Swords From the West (93 page)

The crusader explained his mission to the Holy Land, and the mischance that had brought him into the midst of a Tatar force at night.

"They said that an iron man was coming," she answered gravely, "to ride with me to Xanadu, the city of the great khan. And they never harm an ambassador. Hast thou no paper of writing or token of authority?"

"Nay, Princess Thamar."

Chin on hand she gazed up at him, frowning a little. The mass of dark hair penned upon her forehead by a silver fillet set with square turquoise brushed her cheeks, half hiding the fresh curve of her lips and the clear depths of her eyes.

"Then do I fear for thee, my Lord of the Cross, because I know why they have let thee keep thy sword."

Sir John smiled, and her brow knitted the more.

"Ohai, thou art a man of might. They chose thee among many. Hast thou no fear?"

"There is no good in that," he said.

"Knowest thou what this place is?"

"A fair hostel after the desert."

"'Tis the gate of Cathay. Thou hast seen the wall? Beyond it thou wilt be a slave of the great khan-no more than a hunting dog or falcon. Magicians will have their sport of thee, and the pagans will stare at thee and in the end-" she hesitated, looking up at him steadily-"they will take thee before the emperor of all men. They will make thee draw that long sword and strive against them, until the life is cut out of thee. That is why the great khan made thee captive, to see thee fight."

The ghost of a smile still lingered on the crusader's wide lips, and it seemed strange to the Georgian maid that he was not grieved at her words. Rather, he seemed to be considering her.

"And thou, my lady?" he asked again, gravely.

"Even the Tatars will not harm the daughter of a king. But this is thy last night outside the wall and thou art armed. Take a horse from the lines and ride away into the desert, any whither. What fate could be worse than that ahead of thee?"

While Sir John pondered, for he was a man of measured thought, she added eagerly:

"If Sonkor had such a weapon he could cut down any who stood in his way. If we were mounted on the racing horses we could outride pursuit, and then, perchance, slay a courier, and take his falcon tablet and gain fresh horses by showing it."

The crusader shook his head.

"Better to go forward than to be taken in flight."

Nor would he change his mind when she pleaded anew-until she fell silent and sent Sonkor from the pavilion to fetch the evening meal from the fires of the station. This meal they shared, the crusader and the axman sitting together by the embers and Thamar perched upon the edge of the divan that filled all the back of the pavilion. Her moodiness had vanished, and often she smiled and sang brief snatches of Gypsy-like song. Sonkor gazed up at her with the wordless adoration of a dog, and indeed the princess of the mountains was lovely beyond the telling.

"Knowest thou the song?" she asked Sir John. "'Tis the jest of a brave man.

"What thinkest thou of the Gypsy song?"

"It boasteth overmuch," commented Sir John, rubbing his chin.

"Indeed," she said, "they named thee truly, for thou art a man dull and heavy as iron. I like better the steel that sings and flashes and makes a swift end of misery. And wine. Give me the cup, Sonkor!"

The giant, who seemed to understand their speech, lifted the round bronze goblet filled with rice wine, and Thamar sipped from it.

"0 my guest," she said softly, "drink deep, for thou art weary."

Sir John raised the great vessel in both hands. "Hail!" he cried, and passed it in his turn to Sonkor.

"The axman sleeps on the earth," she went on, "but it is not fitting that thou, a man of honor, should do so. I will share the couch with thee, with thy sword between us."

"I thank thee." Sir John bowed.

It was a privilege sometimes offered when women were journeying in strange lands, and quarters were cramped and night alarms were to be feared. And the drawn sword placed between them was the man's pledge that he would not touch the maid.

Sonkor let the fire die, and when Sir John stripped off the steel mesh of his mail and made his way through the near darkness of the pavilion to the couch, the girl seemed to be asleep under her cloak. Quietly he drew from its leather sheath the four-foot sword and laid it beside her, the hilt near her head. Then he stretched out, pulled a saddlecloth over him, and lay with his head on his clasped arms watching the swaying of the dim tapestries under the wind's touch.

