They endured for several months. Wildflower turned fifteen, but it made no difference to their marriage; Ned could embrace her and kiss her and talk to her, but he could not be potent with her.
Then as fall came, things changed again. Ned was abruptly recalled to service. He suspected that he knew why: A refugee from the White Horde had arrived at Timur's court and told stories of how Malik was losing the support of his tribes. He had gained a reputation for debauchery. He lay abed until midmorning, delaying the main meal of the day, and no one dared disturb him. He was oppressive, and the people were weary of his rule. Many wished for the return of Toqtamish, who had had a better sense of the duties of a leader.
Ned kissed Wildflower. "You may yet be a princess again," he told her.
"Just keep safe, my love," she replied. "You are all I want."
That made him feel guilty again. She offered him so much, and he gave her only the semblance of a marriage. He rode to join Idiku Berlas at Signakhi, where Toqtamish was camped. He became a scout again, as Toqtamish marched north against Malik with troops provided by Timur. He had his own equipment, for each warrior had to provide himself with his own bow, thirty arrows, a quiver, and a shield. Armorers were at work, providing harnesses and shirts of mail. There was a spare horse for every two men, and a tent for every ten men. Each complement of ten had two spades, a pickaxe, a sickle, a saw, a hatchet, an awl, a hundred needles, thread, casting nets, and a big iron saucepan. Each chief gave a written undertaking, to assure that troops would arrive at a given rendezvous.
This time Toqtamish paid close attention to the counsel of Timur's military advisers. They caught Malik at his winter camp in the hills, and defeated him. Malik fled with the core of his followers, and Toqtamish ascended the throne without further opposition. He was at last khan of the White Horde.
They arrived at the capital city. The khan was not in the royal tent, but in a magnificently decorated pavilion, as was his custom every Friday after prayers. It was constructed of wooden rods covered with plaques of silver gilt, their bases inset with precious stones. Beside it a huge tent had been erected, its supporting columns gleaming. There were awnings of cotton and linen cloth, and it was carpeted with silken rugs. In the center was an immense couch made of inlaid wood whose planks were covered with a large rug. The khan and his principal wife would sit on cushions here when receiving visitors. But at the moment that couch was not in use.
Wildflower kissed Ned, suppressing her extreme nervousness. "I must leave you for a time," she said.
"Why? Am I not your husband?"
"It is a ceremonial thing. I will return to you as soon as I can."
"But we are about to see the khan."
"I must see him alone, my husband. Then he will send for you."
"This is not protocol."
She looked him in the eye. "Please, Ned."
Bemused, he yielded to her requirement. She walked to the entrance of the pavilion.
One of the guards stopped her. "No one enters the presence of the khan unannounced."
"I am his cousin, the Princess Wildflower. Announce me for a private audience."
"You are garbed as a common scullery maid."
"Look at me and tell me I am not a Mongol." She removed her kerchief to show her glossy black hair and dusky skin, and turned on the imperial visage. She had schooled herself in the way of a lowly peasant girl, but she had not forgotten her origin.
A guard went in to check. Soon he emerged, looking slightly dazed. "He will see you."
She brushed past him. Toqtamish was seated on his couch, alone, facing south. He was tall and handsome, as she remembered him, a man of her dead father's age. He did not move as she approached.
She stopped at the proper distance and dropped to her knees, bowing her head. Then she went down farther, into a full prostrate obeisance.
"Cousin, what is the meaning of this?" the khan demanded after a significant pause.
"My lord, you forbade me to marry the Christian. I disobeyed. I have come to receive my just punishment. You may slay me now for my insolence."
"You have nerve, Cousin. I thought you would not tell me."
"I am of your blood. Courage runs in the family."
"Get up from the floor, you scoundrel."
She got slowly to her feet. She put her hands to her neck and pulled out the collar, baring somewhat more than her neck for his gaze. "Here is my neck for your blade."
He ignored that. "Why? Why did you bring this shame on the family?"
"I love him."
"That is not enough. A royal Mongol does not allow love to interfere with expediency. Why did you do it?"
"His family saved my life, after I was ravished. Now they are being persecuted. They must have protection."
"So he prevailed on you to marry him?"
"No, Lord. He did not want to marry me. I prevailed on him, using this argument."
"Not good enough. No man would not want to marry a Mongol princess. Why did you do it?"
He had asked her three times. Now she had to give her most genuine reason. "I want you to give him a good position. One fitting a royal relative."
"A position! For a miscreant Christian?"
She remained silent, eyes downcast, in what she hoped was the picture of maidenly innocence and disappointment.
The khan let her remain that way for a number of heartbeats, then relented. "Oh, stop it! You know I'm not going to kill you. Your mother was always my favorite cousin, and you do take after her, even in your mischief."
She raised her eyes. "Thank you, Lord."
"I will do it. But you must pay me, as your mother would."
"Anything, Lord." She didn't mind that her tears of relief and gratitude showed. He could indeed have killed her, despite his protestation. But it had been a gamble she had to take.
"Tell me your darkest secret."
And she had to do it, according to the private protocol between them. Her mother had told her of the secret games that she and Toqtamish had played as children, and the minor yet sacred trysts they had kept. They had been ready to deceive anyone else, but never each other. "My husband is impotent with me."
"Impotent! How can this be?"
"He sees me as his sister."
The khan shook his head. "The man's an idiot."
"No, Lord. He is a genius. And a man of honor. That is part of why I love him. He just isn't very smart about women."
"True words!" The khan rose from his couch and came across to embrace her. "Were you not my cousin, I would make you my choicest wife, you delightful creature. How well you understand our nuances. We will not speak of the substance of this dialogue elsewhere." That was part of the protocol; her mother had told her of the games, but not revealed any actual secrets. "Send him in."
"Thank you, Cousin!"
She started to back away, but he stopped her with a gesture. "If you are to be married to the lout, it must be by a proper Moslem ceremony. He must not remain a Christian. I trust you informed him of this?"
"I saw no point, Lord."
Toqtamish glowered. "No point! No Moslem woman can marry out of the faith, and it would be intolerable for a princess to take up with an infidel. You know this. How could you neglect such a requirement?"
"There was no point, if I was going to die before consummation," she explained.
He gazed at her for a time. "You gambled heavily, Cousin."
"Sometimes one must gamble, if one is to win."
He nodded. "And suppose he refuses to convert?"
"I will persuade him," she said.
"If you can't persuade him to plumb you, how can you hope to persuade him to do something important? Christians can be obstinate."
"I will do it," she said, hoping it was so.
"Your daring compels my admiration, Cousin. You say he really has not penetrated you?"
She blushed. "I'm sure he will, in time. He wants to."
"Of course he wants to, you beautiful siren! But he hasn't."
"He hasn't, yet," she agreed.
"So you remain pristine for the wedding."
That was another awkward point. "Not exactly. I—"
"Do not speak of the past. No one here knows of it. You are pristine."
"If you say so, Lord." It was true that no one in this court would speak of what the khan decreed unspeakable. She was now legally virginal, as a Mongol princess should be. Actually Mongols considered fifteen to be a suitable age for a girl to marry, but she was acceptable for sexual congress from age ten on. So most brides were well experienced by the time they married, albeit only with the men they married. So the khan was holding her, as a princess, to a higher standard than usual, officially. So that no one would dare whisper of her shame of getting raped.
"So you must remain aloof from him until the wedding, so that there will be no risk of scandal. Go into seclusion."
"But I must persuade him!"
"I will do that."
She was startled. "You, Lord? But—"
He frowned. "You doubt my ability?"
She paused, to phrase her response carefully. She could afford neither to insult him nor to trust him too far. "I fear your ability, Lord."
"Don't. I will accomplish it without bloodshed."
She remained wary. "If he dies—"
"He will not."
"If you threaten him—"
"I will not threaten him. I will merely reason with him. You say he is smart. He will appreciate my point."
That seemed tight. This was more than she had hoped for. No reprisal against Ned, and a formal royal wedding! She bowed her head. "Thank you, Lord."
"And if he does not consummate that marriage promptly, he will be executed for treason."
She stared at him in horror, discovering the loophole in her deal. She had not protected Ned after the wedding. "My Lord—"
Then he smiled, to a degree. "My little joke."
But she wasn't sure it was. Her cousin sometimes delighted in unusual cruelty. "Lord, the hour after he dies, so do I." Then, after a pause, she smiled, emulating his smile exactly. "My joke, too." Perhaps that would be enough to dissuade Toqtamish. If not, she would make good her threat, on schedule.
He snapped his fingers. A woman appeared at the east side of the tent. Wildflower went to the woman, and followed her silently out a side exit.
Ned saw a guard emerge from the royal pavilion. The man beckoned. "What happened in there?" Ned asked. "Where is my wife?"
"The khan has granted you an audience. Leave your weapons here."
Perplexed, Ned stripped himself of sword and dagger, setting them on the ground to his left. "As you wish." He approached the door, and the guards let him pass.
The khan was seated on his couch, resplendent in royal robes.
Ned stopped at a suitable distance from the couch and bowed his head, waiting to be addressed.
"Who are you?"
"Lord, I am Ned, of the family of Sam, a sometime scout in the service of Timur." It was clear that Toqtamish did not recognize him as the one who had found him by the river. Ned was just one of thousands the khan had routinely dealt with.
"My cousin tells me she married you, according to Christian rite."
"Yes, Lord."
"She tells me you are a man of honor."
"Yes, Lord."
"She required me to give you a position."
"I did not ask for this, Lord."
"Will you serve me with absolute loyalty?"
"If you require it, Lord. So long as it does not conflict with my personal code of honor or my prior loyalty to Timur, whom I would never treat treacherously."
"I do require it."
"Then I hereby give you my oath."
"How can you be of best use to me?"
Ned hesitated. "It is not for me to say, Lord."
"Is this how you honor your recent oath of loyalty?"
"I fear giving offense."
"Then brave your fear."
He had to answer with candor. "Lord, I believe I could give you better military advice than you have had before."
"How so?"
"You have suffered military reverses, so that Timur found it necessary to aid you. I know something of military strategy."
"A Christian architect? What could you know of military matters?"
"A military architect, Lord. I have had some experience advising a military leader. I believe I could improve your defense—and your offense."
"I have experts for these things—men who have trained all their lives. You must be a relative amateur. You feel you know better than they?"
"I mean no offense, Lord, but it is possible that they are too set in conventional ways. I have studied some of the campaigns of Timur. He is a military genius. He seldom does what others expect, and so he brings them down."
Toqtamish was thoughtful. "He does have the touch. He may have lost some battles early in his career, but he suffers reverses now only when a general goes counter to orders and botches it. He has certainly helped me."
"Yes, Lord. If you could follow similar strategies, you should be similarly successful—without requiring his help."
"Without again requiring his help," Toqtamish said. "This has considerable appeal."
Ned was silent, realizing that the comment was not an invitation to speak further.
"How is it that you did not try to remind me of what you did for me at Syr Darya?"
Ned was startled. "I did not think you remembered, Lord."
"I told you I would remember. I do not encounter many Christians who are not seeking my blood. Did you doubt my word?"
"Oh, no, Lord! But it was hardly my place to seek favors for doing my duty."
"Your duty may have saved my life. You brought a party to my rescue when the enemy was about to catch me. Now my cousin swears by you. These are good recommendations."
Ned was silent. Now he understood that the khan had had reason to interview him, and to trust him. Otherwise Ned might never have made it to the city. It would have been easy for the khan to have a party kill him on the way, rendering his marriage to Wildflower academic.
"That cross you wear—I remembered that, of course. Is it true that the cross is a symbol of the manner your religious leader was tortured to death?"
Ned thought it best not to argue theology. "It is true, Lord."
"He must have been a brave man."
"We consider him so. He remained true to his way despite all his enemies could do."
Toqtamish nodded approvingly. "We Mongols value courage. What is the distinction between your brand of Christianity and the variety the Byzantines practice?"
"It is somewhat technical, Lord. You may not be interested—" He broke off, seeing the khan's glance of irritation. "I apologize for presuming, Lord. The Byzantines believe that Jesus Christ was either the son of God—that is, Allah—or God Himself. Nestorians believe that Jesus was mortal, and experienced life fully in the manner of a human man. But he also partook of the Godhead, being vested with that eternal spirit. Thus his mother Mary was not the mother of God, but of the man in which God manifested. Jesus died, but God of course continued."
"Just as Mohammed, the prophet of Allah, died, but Allah remains eternal."
"Yes, Lord." Again, it seemed better not to quibble.
"And for that trifling theological distinction, the Christian pope banished your sect as heretical?"
"Yes, Lord."
"It is similar with Moslem sects. I think politics occur within religion as well as outside it."
"Yes, Lord."
The khan came to a decision. "I will give you a try. Now understand, I can't give you an official position, because you are a Christian. My ancestors were indifferent to religion, but the people here are Moslem, and it would foment dissension in the ranks. I may privately find it a nuisance, but I have to acknowledge the passions of the people. Have you a way around that?"
"I agree, Lord. I shall be satisfied if you listen to what I have to say, and give my notions what trial you deem fair. I need no official position. Could you make me your body servant?"
"To tend my clothing? To dump my chamber pot? These functions are fulfilled by slaves, not free men! Wildflower would never forgive me for demeaning her husband so."
"Maybe if you put a better title on it. Chief valet, perhaps. To ensure that your slaves do not err, perhaps causing you embarrassment. Then we could converse at your convenience, and you can send me away when you tire of me."
"I will try it. But understand this: if your advice puts me into difficulty, I will banish you to another city."
"Of course, Lord."
"One other detail. You will have to convert to Islam."
Ned was amazed. "Lord, I thought you accepted me as adviser as I am."
"Yes. As adviser. But not to marry my cousin. A Moslem woman may not marry outside the true faith."
"But we are already married!"
Toqtamish stroked his beard. "That does complicate it. Then I shall have to execute her for violating the word of the prophet. That will free you from that awkwardness, so you can serve me as a Christian. Too bad; I rather like her."
Ned realized that he was being put to a test. "If one of us must die, it should be me. Wildflower is blameless."
"No, I need you. You did not violate your honor; she violated hers. So it must be her."
Was the khan bluffing? Ned was much afraid he wasn't. The Mongols were famous for solving problems with brutal efficiency. Wildflower could indeed die. "I will convert."
Toqtamish pulled on a cord, not even acknowledging his victory. Ned heard nothing, but in a moment a commander appeared. "I am appointing this man chief of my personal arrangements. He will be with me often, and will have complete freedom of my presence. If he speaks to you with a message from me, honor it."
The man nodded respectfully, and backed away. It would be done.
"Have you any questions?"
