“Tomorrow?” Grossefeldt exploded. “Impossible! It is too soon!”
“Already there is snow just fifty miles to the north. It can snow here. However, I shall hold none of you to our agreement of unity unless you wish to reaffirm it. We—our company—will leave tomorrow with all who wish to accompany us.”
“I shall go,” Flandrin said quietly.
Sarzeau and Grossefeldt hesitated, but I was not watching them, or listening. I was watching Yury Olgevichi. His face was blank and innocent, yet I believed I detected in his eyes a spark of satisfaction.
The Hansgraf rose. “At daylight, then.”
Suzanne stood near me, and Yury crossed over to her, bowing. “Madame, if you would prefer the river, I can offer you my boat.”
“With Kerbouchard and our company?”
“The offer was made to you, madame. After all, for a woman of your position the boat is more comfortable.”
“I shall remain with the company. We have been quite comfortable, thank you.” She half turned away, then glanced over her shoulder at him. “Have you visited Constantinople, Prince Yury? Have you walked its walls? It might be advisable. It might save much trouble and disappointment.”
Startled and angry, he started a reply, but we walked away.
“So you have the same idea I have?”
“He has had little successes, and he mistakes them for great victories. He has connived and intrigued in Novgorod and Kiev, and he believes he is prepared for Constantinople. Believe me, Mathurin, no people are so adept at intrigue as the Byzantines.”
“And if it comes to war?”
“He will be defeated before he comes within sight of the walls. While he is planning to make a dinner of them, they will make a breakfast of him.”
We stood together watching the sun sink, although the hour was early. There was a chill in the wind. Yes, I was ready to go, more than ready.
Leaves fell from beech trees at the camp’s edge; clouds caught the reflection of far-off sun-flame, blushing at the sight.
I did not like Prince Yury.
38
The Hansgraf Rupert von Gilderstern led, mounted on his powerful charger. He sat erect in his saddle as always, holding his bridle reins breast high in his left hand. He was truly a monumental figure.
Some distance away was the bank of the Dnieper, on our right the fields of the few who ventured to farm in the neighborhood of Kiev. Behind the Hansgraf marched his company and that of his brother Peter; a little further back came that of Flandrin. The others followed in their respective places, with Sarzeau and Grossefeldt bringing up the rear.
Of retainers I had but one, the thief, beggar, and philosopher, Khatib. Before leaving Kiev, I called the jugglers and acrobats around me, a motley group most of whom I had known from Córdoba.
“I have no claim upon you, but I fear that Prince Yury will attempt to seize the Comtesse, and I cannot always be with her. If you would help to watch over her, it would be the greatest of favors.”
“Worry not,” Lolyngton said. “Where the Comtesse is, we will not be far away.”
We camped at the edge of a forest of beech and maple, our circle tight, our stock held under guard in a nearby meadow. At sundown the Hansgraf called me to his tent. Peter, Flandrin, Sarzeau, Grossefeldt, and the others were present.
“Kerbouchard, you are our master of geography. How far to the sea if we travel directly south?”
“Half the distance of following the river, which bends far to the east.”
“That is it, then. We strike directly south.”
There was no argument. Even Sarzeau seemed pleased. If we could reach Constantinople before the boats, our market would be much better.
The Hansgraf arose. “Prepare to move within the hour.”
We had started out of the tent; now all stopped. “What?” Flandrin protested. “Tonight?”
“Our enemies will have satisfied themselves we are following the river. Now we shall make forced marches. In ten days we shall reach the sea. If we are fortunate”—he paused, his eyes going from one to the other—”we shall do it in eight days, perhaps even in seven.”
Outside, Sarzeau muttered, “He is a good man. Sometimes I think not, but I am wrong. What do you think of this move, hey?”
“There will be fewer river crossings, and the rivers will be narrower than where they enter the Dnieper.”
“Yes, yes! Of course! I had not thought of that.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “You are a good man, too, Kerbouchard. You should give up whatever plans you have and remain a merchant.”
At first we used marketing roads traveled by farmers, then we cut across country, for there was no road the way we had chosen. It was open country, for the forest line was falling behind us, although there were patches of forest and, of course, thick growth along the streams. By daybreak we had fifteen miles behind us.
On the third day we entered the valley of the Bug River. Far away on our right was the Volyno-Podolak upland, but aside from dips into streambeds, the country was flat or gently rolling, presenting few obstacles. Usually, I rode out in front, discovering the way, removing obstructions, alert for danger.
The Bug River was now our guide, and we followed the western bank. Oak, which had been plentiful, had given way to beech; maple mixed with ash and occasional elm. Game was plentiful, grazing excellent. The grasses were blue or wheat grass, where we saw and sometimes killed saiga antelope, red deer, roebuck, and wild boar. From time to time we saw small bands of tarpon, or wild horses. They were mouse-colored with a dark stripe down the back.
Each company had hunters who ranged far afield to supplement our supplies and to scout the land as I was doing. By nightfall of that third day we had a hundred miles behind us, approximately a third of the distance. For the boats descending the river, progress would be slow except for a short stretch through the rapids of the Dnieper. Kiev was of no great elevation, and the rate of descent, including the rapids, was not more than eighty feet to the mile. Long since we had crossed the Bug, which flowed into the river we had been following from the northwest, and now we approached the Chicheklaya.
Lolyngton, Johannes, and I had ridden far in quest of game. We had seen several bear and one moose, although no more than a glimpse, when Lolyngton suddenly drew rein, lifting a hand. “I smell smoke,” he said.
We were traversing a small meadow bordered by a fine stand of ash, and we held our mounts, trying the wind.
“A campfire,” I said, “it can be no more than that.” We had seen no one in days, now we entered the woods, picking our way. Johannes, who was not feeling his best, remained with the horses. We wore chain mail with tunics over it and conical helmets brought from Spain.
Threading our way, we came to a blowdown where a number of trees had been felled by a great blast of wind. We stopped well back under the trees, for an observer who knows his business remains back under the trees where he is concealed but can see just as well.
Clustered around a fire not over a hundred yards away were a dozen strangely clad men. They wore conical helmets, somewhat different from our own, and tunics of hide that fell to the knee but were split up the sides for easy riding. Their boots seemed to be of soft leather, and they carried quivers of arrows and shorter, thicker bows than I had seen. They were swarthy men with broad, flat faces, narrow eyes, and square jaws. They looked a rugged and dangerous lot.
Eyes appear as dots at one hundred yards; mouth and eyes can usually be plainly seen at fifty yards, so we were actually somewhere between the two distances, not nearly enough if they gave chase.
These were the Petchenegs of whom we heard, hard-riding men from the steppes of Asia. Such as these had long ago attacked and destroyed Roman armies. As we watched, one of the soldiers lifted his saddle and brought out a slab of meat. I recalled hearing such was their method of tenderizing meat, carrying it between the horse and the saddle and riding on it all day. The idea did not appeal to me, but the smell of broiling meat aroused our hunger. We drew back deeper into the woods, then returned to Johannes. “This must be reported to the Hansgraf at once,” he said.
“Do you return. I shall circle about to find where they come from and if there are more.”
“What of you? We shall move on, you know.”
“Drive hard for the sea. If they are some distance from their main body, we will gain distance.”