Swords From the West (94 page)

At a foot pace the two rode through the sunlit forest. Other cavalcades going in the same direction drew aside for them, and the crusader saw that all the Tatar nobles were in court robes of stiff silver cloth and gold tissue; some of them carried white gyrfalcons on their wrists, and their saddlecloths were flowered silk or tiger skins. Never had Sir John seen such horses. No one mocked him, although the slant eyes stared at him with grave curiosity. The throng became denser, and Sir John saw that he was passing through a strange gateway.

On either side stood elephants draped in black leather with turbaned men astride their shoulders. First one then another threw up its trunk and the earth reverberated with their trumpeting roar, while the sword blades flashed on their tusks, and the horses danced in terror. But the crusader sat erect in the saddle, his hand firm on the rein, and the Tatars did not guess that he had never seen an elephant before. They signed to him to dismount and led him through a garden of twisted cedars, out upon a stone terrace. And he knew then that he stood before Kublai Khan.

On his right hand rose a marble palace, the crown of a hill that descended at his left, terrace by terrace, to the blue lake. Beyond the lake he saw the dark mesh of the forest and snow peaks rising out of distant mist.

The portico of the palace rested upon gold pillars, each the semblance of a dragon with its head and claws upholding the marble eaves. In front of the portico the crusader beheld a white canopy like a tiny tent against the mass of the palace. But yellow silk covered the marble here, and in the shadow of the canopy a man sat upon a dark jade dais. Around him were grouped the Tatar lords, and on the steps beneath him stood long lines of guards, their black helmets crested with white horsehair.

Toward these guards Sir John was led, up many steps and out upon a second terrace of red tiles. It was an arrow's flight in width and length, and he felt as he strode across it that a thousand eyes took stock of him. Tatar officers came forward to meet him and motioned to him to undo his sword. He did so, and they took it and his shield and carried them up, placing them before the man on the dais.

Two of the officers remained at his side, waiting until they should be summoned to the khan. Meanwhile giant negroes hastened up, tugging at the chains that were the leashes of lean tigers. They led the beasts before the jade slab, falling on their knees and veiling their eyes with their arms. And the tigers, a score of them, lowered their striped heads, swaying from side to side and snarling-making their salutation to the khan. The fierce heads sank to the paws, and then the negro keepers drew their charges away, and a woman was led forth from the guards.

"Princess Thainar!" the crusader cried.

She heard him, glanced at him swiftly, and went on. Her hands had been bound together loosely by silk cords as a sign that she was a captive. Alone she stood before the dais, looking up into the face of the man who sat heavily in a low gold chair, powerful hands resting on his thighs. His head was broad and dark and expressionless; his wide mouth beneath its thin drooping mustache was both cruel and full of power; under a jutting forehead, blue eyes surveyed the beauty of the girl before him.

After a moment Kublai Khan turned his head, spoke a word to the nobles who stood below him, and Princess Thamar was led to one side. So it happened that Sir John came within a spear's length of her when he was ushered forward in his turn. The Tatars on either side caught him by the arms and motioned him to kneel. His sword and shield were brought and laid at the feet of the khan.

Then the crusader was aware of another who knelt at his side, and of a curling beard that brushed the marble step-Sonkor's beard. For a moment the khan upon his golden throne surveyed the two captive men of valor, and not so much as the rustle of a robe broke the silence. The khan spoke, and when he had ceased a peacock on the jade throne stone lifted its wings and spread the glory of its tail; but the wings were gold, and the bird was gold, and the plumes were set with the sheen of pearls and the gleam of yellow diamonds.

"Rise," said a voice in good Norman French.

Sir John found a stranger at his side, a short man in a velvet cloak and somber cap, whose beard was carefully trimmed and whose eyes were keen and patient.

"My master, 'tis an ill word I have to speak thee. The great khan hath commanded me to bid thee arm thyself and fight with this stout fellow." The stranger nodded at Sonkor. "There is no help for it, but whoso slays the other will be spared."

Turning to the Georgian axman he explained again that the two Christians must fight before the Tatars, and the survivor would not be harmed. Sonkor was to choose a shield and a weapon from the guards.

