two-the young Rajput's black charger and the dun mare of the pasha. A servant-the same who had spoken with my companion-led them, and the sipahi at the courtyard gate was full of angry questions, asking why in the name the pasha's horse had been saddled. Doubtless the khan had waited until he heard the horses before leaving my side.

Standing thus in the entrance hall between the feasters and the courtyard, I wondered what plan the Rajput had formed. The stair leading to Radha's chamber was behind me in the darkness, and it came into my mind that the young lord planned to go up with Byram Khan and strike suddenly upon the two negroes, slaying them and carrying off the maiden. So I would have done, in other years-had the girl been beautiful.

But the Iranis would be out of the hall at the first sound of struggle above them. Also, the khan would leave the greater part of his men to be slain. Still, he had saddled two horses-the best of the horses!

I thought that I, in his case, would fall sword in hand upon the feasters in the hall, trusting to surprise and swiftness to avail against numbers. Then I knew that this, also, was vain. How could the Rajputs, scattered among their guests, be warned of the plan? And what would prevent the warriors swarming up from the camp when they heard the tumult through the open gates of the castle? And, in the end, what of Radha, in the hands of the black slaves? I could think of no plan.

All this passed through my mind in the moment when the young khan walked to the heavy curtains of the banquet hall. With a sweep of his arms, he held them wide.

"Ho, where is the man who boasts of his lance?" he cried.

I could see the Iranis sit upright in astonishment. A gust of warm air, heavy with musk and mastic, swept past me. Mirakhon Pasha held a handful of grapes motionless under his lips.

"The sky is clear and the moon is high," said the young chieftain, smiling. "I have my horse saddled. Nay, we are weary of talk, and I would warm my blood before sleeping. Which is the best lancer among ye?"

By now the pasha's officers had found their voices.

"I!" cried Fazl Ali, springing up.

"By the ninety and nine holy names!" Farash Agha swore. "Dost name me boaster?"

"Art thou the one?" The young lord of Karadak spoke with disdain, scarcely veiled. "Come, my lord ambassador, wilt thou be judge of the joust?"

"What is this?" Mirakhon Pasha frowned.

"The play of Karadak, my lord. We have little skill at play of words or dancing, but it is our custom to mount and ride forth on such clear nights to exercise in arms. Yet thou art weary from the road. So this night we shall run a few courses in the courtyard."

The pasha noticed the change in the youth, the eagerness that he could not hide in his voice. It was clear to him, however, that the other Rajputs took such sport as a matter of course. They rose, making way for their guests. Then the broad face of the pasha grew dark, as I had seen it at Bandar Abbasi, and in the moment that Sidri Singh died. Like a wary boar, peering through the thicket, he scented the approach of something strange.

"0 lord of Iny life," cried Farash Agha, thrusting Fazl Ali aside and salaaming low to his master. "Have I thy leave to clip the ears of this cub?"

"Look to thine own nose," cried one of the Rajputs.

Farash Agha glared about him, hand on sword-hilt. For the slicing of a nose there is only one reason, among the Iranis. Then, to mend his pride, he turned to the khan who had challenged him.

"I do not play with blunted lance points."

"Nor is there need, 0 Agha. Choose thou a lance, and I shall take the sword. If thou touch my garments, or draw blood, the victory is thine. If I parry the onset, taking no harm, I am winner of the joust."

The Iranis exchanged glances, being greatly amazed. They were in no mood to pass by a challenge, and even the pasha saw some rare sport before him. Warriors, minstrels, and nobles passed from the hall, jostling and talking, some bearing with them the great silver candelabra, and the Rajputs followed. Each man of Karadak paused where their young khan stood, and with each he spoke in his own speech. Then he hastened to the side of the pasha.

"Will it please thee to mount, my lord?"

Eh, he had thought to saddle the ambassador's mare, so that the pasha would not be constrained to remain afoot while others sat in the saddle. And he had also another reason that I suspected not at all.

