Swords From the Sea (23 page)

Read Swords From the Sea Online

Authors: Harold Lamb

Tags: #Action & Adventure, #Short Stories (Single Author), #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Suspense, #Adventure Fiction, #Adventure Stories, #Short Stories, #Sea Stories

They heard voices, distinct in the thin air, and crawled warily to the summit of a ridge. Here they crouched, motionless. Below them within stone's throw were three large dog sledges and a half-dozen Ostiaks. Seated on a log beside the embers of a fire, Master Cornelius Durforth and Joan Andrews were talking. Squatting on a white horse skin near his two dog teams was the wizard they had pursued from the Ice Sea.

Joan had been freed of her bonds by Durforth, who sent the shaman away from the maiden, and prepared food for her, with hot, spiced wine. Refreshed, she gazed curiously at the man who sat by her in his coat of black foxskin with an ermine collar. Joan knew the value of such things.

She saw, too, that the powerful fingers of his left hand played with the links of a gold chain at his throat; that his strong teeth glimmered through the tangle of his jutting beard. His brown eyes, utterly without expression, moved restlessly as if instinct made him uneasy. A sudden foreboding gripped Joan, who was as sensitive as a child, and fear burned in her veins more fiercely than when the shaman had thrown her into his sled.

She had seen that gold chain before, and the face that reminded her of a wolf. Too few events had come into the life of the daughter of John Andrews that she should forget one of them. Two years before at Yuletide, when the candles were lighted in the windows of Cairness-a ship driving into the haven for refuge-a stranger sitting in the tavern, listening to the tales of John Andrews of gold to be found by one who could pass south of the Ice Sea.

"Oh," she cried, "you are the master of the black pinnace!"

Cornelius Durforth did not take his eyes from the fire.

"I have had many ships to my command."

"The black pinnace with the dragon's head, which was manned by Burgundians."

"Ah. Then you-" he looked at her-"would be John Andrews's daughter."

"Aye, so. And so was my father slain by your churls."

"How?"

"Your pinnace entered the haven of Wardhouse-" Joan faltered, but passionate anger, long pent up, was rife in her-"and your knaves looted it over the body of John Andrews, who once gave you shelter."

"Did they so? By the Three Dead Men of Cologne, they were not my knaves. The boat once carried my flag and was made a prize by pirates out of Danemarke."

His lips drew back in a soundless laugh.

"They paid in good coin for their frolic; I saw the boat with their bodies hanging like ripe fruit, drifting down the coast."

His words carried conviction, but the girl drew back from his face.

"Who are you?" she barely whispered.

"Cornelius Durforth, the Burgundian. What, wench, have you never heard of the merchant of Ghent?"

Her mind flitted among questions. What was Durforth doing on the Ice Sea? How had he escaped alone from the stricken ships of the English? Why had the Ostiak brought her to him?

He thrust out his hand to take her chin and study her face.

"Nay, wench, you wear your heart upon your sleeve. You are fair as a golden eaglet, but, on my faith, only a hooded falcon may sit on perch at its master's table. Weigh well your answer to this question: Do you trust me? Are you friend or unfriend?"

Whereat she sighed and dropped her gaze to the chain of gold about his neck.

"Good my master, who am Ito stand against your will? Take me with you out of this forest to Christian folk, and I will thank you on my knees. But let us set out at once!"

In silence Durforth considered her, until a flush mantled her cheeks and his beard bristled in a wide smile.

"So! I am no wizard like Shatong the shaman-" he nodded at the Ostiak who was tapping on a drum between his knees, upon a white horse- hide-"yet can I read your mind. You fear me, you have no faith in me. A witless boy follows the track of your sled through the wilderness, and it is your thought that if he rushes in upon us here he will be slain, which, indeed is most true.

"Under a cloak of meekness you would have us set out so that he will see our following and learn caution, which is a thing he never will learn. In another hour or so your armiger will be wolf meat."

She drew away from the man, hands pressed against her cheeks.

"Would you slay him shamefully in this pagan land?"

"That will I, and he would do no less for me. By the eyes of -- you should know no land is wide enough to hold us twain. He serves his king, who is shent-aye, who lieth under sod ere now. Hath a man allegiance to the dead?"

"Aye, so," the girl responded promptly.

"Then is he a traitor. For-and here is a merry matter-the lord prince who laid command upon me to voyage hither is now your squire's lord."