The bearded warrior understood, for he nodded, and suddenly threw himself toward Thamar, drawing his two guards with him as if they had been children tugging at the horns of an ox. On his knees he pressed his lips against the hand of his young mistress, and rose to his feet.

"And what of her, the princess?" Sir John asked the interpreter.

The stranger glanced at the headdresses of the women of the court, as if puzzled, and then at Thamar.

"The captive? Nay, there are a hundred women of royal blood within this place. The khan said that indeed she is beautiful, and will bear strong sons when he gives her as a wife to some brave officer."

A swift rush of blood darkened Thamar's throat and brow.

"No Tatar will boast that he had me in his arms, for if that happens I shall be dead." She bent her head, a faint smile on her dark lips. "Nay, my Lord of the Cross, it is I who must yield up my life, for thou mayest prevail in the weapon play, since Sonkor wears no armor."

Sir John checked the words that quivered in his throat.

"May God keep thee, my lady," he said at last. Grim of face he turned away, for he loved the girl who had mocked him.

He made his way down the steps, through the ranks of the guards that opened to let him pass and closed after him. Not until then was he given his sword and shield, and the one he thrust on his left forearm, the other he gripped and swung about his head until the fine-edged steel hummed in the air. Out upon the red tiled terrace he strode, into the great cleared place where Sonkor awaited him, in the heart of the watching concourse. Turbaned men and slaves, scarred veterans of Tatary, long-robed savants of Cathay-all watched impassively the two champions of Christendom.

"By the rood," said the crusader, "let us make an end of this, Sonkor."

A glance showed him that the Georgian had chosen a round shield of rhinoceros hide, and a long-handled ax with a heavy head. Bearded jaw outthrust, legs bent, he poised himself against the first blow. Sir John still held his sword tip down; he knew that he could slash that shield into fragments and then cut through the clumsy guard of such an ax.

"Thy death is at hand," he said slowly. "Dost thou understand?"

Sonkor's teeth gleamed through his beard as he growled assent.

"And so is mine," went on Sir John, resting the point of his sword on the tiles. "Never has it been said of me that I sought to gain life by the death of a companion. I will not lift weapon against an unarmed churl, but together we will go against the Tatars. Wilt thou do it, fellow?"

Bewilderment struggled with suspicion in Sonkor's broad face. He knew that he was doomed in any case. But to have a comrade at his side-to go down striving with a multitude-that was good. Fiercely questioning, he peered into the cold blue eyes that looked down at him from under the steel rim of the helmet.

"Aye!" he cried.

"Come," said Sir John quietly, and turned on his heel. "Follow, and keep my back."

Utter silence fell upon the watchers as the two champions strode back toward the steps. The heavy footfall of the axman echoed the clanking tread of the mailed crusader. Nearer they came to the lines of guards. A murmur rose and swelled as a helmeted Tatar went out and motioned them back with his long spear. Sir John stepped forward and slashed off the point of the spear. His long sword swung again, and the guard's head jerked from his body.

Behind the crusader, Sonkor roared his battle shout, and the knight knew that berserk fury had seized the axman. A half-dozen Tatars rushed toward him, and he strode to meet them in silence. He had been brought before this pagan emperor to fight and he meant that this affray should be memorable.

He thrust swiftly over the shield of the nearest guard and the man went down with his throat open. A side slash of the long sword and another fell heavily. Taking the smash of a curved sword on his shield, Sir John sprang back.

Sonkor's ax crushed in the face of the Tatar who had struck the knight. Then, beside himself, the big Georgian smashed out to right and left-flung his shield into the eyes of a foeman, and gripped his ax shaft with both hands. Grimly the Tatars closed in around him, until Sir John, seeing his peril, drove at them with raised shield and lowered point and cleared a little space.

"Back to back!" he shouted, and felt the straining shoulders of the axman against his own.

Now they were the center of a ring wherein the clatter and clang of steel sounded louder and swifter. Sir John heard Sonkor groan, and the thudding of steel blades into a human body.