He could feel the slight stir of her breathing, and he was aware of the scent of dried flowers that came from her hair, a fragrance that intruded among his thoughts. Tomorrow he would be within the wall. There was no escape. At least he would find his death when he stood weapon in hand before the eyes of this monarch of Cathay. There were worse ends than that. But Thamar? They would be together in the last of the journey, and it would be joyful for him ... in Cathay ... the scent of flowers ...

Sir John woke without a start, and was wide awake on the instant. The pavilion was dark, the air cold; a breath of wind touched his face. Across from him a triangle of faint light disappeared suddenly.

The entrance flap had been lifted, admitting the gust of air that had awakened him, and closed again. He listened, and could hear nothing at all. He stretched out his hand, and then swept it across the couch. Thainar was not there, nor was his sword.

Wasting no thought upon the how or why of it, the crusader got to his feet, felt for the center pole of the pavilion and lurched to the entrance. But when he pushed through the entrance his blood was stirring, sleep gone from his limbs. Kneeling, he looked from side to side along the ground. The light of the stars was clear, and against it he found what he sought, two figures moving away from the pavilion.

On the taller of the two, for an instant, metal glinted-the star glow reflected from polished steel. Sir John was unarmed in his sleeveless leather tunic and leggings; but this did not stay his run and leap upon the taller figure. His arms closed around the waist of a big man, and he threw him heavily.

He heard a woman's gasp beside him and the snarl of an oath beneath him-and the clang of steel upon stones. Bending over, he felt for and found his long sword and rose with it in his hand.

"Bid thy churl keep his distance," Sir John said. "For I have no mind to strike him down."

"Hush-oh, hush!" Thamar's voice whispered.

Sir John heard the stamping of restless horses, saw the dark blur of picketed beasts near at hand, by the black bulk of a shed. Then men came running up from behind the shed, a lantern swinging among them. They were Tatars, evidently the guards of the horse lines, and they stared silently at the three captives, thrusting the lantern close to Sonkor, who was rising from his knees, shaken by the heavy fall on the hard earth.

Thamar's face gleamed white in the lantern light, above the dark folds of her cloak.

"Ill was thy waking!" she cried at the crusader. "Another hour and we would have been riding free."

But Sir John was ill pleased by the taking of his sword.

"A woman's fancy," he responded harshly, "to try to lift horses under eyes like these." And he pointed at the Tatars.

"0 churl," she whispered. "Thou art no man, but a dull beast fit to be led to the slaying pit."

And she turned back to the pavilion.

But Sir John sat out the hours of the night by the entrance among the guards who were both puzzled and suspicious.

After the first light Arslan talked it over with the officer of the detachment that had brought Sir John, and it seemed clear to them that the captives had quarreled.

"Before the iron man came," Arslan ruminated, "the woman made no harm."

"A woman," responded the officer reflectively, "is like a magician. Who knows what she will do? Nay, I will keep them apart and not allow them to speak."

So after that morning, armed Tatars rode between Princess Thamar of Georgia and Sir John Sheldon. Only through the tossing horsetail plumes and the shaking lances could the crusader see the hooded head of the girl as they raced along the Great South Road. But when he sat alone of nights over the embers of a fire, he beheld again her dark, lovely head in the whirling smoke, and in his memory he heard again the echo of her song.

The sun struck through the forest of Xanadu where Kublai Khan had built his pleasure palace. Life stirred in the shadows under the blue pines and the tendrils of the willows, for the forest was filled with game. Quail scampered through the lush grass, and deer flitted away in the clearing; waterfowl clamored among the rushes of the lake, and cormorants splashed in the shallows.