"Lord, I know little of royal Mongol attire, let alone the requirements of the Moslem faith. If there could be someone to instruct me, at first—"
"It will be done. Anything else?"
"No, Lord. I shall be happy to rejoin my wife now."
"That is not possible."
Ned stared at the khan, not knowing what to make of this.
Toqtamish smiled. "No, nothing has happened to her. Nothing will. She must be married according to Moslem rites. She has therefore gone into seclusion until the wedding. You will see her then."
Ned realized that any protest would be dangerous. He nodded.
The khan snapped his fingers. A servant appeared. "Conduct this man to my apartment and see to his comfort."
The servant nodded, and waited for Ned. Ned bowed again to the khan and backed away. When the khan averted his gaze, tacitly recognizing that the visitor was now beyond his awareness, Ned crossed to the servant, and followed him out the back. He wasn't sure what would happen to his sword and dagger, but knew that they would be attended to.
The servant brought him to an elegant tent suite in the city. The Mongols simply didn't use buildings the way others did; they were always ready to move on at short notice. But that did not mean that the royal ones suffered privation. This tent was the virtual equivalent of a palace wing. "Sahara will see to your needs," he said, turning away.
A strikingly lovely young woman of Mongol stock appeared. "You are the new valet?" she inquired in a dulcet tone.
"Yes. You are Sahara? I will need instruction in that office, and in the Moslem faith." Ned remained bemused at his sudden conversion, but with Wildflower's life at stake he had had no choice. Now he would have to follow through, for he would not cheat in this, however forced the decision had been.
"First you must dress appropriately. The khan must not be seen in the company of a peasant."
"These clothes are all I have with me."
"I will attend to it. This way."
He followed her through several corridors walled off by hanging carpets and tapestries until they came to a huge bronze tub decorated with the stylized Mongol representations of predators and birds of prey. Ned looked into the hot water, uncertain where to go next.
"This is for you," Sahara said. "I will take your old robes."
"But this—this must be the khan's bath," he protested.
"It is. So you had better be finished before he returns."
"But I can't use his bath!"
She eyed him. "I suppose I could wash you standing beside it, but that would not be as effective. I prefer to wash you in it."
"Wash me in it!" he exclaimed. "I don't want you present."
"Khan's orders," she said. "It would not be wise to evade them."
"You're sure? That he wants this?"
"Quite sure, Lord Valet."
Still he hesitated. "Who are you? I mean, what is your position?"
"I am one of the wider pool of women who serve the khan in whatever manner he wishes."
"A concubine?"
She frowned. "Unfortunately, I did not achieve that honor. I am a dancer who learned the necessary arts, but was chosen for other purposes. But I am glad to serve in whatever other manner he chooses. Now he has decreed that I prepare you and instruct you in the rudiments of the position to which you have been appointed."
"Rudiments? I should learn it properly."
"There is no need. His regular staff will attend to it."
"But—"
"You are of course aware that you hold this position in name only. The khan wishes merely to converse with you when he finds it convenient."
Evidently the instructions had been a good deal more detailed than had seemed possible. "Then I must trust you to guide me correctly. But is it really necessary that you attend to me in this particular fashion?"
"Yes."
It occurred to him that the khan was testing him. Did the Mongol want him to be diverted by this comely woman, and change his mind about remarrying Wildflower? That would be a convenient way to salvage a princess from marriage to an infidel. But the very notion of hurting Wildflower that way appalled him. So he would brave the khan's temptation and remain true.
He stripped his clothing efficiently and stepped into the huge bath. He had to admit it was a pleasure, for he was grimy from travel, and unlike many, he did prefer cleanliness. It was probably a legacy of Flo's attitude in that respect. He sank into the water, reveling in its comfort. There was a broad stone bench set at a level to allow him to sit with the water up to his chest.
Sahara disappeared with his old clothing, then reappeared with what looked like a costly robe. She set this on a counter. Then she stood before the bath and began to remove her own clothing.
Ned was about to ask her what she was doing, but feared she would give an honest answer, so stifled it. He proceeded to wash himself, staying mostly submerged.
Sahara stood directly before him, stripping to the waist so that her large and well formed breasts were prominent. Then she stripped the rest of the way, and turned around so that he could see every part of her. He looked, determined not to give her or the khan the satisfaction of making him retreat, figuratively. She was as appealing a figure of a woman as he had ever seen. Even Wona had not been this generously endowed. The khan was certainly able to get the best.
"Now I will wash you," she said, and stepped into the bath with him.
How far would she take it? Just as far as he allowed, he suspected. So he tried to ignore the provocation and act as if this were routine.
She stopped before him, her breasts floating. She reached out and massaged his shoulders and neck. Her touch was expert, and the sensation was wonderful. Then she moved around behind him and went over his back.
"You know your business," he murmured.
"Yes." She drew herself close to him so that her slick soft breasts pressed against his back, and reached around to massage his chest. She lifted her legs and sat behind him on the bench, her firm thighs embracing his hips.
Ned had controlled his reactions somewhat up till now, but this contact overwhelmed him, and he was suddenly fully aroused. Fortunately the water concealed his state.
Her hands worked down to massage his belly. He remained still and silent, determined not to protest.
Then her hands found his member, and grasped it with authority. Now there was no secret; she knew what she had accomplished. "Would you like to face me?" she inquired in his ear. "I will do whatever you wish."
"I wish simply to finish this bath and get dressed." It required effort to keep his voice level.
"Would you prefer to have me on a bed? I serve completely at your convenience."
"I am a married man. I prefer to be only with my wife, in that manner."
"Your wife is surely fortunate." She finished washing him, and allowed him to emerge from the bath. His erection had not diminished, but she took no further note of it as she used towels to dry him. He had either passed a test—or failed it.
The robe was quite warm and comfortable. Sahara tied his belt and brushed out his hair, making him presentable. Just in time, for now the khan arrived.
The woman disappeared. Ned, uncertain what to do, followed his best judgment. "Lord, may I help you with your clothing?"
"Don't bother. The staff already knows you are to be my companion, not a servant. Only in public will you stand ready to carry my coat."
"I hope I can live up to your expectation."
The khan led the way through a bewildering maze of interconnecting carpeted corridors and tents until they came to another pavilion. "Now we shall eat." Without seeming signal, servitors arrived with steaming platters. The khan indicated the table where they were being set. "You will sit always at the foot. In public you will sample my food first, but in private don't bother. I have many guards against poisoning."
"As you wish, Lord."
"The title—only in public. Likewise speech: You need not wait to be spoken to. If there are things you feel I should know, mention them, and I will decline if I wish."
Ned experimented. "This seems like unusual favor for a stranger whose presence is imposed by the whim of a willful girl."
Toqtamish laughed. "I think I like you already. I tell you privately: I was close to Wildflower's mother, who did me many favors, and I was sorely grieved by her death. Her daughter favors her, as I remember her as we both emerged from childhood, and I can deny her nothing within reason. Both seem to have had good judgment in people."
"My family felt that Wildflower was a good match for me. They are surely correct."
"Ah—so it was an arranged liaison."
"To a degree."
"You have reservations?"
Ned hesitated, and caught a sharp look from the khan. "I dislike the notion of marrying for social or political advantage, but I seem to be guilty of it. I am here because of it."
"But my cousin surely loves you."
"She is fifteen. Love comes readily to that age."
"This interests me. A lovely young princess throws herself at you, and you hesitate?"
"I hesitate to use her for commercial purpose. I respect her too much for that."
"I have one chief wife, a dozen secondary wives, and I have lost count of the number of concubines. All of them came to me for political or commercial advantage. I have no problem with it, so long as they are beautiful, accommodating, and loyal."
"You are the khan."
Toqtamish nodded. "A fair answer. Why did you not take Sahara?"
Ned had seen no dialogue between the woman and the khan, yet clearly the khan knew what had happened. "I am married."
"She knows that. She would be discreet."
"I would die before I would be false to my wife."
"You could have Sahara as a second wife."
Ned felt a chill. This was potentially considerable mischief. "Is this your desire?"
"Is it yours?"
This remained treacherous ground. "I mean no affront to your hospitality or to the charms of Sahara, who tempted me sorely. But a Christian takes only one wife."
"You are no longer a Christian."
Ned had lost track of that, in the welter of new impressions. "True. Though as yet I know too little of my new faith."
"Sahara will instruct you. She is well versed in scripture and protocol. By Moslem law and custom, you are not yet married to Wildflower."
"By Christian law and custom I was married to her, and my loyalty to her remains. I would not hurt her for anything."
"Neither would I. That is one reason you are here, instead of without your head." The khan made a gesture, indicating that the matter was of little consequence. "But you must marry her by Moslem custom, if you are to have royal favor."
"I am prepared to do that. Once I have mastered the requirements."
"She made a sacrifice, indulging your Christian ritual. She knew she was agreeing to prostitute herself. But for you, she was willing."
"She is no prostitute!"
"I speak figuratively. She is a princess. But Mongol passions run strong." Toqtamish shrugged. "Speak to me of strategy."
Ned did not question this abrupt change. He plunged in. "You have recently won your kingdom, because of the help of Timur. If you could organize and fight as he does, you could greatly magnify your domain."
The khan's interest quickened. "How so?"
"To your west is the khanate of Kipchak, the Golden Horde, whose domain is greater than yours. You can make it yours, if you act expediently, thus reunifying the territory of your forebears."
"I am not so great a fool as to tackle a superior army. The territory would be unified at my expense, and my head would top a pyramid of heads of my family and supporters." He smiled grimly. "I have had some experience against superior armies, as you know."
"The key term is expediency," Ned clarified. "There is a time to wait, and a time to act. I believe that you have an opportunity now that will be lost if you delay. The Golden Horde is struggling to quell the revolt of its Russian vassals. Khan Mamai has his hands full at the moment."
"Mamai is a Mongol and a kinsman."
"So were the chiefs you vanquished in order to assume your present position."
"I see you do understand politics. But Mamai is more competent than those who governed the White Horde."
"He can defeat the Russians. He can defeat the White Horde. He can not defeat Timur. He can not defeat any combination of those forces. If you move against him now, coordinating with the Russians, you can prevail. But you must be careful. You must make certain that Timur approves your effort. You must never cross Timur."
"Because he is my benefactor."
"Yes. And because he is matchless in the field."
"I see we understand each other. Even so, the resources of the Golden Horde are greater than mine."
"Yes. You must not meet it directly in battle, yet. You must have patience, and wear it down, while the Russians continue to distract it. You must have military forces that are responsive in the manner of Timur's forces. You must practice the art of strategic retreat, though it may look like cowardice."
"I am no coward!"
"Neither was Genghis Khan. He was master of strategic retreat. When his enemies thought they had prevailed, and lost their formation, he turned and destroyed them. He did not care what they thought at the time; he made them fools."
"I like the way you think. We will speak more of this at another hour." Toqtamish snapped his fingers, and in a moment an extremely comely young woman appeared, evidently a concubine.
"I should depart," Ned said.
The khan didn't answer. A hand touched Ned's elbow, making him jump. It was Sahara.
He followed her back to the bath, and beyond it to a separate chamber. "This will be yours for the duration. Take your ease, but if this bell rings, report immediately to the khan's chamber." She gave him a sharp glance. "Immediately."
"I understand." He had seen how quickly others had responded. If he was in dishabille, he would have to repair it as he could on the run.
"And for anything you require, I will serve. Do you prefer me with you, or in my own chamber?"
"Where is your chamber?"
She indicated a smaller one opening onto his from the east. Mongol women were always on the east, and the men on the west. "I will always be at your service, in any way you desire."
He was getting on top of this situation. "You understand, Sahara, that though I find you desirable, I do not wish to use you in any way other than ordinary. I am married."
"I understand."
"Then retire to your own chamber. But if you feel there is something of which I should be advised—"
"Of course." She hesitated. "May I comment?"
"Yes."
"I think Wildflower is marrying well." Then she turned and entered her chamber.
Ned found himself quite pleased by her flattery. It meant that she appreciated his forbearance. She had to accommodate him in any way he wished, but understood his stance. Perhaps she had a man of her own, for whom she preferred to reserve her favors, if given a choice.
But in a moment she emerged. "It is time for the ablution."
"The what?"
"We Moslems pray to Allah five times a day."
Now he made the connection. "Of course."
She showed him the ritual posture, wherein each person of the true faith bowed in the direction of Mecca, the Moslem holy city, getting down on knees and hands, touching the head to the ground. He had seen it done, but it was different actually doing it. But the physical forms were the simplest to follow; it was the intellectual forms he considered to be the challenge.
Thereafter there were many conferences, and the khan seemed to be increasingly influenced by what Ned had to say. He formulated careful plans for a sustained campaign against the Golden Horde, but did not announce them. Now was the time for quiet preparations, the training of good officers and good troops, and the acquisition of accurate information on the disposition of the enemy.
Betweentimes, Sahara acquainted him with the intellectual aspects of the Moslem faith and practice. She took him to elders of the faith, who explained the nuances and showed him the sacred texts. Ned found himself enjoying this. He loved to learn, and there was much to learn here. Much of the Moslem faith was similar to the Christian faith, for both derived from the foundation of Judaism. But while the Christians believed Jesus Christ to be the Savior, the Moslems believed him to be merely another prophet, while Mohammed was the true prophet. Thus Ned did not have to renounce his faith, merely amend it.
Then came the day for Ned's Moslem wedding. It was to be a royal ceremony, with full honors. Ned hesitated to demur, though he would have preferred something less conspicuous. He just wanted to get back together with Wildflower, for he felt most comfortable with her.
The bell sounded. Ned hastened, half-dressed, to attend the khan. The man was lying comfortably amidst the fair nude torsos of several concubines, but seemed to take no note of them. "Something I thought you should know," he said without preamble. "Wildflower offered her life on your behalf."
"But she had no need to—"
"Ah, but she did. I had forbidden her to marry you. She disobeyed me, then came to pay the penalty."
"But she indicated to us that you had acceded!"
The khan nodded. "She truly loves you, Ned. When I intimated that I might have you killed, she intimated that she would die the hour after you did. She is a Mongol; she was not bluffing. So I made the best of it, and gave you the chance to prove yourself. You have done so. But you owe it to her. Remember that."
"I shall." Indeed, Ned was shaken. He had had no idea that Wildflower had done such a thing.
The khan waved him away, then slapped the bare bottom closest to his hand. The woman stirred, more than ready to do his business.
Sahara was waiting to complete his dressing. "You look dismayed. He told you?"
"Yes. I never suspected."
"My instruction was to ascertain whether you were potent. I don't see how there could have been any doubt."
She had misunderstood, but this was also relevant. "The khan thought I might be impotent?" Had Wildflower told?
"I think he just wanted to be sure. Some men are not partial to women. It would be extremely awkward to have such a man marry into the family."