Leaping aside, he swept his sword out and down, turning swiftly on his heels as he did so. Sonkor had vanished as a dog goes down among wolves. He himself was hemmed in, nearly carried from his feet. He felt his peril, and lowered his head behind his shield. Shortening his sword, bracing it against the shield's edge, he thrust suddenly between the men who had rushed in too eagerly to grasp him. Swords smashed in the steel links on his shoulders and thighs, and the glancing blow of an ax stripped the mail from his right arm.

Blood spurting from him, the crusader drove clear of the massed Tatars. Blood was in his mouth, and he felt that his helmet was gone. For an instant he saw the white palace against the deep blue of the sky. Then he turned and hewed at his foes, his battle shout roaring from his straining lungs.

Where the great sword struck, iron shattered and bones splintered. Men ran at him from the side, and he swept them down and sent their bodies sliding and clanking over the tiles.

"For the Cross!" he thundered.

Under the blow of a mace a bone snapped in his thigh and he staggered. The sky was red, all was red, seen through the drip of his own blood. His shield arm dangled, broken from his torn shoulder, and in his ears roared ever louder the cling and the clang, and the crash-

It ceased. The Tatars drew back from him, their weapons lowered. Through the red mist he watched them. And then he heard the high note of a horn, again and again. From among the Tatar warriors advanced the stout man in the cloak.

"My master-my master!" Sir John became aware that the interpreter was shouting at him. "Thou art saved. The khan hath spoken."

Reeling, the crusader steadied himself by leaning upon his sword.

"I'll have no mockery! Bid them make an end."

"'Tis ended. Hast thou forgotten? The great khan pledged life to the survivor of ye twain. Little thou knowest of the justice of Kublai Khan. I have seen stranger things-I, Marco Polo, who served him for eight long years-but never before hath a man wielded weapon in Cathay as thou hast done. That is why thou art spared. Put down thy sword!"

"Were thou Michael," Sir John gasped, "the archangel, and were that horn Gabriel's I'd not yield me."

Suddenly his head fell forward on his chest, and the Tatars exclaimed loudly. The crusader had lost consciousness, but a last effort of will had stiffened the muscles of his legs, so that he remained upright, propped against the broad hand guard of the sword, steadied by the weight of the dangling shield, as if indeed his limbs were iron.

And in front of the jade throne stone, below the feet of Kublai Khan, a woman knelt with bound hands, imploring to be heard.

Sir John woke slowly and for a space lay staring upward. Over his head shone a dim silver moon. It seemed strange to him that the moon should be under a peaked roof, until he reflected that it was really a lantern, and the roof was part of the bamboo kiosk where he had once met a leopard. He looked for the head of the dead man, but it was gone.

A gentle wind rustled through the cedars outside and stirred the rushes by the lake's shore. He could smell the water and the night air, and the fragrance of flowers. Bit by bit memory returned to him, but it all seemed unreal-that struggle on the terrace of Kublai Khan. Even the bed was different, and when he listened he caught a faint sound of breathing at his side. After awhile he turned his head to look.

Truly the light was dim, but surely a girl lay on the pallet beside him, wrapped in a gown of white floss silk, her face white under the silver lantern. By the mass of her dark hair and the curve of her parted lips he knew Thamar.

"I' faith," he thought, "I am dreaming two dreams at once, and the magicians of this place have laid a spell upon me."

So thinking, he tried to stretch out his left arm, and grunted with sudden pain. For a man with a broken thigh and arm cannot move without hurt. The girl stirred and sighed and rose from the bed. She went to a low table and drew a wet cloth from a porcelain bowl.

Kneeling beside him, her eyes heavy with sleep, she uttered a crooning sound and pressed the cold cloth against his forehead. Then she withdrew it and saw that he was awake. The cloth fell from her fingers and color flooded her cheeks.

"My lord-the fever hath left thee."

"Fever, or a dream, or witch work!" Sir John muttered. "I know not what. Why art thou here?"

Her head tossed angrily.

"Why? The great khan commanded that I be given thee, for-for a wife." Then her eyes turned aside swiftly, and she whispered. "Nay, thou must sleep."

She rose to her feet and reached up for the tasseled cord that hung from the lantern and pulled down the silver globe. Then the room was in darkness and he could no longer see Thamar. But his ears caught the sound of her breathing, swifter than before. For many moments he lay silent, because he was thinking and that was ever a matter of time with Sir John.