# The Making of the Morning Star/Chapter 10

pp. 47-52.

### CHAPTER X

In the temples sit the priests, seeing all things, for they are slaves of the gods. Aye, the wisdom of the gods is one with Fate. Yet the lips of the priests are locked.
In the palace are the rose-faced women. Their hair is fragrant as a garden at dusk, and their fingers are like silver, for they are the slaves of a king. They have covered their lips with perfume and their hearts with secrecy.
One key only will unlock the hearts of the slaves, and that is Fear.—Persian proverb.
ROBERT ordered his followers to remain where they were and reined his horse through the gate after Abdullah until they were a stone's throw beyond the wall but still within the glow of the torches. The minstrel bore himself like a new man. Lute and pack were gone, and the good-nature had faded from his broad face; he sat restlessly in the high-peaked saddle, peering into the maw of the dark plain as if watching the retreating Mongols and eager to be after them.
“My quest is ended, O companion of the road. I have found you and brought you hither with honor enough for us both.”
The crusader nodded and laughed.
“Verily you are something of a wizard, Abdullah. You led me hither to serve—as you said—the master of all men. And I serve Muhammad in a high place.”
“My master—” Abdullah glanced on all sides—“is not Muhammad, who is a slave, served by slaves. I follow the Manslayer.”
“Genghis Khan?”
“Aye.”
Robert's eyes narrowed. Here was a riddle, and he waited for the minstrel to explain it. And after perceiving that his friend would not speak, Abdullah went on.
“Hear then, lord companion, one last tale from the teller of tales. Before your mother bore you, there lived a tribal chief in the Gobi Desert, which is beyond the Roof of the World. This man came to be called Genghis Khan later, but at that time he herded sheep and cattle and fought with the other tribes. One day there came to him a youth who could sing the hero-songs of the tribes, whose tongue was quick to boast, yet who drew back from no man's sword. This was Chepe Noyon, and they called him the Tiger.
“Again there came one who had the strength of a buffalo, who quaffed a cask of wine before setting it down, and Genghis Khan named him Subotai, or the Buffalo. When the other chiefs of the Mongols were in tatters and saw their herds thinned and their women carried off by their foes they hung their heads and rode away to another place; then Genghis Khan said to these two, the Tiger and the Buffalo, that they should be his chief men, and they kept at his side to spy out the way in front of him and to guard his back against arrows. Sometimes when they were stiff with wounds they fled to the mountains; they tasted the dregs of treachery, which was worse than the buran—the black wind-storm that sweeps the high desert and freezes men in the saddle.”
The minstrel folded his arms and thought for a moment.
“When the dust rose from the plain or the mist descended from the sky these three did not lose the path they followed. In time came reward. The other tribes were trampled down. So they joined the Mongol standard, and Genghis Khan became leader of the Horde—the riders of the Gobi. They counted their herds by the hundred, and friends came to them from the white world of the north and from the west and the south.
“When Cathay sent its bannermen against them they rode over the Great Wall, which was stronger than this.”
The minstrel nodded at the wall of the city.
“So in time they humbled Cathay and rode their horses into the palaces of Yenking, which is as great as three Bokharas. The wise men of Cathay served them, and they sat at table with Prester John of Asia. But Genghis Khan always kept the Tiger and the Buffalo near him and gave them honor. They were three brothers who would give up their horses, one to the other, in a battle.
“Then the Gur-Khan, who was lord of the Roof of the World, mustered his warriors, and Genghis Khan mounted his horse and went up against him. The Horde did not sit again upon the carpets of ease until they took the tents of the Gur-Khan.
“I am Chepe Noyon, the orkhon, leader of the right wing of the Horde, and brother-in-arms to Genghis Khan.”
The minstrel drawled his name, and his eyes twinkled.
“From the Uighurs, who are Turks and scholars, I learned Arabic and heard of Khar; and the desire came upon me to ride down and look upon this Shah who was himself a slave.
“And I came because at the table of Prester John my master had heard of a race of Franks who had landed on the Moslem shores and made havoc with their swords. Hearing of their deeds, Genghis Khan laid a command on me. And the command was to fetch to him one of the Christian Franks who had a strong arm and a stout heart. This was because Genghis Khan wished to see for himself one of these warriors who had come over the seas, to overthrow all of the Moslems as he had struck the Cathayans. And I went, for a command is a command, even from a brother.
