In the opening that existed somewhat east of center across the neck of land we built a hasty wall, and before this we scattered more caltrops. Upon receipt of warning from Lolyngton and Johannes, the Hansgraf acted swiftly. Disembarking his people from the carts and loading all upon pack animals, he sent the carts on along the river while he scattered his riders and pack animals in fifty directions to meet at a definite point.
What he hoped, and what did in fact happen as planned, was for the Petchenegs to follow after the empty carts only to find them empty and abandoned except for rocks placed in them for added weight. By the time the Petchenegs discovered their mistake and scouted the many trails the company had reassembled, chosen its position, and was well along with fortification.
The men and women unable to work otherwise because of wounds or other disabilities were put to making more caltrops, a supply of which was always carried in the wagons, as the attacks most feared by the merchants were those from horsemen.
Many caltrops were carried out some distance into the grass to break the force of any charge against the defenses. When that position seemed relatively secure, the Hansgraf drew back a hundred yards or so and proceeded to build several islands of defense, small forts behind earthworks and brush that could break the force of any mass attack, divide the enemy, and subject them to cross fire. Into one of these secondary forts the women were taken, and such of the wounded that required care. Food supplies were divided among the forts. Within the one where the women and wounded would be, there was a spring.
The labor to prepare this defense was done with incredible swiftness. This was due to a well-thought-out plan by the Hansgraf, who had long since worked out a series of defenses covering almost every situation a caravan might encounter.
In the main our defense was against horsemen, and this was true wherever we might be attacked. Our bowmen were of the best, but we also had many who were adept with the sling, and a part of the shore near us was a pebbled beach, providing the best of ammunition.
By the time I reached the point of rendezvous these preparations were far advanced.
The Hansgraf knew it was the custom of steppe horsemen to charge a wall or hedge, and leap their horses over it, but the sharp stakes driven into the ground and pointed in the direction from which any charge must come, as well as the caltrops, rendered such a charge impossible. Many of the caltrops were invisible in the knee-high grass.
Sometime since, he had sent a messenger to Constantinople to hasten the boats that were to meet us and transport our cargo, but it was doubtful if they would arrive in time.
By daylight on the third day after my return, they found us. It had taken them that time to catch up as well as to work out the maze of trails we left.
Several thousand of the Petchenegs started for our fort at a fast trot only to pull up or turn sharply away when they saw the plain before our wall. Knowing the skill of their horsemen, I knew that some of them, weaving between the clusters of sticks and caltrops, would get through. From a distance I could recognize the Khan sitting his horse and occasionally standing in his stirrups to study our defenses. How long would it be before he realized we were vulnerable to attack from the sea or the estuaries? A fact in our favor was that the Petchenegs, a steppe people, rarely knew how to swim and feared the water.
Suzanne awaited me at the outer wall of one of the islands of defense. Her face was pale. “Mathurin? How will it be?”
What reply could I make to such a question? Our defenses could be no better, considering the time we had and the situation, yet I was sorely afraid. Nor need she ask, for her experience was no doubt as great as mine in such cases. Her Castle of Saone had often been attacked when she was younger.
Yet it was I who had looked into the Khan’s grim old eyes, only I who had seen his men up close, those savage, ill-smelling tigers of the steppe. They lived for war, knew little else.
Nor was I one to shield a woman from truth. Women are neither weaklings nor fools, and they, too, must plan for what is to come. He who does not prepare his woman for disaster is a fool.
“We may win, Suzanne, and we may not. If you are taken, demand to see Abaka Khan. He is a prince, a son of the Khan, and we know each other. Ask to see him; tell him your story. But if you can, escape. I shall try to prepare a way for you.”
“And you?”
“Do not think of me. There lies the sea, beyond it is Constantinople where you have friends. Go there, by all means.”
“Do you believe they will defeat us?”
“Suzanne, a wise man fights to win, but he is twice a fool who has no plan for possible defeat.”
She put her hand on my arm. “Mathurin, I do not want to lose you.”
“Nor I, you.”
We stood together enjoying the morning sun and looking toward the dark line of Petcheneg horsemen, a cloud on our horizon. A dark and terrible line, they stretched from one side of the neck of land to the other, looking across the plain from the ancient dunes where they waited.
With the immediate rush of work on the defenses past, we rested, gathered our strength, ate, talked, and awaited the attack. Remembering what I had seen, those dark-faced men with their cold jaws and narrow eyes, I shuddered for those about me. The steppe riders hated all places that did not grow grass, cities were an abomination to them. They lived on mare’s milk, curds, and blood from the veins of living horses, eating barley and meat when it could be had. Killing was for them a way of life.
“Even if we win,” I said, “it will be an end of this, and it is a pity that every beginning should also be an end. I shall miss the walking drum, Suzanne, miss it indeed.
“That drum has been our pulse, and often have I wondered what it is that starts the drum of a man’s life to beating? For each of us walks to the beat of our own drum, an unheard rhythm to all our movements and thought.
“Was it my father’s disappearance that started me? Or did it begin in some Druid forest long ago when the mistletoe was cut from an oak tree with a golden sickle? Or perhaps it began when the blood of my mother and father joined?”
The Hansgraf came over to us. “A small boat has been found, and it will carry a half-dozen people. There are oars, and there is a sail, and it will not be long before the boats from Constantinople come.” He turned his eyes to Suzanne. “The women of our company will go in that boat, and there must be one man.” He looked at me. “You are not one of us. You will go.”
“I shall remain. Khatib will go.”
He did not protest, and I knew he wanted me with him. “Across the estuary is a forest of reeds. Khatib can take you to the boat. You should push off at once. No doubt you will meet the boats upon the sea.”
He glanced at Suzanne. “Do you have friends there?”
“And in Antioch.”
“Very well, then.”
He walked away from us, a commanding presence; he moved with ease and grace despite his great size, yet for the first time I detected a shadow of something that frightened me. He who had seemed invulnerable was no longer sure.
How could he be? How could anybody be?
“Mat … ?”
They had started … a long dark line of riders coming at a fast walk.
Quickly, I kissed her. “Inside,” I said, “until you leave with Khatib. Remember, he is an old reprobate, but you can trust him. If I live, I shall come to you at Saone.”
How easily, at such a time, are promises made! And how vain the promises when destiny hangs in the balance!
My blade came easily from the scabbard, and I strode forward. My hand touched the shoulder of Khatib. “Go to Madame, thou evil-smelling one! Thou pirate! Thou thief! Go to her, and guard her well for me. See her into the boat that is waiting, then to Constantinople and Saone! See to her, Khatib, for she holds my heart in her hand!”
“A boat, O Mighty One! There is a boat, and you hold a sword? What madness! What folly! A beautiful woman, a wide sea, and a boat? And you choose a sword?”