"That may not be," she cried passionately, "I think you are liegeman to Satan, prince of darkness."

"Some do call him that. And, by the Three Dead Men, if Mephistoph- ele were anointed monarch on this earth, he would not lack for followers, being both sagacious, courteous, and untainted by remorse. Yet I serve Philip, son of the Emperor Charles, the mightiest lord in Christendom. And this same Philip will sit presently upon the throne of England."

While he spoke he had been studying the maiden, marking the tawny hair held back by the hood, the slight, firm lips, and the pulse that beat in a white throat. Such beauty would command its price, and Durforth knew the very barons who would lighten their purses of a hundred gold crowns to possess her.

Yet he was embarked upon a delicate mission, and it was necessary that her tongue should be silent as to what she had seen on the Ice Sea, and what she would presently behold. He considered permitting Shatong to cut out her tongue; but she might be able to write.

Women, he knew, were like hawks. Tamed and hooded, fed and wingclipped, they would be content under the hand of a master for a whileuntil he could be paid his price for the maiden. To tame her, she must first learn to fear him.

Unclasping his cloak, he took from the breast of his doublet two papers, folded and sealed. These he held near the fire, for the light was dim under the trees, so that she could see the imperial signet on the seals. When he saw that she had recognized it, he put the letters back very carefully in a silk pouch attached to the end of his gold chain.

"These letters missive," he said, "are from Charles of Spain to Ivan the Terrible, emperor of Muscovy, and they are my charge."

"Sir Hugh's letters-"

Durforth's head went back and he laughed from an open throat, a roaring laugh that reached to the ears of Thorne and the hunter who crouched behind the ridge, waiting until darkness could cover their approach to the fire. Yet they heard not the words of the agent of Philip.

"Death of my life, wench, Sir Hugh's letters are ashes long since. Sir Hugh, gallant fool! Sir Hugh, lack-wit leader! Why, he ventured blindly into the Ice Sea. He sailed in circles when he lost company with Chancellor, and he proposed to winter in an open bay without fuel or food."

Shivering, she looked up at him, and he took a savage pleasure in heightening the horror in her eyes.

"I had ventured to the northern coast before this, and had talked with the Easterlings. I knew the peril of the khylden and the cold that stiffens a man's sinews and soul. So I baled me from the fleet, to the southeast where the tribe of Ostiaks had their dwelling. Before we could return to the ships the storms had snuffed out the Englishmen.

"My pinnace had fallen foul of the Laps, and the lads that manned it were drying i' the wind. I had sent it to the Wardhouse so that I might sail in it to the inland sea, and thither into Muscovy. But it fell out otherwise.

"So was I set afoot. And by mischance that murdering wight Thorne, who hath crossed my path twice before now, was journeying along the coast. My Ostiaks sighted your fire on Christmas night, and I sent Shatong with ten others to the ships to greet your comrades while I conveyed the goods I had taken from the Con fidentia hither and awaited the coming of the savages."

Again he laughed, for Durforth could enjoy a jest.

"Body of Thorne played in luck there. The Ostiaks had never heard a gun roar. But Shatong is a match for your wildling squire. Aye, that longhaired imp is a familiar of the powers of darkness."

"God grant," cried loan, "that Master Chancellor meets with you."

"If you wish the pilot well, pray otherwise," responded Durforth grimly. "I know where he must lie, if he lives, and it should go hard but I bring the Easterling pack upon his back."

Into Joan's whirling thoughts came memories of childhood tales, of werewolves that took the form and semblance of men by day and turned to beasts at nightfall, of beasts that ran to join the unhallowed company of the witches' sabbath.

"How did you gain this power over the savages?" she whispered, fearful of hearing what was in her mind.

Durforth's face seemed to change, and the fire in his brown eyes died down.

"Power?" He waxed thoughtful. "Why, I can speak with them. Power springs always from wealth, because it feeds the desire of men. I promised Shatong riches incalculable if he would guard me with his men to the Town of Wooden Walls, which is the door to Russia, or Muscovy. I promised to show him the mystery of gunpowder."

He was gazing at her now, narrowly.

"My hold on them is slight. Remember that. And now say if you will cast your lot with me?"

"I will not. For-by you have said that you sent the pinnace that wrought evil to my father."