"I thought he wanted to wean me away from my wife."
She shrugged. "That too, perhaps. But I think he was not disappointed when I failed."
"Did you really try?"
"There was no need, once I had fulfilled my mission."
That explained why she had let him be, after he had turned her down. Her instructions had been limited. He was relieved; he wasn't sure how long he could have held out, had she persisted. "And you would have married me, as a second wife, had I been inclined?"
"Yes, of course."
"Have you no life, no wishes of your own, apart from the will of the khan?"
"No."
"What, none?"
She smiled wistfully. "I hope that some day he marries me to a noble who will value me as you value your wife, and who will be as true to me as you are to her. To love and be loved, as it is with you. But Allah's will be done."
Suddenly he felt affection for her. She was a human being, rather than a mere body. And perhaps she could be of real use to him. "Sahara, may I confide in you?"
"You may do what you like with me, as always."
"No. Not by order of the khan. This must be by your own choice."
She looked alarmed. "Please do not say anything treasonable. I would have to report it, and we both would suffer."
"No, nothing like that. I have a personal question you might help me with. But I ask for your confidence, in the manner of a friend, if you feel any friendship for me."
"I am a creature of the khan's. I—" Then her expression changed, and her eyes became bright. She had been sorely flattered. "I would not have minded marrying you, though you be Christian. You are a fine and brilliant man. But I am glad I could not sully your love for your wife. I will be your friend, to the extent I am able. What do you wish of me?"
"The reason the khan tested my potency is because I was impotent with my wife. I love her, but she is too much like my sister."
Her mouth formed an O of astonishment. "I never suspected! You were so virile. Yet you resisted me."
"It was difficult. Extremely difficult. But what I want more than anything else is to be potent with her. I know she is not my sister, and that she is worthy. But what I could do with you, I can't with her. Can you help me?"
She laughed. "It is an irony, that I must enable a man like you to be potent with another woman. But there is lore. Sometimes with political marriages, when the woman is unattractive, or when a husband is troubled and unable to do what he wishes to—there are love-herbs. I can give you one that would make you potent with your own grandmother, for an hour. You must take it an hour before the need."
"I think that is what I must have. You are sure of it?"
"Oh, yes. Had I put that in your food, you would have plunged me raw, regardless of your aversion."
"Thank you for not doing that."
"Thank the khan, that he did not direct me to." She fished in a hidden pocket and brought out a tiny silk pouch.
"You keep it with you?"
"I must always be ready to do the khan's bidding, whatever its nature. But have no concern; had I used it on you, the test would not have been valid. Your potency would not have been natural. In any event, there was no need. Your potency was quite evident."
To be sure. "How do I take this?"
"In your wine, or water, or food; it does not matter. But make sure that she will be with you, because you will be in pain if she is not."
"In pain?"
"Your urgency will become unendurable in the second hour after you take it, so that you will grasp whatever offers, even if you must rape the scullery maid. You would not like that, for she is twice your age, and ugly as a toad."
"I will make sure to be with my wife. You mentioned an hour of potency; what happens after that?"
"The body becomes exhausted with the savagery of repeated indulgences, and sinks into sexual lethargy. You will not be able to achieve potency for the following twelve hours, and thereafter only with effort. So the love-herb is not wise to take unless you really require it."
Ned thought of something else. "Does this love-herb work on women too?"
"Oh, yes! That is how it is usually used. There are no reluctant maidens in the khan's palace, unless they have the wit to avoid the wrong foods or drinks. Or the wit to flee to the nearest frigid pool the moment they feel the first surge of lust." She smiled. "Sometimes several lovely girls dive mysteriously into icy water at odd hours, occasionally in their dresses. No one professes to know why."
Ned laughed. "Has that ever been the case with you, Sahara?"
"Yes. I can speak for the power of the love-herb."
"The bath you shared with me was hot."
She smiled. "I would have needed no herb with you, Ned. It would have been a pleasure."
"And if I should take the herb, and then through some foul mischance not be able to be with Wildflower for that hour?"
"Then come to me, Ned, quickly, and I will abate your ardor and keep your secret, as a friend would."
He tucked the bag into his own pocket. "Thank you, Sahara; this is exactly what I needed."
"She will surely be most pleased, for an hour, and then rather tired," she said wistfully.
He kissed her, a thing he had not done before. "I hope so." He was vastly relieved.
Then he thought of something else. "The dowry! By Moslem custom, the man gives it to the woman, or her family. But I am poor. I have nothing worthy of a princess."
"No need to be concerned. A small dowry is in order, in a case like this, because a princess needs no enhancement. I have a bauble of little worth, that will do as the symbol." She fetched a tiny closed box. "Do not open it. Merely give it to her at the appropriate time. She will understand."
"But won't it insult the khan?"
She smiled. "He told me to give you this. Now the trinket is yours, and it will be hers. Be guided by our judgment; the gift will not be taken amiss."
He accepted it. "Thank you again, Sahara."
"It is a pleasure to assist so good a man." She squeezed his hands around the box, and then departed.
Ned learned that Moslems did not take marriage as seriously as Christians did, or at least not in the same way. They adapted to whatever cultural rituals existed in the local population. A man could divorce his wife simply by declaring publicly "I divorce thee" three times, and of course a man could have four or more wives. So he did not expect much, on the day the khan had decreed for his marriage to Wildflower.
He was surprised. It was not a wedding at all; it was a dance. Was he being mocked? Sahara had dressed him carefully in a formal robe, then disappeared. The khan was seated on his throne, watching several appealing young women gyrate. There was a considerable audience also watching the show.
"Ah, there you are," Toqtamish said, spying Ned. "Come stand by me. This will surely be worthwhile."
Had the khan forgotten about the wedding? Ned went to stand by him, disturbed. He hadn't seen Wildflower in a month, and missed her. He wanted to be with her again.
The women cleared away, and another appeared. She was of statuesque proportions, and she moved with singular grace. She did not remove her heavy veil, but Ned recognized her: Sahara. The Mongols belonged to the Hanafite school of Sunni Islam, which sect did not require veils for women. But veils were often used for decorative purpose, or in dances, where they enhanced the mystery and made the dancers more alluring.
"Ah yes—you are to be married today," the khan said to Ned. "But who would be a suitable bride for you?"
Ned did not dare answer the rhetorical question. Was Toqtamish playing one of his jokes? Did he intend to make Ned marry Sahara?
"I think it should be she who dances best," the khan decided. "So let us compare." He snapped his fingers.
Sahara beckoned offstage. A woman appeared. She danced well. But the khan shook his head after a brief interval, and she was replaced by another. That one in turn was replaced by a third, and so on in a chain.
"No, these are not good enough," Toqtamish said. He glanced at Sahara. "Show these amateurs how it is done."
Now Sahara danced, and she was indeed superior. Her limbs and body were matchless, and her skill was phenomenal. Ned knew that no one was going to dance better than she did.
Then there was a commotion at the far end of the hall. A guard appeared. "What is this interruption?" the khan demanded irritably.
"Lord, a royal procession approaches."
"But this is not my time for visitors," Toqtamish said. "There is no appointment. We are engaged in private business here."
"Do you wish us to drive it off?"
The khan hesitated. "I need more information. Ned, go out and ascertain what's going on."
Ned obediently went out with the guard. Beyond the pavilion there was indeed a procession of wagons: several small ones, and one large one. The main one was covered with rich blue cloth, with several curtained windows. They walked out to intercept it.
The wagons halted. Lovely girls got out of the small ones, each wearing a finely worked robe and a silk veil, along with a cap encrusted with jewels. They walked to the large wagon, where they opened its door and helped an elegant woman descend to the ground. She was completely shrouded in a voluminous cloak, with a hood surmounted by peacock feathers and set with precious stones. She had such a long train that the comely young women clustered around her to catch hold of loops on her robe and lift the skirts clear of the ground. In this manner the lady proceeded toward the palace.
"But who is she?" Ned asked, daunted by this evident affluence.
A guard associated with the procession approached them. "Make way for the khatun," he said brusquely.
Oh—one of the khan's chief wives. Satisfied, Ned returned inside, where Sahara was still dancing. "The khatun," he reported.
Toqtamish frowned. "None of my wives are attending this function. This has to be a stranger."
Ned realized that he had made a mistake by not seeking positive identification. Embarrassed, he began to go back out. But the khan stopped him with a gesture. "We might as well discover what she is up to, since she is here anyway."
Now the strange woman was escorted to the main chamber. All heads turned to face her, evidently impressed by her royal attire.
Sahara paused in her dance, and the khan looked across the hall. "Who is this who interrupts our amusement?"
The woman strode forward, surrounded by her attendants. She lifted her arms, and the girls quickly removed her cloak. Beneath it she wore a dancer's attire, with a tasseled halter and flowing skirt. She struck a pose.
"Oh, you came to dance," the khan said, surprised. "You heard of this contest and decided to participate. Then do so."
She danced, and her body came alive in a marvelous way. The ranking wives of the khan had become fat, and were no longer used in bed, but this one was completely lithe. She dipped and whirled, so that her skirts flung out, and her jewelry sparkled. She leaped, and landed, and flung off a tassel at intervals. Her body was slender rather than buxom, but her balance and poise were excellent, and the effect was quite nice. She was good, very good, and Ned saw heads nodding. This stranger was dancing better than Sahara had. But who was she? How could she have such a procession, if she was not really a khatun?
She came at last to face the khan, and finished with a whirling flourish, bowing down before him, her bosom heaving.
"You danced very well," the khan said. "But we have important business here. You must not be anonymous. Who are you?"
The figure removed her hood to reveal her head. Her face was veiled, but a bright golden crown set with gems sparkled above it. There was a murmur of awe in the hall. This was a princess!
"So you are of royal blood," the khan said. "Show us your face."
Slowly she removed her veil. It was Wildflower! Ned was astonished. He had never seen her like this. She was exquisite, and truly a princess.
Something changed in him then. It was as if the world changed colors, and what had been familiar became newly unfamiliar. He had known she was a Mongol princess, but still thought of her as his little sister. Now he knew she was the same girl Lin had befriended, but he thought of her as a princess. He had seen her in her royal Mongol splendor.
"So you are my cousin, the Princess Wildflower," Toqtamish said. "And you have won the dance. Now you must marry my valet."
Wildflower nodded, smiling.
"Then let it be done." He looked around. "Who will bear witness to the validity of the contract?"
Sahara spoke. "I will, Lord. I know this man to be competent and honorable."
"Who else?"
Idiku Berlas appeared. "I will, Lord."
"And where is a group of righteous people to establish the validity of the ceremony?"
A man stood in the audience, one of the ranking officers. "We are here, Lord," he said.
"Where is the dowry?"
There was a pause. Then Sahara's eyes flicked toward Ned. Oh—he had forgotten.
"I have it here, Lord," Ned said, producing the tiny box he had been given. "It is a thing of no great worth, as my family is not wealthy."
"It will do," Wildflower said, accepting it with a smile. She opened the box to show a single bright faceted diamond.
Ned was amazed. This was the "mere bauble" he had been carrying? It was of enormous value. The khan had played another little joke.
"Such a small dowry suggests that the groom is extremely desirable in his own right," the khan remarked with a straight face. He glanced at Ned as if in doubt. "Can this be the case?"
"It is the case, Lord," Idiku said gravely. "He is a loyal, gentle, and intelligent man. In any event, the bride needs little, as she is lovely, she is royal, and she carries the favor of all the Mongols." He glanced significantly at the audience, and it responded with a low chorus of agreement.
Ned was coming to appreciate how carefully this play had been crafted. This was public recognition of the status of the bride, and of the marriage. Every one of the khan's questions was rhetorical, with a rehearsed response. It was no conventional wedding ceremony, but it had considerable authority. The khan had had his bit of fun with Ned, leaving him in doubt about the nature of the marriage, but now it was serious.
"Is your father present?" the khan inquired of Wildflower.
"My father is dead, Lord."
Toqtamish stood. "Then I, as your nearest male relative, will do the honor." He took her hand. "Praise be to Allah and blessings be upon His prophet!" He turned to Ned. "I give you my cousin Wildflower in marriage."
Now he could speak the line he knew, which was religiously ambiguous. "Praise be to God, and blessings be upon the Messenger of God. I accept her in marriage."
Then they kissed. He had kissed her before, but this time there was magic in it. He had thought of this second ceremony as a formality, but knew that it had made his marriage to her real.
The wedding was done.
"Now the important part," Toqtamish said. "The feast."
And it was some feast. The food was brought in on tables of gold and silver, each table carried by four men. There was boiled horsemeat and mutton. There were drinks and pastries. The carver came wearing silken robes overlaid by a silk apron, with a number of knives in their sheathes. He cut the meat into small pieces, together with the bones, and served it on small silver platters in which there was salt dissolved in water.
Ned fed Wildflower tidbits, and she fed him tidbits, and they both drank too much qumys, which was fermented mare's milk, and honeyed mead. Alcoholic beverages were forbidden by most sects of the Moslem religion, but fermented liquor was held to be lawful by the Hanafites. There must have been something strong in the drink, because both of them got too dizzy to walk straight.
At last it was done, and they were allowed to leave. Wildflower donned her veil and cloak, becoming the anonymous woman again. Several members of the group saluted them in parting. Ned had no idea where they were going, but she did.
They came into the nuptial chamber. It was sumptuous, but he hardly noticed. All he could see was Wildflower, the vision of loveliness.
"I missed you," he said, taking her in his arms. "I hated being separated from you."
"Yes," she breathed.
He lifted aside her veil and kissed her. "I think I did not know how I loved you, until I was separated from you."
"Yes."
They were beside the huge bed. He clasped her and fell upon it. She fell on top of him, her gown flaring out, her legs straddling him. "I do love you, Wildflower! I know it now."
"Yes."
"And I desire you most ardently. If you—may I—?"
"Yes!"
Then he was driving through her clothing, searching for the flesh beneath. She used her hands to make way for him. They rolled over, and he drove on into her explosively, heedless of anything but the need.
"Yes, yes," she said, clinging close, squeezing him with internal muscles.
The bliss of it transported him. "Oh, Wildflower, oh Wildflower," he gasped, buried within her.
"Yes." She held him close, as if unable to get enough of him.
Only as he subsided did he realize the full implication of what had happened. "I was potent!"
She laughed. "I hoped you wouldn't notice, until too late."
"It is definitely too late," he said, half ruefully. "I have creased and soiled your wedding gown." Actually it was her dancing costume, but that didn't matter.
"Then take it off me and do it again more cleanly."
"I think I shall."
They disentangled and got their clothing off. He realized that she still wore her little crown. Naked, they looked at each other. Ned's member had lowered, but now it rose again. "I asked Sahara for a potion to make me potent," he said.
