by Harold Lamb
Once or twice the piebald wolf-chaser lifted his head and pricked his ears. Finally he whinnied, and Ayub grunted with satisfaction. The horse had heard or scented something.
"Ahai muslimin—" a wailing voice pierced the silence. "Ho, ye believers!"
And from the other side of them a second voice made response—
"Is it thou, Ismail?"
Leather creaked faintly near at hand and was echoed by a jangling of iron. Ayub and Stuart reined in and waited. They could see nothing in the drifting veil of white.
"Do not wander!"
A shout came from farther off, and then the silence remained unbroken. Ayub crossed himself on breast and forehead.
"Lost souls—spirits seeking for shelter," he muttered, "or those dog-born dogs of Nogais."
He noticed that the piebald went forward again more swiftly, and he wondered whether the charger were following the horses of the tribesmen. Then the cold crept into his limbs; the ache of hunger settled in his body. The best thing, he thought, was to let the horse go on.
When his bones pained him, and the cold settled in his old hurts, his thoughts turned to the tavern of Kudak and the delight of hot brandy.
"Tfu," he told himself, "all that fine wine of the tabor is being guzzled by these sons of Satan, and I did not even fill a flask. They'll find gold enough to cover their wives with necklaces, and not a ducat in my pouch. Devil fly away with them!"
The sky seemed lighter, and the snow had moderated. But it was not morning, because a silvery half-light filled the air. The clouds had broken away and the glow of the old moon had penetrated to the plain. By this dim radiance, through the thin veil of the storm, he saw that Stuart rode crouched in his saddle, his shoulders bent. The snow had drifted against the crupper and the officer's back, and had coated one side of the spotted horse. Stuart's cloth greatcoat was less protection than the sheepskin-lined svitza and the massive flesh of the Cossack.
"Eh," Ayub thought, "the lad is suffering, but he does not curse or berate me."
He drew up to the Scot, when the piebald horse turned sharply to one side and quickened its pace. Ahead of it something high and dark took shape through the drift—something shaped like a dome, coated white on one side.
Beside it the piebald halted, and Stuart laughed hoarsely.
"A haystack!"
Ayub tumbled out of his saddle and ran to the horses' heads, gripping their muzzles as well as he could in his numbed hands.
"Please to dismount, Little Father," he whispered. "Take the horses and don't let them whinny. Perhaps there is a hut near this stack. The men out here don't leave their hay in pastures."
While Stuart climbed down stiffly, Ayub swung his arms and beat his fists together until he could move his fingers. Then he disappeared into the gloom.
The Scot had his hands full with the horses, which were snorting and pushing up to the stack, and when he quieted them he heard Ayub's high pitched call.
"A-a-ay, Little Father. This wa—ay!"
Leading the horses, Stuart walked toward the sound, and made out what seemed to be a smaller haystack before him. It was a domed yurt, like the one he had lost, but with a rough shed and corral of twisted branches built against its protected side. He went around it until he reached the entrance flap. Ayub's voice came from within.
Looking under the lifted felt, he saw the big Cossack, sword in hand, shaking the snow off his svitza. The light came from the glowing embers of a fire in the sunken stone hearth beneath the central opening of the tent. The earth was covered with greasy carpets, and the place reeked of smoke and sour milk and leather. On the divan at the side crouched an old man who wore a stiff leather jacket with a horse's mane hanging from the shoulders, his shaven head covered by a green skullcap, and from under it his black eyes stared at the intruders without expression. A broadfaced, handsome girl was hanging a pot over the embers and putting on fresh dried dung from a pile in one corner.
"Nogais," Ayub said. "Warm yourself, Little Father, and don't let them run out, while I look around. That young lioness is heating up broth."
In the half hour that he was gone the two Tartars said not one word. The girl built up the fire until the mutton broth steamed, and from time to time when her back was to the old man, she stared intently at Stuart out of her slanting eyes. Her head was bound in a neat white kerchief, and her shoulders were weighted by strings of pierced silver coins of all kinds. Ayub came in with a gust of snow.