“Aye, the orkhon became a minstrel, and good sport was his. Muhammad, the Shah, after seeing him ride and shoot an arrow and empty a flagon of wine without setting it down, took him into favor—not knowing his name or race. Abdullah became the cup-companion of an emperor's revels—and bethought him of his mission. So he asked the way to the strongholds of the Franks, and Muhammad gave him a chain of jewels.”
The Mongol—Robert still thought of him as Abdullah—laughed heartily at the jest, probably aware of what kind of a chain Muhammad would have set upon him if his true name had been known.
“Why,” asked Robert, frowning, “did you bring me with you? There were greater knights in Syria.”
“Of the very few who could have made the journey and lived, none except you had the heart to set forth. Oh, I have watched you and tested you, and my choice was good.”
Chepe Noyon nodded reflectively and continued:
“When we drew our reins to the Sialak I first heard of the war between Muhammad and Genghis Khan, and many lies were told me. But while you were a captive here I rode to Otrar and there learned the truth, and this is it:
“The Moslems, being traders and traffickers by nature, sent caravans to the Mongol empire to sell their wares. And so Genghis Khan sent an embassy to Muhammad to greet him. The Governor of Otrar was a fool, and he mistook the envoys for common men.”
Robert thought of his first impression of Chatagai, and judged that this might easily happen.
“First the Governor of Otrar cut off their beards and then their heads,” went on Chepe Noyon carelessly, “and kept their goods, to win Muhammad's favor. The head that hangs by this gate—” he pointed to the wall behind them—“was the brother of Chatagai. Genghis Khan will let no man of the Horde suffer injury unavenged. Aye, in our land a young woman might carry a sack of gold in her hand from Bishbalik to Kambalu, and she and the gold would be untouched. Nay, can there be two suns in the sky? War between the Shah and the Khan was certain, and now it has come to pass. Muhammad thought he was dealing with a nomad—a herdsman. So he was. But he thinks otherwise.”
Throwing back his head, he laughed, white teeth flashing through his beard.
“By the white horse Kotwan, by the sky dancers, that was a ride we made, from your gate to this gate! These men of Khar be liars! Aye, the men of Khar have tasted fear, and the day is at hand when they will eat shame! Bokhara's wall will be level with the plain and herds will graze where the palaces stood.”
Thinking of the prophecy of the dead sheikh, Robert held his peace.
“In Bokhara,” resumed Chepe Noyon with relish, “I sang your praises, so that the Shah would hear, and demand to see you; then Osman would not dare put you to the torture as he planned. Hai—it happens oftentimes that a pit is dug for a tiger and an ox is trapped. Behold what happened. The imams and the mullah besought Muhammad to make you ameer of the city, to lead its defense. And now you may surrender to Genghis Khan, winning honor thereby. If Bokhara resists it will fare no better than Otrar.”
Robert held up his hand.
“Is a promise made at sunrise to be broken at sundown?”
“Not the promise of a true man.”
“Then I will defend Bokhara. My word is passed, and I will not unsay it.”
FOR a full moment Chepe Noyon gazed up at the vault of the sky and sniffed into his nostrils the odor of the warm sand.
“Tell me this, O companion of the road. Can one man cast himself into the water and so stem the rush of a river in flood?”
The crusader was silent, having no answer, and Chepe Noyon did not seem ill pleased.
“The men of Khar are foxes, apt at stealing and flying to cover. I have lived among foxes on the steppe. You know not the depth of treachery in these Moslems as I do, who have sung my songs in diwan and riwan—in council and feast. Each one lusts for the treasure of Khar.”
“Is the throne of gold in Bokhara?”
“Aye, well hidden. It lies below ground—so much a drunken priest babbled. The wazir knows the way to it, but the priests stand guard over it, and Osman can not hew them down because his foes would cry sacrilege and muster enough Moslems to cut him and his men to pieces.”
He laughed again shortly.