"You what?" she demanded with a sudden regal flash of anger.
"But I forgot to take it."
She considered that. Then she burst out laughing, her whole body shaking. "You didn't need it!"
"I thought I would, and I wanted to please you. But the moment I saw you, there was nothing in my world but you. I love you, Wildflower."
"You must, because you converted to the Moslem faith for me."
"Yes."
Then she seemed to think of something. "I was going to ask you to, but I wasn't sure you would. My cousin said he would persuade you."
"He did."
She turned sober. "How did he persuade you?"
"That doesn't matter. I am glad to be with you in this."
"I made him promise not to hurt you or threaten you."
"He didn't."
But she was suspicious. "How did he persuade you?" she asked again.
Ned saw that she was determined to have the truth. "He said he would execute you for betraying your faith."
"He wouldn't do that!"
"Oh, Wildflower, I couldn't take the chance. He told me how you protected me by threatening to die the hour after I did. Even though I had been no kind of a husband to you. I couldn't let you die!"
"You were all the husband I wanted."
"How could I be the beneficiary of such love, and not return it?"
She flung herself upon him, bearing him back on the bed. He felt her breasts and thighs against him, and this time they were mounds and columns of ecstasy. "I love you, Ned! I always loved you! But you saw me as a little sister."
"You are not my sister!" he said with mock seriousness as he cupped her tight, soft bottom with his hands. "You never were. I know that now." He tickled her buttocks, making her squiggle. Then they dissolved into further laughter.
Somewhere in the middle of it, they coupled again. "So strong a passion," she said. "Are you sure you didn't take that potion?"
"Absolutely. Do you want me to?"
"No."
"Do you want to take it yourself?" he asked mischievously.
"No! I want only you, with me like this, forever."
"You can have me like this, forever."
Her own face turned mischievous. "Was it like this with Wona?"
"No. It's much better with you."
"Really, Ned?" Suddenly she was the wondering child again, wanting reassurance.
"Really. With her it was guilty and forced. With you it's fulfillment. My only guilt with you is waiting so long to take what you offered. I really was a fool, and I thank you for bearing with me so long. You truly are all that I ever needed. Ever really wanted. I know it now."
She sighed, loving the news. They fell somewhat apart, but she snuggled up against him, within kissing range. "What changed?"
Ned tried to analyze it. "I think it was a combination of things. The separation—I saw myself as such a fool for not—I mean, you are a lovely girl, Wildflower—"
"Thank you." She kissed him. "Go on."
"Then there was Sahara. She tried to seduce me—"
She stiffened. "What?"
"But didn't succeed." She relaxed. "But she did get me, you know, excited."
"I know." She stroked him where he was excitable.
"And I thought, how can I be so—so ready to do this with her, and not with you? It didn't make any sense."
"Yes."
"And the khan told me how you risked your life for me. That frightened me. If you had died—oh, Wildflower!" The horror of it burgeoned anew.
"I love you," she explained. "I did what I had to do."
"And the khan admired that." He paused. "Did you tell him about—?"
"Oh, Ned, I didn't want to! But I had to. He asked for my deepest secret, and I had to give it to him. It's part of our protocol. But he shouldn't have told anyone else."
"I don't think he did. But that's why he sent Sahara. To see if I was potent. She reported that I was. And that I was loyal to you. And I knew that I had to be with you again. Then when I saw you—you were nothing like my sisters. You were so regal, so beautiful, so wonderful! The way you danced—I never knew you could do that!"
"I practiced. Sahara helped me."
"It was as if I had never seen you before, and yet I had. In that moment I really desired you."
She kissed him again. "As I desired you."
"Yes. You truly are a princess."
"I truly am."
"And I truly love you."
"And now we are truly married."
"Yes."
"And you won't need Sahara in your bedroom any more."
"I never needed her there. Now stop being jealous and kiss me some more."
"I'll do better than that." And she did.
There were many discussions, and Toqtamish heeded them, and soon developed a force to be reckoned with. Timur supplied advice and help, but now the khan was becoming increasingly independent. Good commanders were being promoted, and good men recruited and trained. The khan called in levies to raise a considerable army.
It was not long before his leadership was tested. Malik had been defeated and driven out, but he was not dead. The Mongol prince of Serai had refused to ally with Malik against Toqtamish, so Malik had killed him and claimed his lands. Now, using Serai as a base, Malik raised an army to attack Toqtamish. By his side was his companion Balinjak, whose prowess and honor were famous, lending strength where Malik alone would have been weak.
But Malik faced a far more disciplined and powerful force than he had reckoned with. In just a few months the White Horde had become not only strong but savvy. Toqtamish had a number of advisers, and he consulted them all—and chose the course that most resembled Ned's private advice. He met Malik in the spring of 1378 and destroyed his army. Malik was killed, and Balinjak was captured and brought before the conqueror's throne.
"How should I deal with such a hero?" Toqtamish asked Ned before the meeting.
"Spare him, if he will make his oath of fealty to you," Ned said. "You could have no better defender by your side, and he can really help rouse the troops and compel the loyalty of those who once served Malik."
Toqtamish nodded, then led the way to the audience chamber. Ned followed, carrying the khan's cloak. By this time Ned's true place was widely known, but because he was newly converted from the Christian faith it remained unofficial. He was satisfied, because the lowliest position, with the khan's favor, was more exalted than the highest with the khan's disfavor. He had married the khan's cousin, which was a root of favor, but now he had that favor on his own merit.
Balinjak was a fine figure of a man, and he walked with his head upright despite his bonds. He seemed hardly daunted by his circumstance. He ignored the people in the court, and met the khan's gaze without flinching.
"What do you expect of me?" Toqtamish asked the prisoner.
"A swift death." He did not grant the khan a title.
Toqtamish made a show of considering. "I am told you are a man of honor."
Ned remembered a similar remark, when the khan had first interviewed him. The subject did not come up unless Toqtamish was already prepared to deal.
"I am, and I serve my master loyally, or his heir."
"I am Malik's heir."
"You are not his heir. You are his conqueror, because of the support of Tamerlane."
There was an angry murmur in the court. "We do not call Timur by such a name," Toqtamish said.
"I do."
The man was in effect daring the khan to kill him outright. Toqtamish glanced at Ned, then back to Balinjak. "Will you make your oath of fealty to me?"
"No."
Toqtamish shook his head. "You are a good man. I would like to have you in my service. But if you will not serve me, I will still spare your life and set you free, if you will swear never to conspire against me."
Balinjak looked surprised. "You would spare me?"
"Men of honor are rare," Toqtamish said, glancing again at Ned.
Balinjak shook his head. "I have spent the best years of my life in the service of Malik. I cannot bear to see another on his throne. May his eyes be torn out, who wishes to see you on Malik's seat." Then, surprisingly, he dropped to his knees and bowed his head. "Lord Toqtamish, if you would be gracious to me, cut off my head and put it under that of Malik, and let his corpse recline on mine, so that his delicate body may not be begrimed with dust."
Toqtamish glanced a third time at Ned. Ned shrugged. The prisoner was honorable, but would not yield. He had used an honorific title only when pleading for a special death.
"So let it be," the khan said with regret. The gallant prisoner was escorted away, to be honorably executed.
Ned regretted it too. He would have liked to come to know Balinjak, who was a much better man than the master he had served. But if he would not give his oath, he was too dangerous to spare. Ned realized that he himself could readily have suffered a similar fate, had he made a similar demand. As a result, he was one of the few men the khan truly trusted. As Malik had surely trusted Balinjak, with good reason.
Later, with Wildflower, Ned confided his deep regret at the outcome of that encounter. "That's the trouble with honorable men," Wildflower said. "You won't bend at all." Then she kissed him passionately. "It is one of the thousand reasons I love you."
"You have reasons?" he inquired with mock surprise.
She struck him with three more kisses.
Toqtamish's second campaign of that year was much grander in scale and purpose. He moved against the Golden Horde. Timur's emissaries were surprised; they had expected Toqtamish to be a relatively unambitious ruler, once he had secured his kingdom. Instead he was acting much the way Timur himself would have. They did not object, though they evidently feared that the khan would misplay his hand and soon come to grief, as he had so often before.
But it was Ned's job to see that Toqtamish did not do that. There was nothing haphazard about this campaign. Toqtamish did not seek open battle with the unified forces of the Golden Horde, but rather campaigned against the weaker local khans and princes who had aspirations for the top position. The strongest of these was Mamai, the leading claimant for the throne of the Blue Horde, the major faction. Mamai was too strong to meet openly, and Toqtamish had to suffer a number of taunts about his supposed cowardice, but he stayed with Ned's program and avoided a definitive battle. There were times when Ned feared the khan would listen to his more violent advisers and seek one glorious but ultimately disastrous battle, but as long as Ned's way won, Toqtamish remained with it.
Thus it went for two years. Ned spent a lot of time in the field, surveying situations, because the key to victory was in timely, accurate information. He also spent much time with the khan, and was often home in Sabran with Wildflower. She did not like the frequent separations, but she remained with the family, and was especially close to Lin. The fortunes of the family prospered in this period, by no coincidence. Sam had good work building siege engines, and Jes and Ittai had a good ship and trade route on the Caspian Sea.
Toqtamish's chance came late in 1380. Mamai was in firm possession of the western tribes, including the Kipchaks, but now he faced a united uprising of the Russian princes to the north. The Russians were commanded by Dmitri, Grand Prince of Moscow. They had never been very orderly vassals, and constantly desired independence. Mamai found it necessary to petition for Lithuania's aid against the rebels. But Dmitri, acting to prevent that, marched out quickly to force a confrontation with Mamai in the region of Kulikuvo. This was hilly country south of Moscow, by the headwaters of the Don, the river that flowed south into the Sea of Azov and thus connected to the Black Sea.
But Toqtamish did not strike. He waited, letting the Russians make their move. He had spies out to watch the action and keep him current on it. As Ned had advised him, it was best to let the two other sides bleed each other dry without distraction. Then the pieces would be easier to pick up.
The Russians, as it turned out, were not stupid about war. Their men had spent a century serving as conscripts in Mongol armies, and they had learned how to fight the Mongol way. They anchored their lines in positions that could not be flanked, extending from the bank of the river to a steep forested slope.
The Mongols were stuck with a battle site chosen by their adversaries. "Idiocy!" Ned remarked, smiling. "Genghis Khan would never have tolerated that." But of course this was not the day of Genghis, or of his genius generals.
The Mongols had little choice but to try to pierce the Russian front. After fierce fighting and heavy losses, they finally buckled one wing of the Russian lines. But Dmitri, with cunning worthy of a Mongol, had a cavalry troop hidden in ambush in the forest. The Russian cavalry caught the charging Mongols in the flank, decimating their ranks. He had used their own tactics against them, employing a ruse of weakness to lure them into a trap. Mamai's army was routed, and he had to retreat to the lands between the Don and the Volga to gather a new army and exact his vengeance.
Ned nodded. He had predicted something like that. A straightforward attack at a site chosen by the enemy was stupid. Once again he had shown Toqtamish the wisdom of caution.
The Russians, victorious but exhausted, lacked the strength or supplies to press their victory, and returned home. They had accomplished their purpose, defending their independence.
"Now!" Ned said.
Toqtamish made his move. He pounced on Mamai while the khan's forces were weakened, at Kalka, near the Sea of Azov. It was hardly a fair situation, and the remnant of the Golden Horde was routed. Mamai fled to the Genoese colony nearby, but the Genoese, who had suffered from his arrogance, slew him. Toqtamish became khan of the Golden Horde, which now encompassed all the territory of its ancient days.
"But you can't afford to leave the rebellious Russians on your flank," Ned warned him. "Should they ally with the Lithuanians, they could become too strong to handle."
"But we lack the strength to properly subdue them now," the khan protested.
"True. So you must maintain relations with them. But don't relax. They are potentially more dangerous to you than Mamai was."
Toqtamish nodded. But for once it seemed that Ned's caution was wrong, for the Russians immediately sent sword-bearers with their homage. They recognized the fact that their princes held their positions only at the khan's pleasure. The advisers who had opposed Ned's strategies claimed that he had led the khan into foolish concern about an enemy too weak to cause him any mischief.
However, when Toqtamish summoned the Russian princes themselves to come in person to his court, and to pay tribute, the Russians sent excuses.
"You were right, as always," Toqtamish told Ned. "They proffer only lip service, not substance. They think that because they beat Mamai, they can beat me. We shall have to teach them a lesson."
But it was necessary to recover and prepare. So for a year the khan left the Russians alone, while he mustered and prepared his army. Then in the summer of 1392 he moved against them. His army was massive and well trained; the only thing it lacked was siege equipment, because that would slow down progress. Ned rode with the khan, and this time his sister Jes came too, garbed as a man, to protect Ned in the field. She loved her husband, just as Ned loved his wife, but her hunger for travel and action remained. The khan knew her nature, but pretended not to; he enjoyed this incidental secret.
The Mongols seized Russian boats and used them to ferry troops across the Volga River. They enlisted Russian guides to lead them along the best route to Moscow. The Mongol army was overwhelming, and some Russians lost hope. They sought to curry Toqtamish's favor with gifts. Prince Dmitri's godfather in Novgorod sent his two sons with presents. And spies reported that Prince Dmitri himself abandoned Moscow and went northeast to Kostroma to raise a larger defensive force.
Toqtamish continued his march on Moscow. Flames and smoke from burning villages and fields marked his advance, visible by day and night. He was making his point. Ned did not enjoy this aspect of campaigning, but Jes did. "The Russians showed their contempt of us," she said. "Now they are learning respect. In the future they will consider more carefully before holding back on tribute. This is what war is all about."
"I prefer peace."
"Then you will have to find some other khan to advise, because Toqtamish is out to conquer the world."
"All except Timur's domain."
She glanced sidelong at him. "Oh?" But she did not comment further.
The news of the scouts continued. Many people were fleeing Moscow, but those who remained were organizing a defense. Prince Dmitri sent a young Lithuanian named Ostei to take charge, and his competence instilled confidence in the people. The Lithuanians were formidable because they understood the significance of the campaign. Peasants from the countryside poured into the city for shelter. The walls were manned by brave but largely untrained militia. Even monks were bearing arms in the defense of their city. But, the spies said, there was a feeling of doom.
"Well justified," Jes remarked with satisfaction.
"I gather you are not much interested in staying home and having babies," Ned said.
"I will get to that in due course." But she looked thoughtful.
On August 23, 1382, the Mongols arrived at Moscow. Toqtamish sent envoys who spoke Russian to ask about Grand Prince Dmitri. They were told that he was no longer in the city, and it seemed to be true, as it confirmed the news of the spies. Ostei, the Lithuanian, was now in charge, and no, he would not yield the city. So the envoys returned to report to the khan, and the siege began.