Durforth shook his head slowly.

"Here is irony. 'Tis true the men and the ship were mine, but I did order them to conduct themselves straitly and do no harm, for fear of a broil with the English rovers. They fell a-plundering."

It amused him that he, who had been forced to lie without cessation, should not gain credit for the one truth.

"I see," he added, "you will have none of me. May the foul fiend take you, slut, didst think an empire is built out of billing and cooing and tying of breast-knots? Shatong, then, shall have you."

Glancing into her stricken face, he moved impatiently.

"My pretty vixen, I put no value on your beauty, nor does Shatong. He will e'en have a use for you."

Durforth laughed again in amusement at her obvious signs of fear.

Now as he beckoned to the shaman who had been peering at them and at the ridges about the camp, through the tangle of his long hair, Durforth's eyes began to glow. His tongue touched his lips and a certain eagerness was apparent as he signed for the Ostiak to lead away the maiden.

"Khada ulan obokhod," the wizard muttered. "The dead souls that dwell in the mountains and high places have spoken to me. They say the man who is your enemy is near this place. I can bring him to the fire."

Durforth looked at the old savage curiously. He was more than a little superstitious, and he had seen the shaman do unaccountable things.

"Before the last of the light is gone, I will bring him." Shatong's thin hand closed on loan's arm. "But I must take the maiden for this work."

The man nodded, and Shatong led loan to a stone on the other side of the fire, and went to his horsehide. Striking on the drum slowly he began a song, the copper bells and the iron trinkets on his leather apron keeping a rude sort of time.

Chapter XVI

The Snow Bear

Kyrger, flat on his belly in the snow, wriggled uneasily. They had been too far away for Thorne to hear what was said between the two outlanders, but Shatong's shrill voice was distinct enough in the thin air. Kyrger knew that the shaman was trying to draw Thorne to the Ostiaks, although the white man was clearly waiting for darkness before he made any move.

More logs were thrown on the fire, and as dusk fell the figure of the shaman was covered with a ruddy tinge. On one knee he bent over the drum, chanting his discordant song. Then he rose to his toes and spread out his arms, moving toward Durforth.

Kyrger knew by this that the kam, the spirit of the wizard, had become separated from his body and was flying through the air. Shatong, therefore, meant to journey to the cold underground region where Erlik ruled the spirit world.

"The dead souls say," chanted the wizard, "I must cut myself. I will cut myself with your knife."

Durforth handed the savage his dirk and Shatong crept nearer the girl. Thorne rose to his knees, taking the crossbow from Kyrger, but uttered a stifled exclamation of astonishment. Shatong had thrust the weapon under his own gaunt ribs. Or so it seemed. His two hands gripped the hilt, and blood ran down upon his apron. The blade of the dirk had disappeared.

Presently the shaman drew it forth, stained with blood, and screamed. Joan hid her face in her hands.

Durforth, chin on hand, seemed unmoved; but his eyes were intent. Meanwhile Shatong took up his journey to the presence of Erlik. He went through the motions of leaping over mountains and staggering through the sands of a desert; then he walked forward gingerly, swaying from side to side.

Kyrger knew that the spirit of the wizard was moving over the single hair that bridges the abyss between the land of the living and the abode of the dead souls.

He watched Shatong cringe back as if at the gate of Erlik's domain-heard the snarling chorus of welcome from the dogs of the underworld-saw Shatong driven back by a gust of wind, then approach fearfully the seat of Erlik, represented by the fire.

The chorus of animal cries grew louder, though Shatong's lips did not move. Invisible wings beat overhead, and Kyrger's skin grew cold. He knew what would follow.

Shatong lifted his hands to his lips as if drinking the welcoming cup, and fell down in a huddle on the trampled snow. His dark skin glistened with sweat. At this moment his kam was listening to the words of Erlik.

He bounded to his feet and pointed toward the trees where Thorne and Kyrger were hidden.

"Winged creatures cannot fly hither; things with bones cannot come; how have you made your way to my abode?"

Staggering, he laid his hand on his chest.

"I have ridden far, my strength fails; I have faced great terrors, and I am hungry."

So saying, he advanced on Joan, who drew back, half faint with fear. Grasping the fur surcoat at her throat, he jerked it away and bared a white shoulder with his claw. His teeth snapped and his lips writhed as he drew nearer the girl's arm.

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