“O fool—to think they gave you honor in good faith! I overheard the talk between Muhammad and his advisors in the righistan where his elephant took stand. He would have waited to bear off the treasure, but Osman's men declared that he must leave the gold as surety that Bokhara would be relieved by him. He fears Osman and his own mother.”
The Mongol looked long at Robert.
“Your eyes would be opened in time, but then it would be too late,” he added. “The Shah left you behind as a figurehead, to deprive Osman of honor. The mullah took your part because he has a dread of the Kankalis—without some one to hold them in check. Osman is shrewd; you can not deal with him. Bokhara is doomed. We are clear of the gate. Ride then with me. I go to Genghis Khan and the fellowship of true men.”
“Go!” said Robert briefly. “I will keep to my place.”
“By the eyes of——!” cried the Mongol. “Bold words, but what deeds will follow? Summon your men—or they will question you about me. Hai—I will lead them a chase.”
He gathered up his reins, and the horse, sensing the purpose of its rider, reared impatiently.
“Nay, there is peace between us, for you saved my life.”
“The debt is even, since you shielded me in Palestine. Now the sword is between us.”
He lifted his muscular hand to his forehead and lips.
“Ahatou koke Mongku-hai!”
Although Robert did not know it, Chepe Noyon had given him the salute of the royal Mongols.
He listened a while to the drumming of hoofs on the baked clay of the road and then turned back to the gate reflectively. Abdullah, or Chepe Noyon, had been a wayward kind of friend, but Robert found that he missed the minstrel now that the Mongol was gone for good.
THE next day the men on the walls of Bokhara watched columns of Mongols move up from the east and spread out over the plain. All day the dust hung in clouds over masses of riders and herds of horses. The sun gleamed on the horns of cattle and the spears of the guards that shepherded thousands of captives from Otrar.
Robert, studying the array, saw that the Mongol warriors were all mounted, and all looked the same. He could not pick out the leaders. All wore the dust-stained leather and skins, and crude, rusted armor was on a few; here and there above the masses of the Horde moved immense standards—the horns of a stag or buffalo, trimmed with streaming tails, on long poles.
When the dust settled, lines of gray tents, built over a wooden framework, stood in place; back of these the captives and the cattle were herded on the open plain, with the heavy carts of the Horde forming fences around them. Robert bade Will try to count the warriors, and the yeoman estimated a trifle over a hundred thousand, the knight somewhat less.
“By the foul fiend, his cloven hoof!” muttered the archer. “Here is woundy work, i' faith. Our foes be quartered already, and the day is not yet done. A true besieger now in Christendom would set about the work in seemly wise. Aye, he would first fashion him out of beams from his baggage-train a fair array of battering-engines—mangonels and trebuchets. Aye, stone-casters and rams—chats and foxes and eke towers of assault. Then in another week he would cut and fit together storming-ladders, and we would harry him with a-many cloth-yard shafts and cast back his ladders on his poll——”
“The Mongols lack siege-engines to my thinking, Master Will.”
“Then do they lack sense, Master Robert. Rede me this riddle: How may men ride horses up a wall? Or tear down the wall with their hands? 'Tis a thing impossible.”
He rubbed his long chin and scowled.
“This paynim wizarder hath the right o' the matter. My lord, as he says, we should sally out and fall upon the foe, pikes and bills—sa ha!”
Osman had suggested a sortie of the garrison, arguing that the Bokharians outnumbered the Mongols. But Robert would not give assent to the plan. The Horde puzzled him, and he wished to see what they were about before trusting the Moslem soldiery against them on open ground.
Meanwhile the besiegers established mounted patrols that cut off all communication with the world outside, and this pleased the knight. The Shah had given him authority within Bokhara, and now no message could reach the city gainsaying this authority, and he meant to hold the command until the Mongols were beaten off. Beyond that he had made no plans.
By noon of the second day he noticed work in progress within the Mongol lines. Ox-sleds dragged up loads of earth, which was dumped along a front of a hundred yards, facing a portion of the wall where no towers stood. The captives labored at this spot, thousands of them, and the earth mound grew in height as it neared the wall.
“A causeway,” he explained to Will. “And a great one. They will push it nearer until it reaches the rampart of our wall.”
Whereupon he set to work to place on platforms built behind the menaced point, machines for casting sheaves of arrows and stones.