For three days the Mongols punished the defenders of the wall with deadly storms of arrows. Jes was among them, firing at any head she saw on the wall. Soon no heads showed; the Russians were afraid to fire back.
But when the Mongols attacked the walls directly, they were repulsed by heavy stones and boiling water. Ostei did know what he was doing, and his amateurs were learning professionalism in a hurry. This was likely to take some time—and Ned had already advised the khan not to get embroiled in a winter campaign. They needed to take Moscow without undue delay, or the war would become considerably more difficult.
Toqtamish was thoughtful. "Do you know of any way to cut this campaign short without sacrificing our objectives?"
"Bring the siege equipment."
"It will take a month to get here."
Ned refrained from reminding the khan that he had urged that the siege engines follow closely after the main army. Other advisers had belittled the notion that the cowardly Russians would actually stand and fight in the face of the overwhelming Mongol army. But they had not reckoned on the unexpected: the expertise of the Lithuanian commander. Ned had known to expect the unexpected.
"It is Dmitri you need to nullify," Ned said. "Maybe you can make peace with the city, since he isn't here, and move on to capture him before he raises a big army. Once you have him, Moscow won't matter."
Toqtamish nodded. "I will consider it." That meant that he would consult with his formal advisers, and see whether there was a consensus.
That day a new adviser arrived, summoned from a far province. This was Ormond, who had a reputation for getting the job done by whatever means he deemed expedient. Ned did not like the man's reputation, nor the man himself, when he met him; sneakiness seemed to surround him like a noxious cloud. Rumor said that his conniving had brought shame to the man he had most recently served, so that he had had to depart in haste lest he be quietly executed. Thus he had been available for a new position.
The formal introduction was in the khan's tent, which could have held 500 people. It was covered in white felt and was lined inside with silks, cloths, and pearls. This, for the khan, was roughing it in the field.
The visitor touched the ground with his right knee. "I hastened at your beck, Great Khan," Ormond said, bowing his head low before Toqtamish. "I apologize that it was necessary to bring my good Moslem Turkish wife with me, lest the infidels mistreat her."
"We regret in turn that we lack proper facilities for a woman of quality," Toqtamish responded graciously. "But when we take the city, she shall have fitting accommodations. Present her to me now." Ormond bowed low again, then signaled to the side. A cloaked and veiled woman stepped forth. Despite her complete shrouding, Ned could tell by her proportions and the way she moved that she was beautiful. No wonder Ormond had not cared to leave her behind.
The woman bowed as low as her husband had, unspeaking. Her poise and grace spoke for her. Ned's curiosity was aroused. How had this loutish man won such a creature?
"Show your face," Toqtamish. said, similarly intrigued.
She lifted her head, and then her veil, allowing the beauty of her countenance to shine forth. And Ned froze. It was Wona! His brother's former faithless wife. Who had seduced him, and tortured him with her power over him, until Jes had taken her away.
"This court is blessed by your presence," Toqtamish told her. "You and your husband must join us at our repast today."
Wona nodded, properly grateful for this significant sign of favor by the khan.
The formalities concluded, but Ned was hardly aware of them. He had never expected to see Wona again. Now she was here, instantly complicating his existence. He hoped she had not seen him or recognized him, where he stood as one of several of the khan's attendants. As soon as he could, he left the tent, so as to rejoin his sister.
"Wona!" Jes exclaimed. "What is she doing here?"
"She is the wife of the new adviser, Ormond."
"Ormond! He's the one Ittai sent her to. But he lives far away. I was sure he would never cross our paths again."
"He fell out of favor where he was, and the khan summoned him to be an adviser. He just arrived."
"This is mischief."
"This is mischief," he agreed glumly.
"Did she see you?"
"I don't think so. But she will eat with the khan today, so she is bound to see me then."
"Toqtamish shouldn't miss you for one meal. Find business elsewhere."
That made sense, because the last thing he wanted to do was have any further interaction with Wona. Just the single sight of her had stirred a complex both of guilt, shame, and desire in him. She was still so infernally lovely! So he busied himself with his equipment, and tried with notable un-success to blank her out of his thoughts.
But that afternoon as he went to the latrine trench to relieve himself, he heard a dulcet voice. "Ned."
It was Wona. He didn't turn. What was she doing at a place like this? The stink was terrible.
"Ned, I must speak with you," she said. Her voice was low and urgent. "We must not be seen together. If my husband knew—"
"Then don't leave his side," he said gruffly. "I want no part of you."
"How do you know? You once liked that part well enough."
He turned, but didn't see her; she was hidden behind a tree. "I am married now. You mean nothing to me."
"Congratulations. I'm sure she is a nice girl." Her tone suggested that "nice" equated to "uninteresting." "But I have information you will want."
"I want nothing of yours. Share it with your husband."
"It is from my husband, who doesn't know I know. I overheard—but I can't tell you here. Meet me tomorrow morning at the red farmstead down the trail three leagues east of here."
"I'll not meet you anywhere! I don't want to be near you." But that was true on only one level. The very sound of her voice had given him a guilty erection.
"Ned, be sensible! There is a massive, terrible treachery in the making. You must tell the khan, for I cannot. My husband would—Ned, you must hear me out!"
"Treachery?" It was not difficult to believe that Ormond would be involved in something dirty. For whom was the man's real loyalty?
"The red farmstead, tomorrow morning," she repeated. "Don't let anyone see you go there."
"I'll not go—" he started. But now another man was coming to the trench, and he couldn't continue talking. So he walked away, not looking at the tree.
He found Jes and told her. "And she wants me to meet her tomorrow at a private place."
"I think she just wants to seduce you again."
"Yes. She probably has no information."
Jes cocked her head thoughtfully. "Yet suppose she does? If there really should be something, and you passed it by, and then Ormond leads the khan into an ambush—"
"You think I should see her?"
"She'd have you back in thrall in a moment."
"No she wouldn't." But his doubt showed.
"Ned, I know you love Wildflower. But you are a mouse before that snake. Wona will consume you."
"So I can't see her," he said, half-relieved.
"You will have to see her, to be sure there is no betrayal she knows of—and I will have to go with you. I'll kill her if I have to."
"I don't think I could do that."
"I know you couldn't. But I can. Probably it won't have to come to that, because she knows me, and will back off. I will protect you."
And she would, in two senses: physically and emotionally. "Thank you, Jes."
"I'll get horses. You go to the trench—and on beyond it, when no one is looking. I'll be there at dawn."
Ned nodded. He profoundly appreciated his sister's support. She understood him perfectly, weaknesses and all, and would see that he handled this matter properly.
In the morning he met Jes beyond the trench, and they rode out to the east. In three hours they spied the red farmstead, nestled at the edge of the forest. It looked deserted, but there was a horse grazing beside it.
"Just in case it's a trap," Jes said, drawing her knife and holding it against the side of the horse away from the house. She could hurl that blade swiftly and accurately.
He dismounted and walked to the door. It opened as he approached. Wona was there, wearing a tight woolen dress that concealed nothing of her proportions. "Come in quickly, Ned; don't let anyone see you."
"My sister brought me."
Wona glanced beyond him, frowning. "Then she must hide too. It is death for all of us, if my husband learns."
"Tell me, and we'll be away from here," Ned suggested.
"No; it is too long in the telling. Let the horses graze; maybe it will be all right."
Jes dismounted and led the horses to the pasture beside the house. She tied their reins up on the saddles. They were well trained; they would not stray, and would come when called. Ned waited until she joined him, before stepping into the cabin.
It was empty, except for Wona. Jes had known that, or she would not have entered. She had a warrior's senses about such things.
"You thought I would ambush you?" Wona inquired disdainfully. "I would never hurt you, Ned."
Jes snorted.
"Or you, Jes," Wona continued. "We have meant too much to each other. I'm glad you took Ittai; he's a good man."
"What's this?" Ned asked.
Wona smiled. "You didn't know? Captain Ittai left me for her. But I think he would not have, had I not shown Jes how to use her body. Had I not been willing to go."
Ned looked at his sister. "What did she show you?"
"We exchanged information," Jes said tightly. "I showed her how to kill, and she showed me how to appeal to a man." But she turned a hard glance to Wona. "Just tell my brother what you have to tell him, and we'll go. We don't want to see you again."
"Then we had better settle into some comfort," Wona said. "It will take some time in the telling. I have some food. Take a stool."
"We didn't come here to eat," Ned said.
Wona shrugged. "Please yourself." She fetched bread and a jug of wine from a bag in the corner, and set them on the wooden table. "I have something special: caviar. It greatly improves the flavor of the bread." She lifted her right leg so that her comely thigh showed, and revealed a sheath strapped there. She drew a knife and cut off some bread.
Ned pretended not to have noticed that deep flash of thigh. But he was sure Wona had angled her leg deliberately to give him the most compelling view. Knowing her ways did not prevent him from reacting to them. Emotionally he despised her, but physically he desired her.
"I don't eat on a mission," Jes said.
"But surely you will want to sample this." Wona proffered the bread.
Jes paused, then accepted it. She dug out some of the caviar and put it on the bread. She took a bite.
"You see, it is good food," Wona said. "I am eating it too." She cut off another slice of bread.
Jes nodded. "It is good food."
"You and I do not want to interfere with each other," Wona said to Jes. "We have tended each other in illness. Give me one hour."
"What are you talking about?" Ned asked.
Jes paused, then answered. "Wona and I came to know each other, when we traveled together. We are different creatures, but we do not see each other as evil. If she led you into an ambush, I would kill her. But she means you no harm, by her definition. She has asked me to allow her to deal with you without interference."
"All I want is the news of that treachery."
"But there is a price to that news," Wona said.
"Why should he pay it?" Jes asked, as if negotiating.
"Do you think I could not have held Ittai, had I chosen to? When I learned that you were the other woman, I let him go because I would not hurt you."
"You let him go!" Jes repeated, astonished. "No—he left you!"
"There were sides of me I did not need to show him or his housemaid. I could have fascinated him, blinding him to all else. You know that. I know my business, as you know yours." Wona paused, letting that statement sink in. "He was worth more to you than to me. Because of what we meant to each other, I gave him to you."
Jes's surprise slowly turned to acceptance. "You could have held him," she agreed at last.
"What would be the price of him?"
Jes nodded reluctantly. "One hour."
"This is not making any sense at all!" Ned protested.
Jes angled her head. "Is someone coming?"
"No one followed me," Wona said. "And I'm sure you wouldn't let anyone follow you. So anyone who passes here must be coincidental."
"All the same, I'll check." Jes started for the door, carrying her bread.
"Don't leave me!" Ned cried.
Jes sighed. "Ned, I think this is one battle you must after all fight yourself. She's not going to say anything until she has settled with you, one way or the other. My time is better spent making sure there is no mischief abroad." She went on outside.
"See—she trusts me alone with you," Wona said as she used the knife to spread caviar on the slice of bread.
"She knows I'll call her if there is trouble." Ned, feeling awkward, sat on a stool.
"What have you to fear from me? She knows that you are the very last person I would hurt. I would much rather make love to you." She handed him the slice of bread. Bemused, Ned accepted it. "What is this treachery?" She cut off another slice and smeared caviar over it. "Have you lost your feeling for me? I have not lost mine for you. You're such a brilliant man."
And such a fool about women, particularly this one. "You held me like a captive bird. What is this treachery?"
Wona took the stool opposite him, drawing the skirt of her dress up above her knees so that it would not stretch out of shape. The knife-sheath got in her way, so she slid the skirt up farther and removed it. She seemed to be wearing nothing underneath.
She picked up her bread and bit delicately. "Do try this, Ned. Caviar is a rare Russian delicacy, said to enhance potency." She let her legs spread.
Ned looked away from her clearly revealed thighs, ashamed of the sexual urgency they generated in him. He chomped his bread almost savagely. The taste of it was surprisingly good. "What is this treachery?"
"Do you know what I want of you, Ned?"
"If you are loyal to the khan, you will give me the information."
"The khan is a Mongol. I am a Turk, as are you. My loyalty is to myself and my friends. I do not simply give away my wares; I make the best deal I can."
"I don't care for your deal." But his sincerity was being undercut by the sight of her body. He didn't want to desire her, but his body took no more note of his mind than it had when he had been impotent with Wildflower.
Wona stood, found cups, and poured some wine. She offered it to him. "Would you like me to sip from it first?"
She was teasing him with the notion that he might suspect her of poisoning him. He grasped it almost roughly and drank. It was fine and strong; he would have to be careful lest it cloud his judgment. Wona was doing everything to distract him, and succeeding admirably. So was that her only purpose? To try to seduce him again?
"Oh, there really is a conspiracy," she said, as if fathoming his thoughts. "You will need to tell the khan. Would you like more bread?"
"No." It seemed that she was determined to make him wait for her information.
"More wine, then?"
"No."
"You are a hard man to please." She took his empty cup and set it on the table. But instead of returning to her stool, she began to dance. Her motions were languorously slow, and her body became like liquid. Her breasts quivered under the knit dress, and her hips flowed out and in as if possessed of their own agendas. He had not seen a dance like that since Sahara performed at his wedding. She let down her hair so that it joined the sway, and smiled at him.
Ned swallowed. He was married, and he loved his wife, but he desired Wona with an intensity he would not have believed. He wanted to protest, or at least look away, but did neither.
She circled close to him, and he smelled the appealing musk of her body. She turned and danced with her back to him, so that he could see the flexing of her buttocks under the tight knit. She bent forward, projecting her bottom, and he remembered how she had received his explosive entry, so long ago. He wanted to leap up and take hold and plunge in, and knew she would not only let him, but make it as good for him as was humanly possible. Wona had faults, but was matchless at that particular type of performance.
One hour: that was how long Jes was giving them. If he could hold out for that time, the sexual siege would be over. He tried to close his eyes, and could not; he tried to focus his mind on Wildflower, and could not. He had carelessly walked into a battle of her choosing, and was at a severe disadvantage. He was caught in the storm of Wona's desire, and could only try to ride it out.
Wona turned again, and now her living breasts almost brushed his face. Then she abruptly sat on his lap, flinging her arms around him and pulling his face into her bosom. His arms involuntarily went around her midriff. "I still want your child, Ned," she said.
"I don't want to give it to you," he said into her warm woolen left breast. Her body was so soft and light!
"No one need know. Just give it to me, and go your way, and I will go mine." She tensed her buttocks rhythmically, sending a hidden message to the most interested part of him.
"No." But he heard the weakness in it. He knew he should throw her off and depart, but he couldn't. He couldn't even let go of her. Her body was so exquisitely formed, and so close and pliable!
