Warriors of the Steppes

by Harold Lamb

  I lifted my hand to my forehead and bent my head very slightly. I waited for him to speak my own tongue, as I knew not Persian. This he presently did.

  “Have you learned manners among the dogs, soldier," he cried harshly, “that you know not the courtesy due an ameer of the Mogul?"

  “Nay, Raja Man Singh," I made response, “I was bred in the camp of the great Mogul Akbar, on whom be peace. There I also was given rank—on the battlefield."

  His horse was moving restlessly, but he did not sit the less straight for this. He was a splendid horseman and a soldier among many. It surprised me that he had come alone to Khanjut. Later, however, the thought came to me that he was but just arrived from Jahangir s army and sought to look upon the strength of the fortress.

  “The greater shame to be a rebel now!" He cried with all the intolerance of his race.

  “Nay," I said again, “Shirzad Mir has been faithful to the Moguls before the barbarian Uzbeks set foot in Badakshan."

  He merely grunted, fingering his beard disdainfully.

  “Take me then to Shirzad Mir," he ordered, “since I come on a mission of truce."

  “Shirzad Mir bade me bring the message to him, not the messenger."

  “Dog!" he gritted his white teeth. “Am I one to exchange words with such as you? Tell your master that Jani Beg would speak with him. The Uzbek ameer will ride to this spot when the sun is at noon. He and I will be alone. Let Shirzad Mir come hither with one man—no more. We seek a parley, not war—at present. Let him come or not, as suits him. I care not."

  Wheeling his mount, the Rajput spurred away, raising a cloud of dust. He was a fearless man, although merciless.

  III

  It is the wisdom of God that no man can know the fate in store for him. It was our fate that we should not see the black cloud of peril rising over Khanjut, or the toils of the snare that closed about Shirzad Mir.

  My men gambled and ate and were happy thinking of insulting things to say to the Uzbek patrols that sometimes neared our walls, and I, also, would have been happy, but for Krishna Taya.

  I could not linger, yet I whispered a word of caution to Bihor Jan as I rode off with Shirzad Mir to meet with our foes.

  If the Rajput had not been with Jani Beg, we would not have gone. But the Rajput was a man of his word, as was Shirzad Mir.

  I was proud of my lord as he cantered to meet the other two. Jani Beg, who was there first, thought to impose a hardship on my lord by dismounting and sitting upon his cloak. Thus he hoped to make Shirzad Mir approach him on foot as an inferior in rank. Raja Man Singh, impatient of such pettishness, kept to his horse.

  But my master saw through the artifice. He cantered straight up to the sitting Uzbek and he did not dismount. He reined in his horse only when its hoofs were fair upon the silk cloak of Jani Beg. In spite of himself the Uzbek drew back and scowled.

  I turned my head to hide a smile and I saw the Rajput's beard twitch. He and Shirzad Mir greeted each other briefly. Jani Beg was made to look ridiculous, squatting beneath our horses' legs, so he rose and mounted, and I saw the pulse in his forehead beating. I, being inferior in rank, made the salaam from the saddle, which is not customary, yet I followed the example of Shirzad Mir and he cast me an approving glance.

  “We have come, Shirzad Mir," said Raja Man Singh, “to arrange certain terms between the Uzbeks and the rebels. Jani Beg desires to treat for the ransom of his son."

  The Uzbek chieftain looked darkly at the general of the Mogul. He would have liked better to play with words, but the Rajput was impatient.

  “We—" Jani Beg waved his lean hand toward the Rajput— “will offer you a continuation of the truce you desire if you will release Said Afzel and his personal followers."

  Again Shirzad Mir smiled.

  “Is the truce of our seeking, Jani Beg? Nay, you have chosen it. For my part, I shall not rest from fighting until Badakshan is free from invaders."

  “Then you will continue to rebel against the Mogul?"

  “Nay. Badakshan is part of the Mogul Empire. I fight only with Uzbeks."

  “Yet I and my men are serving the Mogul. And you see Raja Man Singh."

  Shirzad Mir did not smile this time.

  “Let the Rajput give heed to this," he said slowly. “Lies have been spoken against me in court, and I have taken up the sword of vengeance against the author of those lies. My quarrel is not with the Mogul. When the fighting is ended, he shall receive my allegiance."