Throughout the night the Mongols kept at their labor, and the creaking of the carts sounded nearer. The defenders kindled cressets on the rampart and contented themselves with shouted insults and laughter, while Robert slept in a tent under the wall and the archer dozed at the tent entrance. An hour before dawn the knight roused and went to the battlement.
The causeway had crept forward and mounted higher. Now it reared against the stars about a hundred feet back from the edge of the ditch. Robert sent a warrior for Jahan Khan, the leader of the Kankalis, and the atabeg came, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and cursing under his breath. He was a slender man, glittering from knee to throat in gilded mail. Pearls were sewn into his turban, and a heron's plume marked him apart from his men. The right sleeve of his khalat was turned back on a supple shoulder and held by a diamond chain—this marking him for a notable swordsman—yet his eyes were heavy with the after-sleep of opium as he made his salaam.
“Take twice a hundred of your bowmen to the rampart,” ordered Robert without salutation, “and scatter the workers upon the mole.”
“Mashallah!”
The atabeg smiled.
“Am I a captain of bowmen? Bid me sally forth from the gates, and I will bring you the head of the Mongol chief on a spear.”
“You are a bahator, chief of thirty thousand. Can you check the advance of the causeway?”
Robert permitted the torchlight to flash on the signet ring he wore, and after a moment it was clear to the Kankali that the Nazarene meant to be obeyed. Robert dismissed him and ordered food to be brought to the tent. He broke his fast with keen relish, after instructing Will to mount to the wall and mark the progress made by the defenders.
The archer came back indignant. The Mongols had brought up to the head of the mound wooden frames upon which raw hides had been stretched. These frames were triangular in shape at the front and while they covered the besiegers, permitted earth and stones to be dumped down into the angle and the causeway moved forward as steadily as before. The Moslem archers with their short weapons were doing no damage at all.
“Bid the khan,” Robert ordered one of his followers, “set the engines to work.”
Response came back promptly that Jahan Khan declared the handling of stone-casters was not in the order given him.
“Then say to the khan that he is to come to my tent for a new order.”
The knight was finishing the last of his rice and fruit and washing his hands when Jahan Khan approached and made as if to sit beside him.
“Stand,” said Robert quietly, and while a hundred pairs of eyes watched intently he commanded two bowmen who came with the chief to chain Jahan Khan's arms and lead him away to his tent, there to guard him until relieved.
“What shame is this?” yelled the startled khan. “Am I dirt—I, Jahan Khan, the bahator?”
He gripped his simitar hilt convulsively, and a great sigh went up from the crowd that had gathered about them.
It was the first real test Robert had made of the power given him, and he sat on his carpet without stirring or looking up at the raging chief. If he had started to explain his action Jahan Khan might have pushed the quarrel to blows; if the crusader put hand to weapon the man would strike first and claim afterward that he had done so in defense of his life. In the shadows at his back he heard Will Bunsley slip an arrow from quiver.
After a while he motioned toward one of the younger begs, the tallest of the officers present. This sign among Moslems was as if Robert had beckoned, and after a second's hesitation the warrior strode forward, the crusader waiting until he saw fit to make a salaam.
“Ho, Moslems,” snarled Jahan Khan, “this Nazarene takes upon his shoulders the mantle of the Shah, and that is a shame upon us all.”
It was just too late to appeal to the religious zeal of the Kankalis, because now they had grown curious as to what Robert wanted of the younger beg. They pressed closer to stare, and after a little reflection Jahan Khan took his hand from his weapon, choosing to make the conflict one of words.
“Do you,” Robert remarked to the attentive younger warrior, “take the leadership of the Kankalis, and fight as a man should. And you—” he turned to the doubtful bowmen—“confine this atabeg until he has slept off the opium in his tent. You have leave to go!”
With that he turned his back and no more words were spoken. Jahan Khan was too surprized to argue, and one or two laughed as he went off. Robert had made good his authority against the most troublesome adherent of the wazir, and he knew that the account of the quarrel would be in every quarter of the city by dawn. It was well worth the risk he had taken.