"We can do it right here, right now," she said. "Open your trousers, and I will hitch up my dress."
"No." Yet he knew he was on the verge of doing it.
"Here, this is better." She got up, hoisted up her skirt, spread her legs, and sat on him again, her thighs clasping his waist. Even through the clothing, he felt the compelling magic of their touch. "I can bring you such joy, Ned! You know I can. Just let me do it."
And he knew she would do it, if he let her, as she had before. She had already excited him almost beyond endurance, and she would set him inside her, and he would give her all that was in him. Still he did not move.
"Or I can give you something to kiss, first." Wona reached around herself and pulled further on her dress. It slid upward around the curves of her body, shaping itself to them as it moved, until her fine breasts popped out beneath it. She wore nothing underneath, as he had known would be the case. "I want you to be satisfied, Ned." She leaned into his face.
He turned his face aside, but it still rested between her breasts. She used her hands to lift them up for his closer appreciation. "I know you want me, Ned, as I want you."
He could not deny it. He was ready to give himself up for lost. He fought to summon an image of Wildflower's face, ashamed of the betrayal in which he was indulging. But his wife was far away.
"And I will give you my information, after," Wona said, bending her head to kiss his ear.
Why was she still bargaining, when she had already won? Apparently she didn't know of her victory. Then he realized that there were limits to what Wona could do. He could not fight her, or throw her off, or even speak out against what she was doing, but he could resist her. So he remained un-moving.
She took his silence for assent. "Now let me make the connection," she murmured, reaching down to open his trousers.
He moved his arms. He caught her wrists and held them.
"Why, how nice, Ned; you are responding at last!" She moved her breasts against his face. They were twin mounds of desire, perfectly formed.
Ned simply sat there, with the naked woman on his lap, and held her wrists. He had found his only weapon of defense. Could it possibly be enough? How much of the hour remained? How much of it did he want to remain?
"But we can't proceed if you don't let me," she said after a moment. She tried to move her hands, but he tightened his grip.
"You are hurting me, Ned," she said.
He knew he wasn't. He did not let go.
"Of course I can give you more." She bent her head and brought it down to kiss him. He turned his face to the side, but she pursued it and managed to capture his mouth with hers.
Then Ned felt his grip weakening. Her kiss transported him, making him heedless of any consequence. But he forced strength into his hands, and maintained his grip. Had she been a man, she could readily have broken it. But physical strength was not her way.
She kissed him again, and this time he turned his face into hers and returned it. But he maintained his hold on her wrists. She could inflame his desire, but could not open his trousers, and therefore could not complete the act.
At last she sighed. "I fear you have beaten me, Ned."
He didn't answer. He knew he had merely nullified one ploy. She would have others. In fact this was probably one: to make him relax in seeming victory, and then be lost, in the manner of troops that lost their formation pursuing a fleeing foe, and then got cut to pieces. Wona was just as devious and dangerous in her domain as any Mongol army in its domain.
She gazed into his eyes. Then her own eyes turned wet. Her tears flowed, silently but copiously. "Oh, Ned—I love you so!"
Again, he felt his strength dissipating. The fluid of her eyes was melting his resolve. He knew they were deliberate tears, but they still had their effect. If she tried to free her hands now, she would succeed, for his fingers were numb.
But she didn't know that. She was waiting for him to let her go. So he waited for the next ploy.
It came with mercurial suddenness, like a summer storm. "Then the hell with you!" she flared, her anger like a suddenly ignited thatch fire. "I don't need you."
"Then tell me of the treachery, and let me go," Ned said.
Instead she kissed him again, savagely. But they remained in their impasse, her hands imprisoned.
She lifted her head and gazed into his eyes. It was as if he could see through her eyes into some other realm, a Moslem paradise, infinitely beckoning. "Do it, Ned, I beg you, and I will tell you everything."
"No."
She sighed, and the sound stirred a wave of mixed feeling in him. "Then I must tell you first, and then you will do it."
"No." He knew better than to be trapped into her seduction. Because the first would not be the last.
"Ned, you are being unreasonable. You must meet me part way."
Even seeming reason was part of her repertoire! "All I came for was the information. Give that to me and go."
She stared into his eyes. Moonlight and clouds danced in her depths. "I have what you want. You have what I want. It seems fair to trade."
"I want to protect the interests of the khan. You want to have me in thrall to you again. I don't think you have what I want, and I won't give you what you want."
She shook her head. "You are wrong, Ned. You think you know, but you will have a crushing disillusionment coming. This is something you really do need to know."
She seemed sincere. It could be a ruse, but he feared it wasn't. "Tell me, and let me judge."
"I will, but first you must agree that if my news is worthy, you will give me my desire." She kissed him again. "Your baby. That means a number of sessions, most likely."
An extended affair. Which would bind him to her, and destroy his marriage. His body was urgent to agree, but his mind was in control for the moment. "No."
"Even though you know it is no onerous chore I ask of you, while the news I have will affect you profoundly?"
Again, he wavered. She seemed so sure! If she were bluffing, she wouldn't offer to tell him her news first, letting him judge its merit. She was sure he would complete the deal, once he heard her information, if he agreed on the terms beforehand. So he could afford to make the deal only if he was sure she was bluffing. And if she was bluffing, there was no point in making the deal.
"No."
Wona shook her head sadly. "Ned, you are going to regret this."
"I already regret coming here."
She laughed. Her upper body shook, especially her breasts, and it was all he could do to prevent his face from kissing them. "I think you just need a little more persuasion."
But it was an impasse. He would not let go of her wrists, and she would not cease her efforts to persuade him. Slowly his resolve was weakening. It would be so easy to yield! And maybe her information really was what he needed to know.
"Yes, I think when you say no, you mean yes," she murmured, conscious of her increasing power over him. "We have meant so much to each other in the past, and will in the future. Kiss me, my precious. My body hungers for yours."
Somehow he hung on to her wrists, but his hands were feeling paralyzed. At any point she would try to free her hands, and would succeed, and then would complete the act despite his passive resistance. And she would have him. This was a siege in which the besieged was running out of strength and hope. It was only a matter of time.
There was a sound to the side. "Oh, no," Wona muttered. "I forgot about Jes. The hour has passed."
Ned had forgotten too. It hadn't seemed like an hour. Strength returned to his hands. Wona had not seduced him in time. The rescue troops were coming to the aid of the besieged city.
Jes entered the room. "I watched carefully, but there is no threat from outside." She looked at the pair of them. "I think my brother has defeated you, Wona. If you couldn't seduce him in an hour in that position, you couldn't do it in a year."
"Yes I could," Wona said. "Give me just a bit more time."
Jes drew her knife. "I think not. Don't make me use this on you, Wona."
Wona scrambled off Ned's lap. He let her wrists go as she did. "You caught on," she said.
"I suspected."
"Caught on to what?" Ned asked. Despite this victory, his desire for Wona was not abating.
"She put love-herb in the food."
Suddenly it came clear. "That's why my resistance was weakening! That herb—it takes an hour."
"That's why," Jes agreed. "I ate her food to be sure it wasn't poisoned. Then when I thought about it, I realized that there could be another way. I came in, knowing what she was up to."
"You waited too long," Wona said. "Ned desired me anyway; now he will have to have me. This goes beyond reason; it cannot be denied."
"No!" Ned said. "I know the remedy. Jes, take me to cold water."
Wona winced. Evidently she had hoped they wouldn't know about water.
"This way. I ate too; I need it too." Jes led the way out.
That intrigued him, passingly. Was the love-herb so powerful that it would cause a brother and sister to merge? He didn't care to find out.
"But I took it also!" Wona protested.
"Too bad," Jes said tersely. "There is no other man close by."
Behind the house there was a stone cattle drinking trough fed by a tiny stream. Ned and Jes tore off their clothing and climbed into it. The water was devastatingly chill: exactly what was required.
Then Wona was there, still naked. "Make room for me," she said.
Jes laughed. "I have half a mind to keep you out." But she took no action, and in a moment all three of them were shivering in the trough.
"Well, I tried my best," Wona said. "It would have worked, had you not caught on when you did. Just a few more minutes—"
"So did you really have any information of treachery?" Ned asked.
"Oh, yes. And I will still make the trade, if you care to get warm with me now." She inhaled, shivering.
"No." Her persistence bothered him, though the cold water was effectively damping his ardor. Also, shivering cold flesh was not as appealing as soft warm flesh, however well formed. He could not believe that she truly desired him, other than as a confirmation of her power over men. Yet she had gone to extraordinary effort to seduce him, and was still trying. Why was she bothering?
"What is your interest in this?" Jes asked Wona, echoing his thought. "Obviously you are not motivated by patriotism, and you could have seduced any man you wished, with your body and the love-herb. Ned hardly seems worth your while."
"But his child would be mine," Wona said. "So when I learned what I learned, I decided to make good use of it."
"And you will let the treachery happen?" Ned demanded. "Just to spite me?"
"If I gave things away, I would never be able to bargain. So I give nothing, without its price."
"To you, love and war are much the same," Jes said.
"I'm glad you understand."
Ned shook his head as he shivered. Something was missing, but he couldn't figure out what. Why hadn't Wona chosen to seduce some other man in exchange for her information, or traded it for gold? Any of the other advisers could have borne the news to the khan. Why had she fixed on him, so soon after seeing him? He did not believe that it was all for the desire to bear his child; she had not shown much interest in her prior child. Yet she had fixed on him, most determinedly. Where was the key?
"I can't stand this," Wona said. "I'm getting out."
"We'll take turns," Jes said. "One at a time."
Wona climbed out, then danced on the ground, recovering her warmth. Ned watched her bouncing body, almost wishing he could feel the desire he should. But the cold was too compelling.
When Wona was warm, she reluctantly got back in the water, because Jes would not let Ned out otherwise. Ned got out and danced around, while Wona watched, no doubt with similar thoughts. Then he returned, and Jes got out. Ned noted that his sister had put on some feminine flesh, and was no longer as lanky as he remembered her. Marriage had evidently been good for her—or maybe it had simply caused her to fight less and love more.
In due course the hour passed, and they were able to get out and stay out. They carried their clothing to the house, drying off in the air. All of them were shivering and somewhat blue of lips and skin. Ned found that the information Sahara had given him was correct: his desire had waned, and he no longer cared who had clothing. He had not indulged sexually, but evidently the cold water had depleted his energies similarly, and he just wanted to rest.
"I had thought to have had my will of you, and be alone to recover, by this time," Wona said as she dressed.
"Will you tell me your real motive for all this?"
"Of course not. That deal must wait until we are able to consummate it."
She was one tough negotiator. Ned realized that he would have been no match for her, without Jes to support him. As it was, it had been a close thing.
Jes looked around the cabin. "We should be getting back to the camp, but I feel depleted. I would prefer to rest until my strength recovers."
"So would I," Ned agreed. "But this is Wona's house."
"How can that be, when she and her husband just arrived from far away? It is merely a place they saw was empty when they passed by it."
"We are like combatants after the battle is over," Wona said. "Stay here and rest; I don't mind."
Ned looked at Jes. She shrugged. Why not? Their battle had been fought and ended. So they found separate spots on the floor and lay down to rest. Ned woke as dusk was closing. He hadn't meant to sleep, but evidently had done so. That love-herb had a wearing effect on the system.
"Too late to return," Jes said, seeing him stir. "We'll have to stay the night."
"I have food," Wona said. "The herb is in the caviar; the bread and wine are good."
They shared the bread and wine, and talked about old times, and slept again. It was strange being together like this, but Ned's lethargy was slow to wear off, so it was easier just to accept the situation. Wona seemed like a different person as she inquired about her daughter Wilda, seeming truly to care.
At dusk Ned performed his ablution toward Mecca, and Wona joined him. Jes abstained, making no comment. She knew why Ned had converted; it was no issue between them.
In the morning Ned's interest in sex was returning, and he knew that this was true for Wona also. But he knew better than to dwell on that. They rounded up their horses and rode back together. A league before they reached the camp, they separated. "My husband would not understand," Wona explained. Surely so!
"She professes to be a good Moslem now," Jes remarked after they separated. "But she made her obeisance to Allah only when you did, and never mentioned Him otherwise."
"That's right! She gives only lip service to Allah, when with Moslems. I hadn't noticed."
"She gave you other things to notice."
"Yes." He wished he could feel good about his victory, but it had been more luck than skill, even with Jes's support.
"Be alert for that treachery," Jes told him as she took the horses, leaving him to make his way quietly into the camp afoot. "Wona obviously doesn't care about the khan's welfare, but we do."
He nodded. "Thank you for saving me, again," he said.
"I did it for Wildflower," she said, looking down.
Wildflower! How eager he was to return to her embrace.
He made his way to the khan's tent. "Ned! We missed you," Toqtamish said. "We feared something had happened."
"I was told of some terrible treachery," Ned said. "I went to investigate, but could not ascertain what it was, and was unable to return to the camp yesterday. I do not know whether it was a false lead, or whether there is some great threat to your person. I am concerned."
The khan nodded. "I appreciate that. I am glad you are safe. I will be alert, and will keep you close by my side until we know more."
"I hope I was not needed," Ned said. "I did not mean to be derelict."
"Have no concern. That new adviser, Ormond, developed a great new strategy to implement your suggestion that we make peace with Moscow so we can go after Prince Dmitri elsewhere. The problem was in convincing the Muscovites of our good faith, as we have not been kind to other Russians. We sent some chiefs to meet with them and tell them that we bear them no ill-will; it is only Dmitri, the rebellious prince, that we seek. If they will send me presents, open their gates, and allow me to tour this ancient city and see its curiosities, I will then withdraw and let them be."
Ned was surprised and gratified, but wary. "I don't think they would believe that."
"That's the key. We sent the two sons of Dmitri of Nijni Novgorod, Vasili and Simeon, with our messengers, to pledge on their swords as Russians and Christians that we will keep our word. Mongols they would not believe, but Christian princes they will."
Still Ned doubted. "If there is some great treachery planned, the Russians could agree, and it could be a ruse. If you go into that city, they could abruptly close the gates, then turn on you and slaughter your retinue and take you captive. Perhaps this was the plot I was unable to track down."
Toqtamish pondered. "I value your caution, Ned. Suppose we reverse it, and ask them to come out to visit us? Ostei can come to see me in my tent. That way I will not enter the city, and can not be cut off from my forces."
"That would be better," Ned agreed. "But take care that they sneak no arms into your presence."
"Of course." The khan smiled. "Then it is settled. We may soon be finished here." Toqtamish glanced at him. "But stay in my sight, my valued friend, and keep your militant sister by your side, just in case. We can never be too careful."