The air was heavy with the fragrance of sun-warmed vines and cedars. In a grove of gnarled cedars by the edge of the lake Sir John had been quartered alone, in a gilded kiosk of split bamboos. His Tatar escort had left him at the forest gate, and an Armenian merchant had appeared to guide him to this spot, and to explain that on the morrow he would be led before the great khan. Then the merchant had left him, solitary, to all seeming, but with invisible companions.

Even the little kiosk was full of unexpected things. At first Sir John had seen only a silk-covered pallet and a lacquered table with a low chair beside it. Paper lanterns with long tassels hung from the peak of the roof, and upon the bed lay a light robe of floss silk with long sleeves, very much like a knight's surcoat. This Sir John put on, after doffing his heavy mail and placing it beside his helmet and shield that had been left with him at the bamboo hut.

"Faith," he muttered, "here is comfort enough, but little to eat."

He did not venture out until after sunset, when he heard music over the water; and, going down to the shore, he beheld something that looked like a gold castle moving across the lake. Women's voices reached him faintly, rising and falling in a slow cadence that kept time to the dipping of the oars. The strange pleasure barge merged into the mists, the singing ceased, and the crusader went back to his quarters, pausing on the threshold with a quick-drawn breath.

The lanterns had been lighted in his absence. Some of them were still revolving slowly, and while he had not noticed them before in the obscurity of the pointed roof, he had reason enough to stare now. They glowed in fantastic colors, and leered and grimaced at him. Human faces had been painted within the paper globes. And the table now bore a silver tray filled with sugared fruits and smoking mutton and a bronze pitcher of clear wine.

Sir John looked around and sat him down, drawing out his knife and attacking the meat with good will. He filled a jade cup with wine and lifted it toward the gallery of lanterns.

"Hail!" he laughed, and then sat rigid.

Among the lanterns a human face looked down at him from sightless eyes. The skin of the face was shrunk upon the bone and the lips were drawn back from set teeth.

But the crusader had seen before now the severed head of a man, although not one stuck upon a hook above his own.

"Poor wight," he thought, "his day is o'er. Aye, he has gone before me."

He attacked his dinner again, the head under the roof disturbing him less than the movement and snuffling that went on outside the bamboo walls. Keeping one eye on the door, Sir John listened curiously. The breathing resembled an animal's, but the slight rustling and tread suggested the presence of men.

So he moved his chair to face the door, which stood open, and went on eating in the intervals of quiet. Evidently he was spied upon, and the stealth of the creatures outside was not reassuring. Sir John sipped his wine slowly and waited patiently. The movement ceased, but he still could hear the faint sniffing.

Then he set down the jade cup and frowned. In the square of darkness beyond the door two green eyes glowed. They vanished and appeared again, more clearly, moving toward him.

Sir John's hand closed upon the hilt of his sword and for a moment he sat motionless.

Without a sound a long leopard padded into the room and snarled.

Presently the leopard turned its head, and the crusader saw the mark of a collar on its neck. It wore no collar, but he knew the mark, and the manner of a hunting leopard-a tame animal. When it brushed against his leg he wiped his hands on its fur. The big cat sat down and began to lick itself over, like any domestic tabby. Sir John finished his wine.

Only once more was he disturbed, when a man came to call the leopard away. The crusader saw him outside the door, a bent figure in a short cloak, a dark, seamed face nearly hidden in a mass of hanging hair from which projected the horns of a beast. The figure hissed and the leopard padded out; then man and beast disappeared, and Sir John laughed.

"Faith, they have quartered me among the magicians, and they are the jesters of this court."

Whether he had hit upon the truth, or whether these men of the forest of Xanadu had meant to try his courage, he did not know. He was left in peace until the sun was high the next morning, and then appeared a Tatar clad in shining cloth-of-silver, with a gold baton in his hand. He rode a white pony and led by the rein a bay horse, and he signed for the crusader to put on his mail and helmet. Curiously he watched while Sir John adjusted the loose coif over his shoulders and laced tight the gorget of his steel headpiece, and picked up his shield.