"Satan still has us in charge," he grunted. "Other yurts are near. I saw some tracks going toward them. Those dogs we heard yelping out yonder must have come in ahead of us, and our nags followed them. But this storm's a regular buran, and they won't stir out of their nests for awhile."
"Is this a Nogai village?"
"That's what it is." The Cossack went over to look at the woman's cupboard, where cheese cakes were hung in a leather bag, beside heavier sacks. "Mare's milk; kumiss, they call it," he explained, prodding a sack. He sniffed at a heavy clay jug. "Gorilka! Eh, thou grandfather, offer a greeting to thy guests!" He tipped up the jug and took several long swallows. "Allah kirbadizpartalouk! Allah protect your shadow!"
The old Nogai spat out one word.
"Caphar!"
Silently the girl brought out two porcelain bowls and filled them with broth, setting the cheese cakes between her unbidden guests. Ayub handed the jug to the officer.
The fiery spirits and the hot broth warmed them, and the Nogai woman filled the Cossack's bowl three times before setting the pot aside to cool. Stuart could eat but little, but the heat of the yurt brought on a drowsiness that he could not shake off.
"Stretch out and sleep," Ayub advised him. "I'll smoke my pipe and talk to the grandfather and his bride. I'll wake you after dawn."
Stuart loosened his belt, but kept his boots on, and he placed his sword and pistol by his right hand. Lying on the carpet of the divan, he watched Ayub light his clay pipe with an ember. The reek of the Cossack's tobacco mingled with the burning dung, and smoke eddied under the blackened dome of the yurt. But before the young officer's eyes passed the vista of the fight in the steppe—the winged hussars engulfed in the gray horse— the blood-streaked beard of the chancellor—Chort, kneeling with an arrow in his throat. And the wind buffeted the heavy folds of the felt near his head, as if the storm itself were striking at him.
All the next day the storm raged. The cold increased, until the small fire failed to warm the windswept yurt, and Ayub departed without explaining to Stuart why he went. The Scot heard him moving about in the corral, and at intervals a loud thump sounded. When at last he appeared he carried an armful of wood, and explained that he had found a supply near some distant yurts. He had seen no Tartars, and said they were all holed up like foxes.
Ayub had been tipping up the jug and helping out the gorilka with the fermented mare's milk. This combination made him restless and cheerful. When he had a roaring fire going, he went out again and returned with the frozen leg of a lamb on his shoulder.
"Nogais always hang them up, out of reach of the gray brothers."
The eyes of the old tribesman kindled for the first time when he saw so much meat, ready to be eaten without payment. It was a fat leg and tied to it was the massive tail of the sheep, with a half dozen pounds of fat in it. This was the prized portion of the sheep, and the Nogai gorged himself, when his visitors passed over the tail for the leaner meat, upon the greasy fat, until his leather jacket swelled visibly. Even when he belched he went on stuffing. Probably not for years had he tasted this delicacy, reserved for the distinguished or the richer men of the clan. He ate it all, and his girl wife dined after him on the broth.
When they had finished, Ayub filled two leather sacks with the mutton stew and took them outside to freeze. For the third time he vanished. The old Nogai was asleep after his debauch, and the girl was sitting quietly by the fire watching the officer. They had not been harmed, and they accepted the visitors with the fatalism of their race, tak
ing pains to hide their curiosity.
The light was failing, and Stuart went to the entrance to watch for the Cossack, half minded to truss up his hosts and go and look for Ayub, even though nothing was visible ten yards away.
But the big warrior showed up again, this time with a low kibitka in tow—a small cart on runners, the wheels removed. He lugged this up to the corral and swaggered into the yurt.
"We are ready for the road now, Little Father." He grinned. "I found the sled over in the village, and brought it out myself. We'll load the wood into the kibitka, with the sacks of mutton and some hay. Then, when the storm is over, before the first light, we'll harness up two of old grandfather's nags and saddle our horses and go before these devils in sheepskins are stirring."