Indeed, it seemed that they had worked it out. The Mongol camp waited while the officials of the city consulted. Then the gates were thrown open, and Commander Ostei emerged, with his retinue bearing rich presents. He was followed by priests bearing a large Christian cross. These were followed by the boyars, the nobles. Finally the common citizens of Moscow trooped out, wearing decorative colors. It was a fine procession. The Russians were so very glad to be relieved of the siege.
Still, Ned worried. Where was the great treachery Wona had warned of? Should he have submitted to her passion, for the sake of the information she had? Yet if she had overheard it from her husband, Ormond, the treachery must be associated in some way with him, rather than the Russians. Unless he was a secret agent for the Russians.
Ned looked around. He did not see Ormond or Wona in the throng around the khan. There were a good number of armed troops close by, abridging the normal proscription against arms near the khan, but that would be because of the concern about possible betrayal. So Toqtamish should be safe. But why was the adviser who had arranged this encounter not present? He should be claiming due honor. Instead Ned himself was here, when he had not been responsible for the settlement. That was odd.
Treachery. Oddity. Something did not add up. Ned glanced at Jes, and saw that she was similarly concerned. Now he wished that he had made a deal with Wona. Could he have offered her anything other than his child? He wasn't sure, but he should have tried. Now all he could do was wait and watch, hoping his instincts were mistaken.
Ostei was escorted directly into the khan's tent. He was smiling. "O great Khan," he said, his words decipherable though they were in Russian. He bowed his head.
Then Ormond appeared, carrying a sword. He stepped right up close to Ostei and swung the sword. Ned saw it as if the motions were slow. He could not believe it. Ormond was attacking the leader of the city, who was here under the flag of truce? There must be some mistake!
The sword struck the man. Ostei fell, his blood spurting, amazement rather than pain on his face.
Then Toqtamish gave a signal, and mayhem erupted. The Mongol guards fell upon the citizens of Moscow, slaughtering them without mercy. Screams sounded as the victims discovered their fate.
Now at last Ned understood the nature of the treachery. Not against the khan—by the khan. Wona had heard her husband planning the conspiracy, and knew that Ned would want to know it. But he had refused to deal on her terms, and paid the price.
He felt a tugging on his arm. It was Jes. Numbly he followed her. How could Toqtamish have agreed to such an evil ploy? He should have had Ormond executed for even suggesting it. Yet it was plain that the khan had agreed to it.
Jes hauled him along to where she had two horses. "Follow me," she said, mounting.
"But—" But she was already starting off. All he could do was mount and follow.
They rode rapidly out of the camp. No one paid them any attention. The Mongols were too busy cutting down the Russians. Already troops were charging into the city, where more screaming sounded. The city was doomed.
Only when they were well away from the action did Jes pause so that Ned's horse could catch up with hers. "But we should not be fleeing the carnage," he said. "We should be trying to abate it."
"You fool," she said gently. "That woman took you—and what's worse, deceived me too. We are done here."
"Wona? But she would have warned me, if I had only—"
"Don't you see, innocent brother: she was part of it. Her job was not to tell you, but to distract you, so that you would have no chance to learn of the treachery. She kept you away from the camp for a full day and night, while the thing was set up. She accomplished her mission."
He realized it was true. Wona had used her attempted seduction only as a means of distraction, so that he would not guess her true purpose. While her husband arranged the grand deception. They had known that Ned would never agree to it, so they had kept him well clear of it—until too late. Toqtamish had conspired too, making sure Ned had no suspicion, keeping him and his sister close by so they could not question anyone or spy anything going on. They had been deceived exactly like the two Russian princes. How cunningly it had been accomplished!
"I can not serve Toqtamish any more," he said, grim and heartbroken.
"That's why I got you out of there," she said. "He would have had to have you killed. I think he thought you would see reason, by his definition, once the deed was done. But I knew better. He does not understand honor; he thinks it means merely that you will not betray him. Honor to an enemy is an alien concept for him."
She was right. "But what can we do now?" he asked plaintively.
"We can gallop home and get our family to safety before the khan's minions come for all of us," she said.
He realized it was true. The family's years of affluence and favor with the Golden Horde were through. "We shall have to return to Timur," he said. "He will protect us, and send us somewhere safe."
"We are, after all, Turks," she said. "And it will not annoy him that you are now Moslem."
"Yes. Perhaps I can continue to help the family. All is not lost."
"All is not lost," she agreed.
So it was that Toqtamish, the lackluster Mongol pretender, became one of the two major figures of central Asia. In four years, 1378-82, he showed considerable savvy, so that he came to rival Timur himself in power and influence. How could he have so suddenly changed?
He must have gotten a smart new adviser, who understood the politics of the day and knew what pitfalls to avoid, and he must have paid attention to that man. How such an adviser came to him, and precisely what he said, are unknown to history, but it could have been as presented here. The fact is that Toqtamish was surely neither as stupid in the early days nor as smart in the middle days as he seems. The prior khan of the White Horde pursued him relentlessly because he knew that Toqtamish was legitimate, competent, and ambitious; he gave the handsome young pretender no chance to get established. Only the generous and patient intercession of Timur enabled him to survive. But once he was established, Toqtamish knew how to use the reins of power, and did so with dispatch. The Golden Horde had been losing its control over Russia; he restored it for another century. Moscow was looted and burned, and after it the other Russian towns were destroyed. Dmitri never actually took the field against Toqtamish.
But what happened after he lost his good adviser? Toqtamish surely thought he could do well enough without him. And he did, for a while. He sent a conciliatory letter to Prince Dmitri, proposing peace and reaffirming Dmitri's position as Grand Prince of Muscovy, under Toqtamish. Dmitri, yielding to the reality of Mongol power, sent his son Vasili as a hostage. Vasili was well treated, and there was no more trouble on the Russian front. Meanwhile Toqtamish consolidated his power among the Kipchak tribes ruthlessly and effectively. He dominated central Asia from the border of Europe to the border of China.
Then he went wrong. He did the one thing his Turkic adviser would never have countenanced: he cast eyes on the territory of his benefactor, Timur. In 1385, while Timur was busy in Persia, Toqtamish invaded Azerbaijan, the territory southwest of the Caspian Sea, with an army of 90,000. He sacked its chief city, and returned home before the winter intensified.
Timur was annoyed. He wrapped up his business in Persia and moved to retake Azerbaijan in 1387. Toqtamish, despite a sensible reminder from some advisers: "Who knows whether, in some change of fortune, you might have to go again to Timur for help," marched his own army to meet him. A Mongol party made a sneak attack on the Turks, only to be countered by a second force and defeated. Yet Timur sent his captives back with a gentle and deserved reproof. This enraged the khan, and the war continued for several years. Timur quelled rebellions and drove off the invaders, then invaded the Golden Horde. He defeated Toqtamish and drove him from power. The Mongols remained in control of Russia, but the faithless friend had paid the price of his foolishness. Too bad he didn't stay with his good adviser.
The Mongols dominated Asia for centuries, slowly losing territory to the cultures of the west, south, and east. The Chinese were especially hard hit by their depredations. The Mongols conquered China in 1280 and lost it in 1368 when the Ming dynasty was established. Thereafter the Mongols periodically raided China, as before, and at one point even took the emperor captive. The Chinese realized that there had to be some better way. Thus their efforts to build walls, to protect them from the invasions from the north.
However, the three thousand mile long Great Wall of China, existing from the Ch'in Empire in 221 B.C. on, is a myth. Walls existed, but these were mainly local, made of earth packed around wooden supports, and they were not maintained well. They served more as boundary markers than as defense. Land within the walls was regulated and taxed; land beyond the walls was wilderness. Only when the walls were actively defended were they effective, and the money and manpower for this were usually lacking. The frontier was actually guarded by widely spaced forts. The invading nomads had no trouble going around, through, or over the walls. A single, unified, manned, stone wall defending China as a whole simply did not exist, despite cultivated mythology. Only after the Mongols were expelled did more impressive bulwarks develop, but even then there was no unified project. There was a series of smaller building projects, each designed to shore up a weakened section of the northern perimeter. Even these relatively modest efforts suffered from lack of planning, design, funds, and manpower.
In 1470 an official named Yü Tzu-Chün surveyed and repaired the western defenses. He had 12,000 troops to defend an area more than 500 miles long, protected by twenty mud-brick forts. He convinced the emperor that this was hopeless, and was given 40,000 men and over a million silver pieces, and he built a wall about 550 miles long with some 800 watch towers and sentry posts. This was effective. But Yü knew that the barbarians would simply go around it, so he petitioned the emperor for funds and men to greatly expand the defensive perimeter. This could have been the first true Great Wall. But he annoyed the bureaucrats, who surely felt they had better uses for all that money, and was forced to retire. The barbarian raids continued.
In the 1540s Altan Khan succeeded in unifying the Mongols of the region. He made several attempts to establish peaceful trade relations with the Ming, but was continually rebuffed, and often his messengers were killed. This has never been smart policy when dealing with Mongols. The Chinese emperor of the time was Chia-Ching, who reigned from 1522 to 1566, but was not much interested in the actual business of governing. He preferred to indulge his lifelong quest for the secret of immortality. Fortunately for China, his disinterest allowed more rational heads to handle the border fortifications. The far-west fortresses and walls were massively rebuilt, though this consisted mainly of bricking over the original earth walls. A network of signal towers was set up, so that messages could be sent quickly, by flame, smoke, or cannon-blast. This helped.
But the main threat was farther to the east, where Altan Khan was ambitious. Yü's original construction had been allowed to erode, but periodic repairs and new construction had maintained that portion of the border defense. But nearer the capital city of Peking was where the Mongols repeatedly raided. There were two lines of defense, enclosing two garrison cities, Ta-t'ung and Hsan-fu. They had once been formidable, but early in the sixteenth century had fallen into decline. The soil of that region was dry and unproductive, so the military supply farms suffered continual shortages and the local diet was poor. The troops consisted of hereditary soldiers and prisoners exiled to the frontier for life. Long winter hours manning the towers often led to frostbite or worse. Officers were cruel, and morale was terrible. There had been several mutinies, including a major revolt in 1524. Now the region faced its worst threat yet, in the form of the unified Mongols under Altan Khan.
In 1544 Weng Wan-ta was named commander of this disaster area. It was his job to make sure that the formidable Mongol forces did not get through to ravage the rich countryside of the capital region. Weng was competent, but this was almost too much of a challenge.
The time is 1549; the setting is the two garrison walled loop northwest of Peking.
IT WAS NICE, RIDING WITH her brother, Jes thought, because then it wasn't so deadly dull. She craved adventure, while Ned craved intellectual challenge. Theoretically they had both, here, because there was no more dangerous region than the one where the Mongols liked to attack, and there was plenty of architectural design and construction. But in practice, all they saw was walls and towers and bleak stretches of wilderness.
She and Ned were on a routine scouting mission, making sure the defenses had not broken down or been breached. Sometimes a stone fell out of place, or a storm washed a gully under a support. She spotted such problems, and Ned considered them, and then designed superior replacements. But in the long stretches between such minor discoveries, there was nothing much to do but chat.
"So did you give Wildflower a baby yet?" she inquired brightly.
"I'm trying," he said. "And she's trying. But so far all the joy has been in the effort, not the success, as with marching." She appreciated his grimace; they much preferred riding to marching, but the common soldiers had no such choice. "But what about you? You've been married longer than I have."
"I don't want a baby. That would interfere with my free life."
"Odd how a sister thinks she can lie to a brother," he remarked to the wind.
"All right, I lied," she said crossly. "I want a baby. We've certainly tried. But it doesn't come. If you can tell me what's wrong—"
"You're lean," he said. "Not much female flesh on you."
"Ittai doesn't complain. He finds what he likes readily enough."
"Oh, you've got it," he said quickly. "More than you used to. But not as generously as some."
"I wouldn't want to be fat. Some of those cows—"
"My point is that, in my limited observation, girls with some flesh on their bodies get babies faster. They don't have to be fat, just reasonably female. I'm trying to get Wildflower to eat more, but she's young."
Jes ran the women she knew through her mind. Ned was right; the plump ones had the children. Could the secret be that simple?
Meanwhile her eyes were constantly surveying the wall they paralleled, as were Ned's. "Oops," she murmured, reining in her horse.
"Mongols!" he exclaimed, keeping his voice low. "They've broken through."
"That's not hard to do, because we haven't yet completed the extension of the wall," she said. "I don't see a break, but there's no doubt they're through."
"Cover me while I get an estimate," he said, dismounting.
She remained on her steed, keeping trees between it and the Mongol force, while Ned crept closer afoot. She unslung her bow and nocked an arrow. She would shoot any Mongol who came after Ned. But she hoped he would not be spied, because outrunning Mongols was chancy at best, even with a head start and familiarity with the terrain.
Ned was soon back. "Too many to count," he said. "They are here in force. Full-scale alert."
Jes nodded. They guided their horses quietly back the way they had come, until well enough clear to be able to risk the sound of galloping. Then they moved at full speed west, toward the nearest signal tower.
"Full alert!" Jes called as they approached. "Mongols through the wall!"
"How many?" the guard captain asked as his men blew up the signal fire.
"We couldn't count," Ned said. "But by their organization, I'd guess at least 10,000. This is no skirmish squad."
The men threw damp leaves on the fire, and a big cloud of smoke went up. Unfortunately, the wind was wrong, and the cloud blew toward the Mongols. "This is mischief," Jes muttered.
"Our men will spy it," the captain said.
"But the Mongols will spy it first," she said. "They're not idiots. We'd better carry the message directly."
"Too late to call back the smoke," Ned said. "In any event, the signal system will far outpace any riders."
"But General Weng will want more detailed information than the signals can transmit, and with the Mongols alerted, there won't be much time to provide it."
"So we'd better hurry," he agreed.
They set out again, moving at the maximum sustainable pace for their horses. Probably the Mongols would not be in pursuit, because they would fear an ambush. But the Mongols would certainly be ready.
As they rode, Jes thought about the Mongols. Ned's wife was a Mongol princess, but she was loyal to Ned and the family. Ned had at one time worked for the Mongol prince, but that had ended badly. Their experience with Mongols helped them here. Indeed, General Weng had hoped to use Ned as an emissary to reestablish trade that would benefit both the Mongols and the empire, and defuse hostilities. But the eunuchs who ran the empire distrusted the Mongols, thinking they would only spy and cause trouble if allowed into the country, so that sensible option was closed. Thus the far more expensive and dangerous option of military defense was the only feasible alternative. But Weng's massive and necessary wall extension project had been underfunded from the start, delaying and weakening it. It was too bad. Now they were about to suffer, again, the consequence of the empire's multiple follies.