To help the new leader, he sent Will Bunsley to the wall to show the Moslem archers how to loose their arrows in a high arc, to fall behind the protecting shield. The tumult above grew louder, and the grind and thud of catapult and mangonel sounded above the whistling of the arrows as the sun rose. Although the Mongols suffered from the fire, they pressed the work. The remnants of the captives were sent to the rear, and lines of armed men bore sacks of earth and stones up the cause way. The shields were wrecked, and for a time the bodies of men fell over the head of the causeway as thickly as the sacks.
Then arrows began to fly from the Mongol lines and sweep the battlement.
“Ha, lord,” muttered Will, “mark how yonder shafts cleave the paynim shields! They be stoutly sped, with a true eye. Would I had fourscore Lincolnshire lads here upon the rampart!”
He sighed and presently uttered an exclamation of astonishment.
Under cover of the arrow-flights the Mongols began a new building-up of the causeway, which had ceased to move forward. The ox-carts were driven out of the camp by hundreds and steered up the incline.
Men with torches herded the bellowing animals up the causeway, and once the mass started forward, the oxen kept on, goaded by spears and the smoking torches. The first carts reached the brink of the embankment and rolled over and the rest came after in a steady stream of frantic beasts and splintering wagons. The arrows of the Moslems fell fruitlessly among them, and Robert saw that the carts were loaded with sand and stone. Men, caught in the rush of surging animals, stood up and shouted defiance at the wall. One powerful warrior in a tigerskin hurled his torch at the Kankalis and leaped out from the cart, to fall into the ditch and be crushed by the carts that came after him.
When the causeway stood upon the edge of the ditch, as high as the wall and some twenty feet from it, the Mongols withdrew and quiet settled down. Robert left the Kankalis in charge opposite the causeway and rode to seek out Kutchluk Khan, who was camped across the city with his Turkomans.
The one-eyed chief came forward on foot, and the crusader did not dismount, for he was entitled to speak to the old warrior from the saddle.
“Take half your men—ten thousand of the best armed—and clear away the stalls and sheds of the souk. Quarter yourselves in the market-place which is in the center of the city. When a wide space is cleared, assemble your men and report to me. Can you reach any point in the wall, riding four abreast from the suk?”
“Allah pity any who stand in my way,” boasted the Turkoman, grinning. “Are we to sally forth by the river? The Mongols have no more than a few riders on watch on the banks of the Syr.”
“Who spoke first to you of a sally, O atabeg?”
Kutchluk Khan thought for a moment.
“'Twas Osman, or one of the cup-companions.”
“You have seen many battles.”
“By the ninety and nine holy names, I have seen rivers run with blood and the dust of the fighting hide the sun, O ameer.”
“Have you ever given your men an order to ride whither your foes wished them to go?”
“Nay! Am I a smooth-faced boy, to listen to false talk?”
“Then why incline your heart to a sally? The Mongols fight best in the saddle, and on the open plain they would be at home.”
The Turkoman grunted and fingered his beard, not too well pleased at the rebuke.
“Likewise,” went on Robert bluntly, “tell me if Osman holds me in honor or not?”
“By the sword-hand of —— he doth not. Yah khawand,” Kutchluk laughed, baring yellow teeth, “he would be content to pour molten lead in your ears and make of your skull a drinking-cup. He has sworn he will.”
“Sworn to whom?”
“To me and others, having gone among us with whispered talk. Slay him while the hour is propitious; it is all one to me, and my men would stand aside. I know not why the Shah chose you to be over me, but Osman is an adder that strikes from a hole in the wall.”
Kutchluk became good-humored again as he watched the crusader ride away. To his men he observed that the dog of a Nazarene was good steel shining from a dunghill.
“He knows well the worth of a mounted reserve of warriors such as we be. He hath given command for us to clear the bazaars—aye, and a way through every quarter of the city, so that we can mount and ride to his aid when he summons us. Allah send the wazir slay him not, for a feud comes to a head between them.”
“Inshallah—then the door of looting is opened!”
The Turkomans, who had become quarrelsome from long idleness, waxed supremely content and prepared to go and plunder the stalls of the merchants. And by the time they were in saddle the words of the new ameer had been repeated so often that to a man they were ready to swear they had been ordered to loot.
* ↑ The Arctic Circle.
* ↑ The Himalayas.