"What about the two Tartars?"
"We'll take them, too. They'll sell for ten ducats in Kudak. Now, if we had some fresh gorilka—"
He glanced longingly back into the drifting snow, but Stuart spoke to him sharply.
"Ayub, is your head clear?"
"Ay, Sir Colonel!"
"Then stay here with these two. I'm going to look at the horses." At the entrance he paused to ask another question.
"If the storm lasts tonight, and stops tomorrow, in daylight—what then?"
The Cossack pondered, swaying a little as he warmed his shoulders at the fire.
"We'll have to trust to the horses again, ride like the devil."
Before the twilight ended Stuart inspected the commandeered sled and satisfied himself that the harness hanging in the Nogai's shed was sound. Then he busied himself loading the wood Ayub had confiscated into the kibitka, with the sacks of mutton. With a handful of hay he rubbed down the horses. This done, he made sure that the saddles were hanging on their pegs and that the chargers were well covered with felt blankets.
He knew that they had a chance to escape if the snow stopped before daylight, but if not—if the Nogais saw them riding off their chance was gone. Even if they could throw the warriors off their track by some miracle they could not cross the open plain without supplies. Strangely Ayub, who had been moody before there was any danger, was now heedless of what might happen. The jug, no doubt, kept him from worrying; but the nearness of his old enemies, and the fight in the steppe, had stirred his blood. Stuart had taken stock of the situation and had weighed their chances with the care of a man who is not disturbed by danger. That night he told Ayub that he would watch, and the Cossack was soon snoring on the divan across the fire from the Tartars.
From time to time the girl, as if accustomed to do so, woke and put more wood on the fire. Once, after listening to the snores of her aged master, she came close to the officer and smiled at him shyly.
"Caphar!" she whispered, but the word was approval rather than reproach.
The fire flickered up and by its light Stuart saw that the Nogai bride had not been idle during the last day. To the silver coins in her necklaces she had added two new gold pieces. And he wondered if in any way they had come from the treasure carried by the tabor. They were bright pieces of irregular shape, badly minted, and she glanced down at them proudly. He lifted one from her breast and inspected it. The inscription was Turk-ish—a sultan's seal.
"Othman?" he asked, and she nodded vigorously.
They had not come from the treasure of the Poles, but Stuart reflected that this girl could not have had them long. She seemed to value them immensely, and he did not understand why she had chosen to add them to her ornaments just then. She pointed at the snoring old man and held up three fingers. Evidently the Nogai had three similar coins. After a moment's thought, Stuart went to the divan and shook Ayub's knee.
1
It is still called the Crimea, a great peninsula containing some ten thousand square miles of land, connected with the mainland of modern Russia only by a neck some five miles wide. As late as 1800 this strip was still known as the Golden Gate, and it was narrower then than now.
The Cossack sprang up, his hand groping for his sword, and the girl would have fled had not Stuart caught her wrist.
"Ask her where the Turkish pieces came from. Nay, do not take them."
Ayub listened, his head bent down to the girl's white kerchief while she whispered rapidly.
"A man called Abd-al-Rahman brought much money, like this," he explained, "in the last moon. He gave with an open hand, and he rode a white Arabian horse, with a green saddle cloth, and he wore Tartar garments. But he came from Stamboul, the city of the sultan, to give the Tartars money."
"The man who carried the chancellor's head to the tabor rode a white
Arabian with a green saddle cloth, and he was richly dressed."
"Ahmak noticed that," the Cossack assented. "The girl said he gave the money because the great sultan loves the Tartars, and so Abd-al-Rah-man went with them to raid the Christians."
Stuart nodded. The Turks, then, were sending gold to the tribes even in Winter, and officers to lead them on raids. If they did that with the Nogais they would surely have envoys in the court of the Krim khan.
"Does the Nogai chieftain serve the khan of the Krim?" he asked, and Ayub pondered.
"Well, they fight over cattle, Little Father, and they have more feuds than a dog has fleas, but the Nogais go to war under the khan's standard."