  They were bold words, spoken by an outlawed chieftain with only a handful of hillmen opposed to the Uzbek Army, which possessed powder and artillery and was strengthened by a force of the invincible Rajput cavalry. I held my head high with pride and listened keenly. Jani Beg began to speak words of another color.

  “You have an ally, Shirzad Mir," he observed shrewdly, “a Ferang. You owe him much. Tell him, as ransom for my son, I will procure his pardon from Jahangir, who is at Kabul, and also an audience with Jahangir. Thus he may obtain the trade rights he seeks, for England."

  Truly, the guile of the Uzbek was great. If Shirzad Mir should refuse this offer, it must offend Sir Weyand. Should my master keep the offer secret from the Ferang, Jani Beg would find means of getting the news to the Englishman's ears. Yet both Shirzad Mir and I knew that it would not do to give up Said Afzel for a promise of Jani Beg.

  Shirzad Mir fingered his beard thoughtfully. Then he turned to the elegant figure of the Rajput.

  “Do you also pledge your word, Raja Man Singh," he asked courteously, “that this privilege will be granted the Ferang and that he will not be harmed?"

  Jani Beg had spoken cleverly. He knew that we could ill afford to lose the services of Sir Weyand, but the Rajput cherished the righteousness of his spoken pledge as a woman guards her honor.

  “Nay," he cried, “this is not my affair. I have no authority to give a promise for Jahangir. Settle the matter between yourselves."

  I pricked up ears at that, for it sounded as if the Rajput were not overfond of the Uzbek. Jani Beg had hinted that the two were as brothers. The Uzbek frowned slightly; then his brow cleared. He smiled with thick lips.

  “I will give up Balkh as ransom for my son."

  When he said that, I saw the Rajput's brows twitch in involuntary surprise. The thought came to me that Jani Beg was offering more than he intended to pay. Shirzad Mir was not one to be caught by such a trap.

  “Nay," he said pleasantly. “Does a falcon give up its perch to strut on the ground where are many wolves? Keep Balkh—if you can."

  By now Raja Man Singh was waxing restless. His handsome face was petulant.

  “Shiva—and Shiva!" he cried. “Name the rebel a price, Jani Beg. I am thirsty. Give him a camel-load of gold!"

  He lifted some grains of brown powder from a jeweled box that hung at his throat and placed them on his tongue. Jani Beg thought swiftly. He had no wish to exasperate the Rajput.

  “Two lakhs of rupees and twenty horses of Arabia—" he began, when Shirzad Mir broke in.

  “We have no need of such." He turned to the Rajput. “Give me twelve donkeys heavily loaded with powder and two others bearing camel-swivels, also twenty-four good matchlocks and as many braces of Turkish pistols, and you shall have Said Afzel."

  The Rajput seemed to be about to refuse. Powder and cannon— even such small pieces of brass—were beyond price in Badakshan, and I judge that the swivels belonged to Raja Man Singh himself. Sir Weyand had said that there were many in the Mogul's army, although the Uzbeks had them not.

  But Jani Beg cast him a glance.

  “It is well," the Uzbek said swiftly. “Two days we must have to make ready the things. We will then bring them to this place when the sun is at the same hour."

  “The beasts of burden must be driven by a half-dozen unarmed men on foot," bargained Shirzad Mir.

  “Aye. And Said Afzel must be unharmed."

  “Not a scratch will be on his skin. He shall be whole, although probably drunk, as is
his custom."

  So it was agreed. Jani Beg's party, including the beasts with the ransom, would ride to this spot in the plain. We would come forth to meet them. Then, while we still held Said Afzel and any who came to attend him, the men who drove the beasts would retire to the Uzbek lines. Then we would join Jani Beg's party and deliver the prisoner and they would ride away, leaving us the animals with their valuable burden.

  “I will come alone with Raja Man Singh," added Jani Beg. “And you will bring only Sir Weyand."

  Shirzad Mir was surprised and hesitated. I was angered that I should not accompany my lord, as was my hereditary right, but Jani Beg said smoothly that both he and the Rajput desired to look upon the Ferang, and Shirzad Mir assented, saying only that in case Said Afzel was drunk I should be allowed to escort his litter down to the meeting place and should remain ten spear lengths distant. He asked this because it was my right by custom.