The pasha mounted, Fazl Ali holding the stirrup. Once in the saddle, he took command of matters, placing the attendants with the candles close to him and summoning the warrior who held his javelins. The Iranis ranged themselves about him, some sitting, others walking about, near the wall of the castle, at one side of the door. There was laughter and crying of wagers-for, in a joust of lance against sword and shield, wounds are freely given.

The pasha began to be restless and eager as he watched the master of Karadak mount the black charger and rein up and down the enclosure, displaying the paces of his steed. Even the Iranis murmured approval, for the khan sat as one rarely skilled, and the clean-limbed charger sidled and trotted and wheeled at touch of knee and bridle.

Soon the leader of the sipahis appeared on a Turkoman horse, trotting in and out among the spectators, eyeing the youth of Karadak. For the khan had no shield. Nor did he wear a cloak. His tight-fitting white tunic made a good mark in the elusive light, mingled of the glow from the sky and the flickering gleam of the candles.

The pasha looked at his sentry in the open gate, and past him to the tents and dying fires of the caravan. The watchers fell silent, drawing closer to the wall, the Rajputs mingling with the Iranis.

"Begin!" he cried, leaning on the saddle horn.

The two riders cantered to the far ends of the courtyard, some sixty paces apart. Farash Agha raised his lance tip, and the Rajput drew his saber, saluting. Then the brown horse of the Irani trotted forward, and cantered, while the black charger, tight-reined, trotted, half rearing.

In an instant they were together, hoofs ringing on the hard clay of the enclosure. And those near me shouted loud. Farash Agha, gripping his lance in his right hand, pressing the shaft against his forearm, had thrust savagely at the young khan's girdle. Truly, he did not mean to play with blunt weapons!

The khan's sword flashed out, clinking against the wood of the lance, and the long shining point of the spear was turned aside, sweeping past him harmlessly.

"Shabash!" growled Fazl Ali. "Well done."

But the pasha and most of the Iranis looked disappointed. They hoped to see the Rajput cast, bleeding, from the saddle.

Again the riders turned and faced each other and Farash Agha spurred forward with a tight rein. This time his point wavered and thrust swiftly at the throat of the youth. Eh, the khan, leaning forward, parried upward. Again, the lance point slid off his blade without harm.

The Rajputs watched him with pride, breathing quickly. And when the riders turned for the third course, the pasha and his Iranis thought of nothing but the rearing horses, the gleaming weapons. This time Farash Agha tried another trick.

Leaning far forward, he gripped the spear shaft under his armpit and sat tight in the saddle, trusting by weight and strength to bear through the parrying stroke of the sword.

The young khan saw and acted upon the instant. The black charger darted forward, the rider slipped to the far side of the saddle. The blade of the heavy khanda, held high, smashed down upon the spear, driving the lance point sharply down into the earth.

Before Farash Agha could recover, the point had caught and held. Perforce he loosed his hold on the spear which remained, upright and quivering, in the center of the courtyard. W'allahi, it happened as I have said-the lancer was disarmed.

And before anyone could cry out, the master of Karadak wheeled his charger around to face the pasha.

"The play is ended," he cried.

He had seen from the corner of his eye what we now saw. From the door of the castle, out of the darkened entrance, stepped Radha.

Clearly was she to be seen, by the candles. Her hair, unbound, fell thick upon her shoulders, and her veil had vanished. Swaying, she stood in the half light, a dagger gripped tight against her slender breast.

For the time it takes to draw and loose a breath there was silence, while her eyes, shadowed by grieving, sought swiftly among the men. Her lips parted and she raised her head. Against the dark entrance she looked like a child out of peristan -an elf of spirit-land. But behind her loomed Byram Khan, his bared sword dripping blood from the channels, and his eyes afire.

"0 my kinsmen!" she cried in a clear voice. "Avenge Sidri Singh. I shall live if ye live, or die with ye!"

Her eyes sought the pasha, and Byram Khan strode past her, shouting.

"The proof! To your swords, my children."

Hearing these words I thought that the Rajputs, all eleven of them, had dug their graves. True, the young khan might have ridden past the sentry at the gate. But, penned thus between the sheer cliff behind the castle and the high wall around the courtyard, how could the others flee? Penned in with the pasha and his wolves!