He stared at Stuart and at the jug, wondering what had got into his officer. But the Scot, frowning, went to the entrance and looked out. Suddenly he swung around, shaking back the dark locks from his face, his gray eyes alight.
"Faith, Ayub, an omen. The stars are out!"
The Cossack ran to look for himself and then hastened to kick the old Nogai and pull on his gloves.
"Na kdn! —to horse."
The wind had not died down, and the cold was like flame touching their faces. Except to the south the sky was clear, and they harnessed the Tartar's ponies to the sled without delay, loading it up with bundles of hay. Among these bundles Ayub stowed the old man and the girl, wrapped in sheepskin robes. They made no effort to escape—in fact helped with the loading, since they had not expected that their lives would be spared.
Ayub saddled the two chargers, swearing under his breath when his fingers touched any metal. When he took the rein of the leading pony Stuart rode up to him.
"Make the Tartars show the road, or we will not get through the drifts." And when the Cossack would have started off, he checked him. "Nay, this way."
"But that is the south, Little Father, the way toward the sea."
"Aye."
"Down there is the Krim khan and his city. The outposts cannot be more than three days' ride."
"Aye, we are going to the khan."
Slowly Ayub shook his head.
"How, going? The ambassadors have turned up their toes—the gold is gone. Why should we go?"
"It is the order of the king. The others are slain, but we are free to go."
The Cossack swung his short whip in silence for a moment.
"Impossible to go on! The Krim warriors would make saddles out of the hides of unbelievers, unless they are ambassadors. And ambassadors always have papers and servants, and they make lying speeches. We can't do all that."
Stuart fumbled with a gloved hand under his coat and drew out a sheet of parchment that had been rolled and creased. When Ayub bent to peer at it in the starlight he saw closely written lines, and at the bottom a seal.
"That is from the hand of the king," Stuart explained, "and the order he gave me was to reach the court of the khan, at all costs."
Again the Cossack shook his head.
"Easier to keep a wolf out of sheep, than the Krim Tartars out of a war. Nay, 'tis not to be done."
Stuart put away the paper.
"In Kudak you said that two riders might get through where the detachment of Poles could not go. But I do not order you to go. Give me a horse and some food, and I will go on."
"May the devil take the king and all the Poles!" the Cossack groaned. "Impossible to abandon a comrade. Yo
u could not talk to the Krim, and they would take your head to put on a gatepost." He shook his own head gravely. "Little Father, I have seen men rush to embrace Death as if into the arms of a fair young woman, but I have never seen a man turn his rein toward the court of Satan."
Still muttering, he turned the head of the lead horse, and the sled creaked over the snow, past the distant black yurts of the Nogai encampment.
Chapter VI The Turks
Four days later they heard the roar of the sea. It was near sunset, although no sun could be seen. Mist rolled in from the water, among black outcroppings of rock; the snow lay only in pockets and in the steep gullies under waving brush. The ground reeked of mud and salt and damp, and the tired horses floundered over slush and stones. The clamor of waterfowl filled
the mist. The air, after the icy breath of the steppes, seemed hot.
They followed the narrow road that led along the shore, by fishing villages and shallow bays, until the throbbing of the surf diminished and the path led them beside what seemed to be a canal. Sometimes this strip of water narrowed until a horse almost could have leaped it, and at times it widened into reed-bordered lakes where herons passed silently overhead. The mist thinned away by degrees, and the outline of the land loomed dark against the gray sky.
The canal became straighter, its banks high and sheer. And on the far side uprose the level line of a wall. No human dwellings were visible on the wall and, although Ayub listened for the tramp of horses, nothing could be heard moving.
The old Tartar—Stuart had sent back the pair to their village with the sled when the road to the sea had been reached—had said that after they came out on the shore a ride of three hours would bring them to the gate of the Krim men. The deserted canal seemed to be the sea moat, but no gate was visible until darkness set in and the Cossack pointed out a glimmer of light ahead of them.