  “Likewise—" and he looked at the Rajput, not at Jani Beg— “this thing shall be done in peace and the curse of God be on the man who sets hand to sword. I pledge this for myself and those with me."

  Then I noted that Jani Beg spoke swiftly before the Rajput.

  “Aye, we trust you, Shirzad Mir."

  Whereupon both wheeled their horses and made off. Not however, before I saw a gleam of satisfaction on the Uzbek's hawk-like face. For some secret reason he was well pleased with the bargain. The thought came to me that he was using the Rajput's honor as a shield and that Shirzad Mir had got too readily what he asked.

  Jani Beg glanced back shrewdly over his shoulder as he rode, but the Rajput, who was a fearless man, looked neither to right nor left. In spite of my foreboding, my heart swelled at the thought of possessing the powder and the brass cannon.

  “Eh, Abdul Dost," cried my lord, “we have strengthened mighty Khanjut at the price of an opium-guzzling animal."

  And think as I would, the bargain seemed safe to me, notwithstanding my distrust of Jani Beg. Sir Weyand and my lord would be alone with Jani Beg and the Rajput. If swords should, by chance, be drawn, the odds would be even and I should not be far distant. Men have said I am an excellent hand with the scimitar. Likewise, there was the honor of Raja Man Singh, who would not draw the first sword, although in a quarrel he would be forced to side with Jani Beg. As for Said Afzel, he could not lift a weapon.

  A change had come upon Sir Weyand. He fell moody and he seemed to avoid Shirzad Mir and me. Bihor Jan reported that he talked long and quietly with Krishna Taya and at other times walked by himself on the ramparts.

  This was not wonted, for, when himself, the Ferang was a merry man, although not fond of words. Once I asked him if the devil of illness had gripped him.

  “I know not what devil it is, Abdul Dost," he made reply. “There is a matter lies heavily on my mind. It is not always easy to settle what is right and what is wrong."

  He spoke with seeming frankness, yet the words had a strange ring. He turned on me suddenly.

  “Is it true, Abdul Dost, that Jani Beg offered to give me a safe conduct to Jahangir?"

  I started, for how could the news have come to him?

  “The words of Jani Beg are false as a wolf's whine," I replied after thinking upon the matter. “If he made an offer, he did not mean to keep it. When Shirzad Mir gives his pledge of friendship, he will abide by it."

  “I doubt it not!" he muttered. “It is long since I came to India, yet I am no nearer the ear of Jahangir than at first. I cannot forget my mission—"

  He broke off and walked away.

  There came Bihor Jan, on the Ferang's footsteps, and whispered to me in passing.

  “Rose Face is beloved."

  “Ho!" I was surprised “The Ferang?"

  “I know not. I have watched Said Afzel. The poet's eyes follow the girl when she walks by and there is a gleam in them. He plays to her on a guitar, lying at her side, and strokes the pearls of the necklace she wears. Sir Weyand likes it not. Why should he waste thought on the woman?"

  Perhaps Bihor Jan would have liked the necklace of pearls for himself. For many hours I considered the matter. The Ferang had known of the offer of Jani Beg, yet neither Shirzad Mir nor I had spoken of it.

  God has strengthened the walls of Khanjut. I did not think any spy of the Uzbeks had climbed within them, so the thought came to me that someone had known the offer was to be made. Perhaps Said Afzel, perhaps Krishna Taya and perhaps Sir Weyand.

  Here was a horse that would require grooming. I went to Sir Weyand and spoke what was on my mind. How was I to know that I blundered?

  “The girl distresses you, Sir Weyand," I said bluntly. “Why not give her to Said Afzel? Then she will have a master. It is true that you do not desire a slave."

  “Death's life, Abdul Dost!" he swore. “It is true." He fell silent. “That might be best. Krishna Taya must be cared for. I think Said Afzel is fond of her. She is no more than a child."

  I did not smile.

  So it came to pass that Krishna Taya consented to serve Said Afzel. She gathered up her belongings in a bundle and went to the dwelling of the Uzbek prince.

  Yet that night I found Sir Weyand walking moodily the length of her room, which was now empty as a year-old nightingale's nest. I think it was the first time he had been there. The room smelled of attar of rose, after the manner of a woman's apartment. I did not speak to him, for his face was not pleasant.

  Nevertheless, I considered it was well. Now that Krishna Taya was with the Uzbek, she would not bother Sir Weyand—nor would it be so easy for her to talk with him.