The horses were lathered despite the cold March air, but they made it to a larger fort by dusk. The commander assured them that the message had already been relayed, and that the general would be expecting them. They pinpointed the location of the enemy on the commander's tactical map so that he could prepare more specifically. Now Jes and Ned could relax, briefly, and get some needed rest. They were given supper and bedding for the night.
"Why couldn't you have been Wildflower?" Ned complained as they settled down under a joint blanket.
"Same reason you couldn't be Ittai," she returned archly.
They snuggled close together, sharing warmth, as they had done from childhood. They had always been best friends as well as closest siblings. They didn't mind seeing each other naked, and they shared and kept each other's secrets. On occasion they had problems with their spouses, which they could discuss with each other and ameliorate. When Ned was hurt because Wildflower declined love one night, Jes reminded him about the female cycle. "Cramps are bad enough, without that." When Jes was furious because Ittai didn't remember the date of their first meeting, Ned told her that he remembered when Lin brought Wildflower home, but he couldn't tell the date of the month that had happened. "We men don't mean any harm. It's just not the way our minds work," he explained, and she realized it was so.
The next day they rode the rest of the way to the main camp, where General Weng was hastily assembling his forces. They were ushered immediately to him to make their report.
"They seem to have circled the end of the wall," Ned said. He did the talking, being the man. "Now they are coming this way, in force."
"Damn those empire bureaucrats!" Weng swore. "If they hadn't cut our funds, we would have had that wall complete by this time." He was right, of course. Sam and Dirk were out of work at the moment because the money to pay the wall builders had run out. Fortunately they could also fight, or work on the farm. "How strong are they?"
"I didn't see their full force, only a contingent. But the nature of their formation is suggestive of a full-scale invasion." He was being cautious, but he would not have said that much without being almost certain that there was indeed a full army following the Mongol vanguard.
"Go secure your premises and report to Hsan-fu." Weng turned away, already barking orders at lesser officers.
They left. The general was nothing if not efficient.
Another hour brought them to the farm, which was by the Nan-yang River near the Hsan-fu fortress. It wasn't much, and this was the fallow season, but Flo was doing her best to instill some fertility in the soil. They were working to divert some of the river water to flow to the farm for irrigation. Sam and Dirk had dug a contour channel most of the way to the garden. But that work had to stop during this crisis.
They hastily closed down their operations and took their valuable horses and supplies to the fortress. Hsan-fu was large and well situated, guarding a pass through the hills. The Mongols would have to take it to secure their route; otherwise they would be vulnerable to harassment from their rear. Despite this certainty of attack, it was the safest place to be, because the countryside would be governed by the Mongol horsemen. Once sure of the safety of the others, Sam and Dirk armed themselves and went to report to their combat units.
By nightfall they were safely in the fortress, crowded into their makeshift temporary billets along with the other farming families of the region. As a general rule, the farmers did not mix with the troops, because the officers considered themselves above the farmers, and the prisoner conscripts were apt to be rough and uncouth. That was one reason the farmers were being given shelter within the fortress: the military discipline kept the troops from molesting them. Many soldiers were also farmers, on the military farms, but these were often unsuccessful, because the soldiers lacked the desire, patience, and aptitude to make the soil productive. Their own family was unusual in its mix, with warriors, designers, and builders all part of it. But that was because they had made it a point to keep the family together, never allowing it to fragment. It traveled as a unit, finding strength in its internal variety. Many Chinese families were unified through the generations, but their own mixture of classes was remarkable.
Jes found herself seated beside her younger sister Lin as they ate their gruel. Lin was fifteen, and blossoming into by far the loveliest member of the family. Ned's Mongol wife Wildflower was somewhat better developed in the torso, and had lustrous black hair, and Sam's wife Snow was much better endowed, but Lin had a youthful delicacy of face and feature that made men and women alike pause. She ran errands among the troops without trouble, because men were inclined to protect her rather than molest her, and for any man who might feel otherwise, there were several who would come quickly to her rescue if any hint of a need arose.
But Lin was plainly unhappy at the moment. She was silent, and her eyes were somewhat puffy; she had been crying.
Jes did not look at her directly. "I don't wish to pry," she murmured.
"It's Li," Lin said, sniffling.
Jes sorted through her memories. Li was a neighboring youth of relatively good family, husky and handsome. Evidently there was a romance in the offing. "Li," she agreed.
"He saw my hand."
That said it all. Jes freed a hand and put her arm around Lin's shoulders. The girl turned into her bosom and quietly sobbed.
Lin was beautiful, but that six-fingered left hand might as well have been a third eye, considering the effect it had on the superstitious. She usually wore a mittenlike glove on that hand, and in winter that was easily justified. But it was hard to hold hands with a boy without evoking an unkind reaction. The members of the family were used to it, and thought nothing of it; all Lin's fingers were functional, and she could work cloth quite well. Yet outside the family—
Then Jes had a notion. "There are men who are not handsome, yet who are worthwhile," she murmured. "Look at Sam. Look at Dirk."
"Look at Ittai," Lin said, a glint of humor interrupting her misery.
"All right. My husband's not young or handsome, but his wealth makes our lives halfway comfortable, and he's certainly a good man. Suppose you considered someone like that?"
"Oh I wouldn't want to take Ittai from you." The mood was definitely lifting, in the rapid way possible to youth.
Jes closed her hand and gave Lin a light punch on the shoulder. "Thank you for that favor, Sister dear. You know what I mean. Suppose there were a good man, who had some fault not of the mind or personality, but of the body, that made other girls reject him? He would be like you, in that respect. You would know exactly how he felt."
"Yes, I would," Lin agreed, wonderingly. "I never thought of that before."
"He might be a future Sam, or Dirk, or Ittai. Or Ned. You need to learn to see beyond the superficial."
"I'll try," Lin agreed. Then she disengaged and ate her gruel with more gusto. But she glanced back at Jes, mischievously. "You need to have a baby."
Jes was careful in her reaction. "Why?"
"Because then maybe you'd have enough bosom to cry into, as Flo does."
Jes laughed. "I'll try."
Next morning Weng's troops massed outside the fortress, bracing for the onslaught of the Mongols. The incursion had happened so suddenly that the Chinese force still was not complete or fully organized. The signal system had allowed Weng to track the Mongols' progress into Chinese territory, but they were moving so swiftly that the scattered defensive forces had not had time to gather. The Mongols, inveterately clever warriors, had surely planned it that way, quietly slipping through and massing until discovered. The Mongols understood the signal system perfectly; in fact they destroyed the towers at every opportunity. It was a sign of its effectiveness that the clever enemy had not been able to nullify it more than partially.
Sam and Dirk marched, but neither Ned nor Jes was allowed to join the main army. "You are too competent to risk in the field," Weng had said gruffly. "I need your designs for construction." That was Ned. "And an accurate bow to defend the fortress." Jes. The general knew her nature, but saved her face by not mentioning it. She suspected that her husband had made a deal with him, to keep her out of mischief. Ittai was of course too old for combat. That was a private comfort. But not too old for command, so he was in charge of one of the outlying forts.
However, the fortress did need defending, and she was good with the bow, so she didn't object. She reported to the wall foreman, who assigned her to the crew defending the north gate. The packed earth ramparts had been enclosed by stone and topped by small towers, just as in the walls themselves, and seemed formidable enough. But Jes had seen Mongol attacks before, and took nothing for granted. With luck, Altan Khan had not brought siege equipment along this time, and would not make a really determined effort. Not while being harassed by Weng's army. Otherwise the fort could be in real trouble, because the Mongols knew how to take down a wall by pulling out a few stones and mining out the dirt that was its core. The point was to prevent the Mongols from ever having the chance to do that.
So why hadn't they built all the walls out of solid stone? Because it was said that it took a hundred men to do in stone what a single man could do in packed earth. The walls needed to be done quickly, before the Mongols attacked again, and there simply was not enough manpower to accomplish that. Even if there had been more men, there was not the money to pay them, because only a fraction of Weng's sensible estimate was actually provided by the stingy empire. So most of the work was in earth, just as it had been in the past.
Jes wished that the emperor could be sent out here for a few months, to endure the hardships and see the impossibility of accomplishing enduring construction with the resources provided. But the emperor was too interested in Taoist mysticism to bother with such practicalities. So those in charge of the defenses had to struggle through inadequately, hoping they could stave off the Mongols one more time.
Well, the family had sought protection from the Mongols. This frontier post had not been their preference, but the present Chinese administration simply did not trust them enough to let them farther in. Jes actually liked it well enough, because there was adventure and responsibility here, but the others would have preferred a farm in the rich river delta to the east. Maybe once the walls were finished, it would be allowed.
Extra arrows from the armory were distributed, because it would not be feasible to recover expended ones. If the enemy charged the wall, there would be flaming tar poured out, too. It would be expensive for the Mongols to take this fortress. But not as expensive as it would be for the defenders, if the Mongols succeeded. It would be better to die to a man—and woman—before that happened. Certainly they would not trust any Mongol assurances about a truce. Not out here in the combat zone. If the emperor ever got sensible and made a trading pact with the Mongols, as they wanted, then it might be all right. But the Ming dynasty had been founded by those who drove out the Mongols from the rule of China, and that animosity might take centuries to fade. So common sense gave way to abiding hatred and contempt.
Nothing happened on the first day. But the second day, the Mongols drove back Weng's army. Ned was right: they were here in force. Weng had to retreat to the fortress. His losses were not great, but he did not have enough force to defeat the Mongols in open battle. However, more of his troops were arriving daily, and his reserves were growing.
The Mongols were aware of this. They knew they had to take Hsan-fu quickly, or be at an increasing disadvantage. Now they laid siege to it.
The arrows came in sheets. Jes and the other bowmen took cover behind the towers. They would fire back when the Mongols tried to charge.
But a number of the arrows were blazing. They arched high, their target the interior of the fortress, where they would set anything flammable afire. Their burning pitch was almost impossible to extinguish; the arrows had to be grasped by their shafts and buried in sand. There were crews for that purpose, and they were busy now. But it was dangerous, because many regular arrows still rained down, catching those who were exposed. So it was necessary to have a shield-bearer protect an arrow-fetcher. This slowed down the work, and some blazes did start.
The Mongol horsemen charged the wall, under the cover of another ferocious volley of arrows. This was what the defenders had been waiting for. Protected by their shield-bearers, they stood and fired at the men outside. They had the advantage of height, and of being stationary, and of planning. They made their arrows count. The closer the Mongols came, the easier targets they and their horses were. The fire from the fortress became punishing indeed.
The Mongols swerved away before reaching the wall. But the defenders did not cease. Jes took careful aim at the back of the nearest horseman, and put an arrow through it. He had light armor, but at this range it wasn't enough; her arrow penetrated, and he fell from his horse. She was already orienting on another.
The Mongols set up catapults and hurled heavy rocks into the fortress. These were dangerous, as there was no way to stop such missiles. But Weng sent a detachment out to attack the catapult crews specifically, and soon those were silenced.
This was the pattern for two days. But by then the rest of Weng's forces had assembled, and were closing in on Altan Khan's army. The Mongols had battered the fortress but failed to take it, and now they were forced to withdraw.
They tried the old Mongol trick of false retreat, but it didn't work. Weng brought sufficient resources to bear to defeat the enemy when it turned, and the retreat became real.
Reports came constantly back to the fortress. Weng's forces were still getting stronger as units arrived, while the Mongols had no backup. It became apparent that this was not a major Mongol invasion, but more of an exploratory incursion. Had it been able to take the fortress, then Altan Khan would have been well situated to invade China at his convenience. Since the surprise raid had not succeeded, all he could do was go home and plan something else.
There were several other engagements, and Weng's forces prevailed in them all. The Mongols were definitely being driven out. The defenses had held.
Jes chafed at the inaction. She had few enough chances to fight, and with the fortress no longer under siege, there was no action here. So when one of the messengers collapsed from a wound, she slipped in and took his place. The commandant didn't see her, or perhaps pretended not to. Thus she "returned" to the general's camp, riding a swift horse. This was more like it; there might yet be some combat.
But there was not. Scouts had verified that the Mongols were circling the wall to the east, going back to Mongolia. The Chinese would remain vigilant until quite sure, but the chances were that this raid was over.
Disconsolate, Jes prepared to be sent back to the fortress. But as she dawdled near the edge of camp, looking for any pretext not to check in properly and be discovered, a motion caught her eye. Someone was firing an arrow at her!
She turned her horse as she brought out her own bow. But the Mongol ambusher was already in full gallop, streaking away. She would have little chance to catch him, and he would only lead her past an ambush anyway.
Besides, she realized that he hadn't intended to strike her with the arrow. The range had been such that he could have winged her; no Mongol was that bad a shot. The arrow had landed in the ground right in front of her horse. It had a peculiar thick shaft. Almost as if—
She hastily dismounted and went to fetch the arrow. It was! It was a message. There was a scroll wrapped tightly around the shaft.
She knew better than to unwrap it. She remounted and took the arrow directly to General Weng.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded as he spied her.
"Bringing you a message arrow," she said serenely, presenting it. "It landed in front of my horse."
He took it and unwrapped it. " 'If trade is not resumed, I will attack Peking in the autumn. ALTAN KHAN,' " he read. Then he looked up. "It has his seal. It's authentic. The man wants to trade. So do I. But will the emperor listen?"
The question was rhetorical. None of this warfare would have happened, if the emperor had been willing to listen to reason. But the message would be sent on to Peking anyway.
The question of whether only plump women can conceive babies is not simple, but studies have shown that the truly lean ones, such as athletes or the malnourished, do have that problem, and may suspend menstruation. There does have to be a certain minimal amount of body fat, or nature shuts down that particular apparatus. With the poor local diet of the time the poorer women could have had a problem, while the better off ones did not.
The message to Peking was not heeded. Like many other leaders, the emperor preferred to fight, at whatever internecine cost, than to make a reasonable settlement.
Within three months Weng was promoted to minister of war, so he never saw the end of his building project. Then his father died, and he retired to his home in Kwangtung, in southern China. The Mongols attacked again in 1550, coming through a broken section of wall north of Ta-t'ung. They drove away all forces arrayed against them, and came again to the fortress Hsan-fu. But once again they were unable to take that fortress city. There is a suspicion that they were bought off by bribes by Weng's less-competent successor. At any rate Weng's double-wall frontier had held.
So Altan Khan went around the walls—a long way around. He took his army east all the way to the sea, where he was able to skirt the defense. Then he descended onto the plains around Peking. He drove away the Ming cavalry arrayed against him, and raided and ravaged within sight of the city walls. The sky was filled with the smoke of burning fields and estates. Only when they were good and ready, did the Mongols return to the steppe.
The emperor really should have agreed to resume trade.