  I kept thinking of the meeting with Jani Beg which was to take place the next day. There seemed to be no danger. The plain before the castle was bare and no followers of the Uzbeks could approach the spot without being seen from the battlements. Since I was old enough to shoot an arrow at a stag, it was my task to safeguard the person of Shirzad Mir. I wearied my brains upon the matter of the meeting—without result. God had willed that I should not foresee what was to come to pass.

  Still, one thing I did see.

  The demon of unrest kept me awake that night and I walked the edge of the garden, past the stables and the door of Shirzad

  Mir. It was a still night and the splendor of the stars beat down on Khanjut. I harkened to the challenges of the sentries and the stamp of a hoof among the horses.

  Then I heard voices among the bare trees of the garden. For the space milk takes to boil I waited, holding my breath. Then I stepped softly nearer the voices.

  The Ferang and Krishna Taya were talking together. By staring for a long time I made out their forms against the gray stretch of a wall. They stood close and whispered.

  I heard Krishna Taya laugh and it sounded like the low murmur of a rivulet. Sir Weyand's voice came to me, harsh and urgent.

  “You must not do this thing, Rose Face," he said.

  Again I held my breath, but her whispered words were not clear. His reply was spoken in the swift, broken phrases of a man who is troubled by a great trouble. I caught the name of Shirzad Mir and bristled. Then—

  “You will come and be at my side when the time is near," she whispered wistfully after the fashion of a woman who has bound a man by the silken cord of love.

  “Aye, Rose Face."

  Sir Weyand had made a decision and it had cost him much. For a space the two forms by the gray wall merged together, and the thought came to me that he had kissed her before she sped away through the garden. Thereupon he turned and went to his own quarters.

  B’illah! If I had had her slim throat between my hands, I should have strangled her by the rope of pearls, for there had been pain and unwillingness in the voice of Sir Weyand, and this betokened ill to my lord.

  This thing I told to Shirzad Mir after the dawn prayer, and he laughed in his beard.

  “Of the servant who brings me food and of my foster brother, I might believe evil, Abdul Dost," he responded, “but not of Sir Weyand."

  Yet I marked a flush in th
e cheeks of the Rajput maiden that morning and heard her sing in the apartment of Said Afzel for the first time since she had come to Khanjut.

  What was I to do?

  Noon came, the hour we were to ride to meet Jani Beg. Bihor Jan told me with a grin that Said Afzel was wrapped in opium dreams and lay like a stricken pig.

  So, as this was my task, I had a litter brought, and the Afghan and I placed Said Afzel upon it. Then Krishna Taya, who watched, came and said that she also was to ride on the litter, as she would go with the Uzbek.

  I would not consent. I smelled evil in this, as a hound smells the trace of a hare. Striding to Shirzad Mir, I demanded angrily that Krishna Taya should not go. Sir Weyand, who was listening, spoke curtly.

  “It shall be as she wishes, Abdul Dost. Did not your master promise that any attendant of the prince might accompany him?"

  Shirzad Mir made me a careless sign to be about my business. He was not one to suspect treachery, yet the Ferang's eye had not met mine as he spoke.

  As I had been ordered, I did. I placed a Kashmir shawl over the frame of the litter where Krishna Taya sat by Said Afzel's head. This was to guard the two from the sun and from curious eyes.

  When it was time, I summoned Bihor Jan with seven others and accompanied them as they bore the litter from the castle across the courtyard and down the winding road to the plain.

  Out over the drawbridge the litter passed. When we reached the spot of the meeting, I bade the eight set down their burden. When Shirzad Mir and Sir Weyand rode from the castle gate, I ordered the bearers to retire to Khanjut.

  I sat moodily on the horse, watching the languid movement of Said Afzel's slippered feet—all that I could see of the poet—and thought blackly upon the danger to Shirzad Mir.

  When he and the Ferang gained my side, Shirzad Mir bade me withdraw ten spear-lengths toward Khanjut. This I did and when I turned at my new station, the Uzbek party came in view.

  Raja Man Singh, in all his finery, was leading with Jani Beg, who sat his horse in grim silence. Behind them came the cavalcade of donkeys ushered by four or five miserable slaves. The little beasts carried weighty packs. I caught the glitter of brass upon one.